On the far side of the clearing, Maleshi had given up on the orc and now played Nightstalker roulette with two hissing, snarling skaxen. The orange-skinned, rat-faced magicals sneered up at the ex-general without a word, even when she zapped them one at a time with flashing silver darts.
Cheyenne shrugged. “Well, I started the trials, and I’m still alive. If L’zar really wanted to help, now would be the time for him to slip on out of prison and come fight with us.”
“Maybe.” The troll stroked his hairless chin. His gaze darted toward Corian when the Nightstalker lunged to the next trussed-up loyalist, catching the startled troll by surprise before barking questions into the magical’s face. “If I had to guess, Cheyenne, I’d say L’zar’s still doesn’t know what’ll happen when he does break out again. He eventually will. He has to. But he won’t until he’s sure it won’t hurt you.”
“I’m not worth the entire world on this side of the Border.” The halfling shook her head. “If he can stop this from happening, be a part of this rebellion or whatever instead of hiding behind bars, that’s what he should be doing.”
Persh’al turned to look at her with a sly, crooked smile. “You’re the only one who’s gotten this far, kid. That’s a big deal.”
“Well, thanks, but that doesn’t do shit for all the monsters spilling out of a new portal and the Crown smuggling weapons Earthside.”
“Not yet.” The troll folded his arms and returned his attention to the Nightstalkers, who were still making threats and roughing up their O’gúleesh prisoners. “But if we play our cards right, it will.”
Byrd and Lumil only had to step in once and bash several of the stupider prisoners back down while Corian and Maleshi interrogated Commander Gu’urs’ soldiers. Now, the Nightstalkers had made their way toward each other along the line of tied-up loyalists until they met in the middle in front of the last two.
All this time to watch their friends get beaten up and screamed at. One of them will talk.
Cheyenne watched intently. The final two magicals—a troll woman with a black band tattooed across her face from one temple to the other and an orc missing one ear—looked intimidated, at least, if not terrified.
“Down to the wire now, aren’t we?” Maleshi loomed over the tattooed troll and slowly cocked her head. “You have the chance to change the ending for your entire squadron right now.”
“The ending’s already been written, nilsch úcat.” The troll woman spat at Maleshi’s feet, her coarse laughter cut off by the Nightstalker’s fist connecting with her face.
“The ending is what we make it. Who was supposed to get this shipment?”
A smear of dark, almost purple blood covered the troll’s lower jaw. “It came from the Crown, and it goes to the Crown. All of this...this entire world—” The troll coughed and spat again, this time to get the blood out of her mouth. “She takes whatever she wants, General. If anyone knows that, it’s you.”
Maleshi dropped into a squat, her forearms propped on her bent knees. “That’s exactly why I left. But I’m sure you already figured that one out.”
“You can’t stop her,” the one-eared orc growled. “She’s seen more of the days to come than you know. Nothing will stand in her way.”
The Nightstalker woman glared at him, her upper lip curling into a sneer. “That cursed drow isn’t the only one with Oracles in her pocket.”
Corian shot her a quick glance of surprise, but she ignored him.
The orc cackled. “Uh-oh. Somebody forgot to slip that little detail into the pillow talk, huh?”
The tied-up troll woman beside him guffawed and leaned back against the metal crate behind her. “That’s the trouble with Nightstalkers. Too many furballs, and this one’s trying to turn herself into a queen, ain’t she?”
Both magicals burst into another round of sneering laughter.
Cheyenne turned toward Persh’al and frowned. “A queen?”
The blue troll grimaced. “A female cat with a new litter. The bad joke’s been tossed around for a long time back home.”
The halfling’s eyes widened before she turned back to watch the Nightstalkers. “Cats in Ambar’ogúl…”
“A whole city of ‘em, kid. At least, there were before I crossed over.”
One more reason not to cross the Border.
The cackling cut off abruptly when Maleshi sent a hand-sized ball of silver light into the troll-woman’s chest. It rocked her backward, her head slamming into the crate with a hollow, metallic bang. Then the ex-general grabbed the troll woman’s uniform shirt and jerked her prisoner forward again. “Four hundred years, and no one’s come up with anything original. Who’s supposed to get this shipment? We know you’ve got someone Earthside who can make this old junk work, human tech or not.”
“It’s not you, nilsch úcat. That’s for damn sure.” The orc leaned sideways to leer up at the ex-general. “You’re too busy takin’ it from this—”
Corian’s hand clamped down on the top of the orc’s bald head and jerked it back, exposing the magical’s green neck. The next second, the Nightstalker’s silver claws were pressed to the orc’s throat. “If the next word out of your mouth isn’t a name, it’ll be your last.”
The orc licked his lips, glaring at the Nightstalker without fighting to free himself from the grip jerking his head back. “Fuck you.”
“General?” Corian stared at the orc and pressed his claws more firmly against the soldier’s neck.
Maleshi grimaced in disappointment. “Yeah, we’re done here.”
Faster than anyone could follow, the blades of Corian’s claws sliced through flesh and bone, and the orc fell lifelessly into the troll woman’s lap.
The troll jerked forward toward Maleshi, her crimson eyes blazing. “You can’t stop the black tide, bitch! And there’s no other world for you to run to—”
The snap and crunch of a broken neck cut off the troll’s words before Maleshi released the prisoner’s head from both hands. Then she stood from her crouch with a low hiss. “Looks like my judgment’s still on fucking point.”
Corian rose beside her, ignoring
