“No. I’ll handle it.”
With a firm nod, Corian stepped away from the Nightstalker ex-general and the chantlike snarling and hissing coming from the tied-up magicals. He rejoined Cheyenne and Persh’al in the center of the clearing, followed shortly by Byrd and Lumil. Every magical standing beside the halfling firmly set their jaw, watching Maleshi with grim acceptance.
Cheyenne tried to meet Corian’s gaze, but he wouldn’t look at her. “What’s happening?”
Her drow-trial mentor swallowed but said nothing.
Maleshi stopped in front of Commander Gu’urs lying on the ground and didn’t bother to squat beside him again. “Still time, if you change your mind. All these soldiers are your responsibility, don’t forget.”
“I don’t forget,” the raug spat. “None of us do, traitor. You’ll die fighting for the wrong drow, General.”
The Nightstalker woman settled her gaze on the shimmering pink wall she’d sealed across the Border portal. “Yeah, so will you.”
Cheyenne stepped closer to Corian. “Seriously, what are we gonna do with these assholes?”
He still wouldn’t look at her as he muttered, “This is why we’re fighting, Cheyenne. When you want something bad enough, you gotta get your hands dirty.”
“Corian.” She glanced quickly at Maleshi, whose arms were lifted in front of her and spread toward either side of the clearing. “We can’t just—”
The burst of silver light erupting from Maleshi’s outstretched arms filled the entire clearing, momentarily blinding everyone and drowning out the shape of the Nightstalker standing in its center. A sharp, earsplitting crack rent the air, followed a split second later by dozens of screams. They only lasted a few seconds before cutting out. There was a collective thump in front of Maleshi, then the light faded.
When Cheyenne opened her eyes again, blinking against the burning glare behind her eyelids and waiting for her vision to adjust, her jaw dropped.
Every single bound magical lay still, heads fallen forward or back at impossible angles, bodies slumped sideways or sprawling on the ground. Thin streams of smoke rose from fist-sized black burns on every single prisoner. Cheyenne’s nostrils flared at the sickly-sweet stench of uniforms and flesh burning together. Her fists clenched at her sides as she fought to control her rapid breathing.
Maleshi was down on one knee in the middle of all of it, her head bowed as she propped her elbow on her raised thigh. The only sound came from the still-sizzling burns on the bodies and the remaining magicals’ expectant breath.
The ex-general pushed to her feet, took a deep breath, and turned toward one of the open crates of black O’gúleesh power chips.
“What?” The searing heat of Cheyenne’s drow magic rippled up her spine, and she took off after Maleshi.
“Cheyenne.” Corian reached out for her arm again, but this time, the halfling jerked free of his grip and whirled.
“No. We came here to find out how this portal got here, not to kill a bunch of prisoners you guys tied up.”
“I told you this was why we’re fighting, kid.” Corian spread his arms with a tight grimace. “It’s done.”
“Without even trying to find a different solution? Are you kidding me?” The halfling spun again and stalked across the grass toward Maleshi. “Hey!”
The Nightstalker woman shoved a handful of black metal chips into her pocket, then bent to retrieve a piece of shattered carapace the O’gúleesh loyalists hadn’t bothered to clear away. She tested the weight of the shiny black shell and nodded. Then she headed back across the clearing, brushing past Cheyenne without meeting the halfling’s gaze.
“Oh, now you’re just gonna ignore me?” Cheyenne followed her former professor toward the group of rebel magicals. All four of them watched her with wary hesitation. “I’m talking to you, Mattie. And you better have an airtight excuse for what you just did, ‘cause I can’t think of anything that makes it okay. Mattie, stop.” The halfling pulled up on the grass, the purple sparks flaring at her fingertips beyond her rage and control. “Maleshi!”
The ex-general stopped in front of the group and rolled her shoulders back. Corian, Persh’al, and the goblins didn’t take their eyes off the drow halfling shouting at the Nightstalker who’d taken down entire armies all on her own.
Slowly, Maleshi turned and fixed Cheyenne with her glowing green eyes. “If you have something to say to me, Cheyenne, say it now. But do not raise your voice at me again.”
The ferocity behind those flashing eyes made the halfling swallow. The purple sparks snuffed out. “You just killed them all. No warning. No asking what the rest of us thought. Did you even stop to consider that we could do something else with those soldiers?”
Maleshi blinked. “I consider every possible outcome before every decision I make, Cheyenne. You and your new friends came to find me because you wanted General Hi’et to figure out what to do at this Border.” She spread her arms. “I’ve been making these kinds of tough calls for longer than this world has been out of the Dark Ages, and I stand by them.”
“You didn’t have to kill them.”
A bitter smile spread across the Nightstalker’s lips. “Is it the killing part that’s getting under your skin so much? I find it hard to believe you’re a zealous defender of peace.”
Cheyenne snorted and folded her arms. “Hey, I’ve left bodies on the ground behind me. I admit that. But not when they’re tied up. Not when they can’t defend themselves.”
Maleshi took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We’re on the brink of another war, kid. This is what war looks like. It’s not pretty, and it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but we have to keep the big picture in mind here.”
“I’m all for a rebellion against a monarch destroying magicals’ lives on the other side.” Cheyenne swallowed again and shook her head. “If there’s a way to finish what you started—what L’zar started—fine. But keeping the Crown away
