“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 the rising shouts and rhythmic growls coming from the other loyalist prisoners scattered around them. “At least we tried. Just give the word, General.”
“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
