by Martha Carr
An unseen force propelled her away from the raug. Arms flailing, Ember tried to keep her balance and focused on the levitation spell Corian had taught her, but it winked out the next second, and her feet dropped an inch to the floor. Her legs crumpled beneath her and she landed on the stone floor with a thud, shouting in surprise and pain.
The room was eerily silent.
Ember rolled as much as she could onto her side and pushed herself up to sit four feet away from the bed. She stared at her legs, willing them to move, and slapped a hand against her thigh for good measure. Great. Almost no feeling. I’m right back to being a useless fae lump.
A low chuckle came from the bed, and it quickly grew to a roar of laughter that made her want to cover her ears. The raug’s hands shot into the air and he flipped them over and over again, staring at the scarred flesh free of black streaks. “Hishmál. Would you look at that?”
He bolted upright in the bed and swung his legs over the side, grinning at the space five and a half feet above the ground where he expected Ember to be. Then he looked down at the fae on the floor and cocked his head. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Oh, you know. Just the usual.”
“Let me see your hands.”
Ember pursed her lips. “I didn’t take your sickness if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Fae don’t sit around on the floor, girl. Show me your hands.”
Rolling her eyes, Ember lifted both hands and turned them back and forth as he had. “See? No black streaks. No blight. I’m just regular old me.”
“Ha!” The raug leaped to his feet and smacked his bare chest, now gray again. “We both underestimated you. Vingat! De’garu!”
The heavy wooden door burst open on the other side of the room, and the two raug guards thundered in. They stopped short when they saw the healed raug standing over the fae girl on the floor. “What is this?”
“This is your chief returned!” The raug pounded his chest again and spread his arms. “It’s done.”
The guards grinned at him and thumped fists on their chests in response. “It worked.”
“What’s this?” Foltr came into the room, his cane clacking across the floor. “What’s all this now?” The same surprise and confusion flashed behind his widening eyes when he saw the raug and Ember, and he nodded. “Yes. Well done, girl.”
“Just doing my fae thing, I guess.” Ember patted the floor beside her. “Lost my mobility, though.”
The healed raug laughed and stomped toward her. “We will fix that for you, Healer.”
“I’m not really a healer. Wait, what are you doing?”
“Helping you.” He bent down with a snort and scooped her up in his arms.
She tried to push him away. “No, that’s okay. You don’t have to pick me up.”
“Ha! No fae enjoys the floor, and you most certainly do not deserve it. De’garu, find a crawler for this one.”
One of the guards nodded and left the room.
“A crawler?” Ember stared at the raug’s huge face right next to hers as he cradled her like a child in his bare arms.
“But you won’t be doing the crawling.” He chuckled. “What’s your name, girl?”
She laughed and shook her head. This is absurd. “Ember.”
“Ember. I am Cazerel. Welcome to my home.”
“You were talking about yourself when you mentioned a chief, weren’t you?”
“Ha. I thought I wouldn’t be soon enough. Everything we have here is yours, Healer. You’ve done us a great service. Me, specifically.”
“I figured I could help.” Ember shot Foltr a nervous smile, and the old raug chuckled. “I don’t need everything you have. Just the crawler, I guess.”
Cazerel roared with laughter, bouncing her up and down. Ember tried to keep her arms from rubbing his rough gray skin but ended up laughing too. Weirdest thing I’ve ever done. Cheyenne’s gonna lose it when I tell her about this one.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cheyenne folded her arms and watched the half-dozen raugs standing between L’zar’s traveling band of rebels and the outer gates of Hirúl Breach. “Huh. Call me crazy, but this doesn’t feel like a very friendly greeting.”
The raugs prowled in the front of the massive gates, glowing eyes in various shades of orange narrowed as they scrutinized the newcomers. Most of them glared at General Hi’et, but some of their gazes turned toward Cheyenne and L’zar too.
“They’re not doing anything,” Corian muttered and glanced at L’zar, who was still sitting on the ground beside him. “And neither are we.”
The drow chuckled. “I didn’t say a thing.”
Corian looked back at the agitated raugs. “You didn’t have to.”
Behind them, Maleshi had taken up pacing in jerking steps, occasionally stopping for five to ten seconds before she couldn’t help but look at the raugs again. Then she’d walk three or four feet, pause, and do it all over again.
The next time she passed Corian, he reached out to touch her forearm without turning away from the raugs. “You need to stop doing that.”
Maleshi glared at his hand on her arm and brushed it off before continuing in her halting, irritated march. “Sure. You try being the target of all this hatred and standing still. Look at you, a perfect nightstalker statue, all proper and composed.”
“Maleshi.”
“I’m trying,” she hissed, lunging toward him from behind to snarl in his ear. “You have no idea what this is like for me. I’m doing the best I can.”
“It’s not ingrained in you to kill them, and it’s not ingrained in you to lose control of yourself when things get dicey.”
Maleshi scoffed. “It is when I’m the one to blame for all of it.”
Cheyenne caught the general’s gaze and grinned. “I know exactly how you feel right now.”
That caught the nightstalker woman off-guard, and she stopped to stare at Cheyenne. “Yeah, I guess you do.” She picked up her pacing again.
One raug growled something in French, and Maleshi spun toward him and hissed.
“Okay, what was that?”
The general glanced briefly at Cheyenne and rolled her eyes. “More jokes about cats. Without claws.”
Then the raugs switched to English and started pounding their chests. “The Hand of the Night and Circle couldn’t push us all out, could she?”
“We stayed true, nightstalker!”
“Doesn’t matter how long you’ve been gone, Hi’et. Our memories are long.”
The raugs chuckled and snarled, stalking in front of the gates with their shoulders hunched and their hands outstretched to show how sharp their red claws were.
“Hey, maybe we’d be better prepared for this if we all knew why they’re so pissed off at you,” Cheyenne suggested. When Corian and the goblins shot her confused looks, she shrugged. “Okay, I guess I’m the only one who doesn’t know.”
“They’re the last of Gúrdu’s tribe,” Maleshi hissed. “I led a siege against Felagtrok under the Crown, and apparently, these are the ones I didn’t manage to get my hands on before they fled.”
Cheyenne narrowed her eyes. “What happened to the rest of them?”
“I gave Gúrdu the option to make the crossing. Perks of being an Oracle, I guess. And then I killed everyone else.” Maleshi stopped, looked at the halfling, and shrugged. “It was a different time, kid. I was different.”
“I sure hope so.” Cheyenne watched the general pace, then had to look away. “You’re making me nervous.”
“I don’t give a shit about your fragile composure right now. I’m too busy with my own.”
Cheyenne and Corian exchanged quick glances, and the nightstalker man shook his head. “We’ll hold right here. That’s all there is to it.”
“And if they attack us?”
“Relax.” L’zar lifted his forearm from his knee to wave his daughter’s concerns aside. “They’re not going to attack.”
“You want a sliver of y
our honor back, nilsch úcat?” The shouting raug thumped his fist on his chest over and over. “Let’s see how you fight when I rip those fancy little whiskers right out of your coward’s face!”
Maleshi hissed again and vanished in a flash of silver light. A second later, she’d stopped two feet from the line of raugs and snarled at him. “I dare you, grayskin. Anyone who holds onto the past this long has nothing else worth their time.”
“Smashing you into the ground would be worth my time.”
The raugs behind him chuckled darkly and snarled at the nightstalker. Two of them stepped forward, and Maleshi cocked her head. “Don’t.”
“Why not, Hand of the Night and Circle?” The closest raug licked his gray lips with a shiny black tongue and sneered, eyeing her. “You look so soft.”
The general lifted her arms away from her sides and extended four-inch claws from every finger. “Wanna bet?”
“Maleshi,” Corian shouted. “Not here.”
“This looks like the perfect place to me, vae shra’ni.” The general spread her arms wider and lifted her chin at the sneering raugs in front of her. “Unless every one of you wants a repeat of the Felagtrok. I didn’t tell anyone about the cowards who ran off and abandoned their tribe that day, but now we have witnesses.”
Another raug hissed a bitter laugh. “I thought this was the General Hi’et who abandoned her post for a world full of weaklings. What a convenient way to avoid paying for what you’ve done!”
Maleshi snarled and took a step toward him, pulling her arm back and holding it there, ready to strike.
“I said, not here!” Corian came toward them in a flash of silver light and grabbed the general’s shoulder. “If it comes to it, let them strike first.”
The raug in front of Maleshi lunged forward and swung a powerful uppercut into the general’s stomach. She flew across the stone courtyard, and in nightstalker fashion, landed in a crouch, sliding across the stone and glaring at the raug with a wild hiss.
The raug looked at Corian. “Thanks for the invitation.”
The nightstalker glared at him. “That’s not what I meant.”
Maleshi flashed past him in a blaze of silver light and barreled into the raug, slashing across his chest with her claws. The other five gray-skinned magicals roared in approval, shouting insults at Maleshi and encouragement to their fellow raug as the two battled it out with their fists and claws.
“This isn’t why we’re here!” Corian shouted over the noise. “Maleshi, call it off.”
She darted around the raug, who spun in the opposite direction and knocked her out of her enhanced speed when his left fist cracked into her jaw.
“Dammit, Hi’et!” Corian ducked when another raug swung at him. Then he hissed, rolled his shoulders, and blasted the attacking magical with a bolt of silver lightning.
“Jesus.” Cheyenne jogged toward the nightstalkers, who were in furious single combat with two raugs. It’s gonna be two against six pretty soon. I thought I was the one who got pissed-off and stupid.
“Hey!” She stopped four feet away from the cheering group of raugs and summoned a crackling black sphere of energy in one hand. “I know all of you can hear me. We have bigger problems to deal with right now, and this isn’t helping.”
L’zar stayed where he was, his forearms dangling over his knees, and chuckled.
“Fuck this.” Lumil clenched her fists and summoned the red, spinning runes around them. “No way am I sittin’ this one out.”
“Nope.” Byrd’s hands filled with green flames, and both goblins raced toward the fight.
“You’re all a bunch of idiots,” Cheyenne shouted, trying to be heard without getting closer.
“Kiss my goblin ass, you beefy shits!” Lumil raced past the halfling and punched the closest raug where a human’s kidney would have been. The raug stumbled forward with a grunt, whirled toward the goblin woman, and snatched the front of her leather jacket before tossing her away with one hand.
Byrd ran screaming into the fray, ducking huge, swinging gray arms and blasting green fire in all directions.
Every raug roared and focused on a new target. One of them hooked a claw through the back of Byrd’s collar and lifted the goblin off the ground, swinging him from side to side and grinning. The hulking magical beside him burst into thunderous laughter until Lumil launched at him and smashed her spell-enhanced fist into his mouth.
“Dammit.” Cheyenne gritted her teeth and quickly scanned the fighting magicals. “Guess it’s a full-on brawl now.” She launched the crackling sphere of magic at the raug swinging both fists toward Lumil and knocked him back enough that he missed. Lumil cackled and dropped to her knees to bring her fist up into his muscular gut.
The halfling sent her lashing tendrils toward the raug dangling Byrd by the collar. Despite his odd position, the goblin man kept blasting green fireballs at the other raugs while he swung left and right. Cheyenne’s black tendrils coiled around the raug’s outstretched arm, and she pulled hard. Byrd’s collar ripped, and he dropped to the ground and shot two fireballs into the huge magical’s face. Cackling, he scrambled away and headed after someone else.
Blinking and snorting against the residual green flames, the raug’s orange eyes settled on Cheyenne. He grinned and stomped toward her. “Shit.”
Cheyenne slipped into drow speed and raced toward him. Just before she reached the gray-skinned magical, he turned with surprising speed for someone that size and lowered his shoulder toward her with a quick step forward. She couldn’t stop in time and crashed into his muscular frame. It knocked her out of enhanced speed and sent her flailing across the stone.
He straightened and grinned at her. “Surprise.”
Raugs don’t have superspeed. How the hell do they move that fast? She cocked her head at him and spread her arms. “That all you got?”
The raug lumbered toward her. “No.”
Metal hinges creaked at the base of the wall, and the smaller door opened. Foltr lurched through first, the clack of his cane unheard beneath the din of the brawl. “What is this? Not even an hour.”
Cazerel ducked through the door with Ember in his arms and snorted, his eyes widening when he saw what was happening. “Excuse me, Healer.”
Ember stared at the brawl. “For what?”
“What I am about to do.” The raug chief stalked toward a short ledge of stone jutting from the wall of the canyon against which Hirúl Breach’s outer wall was built and set her down with a firm nod. “My apologies.”
He didn’t wait for her to say anything but whirled and stormed toward the fight. “Enough!”
His booming voice cracked across the courtyard in front of the gates. At their chieftain’s angry shout, every raug stopped immediately and straightened. The nightstalkers fell out of their enhanced speed with silver flashes. Cheyenne stepped away from the raug, who was no longer coming at her. Too far gone to her battle rage, Lumil charged her opponent with a roar. The raug reached out with one hand and wrapped his long gray fingers around the top of the goblin woman’s head, holding her away from him at arm’s length while she snarled and swung uselessly with her spinning red fists.
“Lumil,” Cheyenne muttered. “Hey, cut it out.”
The goblin woman grunted, then reached up with both hands and jerked the raug’s palm off her head. “Get the hell off me.”
The raug lowered his arm and stared at his chief, ignoring her like an elephant ignoring a fly.
L’zar finally stood and clasped his hands behind his back to watch the raug chief with a knowing smile.
“Who is responsible for this?” Cazerel boomed. None of his magicals replied, so he stalked down the line of raug men, who were all at least a foot shorter than him, thumping a hand against his bare chest. “You see this? Do you see your chief standing here before you? I lay ready to face the end, and I come to greet new friends, only to find you thick-headed beasts thanking them with your fists. Tell me what happened!”
“Zokr
í.” The raug whose loose tunic was shredded to ribbons from Maleshi’s claws stepped forward and pounded his chest. “This was vengeance.”
Cazerel snarled. “For what?”
“Felagtrok.” The raug gestured at Maleshi. “General Hi’et returns.”
The chief turned toward Maleshi. Under his gaze and finally catching her breath, the general straightened and clasped her hands behind her back, lifting her chin.
“So she does.” Cazerel nodded with another grunt of acknowledgment. “Felagtrok was a long time ago. Consider this battle the only vengeance you will have, Bru’uga.”
The raug snarled at Maleshi but lowered his gaze when the chief looked at him. “I am not satisfied.”
“Neither am I.” Cazerel pounded his chest again. “See this! Your chief stands tall outside Hirúl Breach’s gates because General Hi’et’s party brought a fae to our door.” His massive arm swung toward Ember, who was still sitting on the rock ledge beyond the gates. She coughed, then cleared her throat. “The healer has claimed victory over the deathflame for me. Maleshi Hi’et’s debt to you has been paid with my life. Leave it.”
“Zokrí.” Bru’uga dipped his head and stood perfectly still as Cazerel headed toward Foltr.
The chief leaned toward the aged raug and muttered, “You and yours are welcome in our city now, old one. Bring them. We have much to discuss.”
“We do.” Foltr nodded at the raug towering almost two feet above his shoulders.
Cazerel headed toward the open door at the base of the gates and muttered something in French to a waiting guard. The guard nodded and disappeared inside, then the chief followed, stooping to squeeze his massive frame through the doorway.
Foltr cracked his cane on the stone floor and glared at the subdued raug warriors. His scowl turned on Maleshi and Corian next, and he moved slowly back through the open door, muttering and shaking his head.
“Well.” L’zar chuckled and strolled casually across the small courtyard. “Hell of a welcome, huh?”
