Esharah struck the charging Captain Tovran with her sharpest mental dagger, forged with a memory of Yvris’ torture. The captain flinched and staggered back, just enough for her to push Etrani back. Etrani was still frozen, whole body shaking. Esharah could feel her mind in a panic loop, a vortex of pure, paralyzing terror. Esharah withdrew from the captain’s mind to ram full force into Etrani’s panic. The panic shattered into blankness. The shaking stopped, and Etrani swayed, threatening to fall.

  Shame spiked through Esharah at treating another mind so harshly. She squashed the shame. No time.

  “Go!” Esharah screamed with voice and vis at once.

  Her mental force was enough to push Etrani into a stumbling run. For all of six paces before she tripped on her cloak.

  Esharah reached out to the city around them, screaming for aid. There had to be people around. Guards. Citizens. Servants.

  She found only empty minds, caught in illusory dreams. Hanion vis Dreamweaver’s illusions had everyone nearby in thrall, sleeping sound and unaware of the battle in the streets. He’d prepared the path meticulously , set the stage to be without any audience at all.

  Captain Tovran’s renewed war cry wrenched Esharah’s attention away from Etrani.

  “Witch!” he howled. “Devil! These illusions are all yours! The visions at the gathering were just your lies too!”

  Trying to break the illusions only caused the captain’s rage to flare brighter, feeding the delusion. Esharah sent another pulse for help echoing out as far as she could. They weren’t far from the guesthouse. If Mensikhana could hear the cry for help and rouse the others-

  Something echoed back from Mensikhana. Not words. But acknowledgment.

  Esharah had no time to hope for rescue. The captain charged again. This time, he plunged right through her mental attack, ignoring the pain. Esharah’s arcsteel baton met the captain’s sword. The impact jarred her arm to the bone, and the sword thrust past, right into her shoulder.

  Pain burned white-hot through her arm. Her mind recoiled. The captain snarled and twisted the blade, then wrenched it free. Just as Esharah forced that pain into his mind. He jerked back, hand flying to his shoulder at the echoed pain.

  Esharah gasped, stumbling back as her arm went limp. Blood gushed from the wound. Too much for her free hand to fully staunch.

  Captain Tovran looked down at his shoulder, eyes wide. As if shocked to see no blood.

  “Your tricks won’t stop me, demon,” he hissed.

  Even trying to raise the baton sent renewed pain screaming through her, too much to move her arm.

  “Esharah!” Etrani screamed.

  Godsdamn her, the woman still wasn’t running. Captain Tovran’s gaze flicked from Esharah to Etrani. His eyes hardened.

  “The master will face the court’s justice,” he decided. His sword pointed straight at Esharah’s heart. “But you’re too dangerous to live.”

  Esharah threw everything she had left at the illusion. It was rooted far too deeply. Not the work of a single night, but intricate threads that must have been layered for days. Perhaps even weeks. Set to manifest with a trigger: Ambassador Trellian Rosval’s death.

  Striking his disciplined, focused mind only slowed him down a step. He advanced again.

  A futile strike with her good arm only merited a contemptuous flick, sending her arcsteel baton flying to clang against the cobblestones yards away.

  Just before the blade struck her again, a mental touch reached Esharah’s mind.

  Cobblestone turned into an earthen spike angled up into the legate’s torso. The spike struck him with enough force to send him staggering backwards and leave a dent in his breastplate.

  “We’re here,” Mensikhana’s voice echoed in Esharah’s mind.

  A dark shape flashed past Esharah’s head. The spirit Vili, lower body sprouting talons aimed for the captain’s eyes. Vili shrieked her fury, a harrowing sound that even the captain’s delusion-addled mind couldn’t fully ignore. He batted her aside with a gauntleted fist, and then his sword slashed right into her body. A high-pitched shriek rang out, and the spirit retreated.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Monster! Villain! Burn for your sins!” Janaya’s voice echoed through the streets. She rushed in like a comet, whole body wreathed in flame from the ends of her hair to the tip of her spear.

  Captain Tovran met her assault, gauntlet catching the spear tip. His sword rammed into her abdomen, drawing out another howl. Janaya’s hands left her spear and gripped his sword arm, flames blasting forth to consume the metal. Tovran shrieked, the searing heat finally forcing him to let go.

  A hand hooked under her armpit, and Sergeant Ouron’s strong grip hauled her to her feet. Katrin was there too, eyes pure black and dark strings arcing from her fingertips to Vili. One hand clutched her side, a mirror of where the sword had cut through Vili.

  “Good timing, eh?” Sunshine appeared at her side. “A little kitten dropped by and told us Etrani might be in danger. We were already preparing when Mensikhana heard your call.”

  Teja. The cat couldn’t have warned the actual victim of this attack?

  “She...has her own priorities,” Mensikhana spoke in defense of her former Vulgares companion.

  “You are a vile one, aren’t you?” Sunshine addressed Legatus Tovran cheerfully. “Pay him a villain’s reward, Janaya!”

  “He’s under illusions!” Esharah called out. “The Dreamweaver’s.”

  “Lies!” Legatus Tovran howled, gauntleted fist pummeling Janaya’s head while she still hung on like a limpet. “They’re all traitors, all of them!”

  Janaya’s shriek reached new heights, flames blasting out even stronger.

  When the wave of heat and light cleared from Esharah’s vision, Janaya was collapsed, head bleeding profusely while hellfire tried to seal the wound. Captain Tovran staggered back. All along his left arm, armor had twisted to blackened slag. She could only imagine what had happened to the flesh beneath. Even still, the Captain showed no signs of stopping. The illusion numbed the pain, fueling the captain with a purpose beyond reason.

  Behind Esharah, she sensed the Hravast’s leader helping Etrani. Awe and terror rippled out from the barbarian chieftain’s mind at the sight of the vis powers unleashed.

  “He’s a warrior greater than Sergrud,” Hrolf mumbled. “Damn that fool for leading us against an empire where such warriors are commonplace.”

  “Can you break the illusion?” Sergeant Ouron asked.

  Esharah tried again. She searched for any end to the illusions. Or any beginning. If she had hours to entangle the web, maybe she could find the truth. Not in mere seconds. “It’s too deeply rooted.”

  “Then we break the man.” The sergeant stepped forward decisively. His presence alone seemed to cut through the chaos.

  “He’s third circle,” Esharah warned.

  “Aye. And we’re Hellfrost Legion,” Ouron took his place in a line alongside Katrin and Sunshine between her and the captain.

  Hellfire blazed from where Janaya lay, and she pushed herself to her feet, standing with the others against Legatus Tovran. Warriors from within the empire and without, arrayed against a legate of the imperial legions.

  The legate snatched up Janaya’s spear from the ground, holding it one-handed to the line of warriors mustered against him. Righteous fury blazed in Tovran’s eyed. “I knew every one of Hellfrost’s traitors couldn’t be trusted! I’ve seen the voidspawn you let in!”

  Sunshine laughed, “No, friend, you haven’t seen our voidspawn yet. Not truly. But...” His head tilted as if listening. Or looking at something beyond mortal sight. “I think you’re about to.”

  Esharah felt the mind streaking towards them an instant later. Dark. Focused on death. Relief echoed through her, and she pulsed out a message: “Here.”

  A dark shape hurtled through the night, descending from the roofs above like a meteor strike. Cobblestones cracked at the impact point, spiderwebbing outwards.

  A monster stood at the center of the cracks. Legs elongated and crooked. An extra set of arms made of roiling void, tipped with claws like spear blades. Hair standing on end as if blown by a wind coming directly out from its black-veined body.

  Every soul present stepped back at the sight of the monster. All save Esharah. She felt Aven’s mind beneath the horror. They had nothing to fear. Tovran did.

  The creature’s mouth opened, and Aven’s voice rasped out, “Did you hurt Aelia?”

  Legatus Tovran’s eyes widened, fear piercing through the layers of illusion. Only to find reality as hateful as what he’d imagined. He raised the spear; the tip aimed directly at the monster’s heart.

  “Kinslayer!” Captain Tovran roared. “Patricide! Monster! Finally you show your face, coward. You’ve been hiding behind your Minsdpeaker and your executor for too long. I know what you are. May your death end House Avarnius’ shame!”

  “He’s Legatus Tovran. Of the Tenebras delegation. 12th Legion,” Esharah explained as quickly as possible. “Under Hanion’s illusions.”

  Recognition sparked in Aven’s mind. 12th Legion. Same as his father. That recognition faded away as soon as it arrived. All of Aven’s mind focused on a single question. Almost an obsession.

  “Did you hurt Aelia?” Aven repeated. The veins along his body rippled and pulsed.

  Legatus Tovran stared. Esharah felt his mind clear. Something stronger than Hanion’s influence broke through. The legate’s own hatred now focused on Aven. Illusions shattered before reality.

  With the ending of Hanion’s illusions, the pain returned to the legate’s mind. Esharah felt Tovran’s mind split. The pain drained away into a piece of Tovran’s mind.

  “He also has the Battle Mind!” Esharah cried out in warning.

  Two vis of the Battle Mind stared at each other. Two who had learned from Gaius Avarnius how to kill. Recognition sparked in their eyes.

  “You’ve perverted your father’s teachings into...this,” Tovran hissed.

  “Think what you will about me,” Aven replied. His fists tightened, voidarms shaping into weapons. “I’ll only ask once more. Did. You. Hurt. Aelia?”

  Legatus Tovran’s gaze left Aven’s just for a second, flicking behind their defensive line to where Aelia stood, unsteadily supported by Hrolf.

  “When you are dead, your executor will face justice for the crimes you’ve plotted,” Legatus Tovran said, spear held steady. “She’ll face a death just like a traitor deserves-”

  Without another word, Aven lunged, claws extended. Ready to kill.

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