“Naikal—slow down!”

“We do not have time for slow, humaaan,” the Hansa replied quietly. She made her way out of the passageway into a cavern with tattered cloth separators.

At least Naikal was quiet. Falan had told the three men-at-arms in their chain and plate to stay behind at least thirty paces so they would not inadvertently give themselves away by the noise they made, allowing the monsters to surprise them.

So far Falan had not seen one. Maybe they would not see any. If they were lucky. He shouldered through a hanging to find Naikal staring down at the dead form of Gorkis Sek, a hole in his stomach and blood running from his chin to his chest.

Damnation!

Falan wanted to snarl.

He motioned to the men-at-arms to hold still. The Hansa woman looked at him, her hand over her mouth like she had done before when they first met. She seemed not to notice the putrid smell of death hanging in the air.

Falan tightened the grip on his sword hilt, wrinkling his nose and breathing through his mouth. He could almost taste the stink on the air.

Naikal slowly made her way forward, spear at the ready. Her round ears perked as she motioned past another line of tattered dividers. She peeked through and her head jerked back to look at him, eyes wide.

Falan moved up beside her and a knot formed in his stomach as soon as he recognized what he was seeing.

It was the lady mage! She was hanging upside down by her feet. They were bound and her arms dangled limply as a tall, monstrous form with wings winched her off the ground.

Falan gritted his teeth so hard they made a sound inside his skull. Sorela was dead, about to have her body defiled—gutted like these other skinless corpses hanging about.

Silently, Naikal pushed her way through the hangings. Falan was conscious of his own bare feet on the cold cave floor, glad the Hansa woman made him remove his boots. Falan was going to kill this evilbegotten whoreson of a beast.

Naikal looked at him. Falan nodded, receiving one in return before the Hansa raised her spear for the attack.

Her prey was huge.

Naikal struck, piercing the creature’s flesh with a deep thrust of her spear. The monster howled, whipped around toward its attackers and flinging Naikal’s spear out of her grasp. The beast snarled, baring fangs and claws toward the Hansa.

Falan charged, sword raised high.

He took an arm off with a downward strike. Blood spirted. The creature howled again, but now it was a more guutteral keening as it clutching its bloody stump in agony.

“Godsdamn you to the deepest pits of the hells!”

Falan gave it no time to recover, bringing his sword up and into the monster’s neck, then he removed his blade as the fellbeast gurgled its last breath and fell dead.

Naikal was already lowering Sorela to the ground, the weight of the mage nearly taking the small Hansa woman off her feet. The men-at-arms rushed passed the dividers, mouths open, gasping at the dead, monsterous form at their feet, and that of their fallen allies—the mage most of all.

“We have to find the others,” Falan said. “Before it’s too late!”

“I know, humaaan!” Naikal said, eyes wide in what could only be irritation. “There were only two passages out of the main cavern.”

Falan was still gripping the hilt of his sword so hard it hurt his knuckles. Thick rivulets of blood rolled down the blade through the fuller depression. Sorela. Dead. It made him so angry—more than he thought possible. But why was—

“Falan!” Naikal called.

He turned, glanced toward the Hansa who cradled Sorela’s body in her arms. Sorela blinked her eyes open.

“Sorela!”Falan dropped to his knees.

The mage groaned, moving her bloody chin as she made to speak. “I should be, Serafe…”

“You’re alive! I thought you were dead.”

“Mmm,” Naikal noised. “Your gods must be merciful.”

“Indeed they are,” Falan said, feeling relief. He couldn’t help but smile like a fool.

“Lord Jalen,” Sorela murmured. “He’s here—I’m certain of this.”

“Don’t speak. You need to rest.” Falan wasted no time. He cut Sorela’s bonds with his dagger before gently lifting the slender woman into his arms.

“You came back for a reason, Falan,” Sorela said, looking up at him. “Please… we must find the boy.”

Falan looked into her green eyes and nodded. “I know. We will. I swear it.”

Naikal muttered something from behind, by the Serafe ignored her. “I forgot to put my sword in my scabbard. Naikal?”

“Yes, yes.”

The long sword seemed quite unwieldy in her hands, but she managed to shove the blade in. He would need a new scabbard with that much blood clogging the inside.

Falan glanced about. “Everyone—stay together. We must find the others.”

Sorela said nothing. Her eyes were closed, and Falan couldn’t say he wasn’t worried for her well being, even now that she was cradled in his arms—safe from these evil demons of the Blackwood.

“I am ready,” Naikal said as she hafted her spear.

Falan nodded. “Lead the way, my friend.”