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  "I'm not Maelhrandia. The manlings shall be culled before ever realizing the sword dangling over their heads."

  The Storm Guards at the gate snapped to attention. Tlathia brushed past them without a word, and Horlastia followed. While Horlastia's guard remained outside the fort, as per the queen's instructions, Tlathia's Blood Knights marched in behind her, obeying no orders but hers. The Storm Guards stared in shock at Tlathia's nerve, and even Horlastia stiffened, looking back over her shoulder at their intrusion. But not a single Storm Guard challenged her Blood Knights' presence within the fort. Tlathia was the crown princess, and while her mother had lived far longer than any other fae seelie, someday Tlathia would sit upon the Bane Throne.

  Probably.

  Maybe.

  In truth, never, but they had no way of knowing that.

  In such times, even Storm Guards were reluctant to make principled stands.

  They entered a large, open courtyard, around which stood a dozen more Storm Guards, their curved swords resting against the black armored plates covering their shoulders. Filling most of the courtyard was the Culling Machine itself. It was their mother's greatest weapon and the source of her unnaturally long life. Elaborately constructed but ugly and cold, the machine was a marvel of engineering. A dozen wagon-sized receptors connected by coils of copper wire and crystal tubes surrounded the machine. Green mist vented from the tubing. Metal steps led up to a platform set against the base of a fifty-foot-high tower built entirely from gleaming golden meld-metal. At the summit of the tower was a black glass orb the size of Tlathia's clenched fist—one of the legendary Shatkur Orbs, immensely powerful magical talismans.

  Horlastia stood before the steps leading up to the control console, her hand upon the railing. "Once the gateway has been opened and I've seized the Nexus Star on the Old World, we'll bring the machine across. It will take a day or two to break it down then reassemble it, which is why I don't understand this need to verify the calibrations. We'll only need to do it again once the machine has been moved."

  Tlathia sighed audibly in exasperation, looking down her narrow nose at her sister. "Must I go over this again?"

  "No, of course not. If Mother wishes it, it shall be done." Horlastia motioned to the steps leading up to the platform.

  Kneeling atop the platform, his head lowered, was the oldest dwarf Tlathia had ever seen, so old his hair was now as white as hers was, his long beard filthy and tangled. She couldn't see from this angle, but she knew this dwarf also bore a grimworm attached to his spine. She recognized him in a moment—Kulm, the finest of the dwarven technomancers. Once, Kulm had been an intellectual giant among his people. Now, he was just another slave. A much crueler fate than that which befell his race, she mused. At least the dead are free.

  Tlathia mounted the steps, her sister following closely behind. Kargin came last, pausing noticeably when he saw the older dwarf. He averted his gaze and rushed past. Her Blood Knights waited among the queen's Storm Guard in the courtyard, neither group acknowledging the other.

  Horlastia moved past the ancient dwarf, running her dark fingers over the banks of dials and gauges on the machine's control panel. "You will see, dear sister, that all is as it should be. We tested the calibration on the manling prisoners."

  Tlathia nodded, saying nothing as she stared at the control panel. While their sister Maelhrandia had been the first fae seelie scout to return to the Old World, others had secretly followed in the last cycle, kidnapping manlings and bringing them back to Faerum, both for questioning and as test subjects. If the manlings knew of these kidnappings, they had given no indication. But according to the testimony, the manlings were segmented into dozens—hundreds—of different nations, blithely unaware of the fae seelie and the threat her people posed—even though they had been the ones to first open the doorway between the Old World and Faerum. How can a people be so naïve, so trusting? Tlathia turned and glared at Kargin. "Well? Check the calibrations, and be quick about it. This rain is putting me in a foul mood."

  Kargin hurried forward.

  When Horlastia spoke now, Tlathia heard the pride in her sister's voice. "You will find all is ready. In three weeks, just as Mother has ordered, the invasion will proceed. We will drive the manlings from the Nexus Star, we will destroy their feeble soldiers, and we will move the machine. The Culling will proceed on schedule. And who knows?" She paused, her white teeth flashing. "Perhaps with that much magical energy, Mother may wish to share with her daughters, you and I, those who are most worthy."

  Tlathia's smirk was cold. "Don't let Mother hear you speak of 'sharing,' little sister. General or no, you'll find yourself naked and in chains, perhaps with a grimworm of your own upon your pretty back. And that's if you're lucky. More likely, Mother will flay your skin for treason."

  Horlastia stiffened, her golden eyes going wide. "I didn't mean—"

  "Make sure you never step above your station, little sister. Some ambitions are useful, but others are dangerous. Focus instead on the war to come, not immortality."

  "Yes, sister." Horlastia lowered her gaze contritely.

  An uncomfortable silence settled between them. With Kargin bent over the control console, Tlathia strolled about the platform, her gaze drifting over the Storm Guard warriors defending the fort. While some remained in the courtyard, no doubt loath to leave Tlathia's Blood Knights unwatched, others returned to their patrolling along the battlements. The elderly dwarf, Kulm, now stood behind Kargin, watching him with profound sadness. Horlastia's gaze also drifted over the dwarven slaves, and she chuckled softly, sighing. "Do you realize, sister, that these two are the last of the true dwarven technomancers? Such a pity."

  "Indeed."

  "And to think, they almost defeated us." Horlastia shook her head in amusement.

  As Kargin labored over the control console, his cloak's hood slipped, exposing the buried head of the grimworm attached to his neck. Horlastia stared at him, her yellow eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "Sister, your dwarf's grimworm … it's dea—"

  Tlathia struck, casting Storm-Tongue. A bolt of brilliant blue lightning arced from her outstretched hand, striking Horlastia in the back. Her sister flew forward as if kicked by a troll, smashing into one of the control panels and shattering its dials before collapsing to the metal floor of the platform, smoke drifting from her scorched back. Tlathia spun about, filling herself with more magic. Kargin roared in fury, launching himself down the steps, now holding a dwarven battle-ax in each hand. Earlier, Tlathia had cast a Shadow-Soul invisibility spell on his weapons, hiding them from all but the most careful divination. Now, the ax-heads glowed red-hot and trailed heat as Kargin charged the closest of the Storm Guards. To his credit, the elite fae seelie warrior tried to defend himself, but there were few among her people that could stand against an enraged dwarf, and hardly any that could have faced Kargin Ice-Hand. His double ax-heads cut through the fae seelie's sword then both of his legs as if they were paper.

  Her Blood Knights turned on the Storm Guards, each one having already chosen her target in preparation for this moment. In seconds, they burned at least ten of the Storm Guards to ash with Drake's-gift.

  Tlathia cast Egis's-Shield over both herself and Kargin, protecting them from magical attack with glowing red luminescent discs that floated before them. Then she cast lightning bolts and fireballs into the stunned Storm Guards, burning them from the battlements. Her sister's two mages cast their own spells at Tlathia, but they fell apart on her disc. Her return spells ripped the two mages apart, sending blood and pieces of flesh showering about the courtyard.

  "For the Grandfather!" Serstin, one of her Blood Knights, screamed as she beheaded a Storm Guard with a lightning-fast riposte of her saber, sending his helmeted head rolling in the dirt of the compound.

  Tlathia, her breathing wild now, looked about for another foe, but the battle, entirely one-sided, was already over, the fort secured. Dead Storm Guards lay everywhere, but an alarm horn cut through the night. We have
only minutes, Tlathia knew, her heart hammering in her chest. I've done it! I've struck the first blow. May the Grandfather protect us. May he forgive us the evil we've done this night to stop an even greater evil.

  She drew her saber, intent on taking her sister's head and leaving it atop a spear for their mother, but when she looked for her, Horlastia was no longer there. "Damn the bitch to the Red Ether," she swore angrily. Horlastia, always a survivor, must have cast Shadow-Soul on herself, turning invisible and escaping while Tlathia had been fighting the Storm Guards. Idiot, she admonished herself. You should have finished her when you had the chance!

  Serstin, blood dripping from her saber, ran to Tlathia, her eyes wild with excitement. "The fort is ours, but when they come, we won't be able to hold long."

  Although she came from a minor noble family, Serstin had been a close friend of Tlathia's since childhood. She had first exposed Tlathia to the loving embrace of the Grandfather, showing her that there could be more to this world than the never-ending horror of worshiping the Spider Mother. Love battled duty in Tlathia's heart over what was to come next. She embraced the other fae seelie woman, pulling her close, whispering into her neck. "It's not too late to change your mind."

  Serstin stepped back, placing her palm tenderly against Tlathia's cheek. "We can't all come, so no, I won't go either."

  "But—"

  "You are more a sister to me than my own blood," said Serstin as she moved back. "Go!" she yelled. "Hurry. You know what must be done." Then Serstin drew the other Blood Knights about her, now only ten, and led them to assume battle positions near the fort's barred gate, barricading it as well as they could in the little time they still had.

  Tlathia, her heart breaking, could only follow through with the plan. Atop the dais, she saw Kargin rip the dead grimworm from his back and throw its carcass away. He then stood before her, his ax-heads no longer glowing, his gaze sorrowful.

  "We must hurry, old friend," she said.

  "Please," Kargin begged, his gaze darting to the ancient dwarf standing in confusion upon the machine's platform. "Release him."

  Biting her lip, she nodded and approached the elderly dwarf, his lips trembling in fear. "Be still," she told him. "There will be pain."

  Kargin placed both hands against the sides of the other dwarf's head, holding him steady as he leaned forward, placing his forehead against the other's head. She had seen Kargin bend steel rods with his meaty hands, yet now he held the older dwarf with surprising tenderness. She stepped behind Kulm, pulling back his filthy shirt and exposing the grimworm. Streaks of dried blood ran down his back where the worm's pincers dug into his skin. She had always hated these revolting things. Gripping the grimworm in both hands, she cast the smallest bit of electricity she could right into its flesh. The dwarf screamed in pain, but the grimworm died in a moment, its internal organs cooked. As the older dwarf fell into Kargin's hands, she pried the dead grimworm from his spine, its pincers ripping the skin as it came free. "We have no time," she softly said to Kargin, seeing the tears well in his dark eyes.

  His gruff voice cracked when he spoke. "I know. I just want to … to say goodbye."

  "Of course."

  She left him to his father.

  Ladder rungs were bolted to the side of the tower, and she began to scale it, the rain stinging her face, but she was fae seelie, and despite the rain-slick metal, despite the winds pulling at her, she was in more danger of falling asleep than falling off. In moments, she reached the Shatkur Orb at the summit. Metal bands held the orb in place, but she melted them away with no more effort than brushing aside cobwebs. She took the orb, marveling at the flashes of lightning within its dark depths. It's like a miniature universe.

  As she climbed back down, she noted her sister's forces were already converging on the fort, hundreds of boggart warriors and massive trolls carrying what looked like a recently uprooted tree between them. She felt mages filling themselves with magic. Serstin and the other Blood Knights couldn't possibly hold them for long.

  Goodbye, my friend. Your sacrifice won't be in vain.

  She dropped back to the courtyard and, holding the Shatkur Orb before her, began the spell to open the Rift-Ring. Kargin joined her, and she knew his father was already dead, released from his torment to die as a free dwarf. Focusing all her attention on her spell, Tlathia was only vaguely aware of the magical battle taking place at the fort's gate. Opening a Rift-Ring between worlds would drain the orb of most of its power, but it would remain capable of creating local gateways.

  New storm clouds roiled in the sky above her, drawn by the magic she now cast. Bolts of bright-red lightning arced down, striking the plains around the fort. She focused on her spell, casting more and more magic into the orb. Sweat ran down her face, stinging her eyes, and her muscles trembled with the effort. The longer the spell took, the greater her doubt grew. What if I'm wrong? What if I can't open a Rift-Ring between worlds?

  Then, in a sudden flash of arcane power, a glowing fiery-red ring ten feet in diameter opened before her, revealing a strange forest and bright sunlight.

  The Old World!

  "Now, Kargin!" she screamed, the strain of holding the Rift-Ring growing.

  The dwarf rushed to her side, and together they stepped through the gateway and into another world. Her sister's forces swept past the last of her Blood Knights, brushing them aside, and a troll screamed in fury as it lifted a fae seelie body over its head—Serstin's.

  Tlathia's heart burned.

  She heard her sister screaming orders. Looking back through the Rift-Ring, Tlathia saw Horlastia carried between two of her warriors, her face contorted with pain.

  Tlathia flashed her a condescending smile. "Give Mother my regards."

  The gateway winked out of existence.

  2

  Mary Elizabeth Chambers stood her ground as the basilisk, an eight-legged lizard the size of an elephant, reared up, glaring down at her in animal rage. She was back in the dark-elf mage's fortress, having accompanied Sergeant Clara Anderson and the other Task Force Devil soldiers on their assault to rescue Colonel McKnight. They had fought their way through to the heart of the fortress, an alien garden with bizarre fungi, including glowing mushrooms as large as trees, when the basilisk burst through the thick vegetation, scattering the Special Forces soldiers, leaving only Elizabeth on her feet. The basilisk's blue eyes the size of garbage can lids began to glow with an eldritch light as it began to use its death gaze on her. But she had taken a wild chance, lowering her night-vision goggles over her face in the bleak hope it might interfere with the basilisk's death gaze. At the time, using her goggles seemed like a revelation. Now, it seemed a lethally bad idea.

  The lenses of her goggles flared out as the basilisk used its magic.

  But Elizabeth didn't turn to stone.

  It worked! Thank you, God.

  Before the basilisk could drop down upon her and crush her, she raised her left hand, the hand wearing Cassie's Brace—a powerful magical focus that vastly amplified Elizabeth's magical abilities—and channeled an eye-searing bolt of lightning that struck the basilisk point-blank between its eyes, shattering its skull and charring its lizard brain.

  The ground shook with a thunderous crash as the basilisk fell dead, its ruined head smoking.

  She swung her night-vision goggles back up atop her helmet on their mount and stared in wonder at the dead basilisk.

  Then she felt someone else using magic.

  When she heard a burst of machine-gun fire from her left, she spun to see Cassie drop her M4 carbine and draw her pistol. Now, she saw who Cassie had been shooting at—the dark-elf mage who had attacked their base in northern British Columbia, killing dozens and kidnapping Colonel McKnight. The mage glared at Elizabeth with raw hatred in her alien eyes then released the spell she had been preparing, sending a massive ball of fire hurtling through the air at Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth screamed as the fires washed over her, scorching away her flesh, melting he
r eyes. The fire poured down her throat, searing away her esophagus, the pain beyond description.

  THEN SHE BOLTED upright in bed, gasping for air, her skin wet, her arms flailing in the darkness. "No!"

  "Liz, stop! It's okay. You're safe."

  A small part of her recognized Clara's voice, but her terror was in control now, not her. "I'm burning. I'm on fire!" She slapped at her face and arms, trying to beat out flames that weren't there.

  Clara's arms wrapped around her, held her in place. "You're not burning. It's just another nightmare. You're not on fire, baby. You're safe. You're with me, in my room. You're safe." With one arm holding Elizabeth, Clara reached over and turned on a bedside lamp. A shudder coursed through Elizabeth. "See? You're not burning."

  Clara held her until Elizabeth's panic subsided. Elizabeth stared at her hands, running them over her chest and face. Her skin was unblemished, regrown by Cassie's magic … except for a small patch of waxy skin on her left cheekbone that Cassie had never been able to heal. When the tears came, she buried her face in the other woman's neck, the sobs ripping through her as she gasped for air. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm so sorry. It felt… it felt so…"

  Clara hushed her, stroking her hair. "It's okay, Liz. It's okay. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. I'll always keep you safe."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Go back to sleep," Clara whispered into the top of her head. "You and Cassie have your thing tomorrow in Ottawa. You'll need your rest."

  Elizabeth sighed. "Dog and pony show."

  Clara snorted in amusement. "You've been hanging around soldiers too long." She brushed Elizabeth's cheek. "Close your eyes. I'll watch over you."

  "Love you," whispered Elizabeth, kissing Clara before holding her hand and closing her eyes. Clara was a study in contrasts, her body hard and seemingly made of rock, but her fingers and touch wonderfully gentle, as if they belonged to a different woman.