King Sathrik Mal’Salin.

“Brother,” he said.

Prince Chigaru remained motionless. “Sathrik.”

“You will address your king as Your Majesty.” Nukpana’s voice was still and quiet, but the menace was clear.

“He is not my king, and he is no longer my brother,” Chigaru said. “He is worthy of neither my respect nor my honor, so I may refer to him in any manner I choose.” He laughed softly. It was hollow and without humor. “He should count himself fortunate I use his given name rather than others that come to mind.”

Piaras and I didn’t need to be anywhere near this reunion. If we ran, we would be shot. If we stayed, we would be found, and then shot. And that was if we were lucky. Clearly, the ending would be bad either way. At the moment, I didn’t know which Mal’Salin brother was worse, and I didn’t even want to think about Sarad Nukpana. I suspected Sathrik Mal’Salin lacked the power to call his grand shaman to heel if he wanted to play with us a while before he had us killed. Still, if his words to me last night were any indication, Sarad Nukpana wanted me very much alive. That might be even worse.

The prince inclined his head in somber acknowledgment of his brother as he slid his saber free of its sheath. The hiss of escaping metal was instantly repeated on both sides. From the eager faces around us, this was a confrontation a long time in the making. I so did not want to be here when it happened.

The night was suddenly split by a feral goblin war cry. I couldn’t tell which side it came from. It was immediately answered in kind by a raw voice. Bolts were loosed from both sides as the goblins eagerly charged each other.

I didn’t wait to see any more. I pushed Piaras to his feet and we ran back into the trees. I couldn’t see where I was going, and until we put the sound of goblins killing each other well behind us, I didn’t care. I found spaces between the trees, but more often I found brambles and vines. My face and arms stung with tiny cuts. The ground abruptly dropped away into a ditch. Piaras’s long legs took him to the other side. Mine weren’t as long, and I wasn’t as lucky. I landed just short of the rim, and my knee slammed hard into the ground. Tears came to my eyes, but I pulled myself up and kept running.

Piaras suddenly stopped. It was my turn to run into him. Fortunately for both of us, he didn’t fall down.

I saw what had stopped him in his tracks. I agreed with his decision. Sarad Nukpana wasn’t what I had sensed hunting me.

A black mass loomed before us. I had seen it before—through Siseal Peli’s dying eyes.

More of them glided from the trees, surrounding us. I felt rather than heard something move behind me. I spun, going back-to-back with Piaras, my daggers held low. I was face-to-whatever with one of them. I slashed where an abdomen should be, but the blade passed straight through it. An oily finger extended to touch me. The beacon kicked against my chest like a hammer. My chest tightened until I couldn’t breathe past the pain, and my vision blurred. The things drew back.

Someone was running toward us through the trees. Moments later four Khrynsani shamans burst into the clearing. Like Piaras and me, they stopped dead at the sight of the monsters. But unlike us, they didn’t seem surprised to see them. They didn’t exactly look relieved either. The shamans moved to surround them, chanting in low, sibilant whispers. I recognized some elements of a containment spell, but of a sort that I had never been taught, nor would ever want to learn. Perfect for monsters.

It had no effect.

It was the goblins’ turn to be surprised. I felt their fear, and the creatures’ hunger. They wanted us more than they wanted to obey the shamans, and the goblins’ spells just seemed to annoy them. Maybe it was me, but annoying these things didn’t seem like a good idea. The shamans didn’t see it that way and kept chanting. Two of the creatures turned toward them. The eyes of the goblin closest to us widened in disbelief.

Two of the things glided toward him. The goblin stopped chanting and drew breath to scream, but the creatures reached him before he had the chance. They flowed over the spot where he had stood. Nothing remained.

A static charge like the aftermath of lightning hung in the air. Two of the creatures had now fed, and the others shifted restlessly, eager to do the same. The remaining three shamans were more experienced. They didn’t run—and they should have.

Some of the creatures drifted closer to me and Piaras, their caution giving way to hunger. I fought back in every way I knew. Garadin’s lessons hadn’t left me unprepared. My repel and shielding spells were of the highest level, but nothing worked. The more I threw at them, the tastier a morsel I became. Magic didn’t stop them. It fed them.

The final goblin shaman managed to scream before they took him. Then Piaras and I had their undivided attention.

Garadin had taught Piaras protection spells, but because of his age and inexperience, I had assumed they were only the most basic. I was wrong.

Piaras sang. His normally warm, rich baritone turned harsh and dark, the notes booming and discordant. He sang in goblin, the language the creatures supposedly obeyed, the language of dark magics. I didn’t like hearing it from Piaras. But the monsters just ate it up. Literally.

Spells didn’t work, sung or otherwise. Shields didn’t work. They just swallowed them whole. The beacon thrashed against the center of my chest like a wild horse fighting a bridle. I froze, suddenly more afraid of what I was thinking than what the monsters were about to do. Prince Chigaru said the beacon was connected to the Saghred. If I was connected to the beacon, I was connected to the Saghred. The creatures ate everything I could give them. Could they eat everything the beacon—and the Saghred—could give them? It didn’t seem to think so. And with my life in danger, I didn’t have a choice, regardless of what the Saghred might do to me.

There was an opening just beyond where the creatures circled us. Both of us wouldn’t have time to reach it, but if I could distract them long enough, Piaras might.

“Get behind me,” I told him. “When they come after me, I want you to run.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Do it!”

Piaras glanced sharply at me, his mouth forming the word “no.” The sound never made it out. He saw my face and froze. His own reflected disbelief—and fear. He was afraid of me. I didn’t know how he saw me in that instant, and I didn’t want to. Prince Chigaru’s words came back to me. Death. He saw death reflected in my eyes. Was that what Piaras saw now?

The Saghred’s power was building. I couldn’t stop it any more than I could stop the goblin-spawned things that closed on us. I couldn’t resist the power and found that I didn’t want to. My hand went to the center of my chest. It felt like it belonged to someone else. The leather of my doublet was no barrier. I didn’t feel the beacon, I felt what lay beyond it—wild and whole and wide awake.

Its power became my power. I was its instrument, but the tune was still my own.

My ribs heaved against the pressure to keep breath in my body. The power tore its way to the surface, a complexity of magic I never knew existed until now. That power became a part of me, as did knowledge of a way to destroy what threatened us. Thoughts not my own flashed like lightning through my mind, too fast for comprehension, too complex for reason—but not too inaccessible for action.

One of the creatures rushed us, crazed with hunger. I threw myself in front of Piaras and into the creature before it could reach us, and before it was ready to feed. The instant of contact opened a floodgate, releasing more power than a thousand such creatures could consume, and threw us both to the ground. The thing tried to separate from me to save itself, but it couldn’t. There was a blinding flash of light, then all was still. The pressure holding me down lifted. I opened my eyes.