Chapter 1

Pebbles of petrified wood skittered across the black sand-glass, away from the hooves of the plodding horses. They were as exhausted as the men and women stationed at the northern guard post. Ahead of them, the fortress rose above the stark landscape, its sheadash stone walls tinted pink in the fading sunlight.

“Almost home, boyos,” Maheli said, her voice muffled by a scarf over her mouth.

“Thank the Goddess,” Rolstrun muttered. Squinting against the dust kicked up by the horses’ hooves, he glanced at his guard-pack alpha. Her short, curly hair was plastered to her head with sweat. Her normally pale, creamy skin was tinged gray around the wound on her cheek where she’d been spattered with monster ichor as their guard-pack had fought to keep the Malvers monsters that formed in Shandir’s Crater from leaving the Barrens. Pain dulled her pale green eyes.

“That doesn’t look good, Alpha,” he said. “It’s a good thing we’re close. Faelyn needs to remove the poison.”

She reached up to touch the wound and hissed. “I may have to give in and have one of the girls cauterize it for me. It’ll teach me to duck faster.”

“Could be you’re getting old and slow.”

“Pfft.” She waved a hand at him. “We’re all getting slow. After fighting every day since the middle of Neydar, and sometimes several times a day, against these new control janacks, we’re all tired. We could use several days off.”

The black ironwood gates stood open, waiting for the fighters to return. Bands of helstrim, the same alloy the Reds’ helbraughts were made from, strengthened the wood. The Reds could use it to extend their magic to the gate—if the need should arise—to protect the fortress from attacking Malvers monsters. But so far, even with the increased activity, the monsters had steered clear of the edifice.

The tired horses picked up their pace, knowing their stables were close at hand. Rolstrun grabbed the reins of Maheli’s horse when they were abreast of the infirmary.

“Go see Faelyn,” he said gently. Maheli nodded, slowly climbed off her horse, and limped into the infirmary.

Once inside the stables, Rolstrun slid off his horse and shook the black sand from his hair and shoulders. He reached up to rub the grit from his eyes and stopped, knowing from past experience how painful that would be. The sand was made from fine particles of glass. He went to a bucket of water by the door, and washed the grit from his eyes. Then he unsaddled Brishna, led her to her stall, and filled her manger with fresh hay.

“Soon, girl, we’ll be able to get out of this hell-hole and go home,” he murmured as he slapped her golden-brown shoulder. A coughing fit racked him, his lungs irritated from fighting in the clouds of sand. Still coughing, he poured fresh water into Brishna’s bucket, then hurried to do the same for Maheli’s horse. The horse-master would groom them later.

His own feet dragging in the dust, Rolstrun trudged to the pack house and made his way down the winding stairs to his favorite room: the bathing room. He stopped on the threshold, breathing in the steamy air until his cough eased. The others in his pack had already scrubbed down and were soaking in the deep tubs made from fragrant redwood. He looked longingly at the steaming water, but knew both Faelyn and Maheli would skin his hide if he tracked Barrens glass into them. They worked hard to keep the water in the tubs clean and hot, but the black dust permeating everything made it an uphill battle.

Rolstrun quickly stripped out of his filthy clothes and went to the tall tank tub with a big, wide spigot on a pipe extending out the top and a chain hanging next to it. He stood under the spigot and tugged on the chain. A lever lowered, and water came swooshing out, like a mini waterfall. He sighed as the water sluiced the black dust from his body. Only after washing himself thoroughly did he finally make his way to the soaking tubs.

“Ho, Rolstrun, come join us,” Calistrun said with a wave of his hand. He then ran it through his wavy reddish-gold hair he wore long down the middle of his back. His blue-green eyes crinkled with a smile as he put his arm back around Alestrun’s shoulders, and pulled Myndera, who was snuggled against him on the other side, closer. The handsome man never lacked for lovers. Alestrun had pale green hair and yellow-green eyes, and he was broader and shorter than Calistrun. Myndera smiled and beckoned for Rolstrun to join them as well. Her long maroon hair hung in curls around her heart-shaped face, and her brown eyes were ringed with yellow.

Beside her lounged Laean. Rolstrun’s breath caught at her beauty. She had an unusual shade of rose hair and amber eyes. She was just the right height to fit under his chin. As a fighter, she was all lean muscle, except for her abundant bosom, which rose above the water. Rolstrun’s belly clenched and he hurried into the water, sliding over the top of Laean’s body, kissing her deeply. He had never expected the beauty to fall for him. Moving so he could hold her in his arms, he propped his back against the tub, and after a while, the heat and good company helped him relax.

“Only three more chedans,” Myndera said, “before we can go home. I for one will be glad to get out of this black dust. It gets everywhere—and I mean everywhere.”

“Do you think the new control janack is in the nests at home?” Laean asked.

“Goddess, I hope not.” Alestrun rubbed his upper arm. A few days ago he’d landed wrong as he jumped to avoid a flaying tentacle and had broken his arm. Faelyn had healed it, but it still bothered him. With as many injuries as the pack had recently suffered, Faelyn was hard-pressed to fully heal them all.

“Or if there are, hopefully someone has found a way to kill it besides exploding the damn thing.” Calistrun made a face as he ran his hand through his hair. “I’m getting really tired of ducking monster debris.”

Rolstrun grinned and shrugged. “Well, if you ran faster …”

“And risk Myndera? Never!” Calistrun kissed her. “She’s usually the one riding the bucking monster, trying to explode it.”

“It keeps getting harder,” Myndera said. “They seem to know what I’m doing. The other monsters are just mindless hunger, but the control janacks are intelligent.”

Rolstrun nodded in agreement. He’d sensed the same thing. He thought about his friends back home and smiled. “If these things are at home, I bet Rizelya’s in the thick of it. If anyone could find a way to kill these things, it would be her.”

“Or one of her followers …” Alestrun paused, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “Say, do you remember Eiden? The Yellow that Rizelya taught how to fight?”

The others joined Rolstrun in nodding. “Yeah, what of it?”

“I practiced with her once, just to stop Rizelya from nagging me. The girl had a way of directing cold air and was experimenting with making a cold-air shield. Brilliant, if you think about it. The control janack is like the other janacks in that it senses our body heat. What would happen if it couldn’t?”

“We’d be able to get to the control janack much quicker and end the fights easier,” Rolstrun said, then frowned. “Too bad we don’t have anyone with enough Yellow Talent.” He turned and looked intently at Laean and her amber eyes.

“What?” she asked. Her look of confusion cleared. “Sorry, I haven’t tried anything like that before. I’m stronger in Brown Talent than I am in Yellow. Dehali had just agreed to work with me when I was selected for the guard-pack.”

Rolstrun fingered a strand of his own red hair striped with yellow and closed his amber eyes. He rarely lamented the loss of magic or wished he was a woman. If he were a woman, he’d have plenty of Yellow Talent to do anything he wanted with the air magic—like form cold-air shields. But the Posair men had exchanged most of their elemental magic for the gift of shapeshifting.

He concentrated and felt the little-used Yellow power stir inside of himself. He let it grow, opened his eyes, and released the energy. A small breath of wind blew across the water, not even strong enough to cause a ripple. He snorted at himself. Little good that will do.

A loud rumble had everyone turning to stare at Calistrun, who in turn stared at his belly. Then he laughed. “Enough soaking. My stomach’s complaining that it’s too empty.” It grumbled again.

Laughing, the friends climbed out of the hot water, dressed, and headed up the stairs to find dinner.

Later that night, his stomach comfortably full and his body languid from making love to Laean, Rolstrun let his mind drift. He, like all the boys in the keep, had been taught the bare minimum about his Talents. He had enough Red to be dangerous with his fire magic, so he’d been taught how to control it. His Yellow air magic had been deemed so little as to be useless, and once he’d made his first shift to wolf cub at six, he’d never thought about his other magic again. Until now.

There had always been enough women with the various Talents to take care of any tasks that required magic. The guard-pack made do with what they had, and the few women provided the little luxuries, like the hot water in the bathing room. For most men, the magic manifested itself as a natural ability in the areas ruled by the Talent—such as Teledon, who had Green and Yellow Talent and was a great chef. Rolstrun didn’t know any males who could actively use their magic besides to shapeshift.

He’d seen only one man who could—Blazel. He recalled the wonder he’d felt when he saw fire dancing on Blazel’s palm. Sure, the Reds did it all the time, but it had been the first time Rolstrun had seen a man tame fire. He rolled onto his back and held out his hand, palm up. Staring at it, he reached for the magic he used to change his shape, this time concentrating on accessing his fire magic instead. Warmth seeped into the soles of his feet, and as he inhaled, the heat flowed up his legs, through his belly, and into his arms. His eyes widened in surprise as a tiny spark flickered in the center of his palm. It only lasted a moment before it faded. He closed his fingers over his palm and with his next exhalation let the magic go. The room reeled, and he closed his eyes against the vertigo.

A quiet excitement in him grew. He’d created a spark!

He turned onto his side and looked at his lover. Would she teach me to use my Talent? He shook his head at his folly. But when he returned home, he’d seek out Blazel—even if he had to track him down in the Deep Mountains. His eyes drifted closed as his thoughts circled around Blazel. Has he made it to the Sanctuary yet? Will the Supreme send us help?

Rolstrun’s dreams were filled with fire streaking from the sky. The land burned and blood flowed like rivers. Blazel’s voice whispered, “The madness comes.”

Rolstrun jerked awake, the blankets stuck to his sweaty body, and his heart beat a fast staccato in rhythm to the word “madness” reverberating in his mind like a pealing bell.