Thalia wiped the perspiration from her face as she finished burying the last of Catullus’s incendiary devices outside the monastery wall. After the war council had broken, Catullus immediately went to where herbs and chemicals were stored for making medicine and tinkered with them until he was satisfied. Though he had explained to her how the combinations of substances worked, she did not quite fathom all the complex reactions or how they could produce explosions. It did not matter. All that mattered was that they reduce the number of the Heirs and their mercenaries.
Sentries were posted on the ramparts, keeping watch and guarding those working outside the safety of the walls.
“I believe we are finished with this stage,” Thalia said to Catullus, who stood nearby and directed the placement of his device for cutting grappling hook lines. Monks strung thick lengths of rope, soaked in chemicals, all the way around the monastery’s exterior wall. Each rope was suspended midway up the wall, held in place by metal spikes.
Since night had fallen, everything was done by torchlight, and Catullus thoroughly surveyed his handiwork. “Careful,” he shouted to a monk and waved his arms. “Don’t get the torches close to the rope!”
Though the monk did not speak English, nor Catullus Chinese, the words and gestures had their intended effect. The monk moved the torch away from the rope.
Catullus dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief. “We don’t want to blow ourselves up,” he said to Thalia. “So mind where you walk, as well.” He eyed the mounds of dirt that subtly marked where each incendiary device was buried.
“I must admit,” Thalia said, “I’m surprised to see you away from Southampton.”
Catullus smiled faintly. “I can fight as well as any Blade.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she said quickly, afraid she had insulted him. “But, you are so valuable to us—to the Blades, I mean.” She wasn’t a Blade herself, at least, not yet, but if she survived the siege and kept the Source safe, then surely she would be inducted into their ranks. But all of that was too distant even to consider. “If anything were to happen to you…”
“My sister Octavia is just as adept as I am when it comes to devising new contraptions. She can easily take my place if I am killed.”
“The prospect of your death does not seem to bother you,” Thalia said.
His smile was larger, but no less rueful. “Believe me, I’d rather not die. There are so many inventions I’ve considered but haven’t had the opportunity to create. Yet when we take the Blades’ Oath, we must keep the possibility in mind that serving the cause could result in injury or worse. Not just for ourselves, but our friends as well. Those that serve with us.”
“Have you heard from Astrid?” Thalia asked quietly.
Catullus’s smile faded, and he looked tired and despondent. “No. Not a letter from her in nearly a year. She never recovered from Michael’s death.”
Thalia’s mind immediately went to Gabriel. He, Bennett, Hsiung Ming, and Altan were busy within the monastery walls, planning more strategy and troop placement. She and Gabriel had not had a moment alone together since they’d arrived at the monastery, many hours ago. It felt like years.
“Would you excuse me?” Thalia asked Catullus.
He seemed to understand exactly what she meant, and did not mind when she left him to go back into the monastery. Thalia strode through the outer courtyard, passing monks, bandits, and a few tribesmen in furious preparation for the siege. Yet she could find no sign of Gabriel. Thalia went into the central courtyard, and even ducked into the temple, but still, she could not locate him. In the walled monastery garden, where food for the monks was grown, Thalia found Bennett and Hsiung Ming with a map of the monastery. They both looked up from their discussion when Thalia appeared at the entrance to the garden.
“He isn’t here,” Bennett said before Thalia could speak. “Try the walkway around the outer wall. There are stairs that lead to it in the northwest corner.”
She barely breathed out her thanks before heading for the stairs. They were steep, but she took them two at a time to reach the walkway. Sha Chuan Si’s outer walls were constructed with parapets, much like a castle, so that a monk could observe the surrounding landscape in relative safety. Sentries stood atop the ramparts, but Thalia’s gaze was drawn to one man.
Gabriel leaned against the parapet, staring out at the moonlit desert. It wasn’t quite bright enough for her to be able to make out the details of his face and dress, but she knew his wide, strong shoulders, his soldier’s bearing, the hard beauty of his long-limbed body that contained the potential for both action and pleasure. Though he did not move when she approached him, she knew he heard her boots on the wide, rough stones. Thalia stood beside him, also leaning against the parapet, to take in the dark plain. With the silver glow of the moon bathing everything in pearly luminescence, the Gobi appeared to be as otherworldly as the moon itself. A cold, dry breeze danced over the surface of the desert, up the mountain and the walls of the monastery, until it stroked Thalia’s face and ruffled Gabriel’s hair. Atop the wall, darkness gave them only a temporary sort of privacy from the sentries, but she would take it, just the same.
She did and did not want to touch Gabriel. She wanted to feel him, his skin, his self, but feared that if she did, she would never want to let him go. Would plead with him to run away with her, leave the defense of the Source to the Blades, and find some secluded corner of the Mongolian plains where they could be safe and untroubled. A ger only for them, where they could spend their nights making love, their days on horseback, with the sky above and the steppe below.
“I wish the morning would never arrive,” she said softly, without looking at him.
“Can’t come soon enough for me,” he answered. His voice was so low, such a gravelly rasp, she could barely hear him.
Thalia turned to him, resting her hip against the parapet, and crossing her arms. Temper, strained by anticipating the siege, flared. “Are you so eager for battle? Perhaps you were too hasty in leaving the army.”
His profile was a gold and silver coin, his jaw tight, as he continued to study the desert. “The sooner it’s morning, the sooner the Heirs get here. Once they get here, I can fight them. Once I can fight them, I can crush them. And then,” he continued, turning to her, his eyes gleaming in the night, “as soon as the Heirs have been defeated to the very last man, I’m going to ask you to marry me.”
Her heart slammed inside her chest, and her mouth dried. For one of the first times in her life, Thalia felt as if she might faint. “Only then will you ask?”
“Only then. I’m not fool enough to court disaster by asking now.”
“Would it…be tempting fate, if I said that when you do ask me, I would say ‘yes’?”
“It might,” he answered with a growl. “But I don’t give a damn.” He pulled Thalia against him and kissed her, open-mouthed, as if trying to draw her completely inside of himself, and she pressed herself to him, kissing him back with a frantic hunger. “I need to be alone with you,” he rumbled against her mouth. “I’ve an idea.”
Taking her hand, Gabriel led her down the stairs, through the bustling courtyards, until they reached the pagoda. Silently, they climbed all seven stories, until they reached the very top. Moonlight poured in through the open windows, and the sounds of battle preparations were far away. A sanctuary, for now.
He took her in his arms. He was warm and alive and all she would ever want to know of love. “Haven’t got any gift for words,” he murmured in the shadows. “But my body can tell you what my words can’t.”
In that place of light and darkness, they made love, and even though Thalia never demanded pretty avowals of devotion, she understood everything in the way Gabriel touched her, his mouth against hers, on her skin, hands and flesh communing. She let her own body speak for her, as well. Each caress was a promise, and each moan and sigh was a vow. Their climaxes, when they came, sealed their bond.
While Gabriel was still inside of her, her mind could not help but drift to Astrid Bramfield, burying herself alive somewhere in the depths of the Canadian wild. When Thalia had first learned, several years ago, that Astrid’s husband Michael had been killed on a mission for the Blades, Thalia had been sorry for her friend, comprehended her loss, but could not fully understand how grief completely shattered Astrid. Surely, Astrid would mourn for a time and then move on, for her own sake. But she hadn’t. And now Thalia understood why.
When Gabriel and Thalia regained some measure of calm, they reluctantly disentangled themselves. After rearranging his clothing, Gabriel helped clean and dress her, his ministrations economical but tender. They both stood.
She felt her legs weaken, and she tottered. Gabriel immediately supported her. He swung her up into his arms easily. Thalia murmured a protest but hadn’t the strength to fight him.
He walked down the pagoda’s stairs, then headed toward the dormitories. “Sleep,” he said.
“I can’t,” she objected, though her words were slurred. “Too much to do. Doubt I could sleep, anyway.” She could barely lift her head up to see the quizzical expressions of the monks in the dormitory as Gabriel strode into the room.
He laid her down upon an unoccupied mat. Though the monks did not usually share their quarters with women, these were doubtless special circumstances, and no one in the room complained as Gabriel pulled a blanket over Thalia.
“Rest then,” he commanded her softly. He brushed the hair back from her face, and she struggled to keep her eyes open, just to look at him a few moments longer. He appeared tired, preoccupied, but there was no mistaking the love that softened his expression. Gabriel bent forward and brushed a kiss against her mouth. “Think of where you’d like to go for our bridal tour.”
A foolish idea, she thought, when they might not survive the morrow. Even so, Thalia fell asleep smiling.
He was no stranger to the morning of a battle, though it had been many months since he’d experienced one. Sometime, in the hours before dawn, he’d managed to catch a little sleep. Soon after enlisting, he had faced his first night before combat. All night, he’d shook with a combination of fear and excitement, so that when the actual conflict began, he was already exhausted. Only several cups of coffee and his own nerves kept him upright. After barely surviving that battle, Gabriel learned it was better to sleep than stew.
So, after finalizing preparations with the Blades and Altan, Gabriel returned to the dormitory and stretched out next to a completely slumbering Thalia, setting his rifle down beside him within reaching distance. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and, in her sleep, she sighed and burrowed close to him. Even though he knew better, he tried to keep his eyes open, stay awake so he could memorize the feel of her, but his body demanded rest, and he slept hard for a few, brief hours.
Next thing he knew, Bennett Day was shaking him into wakefulness. Day had a rifle in one hand and a spyglass in the other. “They’ve been spotted,” Day said, quiet and urgent. “About an hour’s ride from here.”
Gabriel forced himself upright and nodded his thanks when a cup of steaming tea was put into his hand. Another was provided for Thalia, who was rubbing her face. “Five minutes,” Gabriel said.
Day nodded and quickly left the dormitory. As Gabriel sipped his tea, he studied Thalia over the rim of his cup. She looked pale and worn, and the sun had barely begun to lighten the sky. Knowing that the enemy was nearly at the gates, Gabriel waited for the sense of calm to come over him that usually did in the hours before combat. But it didn’t come. His hands were shaking. And he knew why. In order to survive the day, in order to protect her, he would have to think of her as another soldier and nothing more. Otherwise, he very well would lose his godforsaken mind.
“You should eat something,” he rumbled, his voice still hoarse from sleep.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly keep anything down.” She glanced at him as if expecting him to argue, but he didn’t.
“Finish your tea, at least,” he said, and she complied. Once they had both drunk the last of their tea, he set their cups aside and rose to his feet. He didn’t help her up, even though he wanted to. Instead, he shouldered his rifle.
Thalia stood, looking at him quizzically. Before she could speak, he turned and left the dormitory. He heard her follow. Dawn turned the sky violet and pink, and the air was cold. Gabriel’s breath turned to white puffs in front of his face. Gathered in the central courtyard were the monks, the bandits, the tribesmen, and the Blades, wearing expressions that varied from eager to terrified, to, in the case of the Blades, alertly ready. Everyone turned to Gabriel when he entered the courtyard, looking at him expectantly.
“Given that you’ve years of military experience,” Graves said, “it would be best if you went over the final preparations. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not a bit,” Gabriel answered. “I like telling people what to do.”
Graves smiled a little at this. With Hsiung Ming translating for the monks and Thalia translating for the brigands and tribesmen, Gabriel addressed the crowd. He didn’t bother standing on a box or anything else to elevate him and demand attention. His voice could do the job.
“We have a slight advantage in our location,” Gabriel said. “High up, with only one true entrance. First line of defense will be Graves’s devices, and half of Altan’s men on the parapet. But the Heirs will find a way to breach the wall, and when they do, you monks and tribesmen will do your best to disarm the mercenaries. Graves and Hsiung Ming have their weapon, which is mounted on top of the blacksmith’s building. Altan and I will guard Lan Shun, who will be in the temple with the kettle. Some of Altan’s men will serve as skirmishers and the rest with Altan and me in the temple. Everyone clear?”
“What about me?” Thalia asked. “Where shall I be posted?”
He addressed her as if she was an infantryman. “You and Day are our best shots, so you’ll both be in the pagoda, sniping.” He pointed to the tall, round structure. “It has windows on all sides, so the position is excellent both for defending the front gate and for getting shots at anyone who should breach the walls.” Gabriel didn’t add that it wasn’t only her excellent aim that earned her the post. Out of everywhere in the monastery, it was the most protected location, the one furthest from the actual battle, and he would only have to look up to know exactly where she was at all times. Having Day serve as her guard was a bonus. Gabriel might not like the charming bastard, but he knew that Day would do his utmost to keep Thalia safe.
Thalia seemed to guess the other part of Gabriel’s rationale for situating her in the pagoda, but at least she didn’t argue. Gabriel quickly went over a few of the final directions for the siege. “I believe that’s everything,” he said when he finished. He wanted to take up his position as soon as possible and get on with this damned fight.
“Not everything,” Lan Shun said, coming forward. He carried the kettle under one arm, and in his other, he held a gold silk pouch. A younger monk took the pouch from Lan Shun and began distributing its contents to everyone. Gabriel could not tell what they were being given, but when the monk approached Gabriel and motioned for him to hold out his hand, he did so. The monk set something tiny and round into Gabriel’s palm before moving on. Looking closely, Gabriel saw that he had been given a plant seed.
Even the Blades appeared puzzled as they studied the seeds in their hands. Lan Shun and his assistant both took seeds, as well.
“Place the seed here,” Lan Shun instructed, pointing at the hollow of his throat. Everyone obeyed, and Lan Shun started to chant.
No sooner did the words start to leave the head monk’s mouth, but the seed between Gabriel’s fingers became incredibly warm. He moved to drop it, but the seed didn’t move from where it nestled at the base of his neck. Instead, it began sprouting at an accelerated rate. He couldn’t see it happen on himself, but watched Thalia as she underwent the same experience, her eyes wide with surprise. Green tendrils curled out of both sides of the seed, curving up and around their necks like serpents. Gabriel tried to pull at it, but Lan Shun called out, “No! Let the seed do its work.”
Not particularly fond of snakes, even if they were actually plants, Gabriel struggled to keep from wrenching the seed away. But he endured the sensation of slithering, coiling plant shoots wrapping around his throat, until they met at the back of his neck. A living necklace.
“Do not, under any circumstances, remove the seed,” Lan Shun commanded. “It will protect you.”
“From the Heirs?” Altan asked.
“From this.” Lan Shun held up the kettle.
Thalia, Gabriel, and the Blades exchanged looks. What the hell were they getting themselves into, unleashing the power of the Source? But Lan Shun appeared confident, and, since Gabriel had almost no experience with Sources of any variety, he didn’t challenge the head monk.
“The Heirs will be here soon,” Graves said, checking his pocket watch.
Gabriel cocked his head to one side, listening. “I can hear them coming.” The hooves of their horses made a dim thunder, nearing the monastery. He knew the sound well. “Everyone, to their positions.”
As the assembled crowd dispersed, Thalia threaded through the men to Gabriel’s side. She reached for him, but he edged away from her touch.
“I can’t,” he growled. At her unspoken question, he continued. “I have to tell myself that you’re just another soldier. If, for even a minute, I thought of you as Thalia, the woman I love, the woman I want to be my wife, then I’d—” His voice hitched, cracked, and he squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, she’d taken a step back.
Her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes glistened, while twin spots of red stained her cheeks. “No kiss, then,” she said on a rasp.
Gabriel shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. Thalia nodded, looking not angry but determined, and then walked off in the direction of the pagoda. He curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her, and would only find much later the cuts his fingernails had made in the flesh of his palms.
Armed with a rifle and plenty of ammunition, Thalia climbed the stairs of the pagoda, Bennett following. Her feet took the steps as she ascended seven stories, but her mind was down in the courtyard with Gabriel. As much as she wanted one final embrace, one last kiss before the battle, she could not find fault with his decision to distance himself. If pushing her away was what it took to ensure his survival, then she’d let him. Anything to keep him alive.
Upon reaching the top floor of the pagoda, Thalia tried to suppress her potent memories of making love with Gabriel in that same room the night before. She looked out of the arched windows. As Gabriel had pointed out, the pagoda provided a view of every part of the monastery. She glanced down into the monastery to see people taking up their positions, and from her high vantage point, everything looked small and removed. Except for Gabriel. Her eyes went to him immediately—he commanded her attention, moving confidently and decisively through the monastery.
“You aren’t going to start sighing and languishing, I hope,” Bennett said dryly.
Thalia shot him a look as she moved toward the windows that faced the front monastery wall. “I should think you’re quite familiar with that.”
He grinned at her. “I’m long gone by the time the sighing and languishing begins.”
Her retort died on her lips as she and Bennett looked out the front windows. The Heirs and their mercenaries massed at the foot of the escarpment. They were a thick, bristling mob, a dark wound against the desert’s red plain. A handful of riders broke off to circle the mountain, but within minutes they returned. Scouting for a way up besides the front slope, and unsuccessful. Thalia spotted Lamb’s fair head at the front of the mob as he consulted with the riders. Seeing no other way up, he waved for the mercenaries to take the escarpment. The men surged forward.
“I see Henry Lamb is taking up his usual location at the rear,” Bennett muttered. “Protecting himself. What an ass.”
“Jonas Edgeworth is with him, as well.”
“That belligerent puppy? I suppose that’s Lamb’s punishment. And who’s that enormous heap of a man riding with them?”
“Tsend,” Thalia answered darkly. “The one Gabriel wrestled. A betrayer of his homeland. He sold his knowledge of the Source to the Heirs.”
“And Huntley defeated him? Good Lord, remind me not to get your captain angry.”
The sounds of the advancing horses grew louder as the Heirs and their army neared. Individual faces began to form from the crowd, all of them cold and ruthless, ready to kill for the promise of gold. As she fingered the strange necklace of plant shoots around her neck, Thalia wanted to crawl away to the other side of the pagoda and hide. She also wanted to throw boulders at their foes. Instead of doing either, she settled into position, shouldering her rifle and training the barrel on the approaching men. Bennett did the same in the window beside her.
Closer, closer. Thalia kept her finger on the trigger, though she knew she would have to wait until exactly the right moment to begin firing. Bullets were not in endless supply, and the moment she shot, her position would be revealed. She was no happier about having to kill, but she had no choice. One more mercenary alive meant one more person able to hurt Gabriel.
The mercenaries halted their advance fifty feet away from the monastery’s front gate. Horses pawed the ground, restive, and the men shifted in their saddles, ready for war.
“Last chance,” Lamb’s voice boomed out. It was so loud, Thalia’s teeth rattled. “Give us the Source, or you will all be slaughtered.”
“How can he do that with his voice?” she asked Bennett, her ears ringing.
“Caesar’s Clarion,” Bennett answered grimly. “A charm used by conquerors to intimidate their enemies.”
But those protecting the Source would not be cowed so easily. Stony silence met Lamb’s demand.
“Death, then,” Lamb thundered, sounding almost pleased at the opportunity to kill. He shouted to his men, and, with a collective roar, they surged toward the monastery gate.
“Now?” Thalia asked Bennett.
“Wait.”
The mercenaries drew nearer.
“Now?”
“A moment longer.”
The pagoda shook with the force of an explosion. Horses reared, and mercenaries were thrown as Catullus’s incendiary devices, buried in the ground, were trod upon. They were clay pots filled with an exact proportion of chemicals that combined and detonated when pressure was put on them. One after the other, the advancing mercenaries triggered the devices, which heaved dirt and chaos as they blasted. Confusion struck, and some tried to retreat while their brethren pushed forward.
At the same time, the brigands stationed along the front wall began firing into the group. Smoke and noise. Men pitched backward off of their mounts.
“Now!” Bennett commanded.
She and Bennett fired. Thalia tried to pick her targets wisely, only taking shots she knew she could make. Some men went down. Between each shot, she ducked down as the mercenaries returned fire. Chips of stone flew from the window as bullets flew overhead.
But there were only so many bandits stationed at the wall, and she and Bennett were only two, versus well over a hundred men intent on getting inside the monastery. Before too long, the mercenaries were at the front wall and swarming around the sides. As Gabriel had predicted, they had ropes attached to grappling hooks, and Thalia soon heard the clank of the metal hooks thrown up the walls and finding purchase.
Thalia continued to shoot, watching as the mercenaries began to scale the walls. When the attackers were midway up, a few monks tossed burning embers down. The mercenaries laughed as the embers grazed passed them, but their laughter cut off abruptly. Flaming embers caught on the ropes that Catullus had wrapped around the monastery walls. Soaked in a chemical solution, the ropes burned quickly, then exploded. Men toppled from their severed grappling lines like ants.
“Remind me to kiss Catullus later,” Bennett shouted over the din.
“You’ll have to queue up,” Thalia yelled back. “I’m first.”
“Don’t think your captain would appreciate that.”
“He’ll be second in line.” Thalia reminded herself that Gabriel was ensconced in the temple, protecting Lan Shun and the Source, and, for now, he was safe. Turning her attention to the action outside the monastery wall, she continued to shoot, reload, and shoot. Even though their grappling lines had been cut, the mercenaries continued to swarm up the walls with makeshift lines.
Knowing that bullets were precious, Thalia scanned the advancing mob, trying to find the Heirs in the midst of the pandemonium. If she could wound or kill Lamb and Edgeworth, the mercenaries might turn. Go for the officers, she remembered Gabriel telling her once. An army without leaders couldn’t fight.
But Lamb, damn him, was elusive. Never staying anywhere for long, ducking in and out of the attacking mercenaries, he kept himself well hidden behind a human shield. And Edgeworth…
“I can’t find Edgeworth!” she shouted at Bennett.
Bennett scanned the horde, using his spyglass. “Where did that squirrelly bugger get to?” he muttered. “Wait—I see him! But what the hell is he doing?” He handed Thalia the glass, and she followed his direction.
Kneeling in the dirt, far at the back of the invaders, Edgeworth focused on the soil at his feet. Something metal glinted on the ground. It looked as though he chanted, and, as he did so, a small whirlwind of dust began to gather and twist in front of him. Edgeworth continued to chant as the eddy grew and gathered momentum. Soon, the whirlwind was taller than a man. And it glinted and glittered with the presence of magic.
“He’s casting some kind of spell,” Thalia said darkly as she returned the spyglass.
“Not if I can stop him.” Bennett took up his rifle, aimed, and fired. “Damn! He’s too far to get a decent shot.”
“Maybe I can get closer,” Thalia said. “If I went down to the wall, perhaps I could—”
“No.” Bennett, his gaze still fixed on Edgeworth, rose from his crouch. “I’ll go.”
“He told you to keep me up here, didn’t he?”
Bennett didn’t bother asking who she meant or denying the charge. He headed for the stairs, with Thalia at his heels. “I’m a better shot than you,” she protested, following. They reached the sixth floor. Sounds of battle drew closer as the bandits continued to fire on the mercenaries, while the enemies fired back. A man screamed.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Bennett threw over his shoulder.
“I’m not. But be reasonable.”
Bennett barked out a laugh. “There’s nothing reasonable about the way your captain feels about you. Get back to the top of the tower, Thalia.” Fifth, then fourth floors.
“But—”
Shouts and yells interrupted her, louder than the terrible and typical noise of warfare. Thalia and Bennett raced to the window on the fourth floor of the pagoda to see what caused the uproar. Shocked at what she saw, Thalia gripped Bennett’s arm without knowing that she did so.
“Sweet sinners,” Bennett muttered. “The bastard did it.”
As tall as two men and entirely the same reddish hue as the Gobi soil. A giant. At Edgeworth’s command, the creature moved slowly, lumbering steadily toward the monastery’s outer wall. Mercenaries, hardened men frightened of nothing, scattered in the giant’s oncoming path. The creature moved like an automaton, without thought, but direct and awful in its progress. Bullets pierced its clay flesh, yet had no effect on the giant, and it took no notice of them. It continued forward, nearing the front gate. Thalia shuddered at the sight.
“A golem,” Bennett snarled. He turned and began racing back up the stairs, with Thalia shortly behind. “From Jewish folklore. A man, made of earth, enchanted and unstoppable.”
“What if we killed Edgeworth?” Thalia panted. “That might halt it.”
Bennett shook his head. They took up their original positions on the top floor of the pagoda. From there, they watched as the golem shambled toward the front gate. With enormous fists the size of cannonballs, the golem pounded on the gate, shaking the huge wooden structure as if it were pasteboard. Monks and bandits gathered on the other side of the gate, bracing themselves against it, trying to keep the gate standing. Each pound of the golem’s fists nearly threw the defenders backward.
“Only way to stop a golem is to remove the Star of David amulet on its chest,” Bennett said. “Which means someone has to get close enough to that thing to grab the amulet.”
Slam, slam, slam. Thalia watched with an awful sense of inevitability as the golem continued its relentless assault on the front gate. There was nothing she nor Bennett could do to stop it. An enormous, awful splintering rent the air. The gate flew apart into kindling, monks and bandits flying through the air, as insubstantial as dandelions. As soon as the gate was breached, the invaders flooded inside, shouting for blood. And that’s when the battle truly began.