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  As the portal shrank to oblivion behind the Belab’s latest progeny, a ruffling sounded outside the tent. The interruption annoyed the Belab, but he motioned to the man on his left. That man made a gesture, and the tent flap flew open.

  On the other side was a short creature with translucent wings, a spike-riddled exoskeleton, and a face dominated by a vicious double set of mandibles. The creature seemed impatient to enter, so Belab motioned it in. It walked on two sets of double-jointed legs that ended in opposable toes. Halfway up the multi-segmented body were two similar sets of limps that acted as its arms. Past its mouth were two huge black eyes that did not dispel its similarity to an insect.

  When the creature was in the room, it made an awkward bow. “Great Belab, we have failed to take the boy. You were correct in your assessment of his position, but Hileil has given him powerful protections. He escaped across the river, and we were unable to find him through the trees.” The creature paused to gather itself and speak the last. “The losses, I am afraid, were . . . .”

  The creature fell to the ground before it could finish. Belab’s face never seemed to change as he mumbled the words that dissolved the creature. After a few moments, its thrashing had turned into a slow gurgle as its body liquefied and soaked into the ground beneath the tent.

  “I did not expect you to succeed, my friend, but I still cannot tolerate failure.” Belab spoke calmly, almost with remorse for what he had just done. “This boy is dangerous. I could sense it as soon as we crossed the Devil’s Teeth. I should not have been so careless. He needs to be controlled, to be crafted. Otherwise, he could be ruin everything.”

  He thought for a moment then continued as if speaking to himself. “Sending the tal’ ladorim was foolish. I should have known that he would be protected by forces that they could not overcome. Likewise, I cannot confront him. Not now, not as an enemy. We cannot risk opening him to the full extent of his powers.”

  The words ended there as the old man pondered. None of the other figures in the room moved. A long time passed as the Belab thought. “Yes!” he concluded to himself. “This new path will have to do. He will have to be handled delicately, handled by those he trusts. We have his friend. His father is within reach. If we are patient, he will fall into our hands. He will make the mistake that will turn even his own against him. Once that is done, he will come begging for my help. Help that I will be only too glad to give.”

  Chapter 22

 
H. Nathan Wilcox's Novels