Zan Tor has failed. Or has he? His nation’s one hope depends on the mysterious artifact housed in the citadel treasury, but the Darians hold Zan captive. How can he complete his mission unless he escapes?
 

    Zan’s despair was more acute than the pain ripping through his shoulder. Being captured—being tortured even, because that cruelty was sure to come—was part of the risk. But even when he imagined all that could go wrong with a foray into enemy-held territory, he still expected to accomplish his mission.

    Not that he believed he would necessarily play the key role. His part might be nothing more than distracting the sentries, freeing another volunteer to reach the artifact.

    The guard holding Zan’s arm behind his back yanked it higher. "Who else is with you?"

    "I’m alone; I’m alone." His voice rose with his desire to keep the Darian from wrenching his shoulder out of its socket. Besides, he was alone now, more so than ever before.

    A second guard toed the lifeless body of Zan’s section leader. "This one’s dead. Do we kill that one, too?"

    Another Darian sauntered in front of him. "Didn’t the commandant say he wanted any assailants on the citadel taken alive?"

    The guard holding Zan’s arm snorted. "The commandant. What he wants is to look good for His Most Honorable."

    "You think His Most Honorable wants prisoners instead of bodies?"

    The guard pushed his knee in Zan’s lower back. "He wants control of Glesia. The commandant is desperate to learn whatever he can about the resistance."

    The guard in front of Zan crossed his arms. "That one will talk, right Drigo? You have a way with prisoners."

    The guard beside the bodies smirked. "He looks too frail to hold up under examination."

    "He squeals like a felling bird. Listen." The guard pinning Zan’s arm twisted it higher.

    "Aaaahh! I don’t know anything." Another truth, more or less. What he knew was not the kind of information the Darian soldiers wanted. Their questions would most likely be about hidden bunkers or resistance cells and the location of the loyalist commanders.

    Bunkers? If they existed at all, criminals used them, not loyalists. And the only resistance cell he knew about consisted of him and the four dead men lying on the citadel walkway. None of them had even breached the treasury door, let alone achieved their objective.