Something slammed into Benbo’s chest, lanced through the armor as if it didn’t exist. Blew out most of the Amerind samurai’s back. Benbo spun, arms flailing, head flopping loosely now that most of his spine was missing. For a terrible moment, Falcon could see right through the man’s chest—a gaping hole, with little flames licking around the ragged edges. The samurai flopped to the ground in a messy heap. Magic! Falcon thought. What else could it be?