Turning, he faced the rest of the magicians, milling around in groups as they waited for the leaders to decide their next move. “Ready yourselves,” he called out. “The Sachakans are coming to us for a fight and we are going to give them one they’ll never forget. Gather into your fighting teams. Spread out to match their line. Shield yourselves and be ready. It is time we went to war!”
To Dakon’s surprise, the magicians responded with a cheer. He knew that some were too young or naive to realise the danger they faced, but most would not have been looking forward to this magical confrontation.
Yet we have been skulking about for too long, avoiding confrontations or not being able to find the enemy. There is a strange satisfaction in finally being able to engage the Sachakans. To test our strength against theirs – and vent our anger – whatever the outcome.
With the rest of the advisers, Dakon followed Sabin round the copse, past the farmhouse and onto the road. The rest of the army followed. Ahead, the Sachakan force was a wide, advancing wall. Glancing back and to either side, he saw that the Kyralian army had broken into teams of five or six magicians. These groups had moved out into the fields on either side to form a broken line as wide as the Sachakans’. Each group had nominated one member to strike and one to shield, and the others would add their power to either, or both, according to need.
For an endless time, the only sounds were of boots swishing and stomping through crops and on the road, the breathing of those close by and the faint whine of the wind. Dakon could feel his own heart racing.
He found himself worrying about Jayan and Tessia. Much debate had raged over whether the apprentices should stay with their masters, or remain behind. Traditionally, apprentices stayed close to their masters, both for their own protection and in case the magician needed more power. But if a magician took as much power as was safe from his apprentice just before battle, he didn’t need one with him. Unless, like a Sachakan, he killed to gain every last shred of power. As far as Dakon knew, the king hadn’t revoked the law against Kyralian masters killing their apprentices for magic. Since most apprentices were offspring of powerful families, it was unlikely he would. Would he, if things got desperate enough?
Lone apprentices whose strength had been tapped were vulnerable if parted from their masters. But in a direct confrontation, the enemy magician was too engaged in fighting to find and attack apprentices. The danger came most often from the enemy’s apprentices or slaves. Any attack would be physical if it came from slaves, who were unable to use their own magic.
But as a large group, the apprentices were less vulnerable to attack. A few had been left with their power undrained, so that they could defend the group. Dakon had volunteered Jayan for the task since, unlike most magicians, he had a second apprentice to take power from. Jayan was one of the older and more experienced apprentices, and had been nominated their temporary leader.
So I have nothing to worry about, Dakon told himself, and then continued to fret. Only when he realised he could make out the faces of the Sachakans did his attention return fully to the enemy. Then he heard Sabin mutter a curse.
“Is that...?” Werrin murmured.
“Yes,” Sabin replied. “Emperor Vochira’s most favoured and loyal magician, Ashaki Nomako.”
“That explains the sudden increase in numbers.”
A voice called out and the Sachakans stopped. Seeking the speaker, Dakon felt a jolt as he recognised Takado. He felt hatred well up inside him.
Takado. My former houseguest. A traveller supposedly come to satisfy his curiosity about a neighbouring land. All along he planned to return in force. We were right to be suspicious. Dakon scowled. We should have arranged for him to die in some accident.
“Halt!” Sabin called. Dakon stopped, as did the sound of movement around him.
A quietness followed. The air vibrated with expectation. How can such near silence carry so much tension? Dakon wondered. Quiet is supposed to be calming.
“Magicians of Kyralia,” Takado shouted. “You make a fine army. I am impressed.” He took a step forward, looking from left to right. “No doubt you are here to put a stop to our attacks. To seek retaliation for the deaths of your people. To send us back to our homeland.” He paused and smiled. “I tell you now, that you can only succeed in one of these aims. We are not going home. We came here to conquer you. To reclaim what was foolishly given up in the past. To make our lands one again. Which, though painful in the beginning, will ultimately benefit us all.” He smiled. “Naturally, we will not allow you to take out your revenge on us. But . . .” His eyes moved from left to right as he met the eyes of individual Kyralians. He paused briefly when he saw Dakon, and a faint smile twitched his lips. That fleeting expression of smugness sent anger burning through Dakon. “You can put an end to our attacks. All you need do is give over rule of your land peacefully and we will take it peacefully. Surrender and join us.”
“And who will rule us? You, or the emperor?”
Sabin’s voice cut through the air. Turning a little, Dakon saw the war master look from Takado to another Sachakan. Perhaps the man with narrowed eyes, Dakon guessed. What do the emperor’s magicians wear to indicate their status? A ring, isn’t it? There were many bands around the man’s fingers, as was the fashion among most Sachakans, and he was too far away to see if any bore some mark of the emperor’s.
“Emperor Vochira supports our reclaiming of former territory,” Takado told them.
Sabin paused, but when it was clear that was all the answer he would get, he chuckled and turned back to Takado. “I don’t know who is the greater fool, you or your emperor. It will be interesting to see which of you remains alive after this war. My bet is on Emperor Vochira, since we have no intention of letting you take Kyralia, and I can’t imagine you’ll survive long if you escape us and manage to crawl back home.”
Takado smiled. “Then my bet is on us both being alive, since if you insist on fighting me I’ll be free to rid Kyralia of its magicians, and nothing would please Emperor Vochira more. I have no desire to rule in his place when I, and my friends, can have all this.” He stretched his arms wide. Then he let them fall at his sides. “Do you surrender?”
“No,” Sabin said, simply and firmly.
Takado looked from side to side, at his allies. “The fools want a fight,” he shouted. “Let’s give them one!”
Turning abruptly back to face Sabin, Takado let loose a brilliant strike. It scattered an arm’s length from Sabin’s nose. A moment later the rest of the Sachakan army let loose their power, and the air suddenly vibrated and flashed with magic. Dakon grasped Sabin’s upper arm and began drawing power from within himself and giving it to the war master. The other magicians in the group of advisers either followed his example or took hold of Werrin, who was shielding them all.
Shields held. Strikes flew in return, then filled the space between the armies. No magician, Sachakan or Kyralian, fell.
But the heat and vibration was so intense, both sides began to back away. Retreating slowly, maintaining their lines, the opposing armies reached a distance apart that was bearable. The exchange of strikes intensified and the tumult of magic seared the air again, but this time all stood their ground.
For a long time nobody spoke. Dakon could not take his eyes off the enemy. Every time Werrin’s shield vibrated from an attack his heart jumped. Every time Sabin directed a strike at the enemy he felt hope rise, then fade as the power shattered against a shield. He could see Narvelan’s head moving back and forth as the young magician watched how the fighting progressed elsewhere. But Dakon could not bring himself to look away.
I think I’m afraid I won’t see the strike that kills me, Dakon thought.
“They certainly aren’t saving their strength,” Narvelan remarked.
“No,” Sabin agreed. “How are we doing?”
“Holding,” Narvelan replied. “Not striking as much as they. Nor as strongly, I suspect.”
“Are we holding back?” Hakkin asked. “Is there a way we can tell other teams to fight harder?”
Werrin nodded. “There is, but—”
“There! The signal,” one of the city magicians said. “We’ve got one exhausted magician – no, two!”
“One in most teams now,” Narvelan added.
Dakon forced himself to look at Sabin. He’s probably thinking that those magicians would be dead if their teams weren’t protecting them. The Sachakans aren’t protecting each other – as far as we can tell – and none of them are dead yet...
“We got one!” Narvelan exclaimed. Dakon looked in the direction his friend was pointing, but his view was blocked by Werrin. A moment later there was a dull thump and crack, and one of the closer Sachakans was thrown backwards. He landed on the ground, but was quickly dragged away by the slaves hovering behind the enemy line.
Three more Sachakans fell. Dakon felt his heart lifting in triumph. Ardalen’s method works! he thought. Soon they’ll be dropping like rain.
“We must retreat,” Sabin said. “Signal the others.”
Dakon gasped with disbelief. He cast about, watching as the message was relayed down the line of Kyralian teams. But as he counted the number of magicians holding a white strip of cloth in their left hand – the signal they had used all their power – he felt disbelief turn to fear.
We’re nearly finished, he realised. We’ve lost. Some of the teams held only two members with power in reserve. These teams backed away the fastest. As the seven leaders began to retreat, Dakon turned his attention to the enemy, watching anxiously to see if they would follow.
Crouching on the ground behind his master, Hanara felt his heart pounding. He’d seen two of Takado’s allies fall, and three of the magicians who’d come with the emperor’s representative. One had exploded in flames. Another’s face and chest had crumpled into a bloody mess just before he was knocked back off his feet and sprawled on the ground. He’d also seen a slave broken in two by stray magic, and felt pride and gratitude that Takado had foreseen the danger and ordered him to lie on his belly and keep his head low.
Hanara had seen the surprise and horror on the faces of the Sachakan magicians still fighting. Seen the doubts, and the determination as they kept fighting. How many will question whether the conquest is worth the risk after this? Hanara wondered. Surely their lives aren’t so bad at home that a bit of land is worth dying for. But owning land was one of the greatest symbols of freedom. Owning land and wielding magic. Of the former there was too little. And perhaps there was too much of the latter in Sachaka. Now that’s an interesting thought...
A murmur rose among the magicians now. Lifting his head, Takado saw that the Kyralians were moving.
They are retreating! We have won!
He saw Takado’s allies begin to move forward. Takado hadn’t given an order yet. Hanara could not see his master’s face, but something in Takado’s posture told him his master was deliberating.
“Hold!”
The voice rang out, stalling those edging forward. It was not Takado’s voice. Hanara felt a rush of anger and indignation. The emperor’s representative, Nomako, had spoken. He was stepping out before Takado’s army and turning to face them.