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.
“Let them go. We have shown them who is the stronger. Let them ponder the future a while and consider the benefits of surrendering to us.”
Hanara’s blood boiled on behalf of his master. How dare he! It’s up to Takado to decide! Up to Takado to give the orders!
He felt his heart leap with mingled terror and glee as Takado stepped forward to face Nomako, his face dark with anger.
“I lead this army, Nomako,” he snapped. “Not you. Not even the emperor. If that isn’t to your satisfaction – or his – then go home and leave the fighting to us.”
Nomako stared back at Takado and his face tightened with annoyance and dislike for a moment. Then his gaze dropped to the ground. “I apologise, Takado. I thought only to save you more losses.”
“Then you are a fool! They are spent.” Takado turned away and called to Dachido and Asara.
“They have not lost a single magician,” Nomako protested. “And we have lost nearly a dozen. It is a trick. A trap. I promised the families of Sachaka that we would not spend lives needlessly. We must analyse what they are doing and find a way to combat it.”
Takado looked at his army and frowned. Hanara tried to read the mood of the fighters. Many looked uncertain. Some had backed away several steps and appeared to be expecting Takado to confirm Nomako’s order. None seemed eager to pursue the Kyralians.
They did not expect us to lose fighters without the enemy suffering the same.
Sighing, Takado shrugged his shoulders. “We stay,” he said. The relief on the faces of his followers and Nomako’s was clear. Some gathered into pairs or groups to talk, others headed back towards the village. Nomako joined the three men who appeared to be his most trusted companions.
Dachido and Asara reached Takado’s side.
“What were they doing?” Dachido said. “Why did none of them fall?”
“They are protecting and supporting each other. Something we should be doing. Though I doubt we can expect it from one quarter,” he added in a quieter voice. The three allies began talking in murmurs. Hanara crept closer, straining to hear.
“. . . not retreat if they weren’t,” Asara was saying.
“We cannot be sure,” Dachido replied. “It may be a trap.”
Asara nodded, then turned to Takado. “I like your idea last night,” she said. “Let’s do that instead.”
“We need horses,” Dachido warned.
Asara shrugged. “We could demand some of Nomako’s as reparation.”
“And give the impression we need his assistance?” Takado asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the emperor’s representative.
Asara grimaced and said nothing.
Takado looked towards the village. “Are there any horses left in the area?”
Dachido followed his gaze. “There was one, but it was old and we slaughtered it to feed the slaves.”
“If we look further afield we might find some,” Asara said.
“Further west, where they do not expect us to go.” Takado smiled.
“So we’ll try it?” Asara asked, her eyes gleaming.
“Yes. And I have a first target in mind.”
The pair looked at him expectantly.
“Did you notice their apprentices were not with them?”
“Ah,” Dachido said.
“Ah!” Asara exclaimed.
“Yes,” Takado replied. “It seems they have forgotten one of the key rules of battle, and we are going to remind them.”
CHAPTER 35
By the time the army stopped for the night, exhaustion had almost overcome Jayan’s curiosity to know what had happened when the magicians had confronted the Sachakan invaders. All Dakon had said was that the enemy had been stronger than the Kyralian army. Sabin had ordered a retreat. The Sachakans hadn’t pursued them, but the possibility they were following at a distance couldn’t be discounted. The Kyralian army needed to gain some ground between themselves and the enemy, so they had a chance to recover some magical strength before the next confrontation.
It was amazing to think that, despite losing the battle, nobody had died. But from the uneasiness and haste of the magicians, Jayan guessed that was due to luck or the ignorance of the enemy.
All day Jayan had seen the flashes of blades and hands briefly linked as magic was transferred on the ride. Though the apprentices and servants had given their strength only that morning, and so did not have much to offer, the magicians feared attack at any moment and wanted to be as prepared as possible.
Dakon, however, shook his head when Jayan suggested they do the same. “I am fine,” he said. “The benefit of having two apprentices. I’d rather you and Tessia had a chance of defending yourselves if we are attacked. And you may need to take charge of the apprentices again, if we do engage the enemy.”
The army had moved off the main road a while before in a weak attempt to confuse any pursuit, and followed a smooth road into a fold between two hills. They were hidden from the sight of anyone travelling down the main road, but Jayan suspected they’d left so much evidence of their passing that even the most unskilled scout would have been able to locate them.
The road wound through low hills and shallow valleys, all striped and divided by fields. Dusk settled like a growing mist, then darkness fell. Scouts galloping along the road reported no pursuit. The Sachakans had returned to the village of Lonner and appeared to be settling for the night.
Then, long past nightfall, the ghostly white walls of buildings appeared ahead. Several were storehouses, one had many doors and Jayan guessed it was accommodation for servants, and the two-storey mansion was clearly the owner’s residence.
“What is this place?” he asked Dakon.
“Lord Franner’s winery.”
“Oh.” Jayan grimaced.
Dakon chuckled. “His wine may not be particularly good, but he has plenty of food to offer. As he pointed out, better we have it than the Sachakans.”
“Is there another exit from this valley?”
“Yes.” Dakon smiled approvingly. “Sabin made sure of that. We won’t be trapped here.”
As the arm
y gathered between the buildings, Jayan saw Werrin turn in his saddle, searching the crowd. His gaze snapped to Dakon and he beckoned.
“Ah, the inevitable meeting,” Dakon murmured. He looked at Tessia, who had been silent the whole afternoon, then at Jayan. “Will you two be all right alone?”
Jayan grinned. “Of course. And we’ll hardly be alone.” He gestured at the army around them.
Dakon nodded, then rode away towards Werrin and the small group of magicians gathering about him. Looking at Tessia, Jayan shrugged.
“Want to explore this place?”
She shook her head. “Avaria asked me to see her tonight.”
Jayan shrugged off disappointment. “I’ll see you at dinner, then, whenever that turns out to be.” He looked up at the stars. “I’ll make sure our old fellow apprentices are behaving themselves.”
Tessia rolled her eyes. “You’re not in charge any more, Jayan.”
“Is it so hard to believe that I enjoy other apprentices’ company?” he asked.
Her eyebrows rose. “The more important question is whether they enjoy yours.”
Turning her horse, she sent it trotting away too quickly for him to think of a retort. He watched her go for a moment, then pushed away the wistfulness that was threatening to creep in, and began to search the crowd for the faces of familiar apprentices. He longed for sleep, but he was hungry and rest could wait until after he’d eaten.
Refan was standing with four other apprentices over by one of the large storehouses, so Jayan made his way over to him. One of the youngsters looked familiar. As Jayan approached the newcomer looked up and grinned, and with a shock Jayan recognised him.
“Mikken!” Jayan exclaimed, slipping off his horse. He looked around and caught the eye of a servant, who stepped forward to take the reins. Then he ran up to Mikken and grasped his arm in greeting. “When did you get here?”
Mikken returned the gesture. “A few hours ago. Fortunately before the army turned off the road, or I would have ridden into the Sachakan army.”
“How did you escape the Sachakans at the pass? No, wait. I bet that story is a long one.”
“Long, but not particularly interesting.” Mikken shrugged. “Unless you find stories about scavenging for food and hiding in caves and abandoned houses interesting.”
Jayan grinned. “You can tell them when we’re trying to get to sleep tonight.”
“You watch out, I might just do that. How’s Tessia?”
A traitorous flash of jealousy shot through Jayan, but he ignored it. “Still healing anyone she can get to sit still long enough.”
“Lots of those, I’d imagine.” Mikken’s gaze became haunted. “I began to wonder, on the way back, if the Sachakans had left anyone alive. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tessia hasn’t had many patients to work on.”
“She’s had plenty,” Jayan assured him. He thought of the burned man, and shuddered. Deciding to change the subject, he looked up at the storehouse. “Apparently this is a winery.”
“Yes,” Refan replied. “And they don’t just make wine here.”
“What else do they make?” one of the other apprentices asked. “Bol.”
Jayan grimaced, and saw a similar expression on all faces but Refan’s. The boy looked thoughtful.
“You know, by the time all the magicians get their share of Lord Franner’s wine, there probably won’t be any left for apprentices. I bet we could find a barrel or two of bol for ourselves in one of these storehouses. Bol may be a poor man’s drink.” Refan smiled. “But it’s a lot stronger than wine so we wouldn’t have to drink as much.”
As much as what? Jayan wondered. To his dismay, the other apprentices looked interested.
“Where do you think it’s stored?”
Refan looked around, his eyes narrowing as he considered. “Let’s have a look around.” He started along the side of the storehouse they were standing beside.
As the group began to follow, Jayan considered leaving them to it. But I ought to make sure they don’t get into trouble. For their own sakes and mine. Dakon might think twice about making me a higher magician if I let these boys make fools of themselves. He hurried after them.
Reaching the end of the storehouse, Refan rounded the corner and started along the next wall. He stopped where two huge, sturdy doors were bound together with a large iron lock. To Jayan’s amusement, he sniffed at the crack between them.
“Wine,” he said, then shrugged and turned his back, heading across open ground to another storehouse.
The same examination and conclusion were applied to two more storehouses. The fourth was so far from the main gathering of magicians that their voices were a distant hum and the group had to illuminate their way with small magical globe lights.
Refan’s sniff at the doors made him smile.
“Aha! Definitely bol.”
There was a different sort of smell in the air around the storehouse, but the lock was similarly large and robust. Refan glanced towards the gathered magicians in the furtive manner of someone about to do something mischievous, then took hold of the lock. Jayan felt alarm rising.
“What are you... you’re not going to break in, are you?” one of the younger apprentices asked anxiously.
“No.” Refan laughed. “I’m not going to break anything. Or take anything not already offered to us.”
He stared at the lock, then something inside clicked and the mechanism opened. Despite his reasoning, this is wrong, Jayan thought. I should put a stop to it. One of the doors swung outward and Refan slipped inside. Before Jayan could decide what to say, the other apprentices had followed.
A wordless exclamation of disappointment followed. He heard a clink, the murmur of voices, and the apprentices stepped back outside. Refan was holding a bottle.
“It’s not bol. It’s whitewater. For cleaning things. Smell.” He held it out to each of them, and they grimaced as they sniffed the open neck. Jayan recognised a smell he associated with servants and wooden furniture. Refan suddenly grinned. “Watch this.”
He glanced back at the magicians again, then strode round the back of the storehouse. Moving a hundred strides or so he flung the bottle on the ground. It smashed. As the others stopped beside Refan, he sent a tiny burst of firestrike toward the remains.
A wave of heat burst over them as flames shot up into the air. The fire died as quickly, leaving small flames spluttering where there were weeds in the hard, dry ground.
“That was fantastic!” one of the younger apprentices gasped. “Let’s do it again!”
“Wait.” Mikken was staring at the smouldering ground. “I have an idea.”
Everyone turned to look at him, but he remained silent, staring at the ground.
“Well?” someone asked.
Mikken shook his head. “Can you hear that?”
Surprised, they all stood very still and listened. A rhythmic beating, faint but clearly from some sort of four-legged animal, came to Jayan’s ears. More than one animal, perhaps. Whatever they were, they were coming closer. Turning towards the noise, he found himself staring towards the dark shapes of trees a few hundred strides away.
Slowly, out of the gloom, three horses appeared, carrying three riders. The distant light reflected back from exotic coats, knife handles and gleaming eyes.
“Sachakans!” Refan hissed.
“Run!” Mikken wailed.
“Stay together!” Jayan shouted, throwing up a shield and racing after them.
Then he cursed as the first strike nearly shattered his barrier. He strengthened it. How long can I hold against three higher magicians? Who’ve probably got the strength of thousands of source slaves. He winced as another strike beat against the shield. Or have they? If they’ve followed us, they probably didn’t have time to regain much power after the battle.
Refan was nearly at the storehouse, too far ahead for Jayan to be sure he was shielding him. He skidded to a halt before the door, grabbed it and hauled it open. Then he vanished i
nside with unnatural speed.
“Not in there!” Jayan gasped. “If they use firestrike . . .” But Refan had disappeared within and the others were racing after him. Jayan sighed and followed. In the darkness someone stumbled and there was the sound of glass breaking and the smell of whitewater. Then a globe light flared into existence. Jayan cast about, taking in the huge interior filled with racks of bottles, the apprentices panting and staring at each other as they finally realised how dangerous this place was for a fight – and then the whimpering figure on the floor.
“Refan?” Jayan moved to the boy’s side and knelt.
“Hurts,” Refan panted. “Back. Hurts. Can’t . . . can’t move my legs.”
Jayan cursed as he realised that Refan hadn’t thrown himself inside the storehouse, but had been knocked in by forcestrike.
The sound of hoofbeats came from outside the doors. They stopped and were replaced by footsteps. Jayan looked around, at the bottles, then towards the back of the interior. Trapped. They only need the tiniest spark of power to set this place burning. And it will take a lot more to protect us.
Protect us...or them? The glimmer of an idea set his heart racing with excitement.
“Quickly,” he hissed to the others. “Drag him to the back and wait – and do it gently. When I say “Now’, break through the wall.”
Refan yelled in pain as they began to move him. They let go as if he’d burned them. Jayan saw movement in the doorway.
“Pick him up and get him out!” he found himself roaring. Their eyes widened in shock and surprise. Grabbing Refan, ignoring his yells, they carried him away. Jayan followed, walking backwards, not taking his eyes from the three Sachakans entering the storehouse. He threw up a shield to protect himself and the apprentices behind him.
Two men and one woman, he noted. One is familiar. Surely... surely that’s not Takado. Surely he wouldn’t leave his army and risk sneaking up on us with only two others to support him?
The Sachakans stared at him. They smiled. They came closer, strolling as if they had all the time in the world. He could hear the apprentices retreating. Refan’s yells had turned to whimpers. Someone else was also whimpering. Or crying.
The Magician’s Apprentice Page 42
