Risala watched baffled as more beautifully crafted pieces in turtleshell and nacre were tossed aside like so much rubbish. 'If they scorn such wealth, what do they want?'
'They're finding something worth stealing,' Dev disagreed. Whatever the Bone Wearer was showing Feathercloak now plainly won his approval, and was handed over to the underling.
By the time Feathercloak had examined all the booty, he'd taken no more than a chest full. The underling carried it down the beach while Lizardskin clapped his hands sharply together. More of his own retinue appeared from the trees, dragging a weeping column of men and women. Most were grey-haired, all were stumbling with shock and weariness, clothes creased and dirty. Their hands were tied and a heavy leather rope had been plaited around their necks to link them together. The only younger man was a youth with a twisted foot, struggling to use his crutch, dark weals on his naked back showing the price he'd paid for failure to keep up. Savages walked on either side of the shambling line, whips trailing negligently in the sand.
'No warlord would treat a domain's elders like this.' Risala was appalled.
'Can't see them having much value as slaves.' Dev thought for a moment. 'Hostages, do you suppose? If this lot don't do as they're bid, grandma gets a club to the back of the head?'
Feathercloak and Lizardskin looked to be saying their farewells. Dev burned with frustration. 'If we're going to learn anything of value about these people, we have to know who their leaders are,' he commented to Risala. 'I'd say Feathercloak's higher up the pecking order than Lizardskin. We have to find a way to follow him.'
'That one's seen that man over the ditch.' She pointed with a shaking finger.
Dev watched the Bone Wearer stride arrogantly across the beach to look up at the hapless islander still hanging, despairingly, over the sharpened stakes. The Bone Wearer raised a hand, blue light streamed from it and the man fell with a scream of pure terror.
He still didn't find his longed-for death on the vicious splintered wood. A blast of azure power from Lizardskin shoved the islander sideways through the air, to leave him sprawled, motionless, on the sand. The Bone Wearer's head snapped round and he shouted at Lizardskin before going over to the islander and kicking him. The Chazen man didn't react and the Bone Wearer examined him more closely. He stood up, one hand knotted in the islander's hair, shaking the body to display a plainly broken neck, laughing derisively at Lizardskin.
Lizardskin shut his mouth with a slap of blue mage-light across the face. The Bone Wearer was knocked clean off his feet, breastplate clattering, and several white shards falling from his hair. Scrambling on to his knees, he swept a hand towards Lizardskin and ochre light surged through the sand. Lizardskin disappeared in a whirling cloud of dust shot through with amber flashes. The Bone Wearer got to his feet and laughed.
'What are they doing?' quavered Risala.
'Duelling,' Dev said with slow fascination.
The Bone Wearer stopped laughing, looking down, face twisted with fury and rapid thought. The sand around his feet was glowing with a dark, mossy light and he was sinking into it. Knee deep inside a few breaths, he thrust his hands downward and the greenish radiance fled. As it did, the storm of sand around Lizardskin exploded to reveal the panting mage within scored with countless gashes. He flung a handful of raw blue light at the Bone Wearer, which bowled across the sand scooping up razor-edged shell fragments. Some rattled against the other mage's breastplate, more cut deep into his naked arms and legs. The Bone Wearer swept his hands around like a man brushing away flies and the blue light vanished. He brushed sweat from his forehead, glaring at Lizardskin.
'Is it over?' Risala asked hopefully.
'They don't think so.' Dev nodded at the savages all prudently retreating, some to the shelter of the ditch along with the captive islanders or back towards the boat in the shallows. The only person unperturbed was Feathercloak. He stood, arms folded inside his bright mantle, head slightly inclined with a nimbus of protective magic shimmering around him.
Lizardskin walked around the Bone Wearer in a slow circle, one hand raised, palm outwards and fingers spread. The Bone Wearer pivoted where he stood, always keeping Lizardskin in view. He held his hands in front of his breastplate, palms pressed together. Greenish light dripped from Lizardskin's hand and vanished into the ground. Mist began gathering around the Bone Wearer's feet, dense and white. The Bone Wearer laughed and swept the nascent fog away with gusts of sapphire-tinted breeze.
The mist cleared but the sand beneath the Bone Wearer's feet wasn't mossy with magic summoned from water but suffused with an amber light that suddenly glowed bronze. The Bone Wearer screamed as he found himself up to his ankles in furnace heat. He lashed at the ground with his azure magic, sending gouts of molten sand glittering through the air, trailing spider's-web tendrils of glass. The searing missiles skittered across the sand, some scoring deep wounds in Lizardskin's legs, but the wild mage didn't falter, hate-filled eyes fixed on the Bone Wearer.
A column of flame erupted from the sand encircling the Bone Wearer. The fire roared, choking off his agonised scream, brightening to a white heat inside a few breaths. Abruptly as it had arisen, the blaze disappeared, leaving only a slowly twisting pillar of pale grey ash sinking to the sand. The mage in the lizard-skin cloak fell to his hands and knees, his eyes turned apprehensively to Feathercloak.
The savage wizard in the bright feathers walked slowly over to the pitiful heap of ash. Crouching, he took up a handful, letting it sift through his fingers. There wasn't so much as a splinter of bone left. He laughed, the ringing sound shocking in the frozen silence. Walking over towards Lizardskin, he offered the younger mage his hand. Lizardskin took it, rising stiffly to his feet, pride struggling through the pain of his burns.
Feathercloak summoned the underling who'd been entrusted with the coffer of acceptable loot. After a brief exchange, Lizardskin clapped a hand on the underling's shoulder and turned him around to face the people on the beach, his gesture eloquent. The invaders' bows to their new leader were immediate and fervent, followed by cheering and clapping, some drumming on the hard ground with their spears. Those who'd come with Feathercloak joined in the celebration, welcoming Lizardskin with laughter and smiles.
'You'd think he'd treated them all to a feast instead of burned a man to death with magic,' muttered Risala, revolted.
Lizardskin basked in the applause for a few moments before prostrating himself before Feathercloak in abject obeisance. Feathercloak nodded, content, and threw a shimmer of light across Lizardskin's prone body. The lesser wizard scrambled to his feet, the raw, sand-encrusted burns that had disfigured his legs entirely vanished.
'That's a good trick if you can do it,' murmured Dev, forgetting himself.
Fortunately, Risala was still transfixed by the scene before her. She jumped as a whip cracked. Spurred into action, the savages punished the bound column of aged islanders for sinking to their knees with brutal kicks and harsh blows. Feathercloak ignored all this, returning to his boat. He didn't bother with his bridge of patterned light, simply sweeping his mantle around himself and taking one long step to travel through the air and arrive dry-footed on the rough deck. Lizardskin splashed through the sea to join him, clutching the precious coffer of carefully selected plunder to his chest.
'Come on.' Dev retreated rapidly on his hands and knees.
'Where to?' Risala's voice shook as she wriggled backwards.
'They're walking that column of captives along the beach.' Dev kept a careful eye out through the veil of leaves as he began walking towards the shoreline. 'I want to see where they're heading.'