The carts had reached the first buildings and the occupants were tiny figures now. As Lorlen watched, they drew to a halt. Six men and one woman stepped down from the vehicles and started walking toward the Northern Gates. The slaves drew the carts away into the slums.
One Ichani has gone with them, Lorlen noted. One less to fight us. Not that it will make much difference.
“The King has arrived,” Osen murmured.
Lorlen turned to see the monarch approaching. Magicians knelt and quickly rose again as the King passed. Lorlen followed suit.
“Administrator.”
“Your Majesty,” Lorlen replied.
The King looked down at the advancing Sachakans.
“Have you tried to contact Akkarin again?”
Lorlen nodded. “Every hour, since you first requested it.”
“No answer?”
“None.”
The King nodded. “Then we face them alone. Let’s hope he was wrong about their strength.”
Sonea had never seen the Northern Gates closed. The enormous sheets of metal had always been streaked with rust and the decorations obscured by centuries of dirt and grime. Now they were a clean, glossy black—restored, no doubt, out of pride and defiance.
A line of magicians stood on top of the wall. Brown robes were scattered among the red, green and purple ones. She felt a pang of sympathy for her fellow classmates. They must be terrified.
The Ichani walked into view on the road below. Sonea’s heart lurched and she heard Akkarin catch his breath. They were only a hundred or so paces away, and this time she was not seeing them through the eyes of another magician.
She, Akkarin, Cery and Takan were watching from a house beside the North Road. Cery had brought them there because the building had a little tower room above the second floor, which had the best view of the area before the gates.
“The one in front is Kariko,” Akkarin murmured.
Sonea nodded. “And the woman must be Avala. What about the rest?”
“Remember the spy whose mind you read? The tall one there is Harikava, his master. The two at the far end are Inijaka and Sarika. I’ve seen them in the minds of the spies I’ve read. The other two, Rikacha and Rashi, are old allies of Kariko.”
“There are seven,” she said. “One’s missing.”
Akkarin frowned. “Yes.”
The Ichani continued for several paces past the house, then stopped. They looked up at the row of robed figures standing along the top of the Outer Wall.
The voice that drifted down was unfamiliar.
“Go no farther, Sachakans. You are not welcome in my land.”
Looking at the figures of the magicians on the wall above the gates, Sonea saw a finely dressed man standing beside Administrator Lorlen.
“Is that... the King?”
“Yes.”
She felt a reluctant admiration for the monarch. He had stayed in the city, when he could have fled with the Houses.
Kariko spread his hands. “Is this how Kyralians treat a guest? Or a weary traveller?”
“A guest does not kill his host’s family or servants.”
Kariko laughed. “No. Welcome or not, I am in your land. And I want your city. Open your gates, and I will allow you to live and serve me.”
“We would die rather than serve your kind.”
Sonea’s heart leapt as she recognized Lorlen’s voice.
“Was that one of those who calls himself a ‘magician’?” Kariko laughed. “I’m sorry. The invitation wasn’t for you, or your Guild. I don’t keep magicians. Dying is the only way your pathetic Guild can serve me.” He crossed his arms. “Open your gates, King Merin.”
“Open them yourself,” the King replied. “And we’ll see if my Guild is as pathetic as you say.”
Kariko turned to regard his allies. “Well, that’s all the welcome we’re going to get. Let’s break the shell and feast on the egg.”
Their movements were casual as they spread out into a line. White streaks of light sprang toward the gates, striking at the sides and center. Sonea heard Cery suck in a breath as the metal began to glow. Hundreds of strikes rained down on the figures below. All scattered against the Ichani’s shields.
“See their weakness, Lorlen!” Akkarin hissed. “Focus on one!”
Sonea jumped as the sound of something tearing filled the room. Akkarin’s hand had been resting on the paper screen beside the window. He extracted his fingers from the torn paper and gripped the sill instead.
“That’s it!” he said.
Looking outside again, Sonea saw that the Guild’s strikes had shifted to a single Ichani. She held her breath, expecting the other Sachakans to blend their shields, but they did not.
“That man,” Akkarin jabbed a finger toward the Ichani under attack. “He will be our first.”
“If he’ll leave the group,” Cery added.
Kariko glanced toward his failing ally, then looked up at the wall. A streak of light shot from him to the figures above the gate, but was blocked by the Guild’s combined shield.
Then a cloud of white belched out of the gates. A glowing hole had formed in the metal, and more clouds were billowing up from behind.
“Houses must have caught fire on the other side,” Cery said darkly.
Akkarin shook his head. “Not yet. That’s steam, not smoke. The Guard are throwing water on the wooden fortifications to keep them from burning.”
It seemed a ridiculously feeble attempt to stop the Ichani, yet every obstacle the Sachakans overcame used some of their power. Sonea glanced up at the wall again. The King and the magicians over the gate were hurrying to either side, away from the billowing clouds of steam.
Then one of the gates moved. Cery muttered a curse as it sagged forward. There were several loud cracks before it broke loose from its hinges and slammed to the ground. Beyond, a scaffolding of wood and iron filled the gap. As guards hurried to climb off the structure, the second gate fell.
Kariko glanced at his companions.
“They think they can stop us with this?” He laughed and turned back to stare at the fortifications.
The air rippled, then the scaffolding buckled inward as if punched by enormous, invisible fists. The crack of breaking timber and tortured metal echoed out of the gap in the wall, then the fortifications collapsed to the ground.
Looking up, Sonea saw that the magicians on the wall had all but disappeared. She watched as the Ichani strode into the city. Strikes came from the houses on either side, but the Sachakans ignored them. They strode on toward the Inner Wall.
Akkarin stepped back from the window, then turned to Cery.
“We must get into the city quickly,” he said, Cery smiled. “No problem. Just follow me.”
It was not long before Farand was gasping for air. Dannyl caught the young man’s arm and slowed to a fast walk. The young man glanced behind, his expression fearful.
“They won’t follow us,” Dannyl assured him. “They looked like they had their mind set on the Inner Circle.”
Farand nodded. The young magician had appeared beside Dannyl on the wall, perhaps seeking the reassurance of a familiar face. The magicians ahead drew farther away and eventually turned out of sight.
“Will we... get there... in time?” Farand panted as they reached the West Quarter.
“I hope so,” Dannyl replied. Looking up at the Inner Wall, he could see that some magicians were already hurrying along the top. He glanced at Farand, who was still pale but struggling along valiantly. “Maybe not.”
He turned down the next street. The wall was directly ahead of them. When they reached it, Dannyl took hold of Farand’s shoulders. He created a disc of power beneath their feet, and sent them upward as quickly as he dared. The sudden ascent made his stomach sink disconcertingly.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to use any magic except in the fight,” Farand gasped.
They reached the top of the wall and Dannyl set them down. “It’s obvious you’re still too weak for running,” he said. “Better we got here soon enough for me to channel your power, than not get here in time at all.”