The horses pulling the first cart halted, and their driver slowly turned to face the viewer. Sonea recognized Kariko with a shiver. He handed the reins to a man sitting beside him, then jumped to the ground.
“Come out, come out, Guild magician,” he called.
A strike flashed from the window of a house on the other side of the street, followed by several more from both sides. They struck an invisible shield around each cart.
“An ambush,” Sonea heard Akkarin mutter.
Kariko turned full circle, surveying the houses and street, then looked at his allies.
“Who wants to hunt?”
Four of the Ichani stepped down from the carts. They separated and started toward the houses on either side. Two brought yeel with them, the animals barking with excitement.
Then the view shifted. She caught a glimpse of a window frame, a room, and a Guild magician.
“Rothen!” she gasped. The images stopped, and she stared at Akkarin in horror. “Rothen is with them!”
It has been far too many years since I had a Warrior lesson or a bout in the Arena, Rothen thought as he hurried across the yard to the back door of the house.
Yikmo’s strategy was simple. If the Sachakans could not see their attackers, they could not fight back. The Guild magicians would strike from concealed places, then change position and strike again. When they had no more power, they were to hide and rest.
Rothen hurried as fast as he could through the house to the front room. The villagers had been sent away hours before, and the doors and windows had all been unlocked in preparation for the ambush. Peering out, he saw a Sachakan man reach out to the door of the next house. He threw a powerful strike, and was gratified to see the man stop.
Then his heart sank as the man turned and started toward him. He stumbled over a chair and hurried out of the room.
The town was large, and most of the houses were built close to each other. Rothen crept about, watching the Sachakans and striking when they were far enough away that he had time to escape from them. Twice he held his breath as one of them passed only a few strides away from his hiding place. Other Guild magicians were less fortunate. One of the animals led a Sachakan to a young Warrior hiding in a stable. Though Rothen and another Alchemist emerged to strike at the Sachakan, the man ignored them. The Warrior fought until he was too weak to stand. Then, as the Sachakan drew out his knife, Rothen heard the sound of approaching footsteps from another direction nearby and was forced to flee.
From then on, Rothen was frighteningly aware that his attempts to save the young Warrior had depleted most of his strength. Not all of it, though. After coming across two bodies half an hour later, he decided he would strike at a Sachakan one more time before he slipped away to hide.
More than an hour had passed since the carts had arrived, and he was far from the main street. Balkan’s orders had been to delay the Sachakans as long as possible. He was not sure how long or how far the enemy would continue to hunt for Guild magicians.
Not all night, he thought. They’ll eventually head back. And they won’t expect anyone to be there to attack them.
Rothen smiled. Slowly and cautiously, he made his way back toward the main road. Entering one of the houses, he listened carefully for other movements inside. All was silent.
Moving to a window at the front of the house, he saw that the carts were still where they had been before. Several of the Sachakans were walking near them, stretching their legs.
A slave was inspecting one of the wheels.
A broken wheel would slow them down, Rothen mused. Then he grinned to himself. Better still would be a few broken carts.
He drew in a deep breath and reached for his remaining power.
Then he heard a floorboard squeak behind him and felt his blood go cold.
“Rothen,” a voice whispered.
He turned and let the breath out in a rush. “Yikmo.”
The Warrior moved to the window.
“I heard one boasting that he had killed five of us,” Yikmo said grimly. “The other claims he took three.”
“I was about to strike the carts,” Rothen murmured. “They would have to replace them, and I think most vehicles here went with the villagers.”
Yikmo nodded. “They were protecting them before, but they might not be n—”
He fell abruptly silent as two Sachakans sauntered into view from the houses on the other side of the street. A woman called out to them.
“How many, Kariko?”
“Seven,” the man replied.
“I got five,” his companion added.
Yikmo drew in a sharp breath. “It can’t be. If the two I heard on this side are telling the truth, we are the only two left.”
Rothen shivered. “Unless they are exaggerating.”
“Did you get all of them?” the woman asked.
“Most,” Kariko replied. “There were twenty-two.”
“I could send my tracker after them.”
“No, we have wasted enough time already.” He straightened and Rothen stiffened as he heard the man’s mental voice.
— Come back now.
Yikmo turned to regard Rothen. “This is our last chance to hit those carts.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll strike the first. You take the second. Ready?”
Rothen nodded and drew on the last of his power.
“Go.”
Their strikes flashed to the carts. Wood shattered, then humans and horses screamed. Several of the plain-clothed Sachakans fell to the ground, cut and bleeding from flying splinters of wood. One horse kicked its way free and galloped away.
The Sachakan magicians whirled around to stare in Rothen’s direction.
“Run!” Yikmo gasped.
Rothen made it halfway across the room before the wall behind him exploded. The force slammed into his back and threw him forward. As he slammed against a wall, pain shot through his chest and arm.
He fell to the floor and lay still, too stunned to move.
Get up! he told himself. You ’ve got to get away!
But when he moved, pain stabbed through his shoulder and arm. Something’s broken, he thought. And I have no strength left for Healing. He gasped and, with a great effort, forced himself up onto one elbow, then his knees. Dust filled his eyes and he tried to blink it away. He felt a hand grasp his other arm. Yikmo, he thought. He felt a flood of gratitude. He stayed to help.
The hand hauled him to his feet, sending rips of agony through his upper body. He looked up at his helper and gratitude turned to horror.
Kariko stared at him, his face contorted with anger. “I’m going to make you very sorry you did that, magician.”
A force pushed Rothen against the wall and held him there. The pressure sent pain shooting through his shoulder. Kariko grasped Rothen’s head with both hands.
He’s going to read my mind! Rothen thought, feeling panic rising. He instinctively struggled to block an intrusion, but felt nothing. For a moment, he wondered if mind reading was Kariko’s intention, then a voice boomed within his head.
— What is your greatest fear?
Sonea’s face flashed into Rothen’s mind. He pushed it away, but Kariko caught and sent the image back again.
— Who is this, then? Ah, someone you taught magic to. Someone you care for. But she is gone. Sent away by the Guild. Where? Sachaka! Ah! So that’s who she is. Akkarin’s companion. Such a naughty girl, breaking Guild rules.
Rothen tried to still his mind, to think of nothing, but Kariko began sending tantalizing images of Akkarin into Rothen’s mind. He saw a younger Akkarin, in clothes like those of the slaves in the carts, cowering before another Sachakan.
— He was a slave, Kariko told him. Your noble High Lord was once a pathetic, grovelling slave who served my brother.