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.