But there wasn't time, there wasn't time.
Another blast, stronger than the first, came at him like a great wind, shriveling the grass with its heat.
He managed a blocking spell, but diverted only part of it. He turned to protect the child, catching the force with his back. He felt it sear through his clothes, gritted his teeth against the pain and he heard Gundara shout, Shut up! and Palimak echo, Shut up! and then the pain was gone.
He set the child down and came about, clawing at his pocket. The witch sniffers were almost on him now, but he had time to hurl the pellets and they exploded, sheeting fire and smoke.
The devil hounds were scattered by the blast, shrieking in fear and pain.
Smoke cloudsred and green and yellow swirled all around.
Then he heard the thunder of the approaching troops and through the smoke he saw Leiria, sword in hand, charge into the mass, cutting left and right, leaving demon howls and human screams in her wake. She broke through, then wheeled her horse and came crashing back, her killing sword releasing rivers of blood.
And now Nerisa was off her horse and beside him, armed with nothing but a whip. A witch sniffer leaped out of one of the smoke columns, slavering jaws yawning. It came so fast it almost had him, but Nerisa lashed out with her whip, slicing through those open jaws and the creature's face became a gory mask and it slammed to the ground. So close that Palimak hit it with his tiny fist, crying, Shut up! Shut up!"
Nerisa scooped Palimak off the ground. Slinging him on her hip, she held him with one hand while she whirled the whip with the other.
Then the air shrilled and a dark swarm of arrows came lofting towards them.
But they were slow, so very slow. They reached the apex of their flight then down they came, down, down and down.
Just as they struck, Safar hurled himself on Nerisa and the child. His body, not magic, was their only shield. He heard them strike all around him, thought for an instant they'd been saved by a miracle or incompetence. Then he grunted as one buried itself in his thigh. Grunted again when another struck his shoulder. He hurt, by the gods he hurt, but he didn't care because he could feel Nerisa's warmth against him. Hear Palimak crying beneath her. And he knew they were safe.
He rolled away, purposely and painfully breaking off the arrows against the ground.
Safar came to his feet, calm and strong and gathering more power with each breath.
He slipped the dagger from his belt. Casual, as if he had all the time in the world. With cold interest he noted Leiria savaging the soldiers. She was here, there, everywhere, darting in and out, dealing out death as if it were the sweetest of gifts. But she was tiring, as was her horse. He saw the animal stagger once, saw her sword arm droop and the effort on her face as she forced it up again.
Then the great spell came, just as he knew it would. He could smell Fari, that damned old demon, behind it. Ah, and there was a little bit of Luka there. A whiff of arrogance. And Kalasariz? Where was he? He sniffed again, caught the sewer stench of conspiracy. There you are, you whore's son. But Fari would need more for this spell.
He'd need Iraj.
Safar imagined them tucked safely away in some dark room of the palace. The Necromancium, most likely. Fari was a cautious old fiend and wouldn't trust his wizards to drag Safar down. So just in case he'd create a mighty spell. He'd take a drop of blood from each. And build on the innate power all conspiracies hold. He'd take one from Luka for his poisonous hate of his father. One from Kalasariz, to confound. One from himself for real magic. And finally, one from Iraj, for there is nothing as deadly as friend against friend.
Asper had taught Safar that.
Then Fari would mix the blood in a potion. A potion he would've labored long and hard on well before this conspiracy had come into the open. And then they'd drink. Each passing the cup on to the other.
Poor Iraj, Safar thought. He probably didn't know the potion would seal him to the others forever.
Then Fari would cast the spell. But what spell would it be?
Ah! What else?
The Force of Four!
Another lesson learned from Asper.
He shouted for Gundara who leaped out onto his shoulder.
The little Favorite chattered a spell, head darting this way and that, looking, looking…
He jabbed a finger to the east. There, Master! he cried.
At first all he saw was the glare of the Demon Moon above the palace. Then he saw a shape take form. It looked like a wolf's head. A wolf with long fangs like a demon's. Baleful eyes moving. Searching.
Then the wolf saw him. It bayed in hellish joy and shot forward, head growing larger as it came.
But it wasn't the head Safar feared. It was the killing spell coming like a desert storm behind it. So strong it was impossible for him to stop.
Safar pointed the dagger at the wolf's head, the tip glittering blood red from the moon.
He made that his center. Then he cut to the side, once for Luka. Another slice. Twice for Kalasariz. Again. Thrice for Fari. And then the fourthfor Iraj.
Then he aimed the dagger at the center again. Right between the wolf head's glaring red eyes.
He felt the force of its gathering hate. Felt the first buffet of searing magical winds.
He put all of his might, all of his will behind the dagger tip.
And he shouted"Protarus!"
There was a clap of ungodly thunder and the wolf head shattered. He heard a distant howl. And then the sky was empty and the air was still.
He looked around and saw the troops fleeing down the hill. Leiria was coming up to him, leading her horse, which was bleeding heavily from many wounds.
"There's more of them, Safar, she said. You can see from the edge of the hill. Hundreds of soldiers. They're milling about now, gathering their nerve. But they'll come soon enough. This isn't over yet."
"I couldn't kill him, Safar said. I hurt him, but I couldn't kill him. There wasn't time."
"Iraj won't give you another chance, she said.
"Then let's not give him one, Safar said.
He turned to find Nerisa, saying, We'll head for the village just like we"
Nerisa was sprawled on the ground. There was an arrow through her breast, blood stain creeping across her tunic.
Palimak was kneeling beside her, weeping and blubbering over and over again"Shut up, shut up, shut up! as if he were trying to silence Death himself. And perhaps he was.
Safar felt nothing. He was too shocked to grieve, too numb for thought. The only sensation was the cold stone in his chest where his heart had once lived.
He felt a tug at his sleeve. We have to go, Safar, Leiria said. I'm sorry she's dead, but there's nothing we can do."
Her voice sounded distantlike a gull crying above a great sea.
Then it came closer, clearer. Safar! They'll be here any minute."
Still, he did not move.
Leiria rushed over to Nerisa's body. Gently she picked up Palimak, soothing him, but awkwardly in a soldier's manner.
She carried the child back to Safar and pushed him against his chest. Safar didn't react and so she grabbed each arm in turn and folded them across the boy, forcing an embrace.
"They'll kill the child, too, Safar, she said. Nerisa's child!"
Safar came unstuck and clutched the weeping Palimak tight.
"I won't let them, he said. I'll kill that whoreson, I swear I will!"
"Killing will have to wait, Safar, Leiria said. We have to get away first."
And so that is what they did. They rode off the hill, Leiria leading the way and Safar carrying Palimak. Exactly how they escaped, he'd never be able to recall. He remembered only the shouts of soldiers behind and to the side of them. The sound of shutters and doors slamming as they clattered through the streets. Screams and blood at the city gates. The countryside whipping past. Switchback trails, splashing in creeks, hiding in woods.