Takado shrugged. “A mere handful. Nothing compared to how many we will slaughter in revenge tonight. You’ll make a good start.”
From him burst a sizzling flash of light. It pounded the air just in front of the king, who staggered backwards. Hanara saw a magician step forward to steady his ruler, then the air began to flash and ripple between the Sachakans and the Kyralians.
Throwing himself to the ground, Hanara shivered as magic once again seared the space between the two armies. He peered through the remnants of whatever trampled, half-grown crop had been sown in the field. Mostly he watched in case Takado signalled for him, or snapped an order, but he could not help stealing glances to either side, dreading the moment when the first Sachakan fell.
It happened much sooner than last time. Hanara flinched and felt his heart jolt as a magician a mere twenty strides away burst into flames. He felt the heat, cringed at the screams. Then slaves surged forward to pat out the fire, but after the magician stilled he did not rise again. He heard the slaves’ fearful lamenting as they realised they were now masterless and unprotected.
When the next magician fell, Takado made a disgusted noise. “What will it take for us to trust each other?” he muttered. “Do as they do,” he called out. “Protect each other.”
Looking down the line of magicians, Hanara saw one take a step back, then glance at both of his neighbours indecisively. Then he staggered to his knees as a strike pounded his shield. He quickly crawled behind the magician to his left and rose to his feet, looking uncomfortable but relieved.
Now magician after magician began to either slip behind his or her neighbour, or die before managing to. Hanara’s stomach sank ever lower as more and more died or stepped aside, and he grew nauseous with dread. How can we win at this rate? Then a cry of triumph rang out. Lifting himself up on his elbows, Hanara saw that one of the Kyralian groups had disintegrated. Two corpses lay on the ground, and three magicians were running away. As he watched, one buckled in mid-stride and dropped. The other two swerved out of sight behind the enemy’s line.
Now Hanara watched the Kyralians intently, refusing to look when one of his own people fell. Laughter broke from Takado as one of the enemy shrieked in pain, his face blackened and clothes alight. All but one of the magicians around the victim fled to either side, hiding in the protection of other groups. The one who stayed tried to drag the burning man aside, but then both were knocked off their feet and fell to the ground, where they lay still.
Seeking the enemy king, Hanara found him within another group, scanning the two lines and scowling as another magician spoke rapidly to him.
They’re worried they’re losing, Hanara thought, his heart lifting. They’re going to try retreating again. But this time Takado won’t let them go. He’ll chase them down.
A sound beside him threatened to drag his attention away. He saw someone in the corner of his eye, crawling closer. It could only be a slave. He resisted looking back.
“Hanara? Are you the one called Hanara?”
Annoyed, he glanced back quickly. It was one of Nomako’s slaves. Hanara grimaced.
“Yes. Why?”
“Message. For Takado. He requests Takado retreat. Nomako’s men are nearly exhausted.”
Hanara nodded. “I’ll tell him.”
As the other slave crawled backwards, Hanara edged forward, slowly closing the gap between himself and Takado.
“Master,” he called. “Master Takado.”
He waited, but Takado was rigid with concentration. In case his master hadn’t heard, he called again.
“What is it?” Takado snapped.
Hanara repeated what the slave said. Takado scowled, but said nothing.
“My people are signalling that they are tiring,” Asara said after a moment.
“But so are the Kyralians, I think,” Dachido said.
“Yes,” Takado agreed. “We are too closely matched.”
“It doesn’t matter if these Elynes are an hour away or half a day,” Asara said. “Even if we win here, they will find us exhausted and have no trouble finishing us off.”
Takado gave a low growl. “If they find us.”
“Look at their faces,” Dachido said, nodding towards the Kyralians. “They’re worried. Either they know the Elynes will arrive too late to save them, or they don’t yet know the Elynes are close by. Let them be the ones to retreat.”
Takado straightened. “We have only to bluff them. Intimidate them.” He smiled. “When the next group falter, turn all your power on them so none have a chance to seek shelter.”
The three allies fell silent. Hanara searched the enemy line, looking for groups that might be reaching the end of their combined strength. He noticed that one group did not appear to be striking.
“That one with the tall magician at the front,” he said, loud enough for his master to hear. “Are they attacking at all? Or just shielding?”
Takado looked in the right direction. “Ahhh,” he said. “We have our target.” He sent a streak of light towards the tall magician and his group. It scattered off a shield. Hanara saw the man turn to see who had attacked him, and turn grey with terror.
In the next moment, the five magicians in the group fell under a barrage of magical strikes. Not one of the group survived.
Hanara watched realisation and horror spread across the faces of the Kyralians. He realised he was giggling, and felt a rush of loathing at himself, followed by a contradictory pride. I found the target. Takado won’t forget that.
Then all smugness evaporated as several Sachakans fell, one after another. Looking in the direction of the attackers, he saw five magicians calmly separate and walk behind their neighbouring groups.
They expelled their last strength deliberately, so they could hide before anyone could kill them. He could not help admiring them for that. It’s this cool, calculating approach that makes them more formidable than they should be.
The Kyralians now stood in groups of ten to fifteen magicians. As Hanara watched, magicians in the king’s group shouted orders. The smaller groups moved together to form five larger groups.
But they did not retreat.
He looked up at Takado. His master’s teeth were set in a grimace. Hanara hoped nobody could see this but Asara and Dachido. Perhaps from a distance it looked like a smile. On either side, two more magicians fell.
Then the Kyralians began to back away.
Takado gave a cry of triumph. “At last!”
“Now we give chase?” Asara asked. “Not yet,” Takado said. “We must wait until they break into smaller groups.”
“But they’re not.”
Sure enough, the Kyralians were retreating in an ordered formation, protected by those still strong enough to shield the rest of the army.
Takado hummed in thought. “They’ll probably keep that up until they reach their horses. Then we might have our chance.” Asara drew in a sharp breath.
“Ah! I have an idea,” she said. Looking at Takado, she grinned. Then, as she told him, he also began to smile.
“A bold idea,” he said. “Go. Try it if you dare.”
She chuckled, then turned and sprang away from the fight.
CHAPTER 38
It was growing clear that staring at the roof of the tent was not going to send Tessia back to sleep. Sighing, she turned on her side and looked at the other young women asleep on their pallets. Someone had decided that, now there were more female apprentices in the army, they should all share the same tent. There were five of them, not including herself, ranging in age from fourteen to twenty-five.
Is this really all the female apprentices in Kyralia? There must be more than seventy male apprentices, though she was not sure if that number had been skewed by magicians taking on new apprentices in order to strengthen themselves as preparation for war. How many women have magical talent, but never develop it? How many never know they have it?
She wondered why these particular girls had become apprentices. They
were all a little frightened to find themselves at war, Tessia suspected. Even those who had been flippant, or enthusiastic about seeing a fight.
Yet nobody complained that we apprentices get to sit around waiting while our masters go off to fight.
Tessia felt a rush of apprehension. No magicians had died the last time, but that didn’t mean none would this time. Mistakes could be made. The Sachakans might not let the Kyralians retreat this time, if it came to that.
But at least she didn’t have to worry about Jayan. Once again, despite now being a higher magician, he’d been left in charge of the apprentices. He was a logical choice for the role, since he’d led them before and they all regarded him as a hero since “defeating” three Sachakans “all on his own” in the bol storehouse. She had to admit his solution had been clever, and admire his quick thinking.
And now the girls are even more inclined to swoon over him. She thought back to the previous night’s conversation with the female apprentices. They’ve started with Mikken, too, sighing over his tragic but brave escape from the pass, making his way back all alone, and rejoining the army when he could have gone back to Imardin. She smiled to herself. Still, you can’t help admiring him for that.
Tessia sighed. She was not going to fall back to sleep again. I may as well get up and see if I can make myself useful.
As quietly as she could, she rose and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders. Picking up her boots, she took them outside the tent and sat down on a box to pull them on. It was not quite the full darkness of night, nor the brightening gloom of dawn, but she could see figures pacing the boundary of the camp in the distance, and the pointed shapes of other tents. Fires glowed with dying embers. Lamps flickered, thirsty for oil.
Rising, she began to wander, no destination in mind. Just a circuit of the camp, she decided. The male apprentices either slept in their master’s tent, or had their own individual shelters. She passed a small group of them playing a game of some sort. They saw her and beckoned, but aside from smiling politely she ignored them and continued walking.
A gap of about ten strides curved through the camp, and it wasn’t until she had crossed it and passed a few more tents that she realised it divided the magicians and apprentices from the servants’ area. The tents here were certainly plainer, and rectangular. She saw tables covered in pots, pans and kettles, as well as baskets and boxes filled with sacks, fruit, vegetables and other foodstuffs. She glimpsed people sleeping shoulder to shoulder with only blankets or mats of dried grass between themselves and the ground. She noticed the smell of animals, held within pens or cages.
Then a familiar mix of odours caught her attention. She stopped, recognising the twin scent of illness and cures, then quickened her pace. A large rectangular tent appeared ahead. She paused at the entrance, taking in the makeshift beds of dried grass matting covered in blankets, the sick men and women, the bowls for excrement or washing water, and the table covered in cures, some mixed, some not, some in the process of being prepared.
In the shadows at the back of the tent someone was bending over a patient. Tessia could hear the rasping sound of breathing. She moved into the tent and approached.
“I have some briskbark ointment back in my tent,” she said. “Shall I go and get it?”
The figure straightened, then turned to face Tessia. Instead of the surprised face of a man, she was confronted by a beaming, familiar smile.
“Tessia!” Kendaria exclaimed. “I heard you were here. I was going to seek you out, but the healers put me on night duty.”
“Alone?” Tessia glanced at the other patients. “Without even an assistant?”
Kendaria scowled. “It’s my punishment for daring to be a woman. Besides, most of them are managing to sleep, except for this fellow here.” She took Tessia’s arm and led her out of the tent. “And he’s not going to live much longer, no matter who watches over him,” she added quietly. “Poor man.”
“I can get my bag,” Tessia offered. “Might ease his pain.”
Kendaria shook her head. “What I’ve given him will do the job well enough. So, how are you? I’ve heard so many stories of chasing Sachakans, battles and such, and you’ve been there right from the start. How have you managed it?”
Tessia shrugged. “I don’t know if management has been part of it. Wherever Lord Dakon went, I went too. He has gone wherever Lord Werrin then Magician Sabin and now the king took him. And they’ve gone wherever the Sachakans forced them to go.” She looked back at the tent. “You’ve obviously managed to convince the guild to let you do a little healing.”
“Only the boring or unpleasant work that they don’t want to do.” Kendaria’s face darkened. “They treat me like a servant most of the time, sending me off to get them food or drink. One even thought he could help himself to my bed, but he was so obvious about his intentions I put some papea spice under my pillow and blew it into his eyes. They were streaming for days afterwards.”
“That’s terrible!” Tessia gasped. “Did you complain about his behaviour?”
“Of course, but the guild master told me that since most people think the only women who hang about armies are there to service the men, I should not be surprised if men make assumptions about me.”
Tessia gaped at her. “He said what? Does he make that assumption about me? Or the other female apprentices or magicians?” She shook her head. “Or the servants? Do they work hard to feed and support us only to be treated like...like...?”
Kendaria grimaced and nodded. “I’ve had more than a few women come to me asking for a preventative for conception. Who do you think got me the papea spice? It’s not a cure ingredient.”
Appalled, Tessia could not speak. She considered telling Lord Dakon. He would tell Magician Sabin, she was sure. But would anybody do anything about it? Even if they forbade it, would the men taking advantage of the servant women pay any attention?
“Is it true what they’re saying about you?” Kendaria asked, a little hesitantly.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Tessia turned to look at the healer. “What are they saying about me?”
“That you can heal with magic. That you mended a broken back.”
“Oh.” Tessia smiled. “It is and it isn’t. I’ve been trying to use magic to heal, but haven’t found a way yet. What I’ve been able to do is things like moving broken bones back into place, or holding a wound closed while it is stitched, or stopping bleeding. And I’ve recently worked out how to pinch the pain paths to numb an area of the body. That’s all, though.”
“So how did you mend the broken back?”
“It wasn’t broken. It was all out of alignment. Once I put it right all the pathways straightened and unblocked. Though there was a lot of swelling that had to be discouraged.”
“But... how did you know it wasn’t broken?”
Tessia paused. Of course, ordinary healers couldn’t see into their patient’s bodies. I hadn’t realised how great an advantage that was. I’ve been thinking less of the healers for misdiagnosing their patients, when they really can’t help it.
“I’m able to see inside people,” she explained.
Kendaria smiled. “You might not be able to actually heal magically, but what you can do is marvellous.” Then her smile faded a little. “Which is why the healers aren’t happy about what you’re doing. Don’t be surprised if they try to stop you. They’re worried that if magicians can heal then they’ll lose their richer customers.”
“How could they stop me?”
“By convincing the king that, because you’re not guild trained, you might do more harm than good out of ignorance. Or that magicians will take all the work from the healers, which will leave them less able to afford to do charitable work with people who can’t afford to pay magicians. Not that they do much of it, anyway.”
Tessia laughed quietly. “In other words, they’re afraid they’ll end up no better than a lowly village healer.”
“Yes.” Kendaria gave her a serious
look. “Don’t dismiss them. They are the most powerful guild in the city. They won’t give up what they have without a fight.”
“I’ll be careful,” Tessia assured her. “I’m not going to stir them up then disappear like my grandfather did. He used to say the mistake he made was to try to change them too quickly. He’d have had more success making changes so slowly that they didn’t notice them. But he was young and impatient, and people were dying... what’s that shouting?”
The calls in the background were growing rapidly louder and more numerous. Kendaria frowned as she listened.
“Go! Get in the carts!”
“They’re coming!”
“Leave it! Just go!”
Suddenly there were people everywhere, darting between tents and shouting. Servants were emerging. There were questioning calls from within the healers’ tent. A man strode up to Kendaria and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. She yelped in fright.
“The army is coming and the Sachakans are close behind. We have to get everyone onto the carts and leave. No packing. Just get the people out.” He looked at Tessia and blinked. “Apprentice Tessia? Master Jayan is looking for you.” He pointed towards the centre of the camp.
“Thank you,” Tessia said. She looked at Kendaria. “Good luck.”
“You too.”
Turning away, Tessia jogged through the tents. She was forced to dodge several times as men and women raced towards the outskirts of the camp where horses and gorin were most likely being harnessed to carts as quickly as possible. Once she crossed the gap between servant and magicians’ tents, she found herself following apprentices all moving in the same direction.
As she emerged onto the road, into the space before the king’s tent, she saw Jayan standing on a large box. He was shouting orders and repeating the same information again and again, in response to the apprentices’ frantic questions.
“Our army is retreating. The Sachakans are following. They will be here soon. We must be ready. The servants are bringing horses.” He paused and frowned at one of the apprentices. “Stop wasting time asking stupid questions and see if your horse is here!” he snapped. He turned away and pointed. “You! Arlenin. I can see someone bringing your horse. Yes, I’d hardly miss that ugly beast if it were on the other side of the country. Go and get it.”