The Magician's Apprentice (53 page)

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.

We’re nearly finished
, he realised.
We’ve lost
. Some of the teams held only two members with power in reserve. These teams backed away the fastest. As the seven leaders began to retreat, Dakon turned his attention to the enemy, watching anxiously to see if they would follow.

Crouching on the ground behind his master, Hanara felt his heart pounding. He’d seen two of Takado’s allies fall, and three of the magicians who’d come with the emperor’s representative. One had exploded in flames. Another’s face and chest had crumpled into a bloody mess just before he was knocked back off his feet and sprawled on the ground. He’d also seen a slave broken in two by stray magic, and felt pride and gratitude that Takado had foreseen the danger and ordered him to lie on his belly and keep his head low.

Hanara had seen the surprise and horror on the faces of the Sachakan magicians still fighting. Seen the doubts, and the determination as they kept fighting.
How many will question whether the conquest is worth the risk after this?
Hanara wondered.
Surely their lives aren’t so bad at home that a bit of land is worth dying for.
But owning land was one of the greatest symbols of freedom. Owning land and wielding magic. Of the former there was too little. And perhaps there was too much of the latter in Sachaka.
Now that’s an interesting thought…

A murmur rose among the magicians now. Lifting his head, Takado saw that the Kyralians were moving.

They are retreating! We have won!

He saw Takado’s allies begin to move forward. Takado hadn’t given an order yet. Hanara could not see his master’s face, but something in Takado’s posture told him his master was deliberating.

“Hold!”

The voice rang out, stalling those edging forward. It was not Takado’s voice. Hanara felt a rush of anger and indignation. The emperor’s representative, Nomako, had spoken. He was stepping out before Takado’s army and turning to face them.

“Let them go. We have shown them who is the stronger. Let them ponder the future a while and consider the benefits of surrendering to us.”

Hanara’s blood boiled on behalf of his master.
How dare he! It’s up to Takado to decide! Up to Takado to give the orders!

He felt his heart leap with mingled terror and glee as Takado stepped forward to face Nomako, his face dark with anger.

“
I
lead this army, Nomako,” he snapped. “Not you. Not even the emperor. If that isn’t to your satisfaction – or his – then go home and leave the fighting to us.”

Nomako stared back at Takado and his face tightened with annoyance and dislike for a moment. Then his gaze dropped to the ground. “I apologise, Takado. I thought only to save you more losses.”

“Then you are a fool! They are spent.” Takado turned away and called to Dachido and Asara.

“They have not lost a single magician,” Nomako protested. “And we have lost nearly a dozen. It is a trick. A trap. I promised the families of Sachaka that we would not spend lives needlessly. We must analyse what they are doing and find a way to combat it.”

Takado looked at his army and frowned. Hanara tried to read the mood of the fighters. Many looked uncertain. Some had backed away several steps and appeared to be expecting Takado to confirm Nomako’s order. None seemed eager to pursue the Kyralians.

They did not expect us to lose fighters without the enemy suffering the same.

Sighing, Takado shrugged his shoulders. “We stay,” he said. The relief on the faces of his followers and Nomako’s was clear. Some gathered into pairs or groups to talk, others headed back towards the village. Nomako joined the three men who appeared to be his most trusted companions.

Dachido and Asara reached Takado’s side.

“What were they doing?” Dachido said. “Why did none of them fall?”

“They are protecting and supporting each other. Something we should be doing. Though I doubt we can expect it from one quarter,” he added in a quieter voice. The three allies began talking in murmurs. Hanara crept closer, straining to hear.

“. . . not retreat if they weren’t,” Asara was saying.

“We cannot be sure,” Dachido replied. “It may be a trap.”

Asara nodded, then turned to Takado. “I like your idea last night,” she said. “Let’s do that instead.”

“We need horses,” Dachido warned.

Asara shrugged. “We could demand some of Nomako’s as reparation.”

“And give the impression we need his assistance?” Takado asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the emperor’s representative.

Asara grimaced and said nothing.

Takado looked towards the village. “Are there any horses left in the area?”

Dachido followed his gaze. “There was one, but it was old and we slaughtered it to feed the slaves.”

“If we look further afield we might find some,” Asara said.

“Further west, where they do not expect us to go.” Takado smiled.

“So we’ll try it?” Asara asked, her eyes gleaming.

“Yes. And I have a first target in mind.”

The pair looked at him expectantly.

“Did you notice their apprentices were not with them?”

“Ah,” Dachido said.

“Ah!” Asara exclaimed.

“Yes,” Takado replied. “It seems they have forgotten one of the key rules of battle, and we are going to remind them.”

By the time the army stopped for the night, exhaustion had almost overcome Jayan’s curiosity to know what had happened when the magicians had confronted the Sachakan invaders. All Dakon had said was that the enemy had been stronger than the Kyralian army. Sabin had ordered a retreat. The Sachakans hadn’t pursued them, but the possibility they were following at a distance couldn’t be discounted. The Kyralian army needed to gain some ground between themselves and the enemy, so they had a chance to recover some magical strength before the next confrontation.

It was amazing to think that, despite losing the battle, nobody had died. But from the uneasiness and haste of the magicians, Jayan guessed that was due to luck or the ignorance of the enemy.

All day Jayan had seen the flashes of blades and hands briefly linked as magic was transferred on the ride. Though the apprentices and servants had given their strength only that morning, and so did not have much to offer, the magicians feared attack at any moment and wanted to be as prepared as possible.

Dakon, however, shook his head when Jayan suggested they do the same. “I am fine,” he said. “The benefit of having two apprentices. I’d rather you and Tessia had a chance of defending yourselves if we are attacked. And you may need to take charge of the apprentices again, if we do engage the enemy.”

The army had moved off the main road a while before in a weak attempt to confuse any pursuit, and followed a smooth road into a fold between two hills. They were hidden from the sight of anyone travelling down the main road, but Jayan suspected they’d left so much evidence of their passing that even the most unskilled scout would have been able to locate them.

The road wound through low hills and shallow valleys, all striped and divided by fields. Dusk settled like a growing mist, then darkness fell. Scouts galloping along the road reported no pursuit. The Sachakans had returned to the village of Lonner and appeared to be settling for the night.

Then, long past nightfall, the ghostly white walls of buildings appeared ahead. Several were storehouses, one had many doors and Jayan guessed it was accommodation for servants, and the two-storey mansion was clearly the owner’s residence.

“What is this place?” he asked Dakon.

“Lord Franner’s winery.”