Western Shore

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

'Are we any closer to getting out of here? Are we going to get back to theZaise today? At least we were spared any more attacks yesterday. What good did that do us? Howcan we work together if we're barely even talking to each other?

Lying on his back as the morning light filtered through the doorway, Kheda looked up at the uncommunicativeinterior of the roof of the dead wizard's hut and sighed. In unspoken agreement the previous evening, they had dismantled the bed spaces of the dead mage and his women, dividing the hides and heaps of grass into four piles. Kheda had set himself between the open doorway and the four central pillars where the others were sleeping' sheltered by panels of woven bark. Kheda had preferred to suffer the draughts, not wanting anything obstructing his view in case trouble came in the night. He rolled overas he heard footsteps outside the hut.

'It looks as if breakfast has arrived.' Risala sat upright as two small, naked children carefully set gourds down by the open doorway and took to their heels. It wasapparent from her voice that she had already been wide awake as well.

Kheda retrieved the gourds and found them full of fluffy white pulp speckled with dark-green fragments. He scooped up a cautious fingerful and held it on his tongue for amoment. It was surprisingly palatable, with an unexpected citrus flavour permeating the bland starchiness.

/ don't suppose they'd be trying to poison us, not with Naldeth having proved himself so valuable a wizard.

He chewed and swallowed and bit down on something hard. Abrupt bitterness flooded his mouth. Grimacing, he used a grimy fingernail to dig fibres out from between two back teeth. 'Spit out the green bits,' he advised as he brought the gourds back into the hut, setting one down by the two wizards and offering the other to Risala.

Velindre was already reaching for the gourd full of water she had obtained the day before, her eyes distant. She said something to Naldeth in the Aldabreshin tongue, too fast and colloquial for Kheda to catch. She still looked drawn but the bruises of weariness beneath her eyes were less pronounced than they had been.

'So what are we doing today?' Naldeth tugged crossly at straps and buckles as he settled his stump in the leather cup of his metal leg. He looked up at Kheda with his grotesquely bloodshot eyes. 'Arguing round in circles until the sun sets again?'

'Velindre, I want you to keep scrying for any force of wild men coming over the river,' Kheda said. 'The tree-dwellers' wizard must know you've killed the skull-faced mage between the two of you. I'm sure he'll attack.'

'The only question is when,' Risala agreed as she took a handful of the fluffy pulp. 'Judging by what we saw in Chazen.'

'But the dragons—' Velindre broke off and Kheda narrowed his eyes with growing suspicion.

What about the dragons? What aren 't you telling me?

'Velindre can do the scrying.' Naldeth struggled to rise. 'What can I do?'

Kheda offer him a hand. The wizard took it with a reluctant grimace and Kheda hauled him to his feet. 'Can you tell us where that black dragon might be?'

'Can you tell if it's hiding in the shadows anywhere

close to spy on us again?' Risala shivered at the thought as she took a mouthful.

'Attune your affinity to earth and fire and do your best to sense any disruption,' Velindre interjected firmly.

'Naturally.' Naldeth tugged his grubby tunic straight. 'But I don't imagine I'll catch it out a second time with a simple trick like summoning up molten rock beneath it.'

Kheda glanced towards the magewoman. 'I take it that black dragon must know it was you who roused that snowstorm?'

She nodded. 'With air antithetical to earth, I as good as slapped the beast in the face.'

'Making it all the more hostile, no doubt.' Risala finished eating, then looked at her sticky hands with some exasperation. She rose and went out of the doorway without a backward glance.

Kheda looked after her.

What can I do to restore your peace of mind, my beloved? Nothing until I've solved the problems laid before me. That's what I've always done, whatever signs I may have thought were guiding me.

Kheda looked down and found he had little appetite for the remaining starchy pulp in the gourd. He forced himself to keep eating and nodded to Naldeth and Velindre. 'We can't afford to go hungry.'

'We can't afford to be caught unawares either.' Velindre plucked up gobbets of food with one hand as she sat cross-legged with the fat-bellied water gourd held between her legs and passed her other palm over the wide neck. Emerald radiance danced within, not quite strong enough to escape. Frowning, Velindre peered into the gourd and faint green light played on her angular face.

Kheda realised a ragged circle of savages was watching them though the deceptive walls of the hut with mingled awe and apprehension. None was coming closer than a

spear length. 'Do you suppose they know what she's doing?'

'I've no idea.' Naldeth was eating with little enthusiasm while watching the wild men and women with a curiosity to equal their own. 'We know so little about their wizardry, or what the non-mageborn here make of it.'

'There doesn't seem to be anyone between here and the river,' Velindre said slowly.

'What about the far bank?' Kheda moved closer to peer over the magewoman's shoulder. He struggled to make sense of the miniature vista shining in the mossy shadows within the gourd. Bright patches of brown and yellow and green shifted and blurred. 'Try to find those caves we told you about.'

'We don't know who those people might owe allegiance to.' The cleft between Velindre's golden eyebrows deepened as she concentrated.

'If the river's some kind of boundary, presumably they owe fealty to the tree-dwellers' wizard,' ventured Kheda.

'Kheda.' Risala appeared in the doorway, hastily shaking drops of water from her hands. 'There's something going on.'

He followed her outside to see a handful of men hurriedly tearing open a gap in the thorn barricades on the far side of the enclosure.

Naldeth joined them. 'It's not the dragon.' He sounded sure of that.

'They're getting ready to fight something.' Velindre came to the doorway still holding the gourd.

The men of the village were hurrying to gather their spears and clubs from their rickety huts as a group of newcomers waved their hands in animated conversation with those who had opened the woven thorns. The newcomers' voices were increasingly raised, and edged with urgency.

Kheda looked back into the scrying spell. The river valley reflected in the oscillating mossy water was empty. The water flowed sluggishly between the rich brown of the mudflats and nothing was stirring on the grassy plains, bird or lizard.

'Are they part of this village?' Risala didn't look reassured. 'Or from another? We've no idea who else might be living up here, have we?'

'Or how far word of our presence here has spread,' Kheda said thoughtfully.

Velindre looked up from her gourd. 'Do you suppose some other wizard we haven't encountered yet could have spies set among these people?'

'It's what we'd do,' Risala commented frankly.

Kheda noticed that a girl who had been standing near the arguing men was running over to the old woman whom they had first encountered. The girl began speaking rapidly, her hands lively. The old woman answered her, equally animated. Some of the men and women who had been hanging around the dead mage's hut began to drift towards this new commotion.

'I've found those caves.' Velindre focused all her attention on her gourd. 'There's nothing there.'

'Nothing?' Kheda frowned. 'No people? No fires?'

'No.' Velindre looked up. 'Nothing of what we saw when I scried there yesterday. The place looks deserted.'

'Wait.' Naldeth was looking down at the ground with growing alarm. 'There's something—'

'Something's wrong.' Risala walked forward to meet the old woman, who was making haste towards them, her wrinkled face creased still further with anxiety.

The old woman waved Risala away and hurried up to Kheda to tug at his elbow with her twig-like fingers.

How am I possibly supposed to understand you?

Detaching her hand, Kheda tried to look receptive. The

old woman immediately seized his elbow again to urge him in the direction of the sizeable force now gathered by the gap in the thorn barricade. 'Velindre, are you sure there's nothing out there? Forget the caves. What's this side of the river?'

'Nothing that I can see.' Growing doubt tainted the magewoman's words.

'You may not be seeing what there is to see.' Naldeth stooped awkwardly to spread his fingers on the sandy soil. 'I can feel something working with the water deep within the earth.'

'Is it the black dragon?' Kheda realised he had already taken ten or more steps at the old woman's insistence, Risala following a few reluctant paces behind.

'No,' Naldeth said confidently.

'I'll go and see if I can make any sense of this.' Seeing Kheda approaching, a few of the wild men dropped their crude weapons, holding out empty hands, their faces apprehensive. The old woman scolded them and pushed Kheda's hand towards the hilt of his sword.

Tension tightening his belly, he drew the blade, prompting a murmur of fearful wonder from the newly arrived wild men as they stared at the thin, bright steel. One of the men near the gap in the fence broke into voluble explanation. The other men of the village deferred to him, nodding their agreement. The newcomers' eyes grew wider still as they stared at Naldeth and at Velindre over by the dead mage's hut.

/ have to learn how to tell these men apart.

Kheda studied the man who was doing the explaining. He was taller than most, his hair a solid mass of reddish mud. He carried a fire-hardened spear that reached to his shoulder and a worn leather sling tucked through his brief loincloth. His wiry arms and legs were sun-dried muscle and sinew while paler skin marred his flank, just above

the hollow of his hip. Some time long since, some beast with vicious claws or teeth had bitten deep into his side. Age and experience shone in his dark-brown eyes, surrounded by the creases of a lifetime spent squinting in the bright sun.

A lifetime that you mere lucky to see with that wound. How do I learn to understand what you want to tell me?

Kheda could see frustration to equal his own in the scarred spearman's face. The warlord gestured towards the gap in the thorn barrier with his sword and the wild men closest hurriedly retreated from the sunlit metal. Kheda kept his eyes fixed on the first spearman, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated expression of enquiry.

The spearman licked his chapped lips and said something to his companions before nodding emphatically at Kheda. He moved towards the gap, jerking his head to indicate that Kheda should follow. The warlord complied, noting the newcomers and some of the men from the village following behind him.

The rest hurried away towards the huts, clapping their hands and summoning the women with urgent shouts. Kheda saw the old woman grab Risala, refusing to let go of her hand as she dragged her back towards the centre of the village. Brisk shouts brought more children than Kheda had expected running to the wide communal hearth. As the savages clustered together, they all looked anxiously at Naldeth and Velindre. The wizards didn't appear to notice. Velindre was still intent on her gourd. She had linked one hand with Naldeth, who was kneeling awkwardly, the fingers of his other hand thrust deep into the hard earth.

There's trouble coming. Still, both wizards have proved themselves since we made the mistake of coming ashore here. Risala must be as safe with them as anywhere.

Kheda turned his back on the village and scanned the thistle-studded expanse beyond the thorny barrier. He could see no movement beyond the odd dusty stalk stirred by the breeze.

The scarred spearman loped ahead, ducking low and looking from side to side. Kheda followed and the rest of the men spread out around him. They reached the open plateau dotted with swollen barrel trees and the wild warriors split up to take advantage of the cover. Kheda looked to the scarred spearman for guidance. The wild man nodded and beckoned to him. Kheda joined him in pressing his back to the leathery bark and edging around the tree. The scarred spearman craned his neck to see what lay ahead and, catching Kheda by surprise, ran swiftly to the next tree. Kheda followed and saw that the other wild warriors were also advancing from tree to tree in groups of two and three, faces grim.

They reached the edge of the plateau where the rain-scored sandy ground fell away towards the grassy plain. The scarred spearman led Kheda to a vantage point off to one side. As they crouched behind another fat tree, he pointed, and the warlord saw movement down among the straw-coloured tussocks. Movement running contrary to the pleasant breeze bringing some relief from the heat. Concentrating, Kheda picked out smudges of dark skin and an incautious head breaking through the sea of fronds.

Four groups of attackers, possibly five, and spread out all along the plain. If we stay here, we'll be outflanked.

Kheda tapped the first spearman on the shoulder and pointed emphatically backwards towards the village. The wild man frowned and shook his head, reaching out to tap Kheda's sword hand with an encouraging grin.

You think a steel blade will make all the difference? There are plenty of dead in Chazen who could tell you otherwise.

Though we did well enough against the invaders once they had no magic behind them.

Before Kheda could finish that thought, stifled commotion behind him demanded his attention. He whipped his head round to see Risala struggling in the hands of a burly savage who was doing his best to force her to the ground. Kheda retraced his steps as fast as he could, ducking low until he was sure he couldn't be seen from the plain.

By the time he reached her, Risala had freed herself from the wild man's grip and was standing at bay. Three savages ringed her, not daring to get within reach of her drawn dagger. The one who had seized her was sucking a shallow cut on his forearm. He looked at Kheda, openly apprehensive.

'There are savages out there.' Kheda pulled Risala into the shade of the nearest barrel tree. 'Velindre's scrying just isn't seeing them.'

/ was right, and I didn 't need any omen to tell me what to expect.

'That's what I came to tell you.' Still breathing hard from her exertions, Risala sheathed her dagger. 'That earth dragon is manipulating her spell against her — it's something to do with earth and water.' She dismissed the irrelevance with a shake of her head. 'And its pet wizard with the beaded cloak is working some kind of illusion, according to Naldeth. Only one of those bands of tree dwellers is real. The rest are just magical feints that you don't have to bother with, so Naldeth says anyway.'

'Which ones?' demanded Kheda. 'And how do I explain that to these men?'

'Velindre says she can hold the dragon's attention as long as it thinks she's being distracted,' Risala said resolutely. 'Naldeth says that will leave the wild mage working his magic without the beast's assistance, so Naldeth thinks he should be able to break the illusions

and you can lead the spearmen against the real enemy.' She looked at Kheda with ill-concealed apprehension. 'You have to look for dust. That's what the wizard with the beaded cloak is using to make his illusions.'

'I should be able to do that.' Kheda felt strangely calm.

'Wooden spears and stone-studded clubs killed plenty of armoured men in Chazen.' Risala slid her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. 'Promise me you'll be careful.'

'I promise, and I'll be the only one in the fight with steel weapons, won't I?' He brushed a kiss on her forehead and tasted the salt of the sweat slicking down wisps of her black hair. 'Now get back to the village and stay safe for my sake.'

She reached up a hand to draw his head down and pressed a fervent kiss on his lips. 'Be careful.' She didn't say anything more, simply turned away.

Apprehension fluttered in Kheda's belly as he watched her run back through the scrub, perilously exposed among the sparse thistly plants and upthrust spiny spikes. The wild men of the village crouching closest watched her go before turning their gaze on Kheda, some curious, some uneasy. The warlord nodded to them in turn, catching their eyes and trying to convey a confidence he didn't entirely feel before turning and darting swiftly from tree to tree to return to the scarred spearman's vantage point.

He crawled across the last gap on his belly. The enemy, be they real or illusions, were considerably closer now, far easier to pick out among the grasses. Kheda looked at the scarred spearman, who was intent on the slowly encroaching foes. He didn't see any bloodlust in the savage's eyes, just a resigned acceptance that this task must be done, coupled with grim resolve to defend his own.

Not so different from the men who laid down their lives to defend Chazen, even when they knew they were facing magic. Do you know what you re facing? Has this wizard across the river tested you with illusions before? How by all the stars and moons do I explain this to you?

Kheda looked back to see the enemy drawing closer still. He frowned as he saw a plume of dust flourish for a moment before dissolving in the breeze. Then he saw a second sandy smudge spiralling upwards to vanish, and a third. With sudden exultation, he realised there was only one column creeping low and stealthy through the grasses with no such betrayal trailing behind them. They weren't the closest, nor yet the ones looking to advance directly into the open ground dominated by the barrel trees. As far as he could tell, given the lie of the land, they were intent on slipping up the deep ravine choked with nut trees and thistly scrub that ran away inland on the far side of this higher ground.

So they can come up to attack our flank, or even bypass us altogether and strike at the village while all the spearmen are waiting here. That must be the real enemy. If Naldeth is right. Well, we '11 just have to trust that he is, always assuming I can make myself understood.

Kheda shook the scarred spearman's shoulder. When the wild warrior looked at him, the warlord bent down and scored four marks in the dust roughly in keeping with the supposed enemy advancing down on the grasslands. The spearman nodded with cautious understanding. Kheda used his sandaled foot to obliterate three of the four marks, leaving just the one he hoped signified the real foe.

The spearman frowned at Kheda, baffled. Using the end of his spear, he redrew the three marks and pointed insistently out at the plain. Kheda shook his head emphatically, pointing at each of the false foes before he rubbed

out the corresponding mark again. As the scarred spearman's frown grew more perplexed, Kheda swept his hand around to indicate all the spearmen from the village who were hiding behind the various fat trees. Drawing his hacking blade as well as his sword, he pointed first at the sole remaining mark on the ground with both murderous steel points and then over towards the scrub-choked ravine.

The spearman looked at Kheda, desperately wanting to understand - that much was plain in his eyes. Kheda gazed back at him, frustration burning in his throat. He set down his hacking blade and clapped a hand to his throat. Swiftly, he laid down his sword and unclasped Itrac's silver and turtleshell necklace. Redrawing the three marks that signified the false foes, he laid the necklace in the dust across them and then pointed back towards the village.

The scarred spearman nodded slowly, cautious understanding sparking in his intelligent eyes.

Kheda scooped up the necklace and a handful of dust, obliterating the marks as he did so. Opening his fingers, he let the dust blow away before closing his fist on the soiled necklace and stretching his arm out towards the unseen village again.

Do you understand? Do you see this as an adornment one of your mages might wear? Do you understand that those false enemies are the beaded wizard's work? Or that my wizards will defeat them for you? It comes to the same thing. Do you understand that the real enemy will be evading you by sneaking along that ravine?

The scarred spearman turned to gaze in that direction, new keenness brightening his eyes still further. He stooped to redraw the original marks showing all four putative foes and looked up at Kheda, unblinking. He tapped the side of one dark eye with a dusty forefinger and pointed at the

first mark before pointing authoritatively at an individual spearman lurking behind another tree. He did the same for the second and third, his expression now demanding Kheda's understanding. When it came to the fourth mark, he swept his hand around as if to gather up all the rest of the men and smacked his palm down hard to sweep the mark into oblivion.

You 're trusting me this far. You'1l leave men to keep watch on these three groups while the rest of us attack the force slipping up the ravine. That's good enough for me.

As Kheda nodded vigorously, the scarred spearman darted to the next tree and drew the men hiding behind it into a whispering huddle. Those three split up to run to different trees, beckoning and hissing to the wild warriors now alert on all sides. The scarred spearman hurried back to Kheda, new eagerness in his eyes.

The warlord turned to look at the fringe of the grassland at the base of the steep slope where dark figures were now obvious, squatting among the tussocks.

Too obvious, some of them. But I'd never have guessed they were a magical deceit if Naldeth hadn 't sent word. Still, what wouldn 't I trade for a decent bow and a quiver of broad-bladed arrows, so I could put a shaft into one of them, just to be sure?

He looked at the scarred spearman, who nodded back, his brown face implacable. At his sudden shout, the bulk of the spearmen from the village sprang out from behind the barrel trees and ran towards the ravine. Only a few remained behind the foremost trunks, clutching their spears as they looked down the slope of the plateau.

Kheda flinched as a shower of lethal-looking spears soared up from the enemies lurking in the bristling grasses. Before the shafts of fire-hardened wood had landed, several of the village's spearmen had stopped to hurl their own weapons down the slope in answer. Stones whizzed

through the air, apparently slung by the attackers below. Some fell short, others glanced off the swollen-bellied trees. More of the spearmen halted, stricken with doubt.

Can't you see their spears aren 't landing anywhere close to us and that the stones from their slings aren't kicking up any dust?

Kheda shouted at the hesitating men with wordless anger, urging them on, his steel blades bright in his hands. Some yielded, turning to run for the ravine again. Too many scowled and skirted around him to reinforce the scattered men who had been left to watch the slope.

The scarred spearman shouted something, urgent and incomprehensible. Kheda gripped his sword and his hacking blade and they ran forward together. The first of the wild men whom the spearman had successfully co-opted had reached the brink of the ravine and were looking down with shouts of hate and menace. Kheda flinched as missiles soared up out of the thistly scrub. One of the village's spearmen, less wary than the rest, sank screaming to his knees clutching at a spear driven clean through his body just above the hip. A couple of others suffered wounds and bruises as sharp-edged rocks and smooth sling stones skittered and bounced across the hard earth. A wild warrior close by Kheda fell headlong, dead before he could make a sound as a slingshot buried itself in one of his eyes.

Kheda tried to look down into the ravine without exposing himself to danger. The twisted nut trees grew thickly there, protected from the winds and able to wind their roots down into a more constant water supply. It was difficult to make out the tree dwellers hiding beneath the fringes of pale-green leaves. Another shower of stones and sharpened sticks shot upwards, forcing Kheda and all the village spearmen to dodge backwards.

As they did so, a roar came from behind them, as if

some mighty force was charging up the steep slope from the grasslands. The uncertain shouts from the spearmen left on guard rose to a panic that tore more spearmen away from the edge of the ravine. Kheda watched them go, exasperated. The scarred spearman shouted after them, to no avail.

Kheda looked back down into the ravine. He still couldn't make out where the tree dwellers were or what they were doing, but he could see enough dark curly heads to be sure there was a considerable force down there.

The warlord grabbed the scarred spearman's hand and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the Aldabreshin hacking blade. Still gripping the man's hand, he used the broad blade to point down into the ravine, before jabbing an insistent forefinger into the spearman's chest and then down at the ground.

Do you understand me? You stay here and fight. I have to show the rest of your men that these attackers from the grassland are no more than illusion.

Kheda turned and ran for the slope at the edge of the plateau. To his intense relief, the scarred spearman didn't follow, shouting harsh rebuke instead at those others who took a pace after the warlord.

Over by the slope leading down to the grasslands, the village's spearmen were retreating from barrel tree to barrel tree, seeking shelter from a ceaseless hail of sticks and stones. Kheda forced himself not to hesitate, running onwards, flinching inwardly as the missiles continued to rain down.

It's an illusion. Just an illusion.

Just as he had convinced himself, a stone hit him hard on the shoulder, numbing his sword arm. In the same breath, a mob of tree dwellers, their faces twisted with hatred, appeared over the lip of the slope, brandishing their clubs and stone knives.

If they aren't an illusion, I'm a dead man.

An attacker ran towards Kheda, murderous club raised high. Kheda slashed at the man's midriff with his sword before driving upwards instinctively to parry the heavy club. The blade bit into neither flesh nor wood. As Kheda wondered how he had missed the savage, windblown dust blurred his vision. He blinked it away and saw the stone-studded club coming at his face. Kheda dodged to one side but the savage was still there in front of him.

Because it's an illusion.

Cursing himself for a fool, Kheda charged straight at the snarling wild man and found he passed straight through him. A second attacker appeared and Kheda ran full at him as well. A shiver of doubt shook the warlord at the very last moment but there was no way to stop. The attacker vanished, leaving a trace of fine dust sticking to the sweat on Kheda's face. There was no time for euphoria as the warlord realised he had gone too far down the perilously steep slope to stop safely. All he could do was carry on running until the dense tussocks of grass slowed him. Eventually he stopped, chest heaving, and turned to see what was happening behind him.

The last of the illusions dissolved into a cloud of pale dust as a spearman swept his weapon through it. A few of the village warriors were still on the lip of the plateau, looking down uncertainly. More had followed Kheda down the slope, some through choice, others with no more option than he had had. A couple were smeared with dust and blood where they had fallen but didn't seem to be slowed by their injuries. All regarded Kheda with respect tempered with awe. Looking around to get his bearings, he heard screams and shouts coming from the direction of the ravine.

'Let's see how those tree dwellers like being attacked from the flank,' he urged the spearmen. They looked back

at him, uncomprehending. Kheda grinned and beckoned with his sword, moving towards the ravine. Grinning back ferociously as they realised his intent, the village spearmen made haste to follow.

Kheda hung back a little as he reached the mouth of the ravine. Walls of angled rocks loomed on either side, bristling with thorny plants clinging to the crevices. The nut trees grew thick and tangled in the uneven depths. He looked back and saw he had no need to caution the spearmen to move quietly. They were slipping through the scrub with practised stealth.

A lesson you learn on this hostile isle or die.

He did his best to match their deftness as they advanced deeper into the gully, drawing closer to the sounds of fighting. As they rounded a shoulder of red-veined stone, Kheda saw a double handful of the tree dwellers climbing up the rock face under cover of the slingshots and spear casts of the rest of their force.

A shaft of fire-hardened wood from somewhere behind whistled over Kheda's head, making him jump. The village spearman's aim was true and one of the climbers screamed as the point pierced his calf. As he reached instinctively down to the bloody wound, he lost his grip on the unforgiving rock. He fell backwards with a despairing shriek cut short as he landed with a sickening crunch somewhere unseen.

The other climbers froze on their perches, yelling back down to their allies. Attackers came running out of the thistly cover, their clubs studded with sharp shards of black stone and raised for the kill. The spearmen who'd followed Kheda ran forward as one man, shouting up to their allies on the brink of the ravine. Dark faces appeared up above and began hurling sticks and stones back down on the climbers. More lost their hold and fell to death or incapacitating injury.

Kheda raised his sword to parry a tree-dweller's club. This was no illusion. The sharp steel bit deep into the hard, dry wood and Kheda wrenched the weapon out of the savage's hand with an effort that tore deep into his shoulder muscles. The man ripped at Kheda with a stone knife clutched in his other hand. Kheda smashed downwards with the club and sword still locked in their deadly embrace. The impact as the man's forearm broke jarred the club free from the sword and Kheda turned the blade sideways instantly to rip the savage's belly open. The wild man screamed and doubled up, blood flowing down his thighs as he tried to close the gaping wound. Slate-blue loops of entrails bulged around his hands.

Kheda would have granted him a merciful beheading but another attacker threw himself forward, whirling his club two-handed and screaming incoherently. The warlord sidestepped and swept his sword round. He cut one of his opponent's hands clean through at the wrist and smashed the other to rags of flesh and white splinters. Blood sprayed from the savage's stump to stain the nut trees as he stumbled backwards, wailing.

Kheda wiped drops of red stickiness from his eyes and pursued the man. Another enemy interposed himself, jabbing with a spear. This one was alert enough to stay beyond reach of Kheda's deadly blade, darting forward to threaten him with the spear's blackened point before scurrying backwards. Kheda joined in the dance, blinking away blood. The savage matched his every move. Out of the corner of his eye, Kheda saw a second attacker slip sideways to come round behind him, club slowly lifting.

Kheda took a pace backwards, pulling his dagger from its sheath. Stepping forwards, he threw the knife full at the spearman's chest, startling him into an incautious leap backwards. Striking breastbone or a rib, the dagger had given the man little more than a flesh wound. The shock

was enough, though, as he looked down to see what had happened. Kheda dodged past the murderous point of the bloodstained spear just as the crushing club swept down behind him with a draught that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Kheda cut the spearman's head half from his shoulders with a scything stroke of his sword, spinning around in the same movement to meet the man with the club. The savage recoiled, his second stroke faltering. Kheda rolled his hands to send the flat blade between the man's ribs and the savage staggered, bloody froth bubbling in his mouth.

Kheda ripped his sword backwards and the savage fell away dead. The one half-beheaded behind him was dead too. Kheda slipped as he wheeled around to see how the battle was going. There was so much blood that even this dry earth needed time to soak it up. A village spearman, one of many now climbing nimbly down the rocks to join in this battle, jumped the last stretch. He nodded grimly at Kheda as he scooped up the dead tree-dweller's club from the bloodied, muddied ground. A tree dweller ran towards them and then hesitated, fatally, unable to decide whether to attack Kheda or this new enemy. The village warrior's brutal club smashed into his head. The attacker fell without a sound, one whole side of his face grotesquely distorted.

Sword at the ready, Kheda took stock as best he could, ducking down briefly to recover his thrown dagger. The village spearmen's yells were turning from defiant to triumphant as they slaughtered the tree dwellers in the ravine, still more of their own climbing down the rock face to come to their aid.

How do I take control of this situation?

Village spearmen were emerging from the tangled nut trees, dragging dead and dying tree dwellers by their hands or feet. Where one moaned and struggled, a club

put paid to his efforts and the warrior dragged him mercilessly onwards. A few of the attackers came walking out of the thickets, heads bowed between their upraised arms. The village warriors drove them on with vicious jabs from their spears, inflicting fresh wounds in their backs and legs.

As they passed by him on either side, Kheda realised the wild men of the village were taking all the dead and injured to the open space beyond the mouth of the ravine, their own included. Where the tree-dwellers' dead were simply dumped in a broken confusion of limbs and bodies, injured wild men from the village were carried carefully and laid gently down on the bare earth. Friends knelt to offer solace with a handclasp or a forehead pressed against the wounded man's, sweat and tears mingling.

Kheda watched as a kneeling spearman drew a knife of black stone from some fold in his loincloth and expertly slit the throat of the wounded man lying in his embrace. A broken shaft jutted from the man's belly, bright with lifeblood and dark with ordure from his ripped bowels. Anguish twisted the spearman's face as he waited, unmoving, for his friend's blood to stop flowing down his chest and arm.

I feel your pain. I wish I could tell you you 've done him the only service left to you. There would be nothing I could do for him even if I had every instrument and ointment known to Aldabreshin healers.

Kheda turned away to see that the prisoners were offered no such mercy. A spearman condemned one captive to an unnecessarily painful death with a cruel thrust deep into his belly. That prompted a murderous frenzy. Already noisy with flies, the air in the confines of the ravine grew rank with the stench of slaughter. All the bodies, friend or foe, were tossed onto the growing heap of carrion. A shadow crossed the sun and Kheda's blood

ran cold. He looked up to see rusty-feathered birds with the keen eyes of predators circling overhead, barred tails fanning wide.

'Kheda!' Naldeth waved from the lip of the ravine, perilously exposed on an outthrust rock. 'What are they doing?'

'Are you sure they're all dead, the tree dwellers?' Kheda's voice cracked as he tried to shout back, his mouth as dry as the sandy ground.

Risala appeared beside the young mage and began climbing rapidly down the rock face.

'They're all gone,' Naldeth yelled. 'Dead or fled.'

All the same, Kheda searched the tangled nut trees for any sign of movement as Risala descended. She ran towards him, her complexion ashen with distress. 'You're hurt!'

Kheda looked down to see that his trousers were foul with blood. 'No, I'm not wounded.' His parched throat failed him.

'Here.' Risala thrust the brass water flask she had brought into his hands.

'What are they doing?' Velindre had joined Naldeth on the precipice.

Kheda let his head hang for a moment, then uncapped the flask and drank. The water was sweet and fresh and whatever enchantment had made it had conferred some lingering cool.

Time was when I would have died of thirst before drinking any water touched by magic.

'Kheda!' Naldeth shouted down at him again.

'Where's the dragon?' Kheda looked up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and instantly regretting it as he tasted some dead savage's blood.

Blue magelight swirled around both wizards before Naldeth could answer. Velindre walked composedly down

from the heights on a stair of sapphire radiance, Naldeth following more slowly with an uneven gait. The village spearmen instantly threw themselves to the ground, hands outstretched and faces pressed into the dust.

'How can we tell them not to do that?' Naldeth looked exasperated.

'Where's the dragon?' Kheda repeated.

'It's gone to ground somewhere deep in the earth.' Velindre looked suspiciously down and around. 'It's a cursed clever beast. It was—'

Kheda waved her words away. 'Naldeth, if you want to let these people know you're not the kind of ruler they're used to, you had better do something about this.' He waved his bloody hand at the carnage. 'They're piling up the dead and killing off the wounded and if that black beast doesn't turn up, surely some other dragon will catch the scent of so much meat. Are either of you ready to cope with that?'

'This is vile.' Naldeth paled beneath his ruddy tan as he looked at the pile of corpses.

'Yes it is, but it's all these people know,' Kheda said mercilessly. 'What are you going to do about it?'

'Me?' Naldeth's mouth hung slack with dismay.

'Can't we just make a break for the ZaiseV Risala clung to Kheda's hand despite the blood clotted around his fingernails. 'If the dragon has gone and the tree dwellers are here, there won't be anything between us and the ship—'

Kheda saw the wizards exchange a swift guilty glance that told him they were thinking the same thing as him. 'Apart from the mage in the beaded cloak? And we can't leave these people like this. We started this, all of us, when we chose to come here—'

A squawk interrupted him as one of the rusty-coloured birds darted down to tear at a dead man's open wounds.

Another landed to peck at the unseeing eyes of the slain with its vicious hooked beak, cawing with pleasure.

'I can do something about that,' snarled Naldeth.

A searing wind sent the greedy birds tumbling through the air. They fled, screeching madly. Stray feathers floating after them were consumed in scarlet flashes. Then all of the dead bodies caught fire, each one burning with the fierce crimson of magic, painfully bright. The village spearmen still lying prone on the ground hastily scrambled away from the scorching heat.

Naldeth clapped his hands, silencing the murmurs of consternation. All eyes turned to the young mage.

'What are you going to do now?' Velindre asked, curious.

'I haven't used earth in an illusion before.' Naldeth rubbed his hands together. 'But if that mage in the beaded cloak can, I'm sure I can do just as well if not better.'

Kheda saw the muscles tighten along Naldeth's jaw as the wizard gritted his teeth.

The mage spread his hands wide and drew a cloud of dust up from the scuffed and soiled ground. The village spearmen gasped as a figure formed in the empty air. It was the skull-masked mage, about as tall as a man's upheld forearm and complete in every detail, from his blue-feathered cloak to the hanks of hair hanging from the cord around his waist. Naldeth gave them a moment to recognise their erstwhile master before stepping forward to scatter the image with a violent blow, his face stern with anger. Stepping back, he smoothed the rage from his face as the dust formed itself into a miniature dragon. It wasn't the lithe sky dragon that the skull-faced mage had courted, nor yet the solid black earth dragon from across the river. A more sinuous creature, it was akin to the dragon Kheda had seen in the sea, albeit red-scaled rather than green.

The spearmen were kneeling in the dust now, all eyes fixed on the floating illusion. Still impassive, Naldeth wove another skein of dust into a pile of diminutive brown corpses. The dragon walked through the air with slow menace, sunlight glinting off its scarlet scales and golden claws.

Now scowling furiously, Naldeth stepped between the stalking dragon and the meat awaiting its pleasure. He smashed the little beast into sparkling shards with a clenched fist. As the glittering fragments dissolved into dust, the wizard sent illusory flames to wipe the image of the slain into oblivion, his face sorrowful.

'What exactly do you think you are telling them?' Kheda asked quietly.

'Hopefully that I'm no servant to any dragon.' Naldeth watched the dust blow away on the wind. 'That I won't see the dead dishonoured by filling some beast's belly.' He raised his hand and the flames of the woodless, scentless pyre sprang still higher, turning from wizardly scarlet to all-consuming white heat.

'I just hope that what he means is what they're understanding by all this,' Risala murmured as she and Kheda retreated. The wild men were getting slowly to their feet, talking quietly among themselves, eyeing all four of them with speculation and, here and there, suspicion.

'What are you doing?' Kheda saw Velindre holding her hands cupped before her, faint blue magelight wound between her fingers.

She didn't answer as Naldeth snapped his fingers and the incandescent white fire vanished. There was nothing left of the dead now but pale, gritty ash. Velindre spread her hands wide and released the magic she had been cherishing. It swept the feathery ashes up into a dancing spiral. Threaded with sapphire, the vortex rose high into the cloudless sky and dissolved into the radiant blue.

'So now they're utterly lost as well as dead.' Risala stared upwards, tears standing in her eyes.

'Perhaps not,' Velindre said quietly. 'Aldabreshi bury the humble dead to return their virtues to their domain but the bravest and best lie on the towers of silence so their merits may be spread wider.' She brushed lingering remnants of azure light from her hands. 'These ashes will be carried across this whole island.'

'My mother said the dead are burned so nothing is left to hold them here and stop them crossing to the Otherworld,' Naldeth said with a catch in his voice.

Risala favoured him with a quizzical glance. 'And you call us superstitious.'

'I wish I knew what these people thought about such things.' Kheda saw the wild men looking at each other with growing confusion and some unease. He took a deep breath. 'Let's get back to the village and discuss what we're going to do next. There's still a wizard and potentially a dragon between us and the Zaise.''

Just do the task that's laid before you and don't be distracted till it's done. That's what a warlord must always remember.

His uncompromising tone had silenced the other three and they followed him meekly back around to the open face of the bluff. With the spearmen trailing behind, they all struggled back up the steep slope in silence. No one spoke until the village came into sight. The open space within the thorny enclosure was wholly deserted.

'Where's everyone gone?' Naldeth wondered.

The spearmen started calling and whistling, clapping their hands. Slowly women and children began to emerge from thickets of spiny plants and thistles. Mothers had their babes strapped to their backs with lengths of stretched hide and all were carrying bundles. Even the youngest children clutched some burden.

'They were ready to run,' Kheda realised, 'in case we lost the fight.'

'Where were they going to go?' Risala wondered.

As the men spread out, arms wide to offer comforting embraces, the women did their best to smile through their lingering fears. Little children clung to their mothers' hands or hugged their fathers' legs. Kheda caught sight of the scarred spearman, the bloodied hacking blade still in his hand as he approached a woman, his expression sorrowful. She sank to her knees, pressing her hands to her face to stifle heart-rending sobs as she realised someone dear to her wasn't among the returning men. A young girl simply stood, her shocked face as immobile as carved wood. An infant wriggled in his mother's embrace as she tried to offer comfort to the bereaved girl. Other families clustered around a weeping mother and her bevy of distraught children.

These people are not animals to be prey for some beast. Or playthings to be tossed around by some wizard's whim. They could be so much more than savages.

'Is there anything we can do for them?' Risala's voice was tight with distress.

'Let's get out of this sun.' Kheda took her hand and began walking stiffly towards the skull-faced mage's hut.

'We won, didn't we?' Naldeth sounded less than convinced.

'We won that particular skirmish.' Kheda did his best but his words were still harsh and angry. 'That's all.'

They reached the dead mage's hut. The shade beneath the sturdy roof was welcome and the inadequate walls offered at least some diminution of the sounds of sorrow outside.

'So what do we do now?' Risala asked wearily.

'We think through exactly what we're doing here.' Kheda swatted at a couple of persistent flies that had pursued him into the gloom. 'We've barely taken time to

draw breath since we set foot in this place.' He looked at Velindre. 'May I have some water for washing my hands?'

'Of course, my lord.' She mocked him with a low bow before picking up a gourd tucked in one of the bed spaces. She held a hand over its open neck and turquoise light dripped from her fingers. The sound of the drops hitting the empty bottom was loud in the silence.

'You were wondering why tyrants and brutes rule some domains within the Archipelago.' Kheda turned on Naldeth. 'It's because once you start a fight, it's nigh on impossible to stop it going further. We've started a war here today. I know we didn't mean to but we have. We've beaten back the tree dwellers but they'll attack again, doubtless with their mage in his beaded cloak coming looking to test himself against you.'

'Then we'll drive him off, or kill him if he won't take the hint,' Velindre said with distaste.

'We don't know anything about him,' protested Naldeth, sitting down awkwardly to massage his stump. 'We knew this skull wearer was evil, we saw him with that girl...' His words trailed off in confusion.

'We don't know anything about any of these people.' Kheda gestured towards the savages outside the hut. 'We don't know who deserves life or mercy, who's selfish or wicked. But I think we've all seen that they are more than mindless animals, more than savages. They're no different from Aldabreshi or barbarians in their suffering, and in their bravery.'

'Which is another reason why Aldabreshin warlords are always reluctant to wage war. Innocents always die, and every innocent life must be paid for.' Risala leaned against one of the pillars supporting the roof. 'The seeds of the future always lie buried in the past.'

'We didn't come here to fight in their battles.' Velindre handed Kheda the gourd, now full of water.

'No, we didn't.' Pouring a little water on his hands, he tried to rid himself of the dried blood. 'Which makes absolutely no difference to our current situation. We've started a war and we either have to abandon these people to certain death when that wizard and his dragon come to exact their revenge, or we have to work out how to drive this war to a rapid conclusion that leaves these people victorious, and safe as a consequence.' He looked at Naldeth again. 'Dev told me why you northerners think we're all savages in the Archipelago: because when we wage war, we do so relentlessly. But he came to understand that it saves more lives in the long run.'

Whereas, he told me, you northern barbarians have wars that have dragged on from generation to generation, wasting lives like waves of plague sweeping across your lands.

Velindre folded her arms and cocked her head to one side. 'So do you have a plan, my lord of Chazen?'

'These people live brutalised by magic' Kheda bent to wash splashes of blood from his sandals. 'Their lot might improve if they looked to authority earned through wisdom and ability, rather than through whatever quirk of birth grants wizardry to otherwise undeserving individuals.' He looked at his soiled trousers and gave up on them without even trying.

'I find that an interesting perspective from a man born to his own position of absolute power,' Velindre said tersely.

'This isn't about me.' Kheda stood up straight and looked at her. 'It's about them, and this place, and how we get ourselves out of it. We didn't come to fight in their battles, you're right about that, and I still want to get home to Chazen.'

'How do you think we can do that?' interrupted Risala.

'We need to show these people that they can live without a wizard with his foot on their necks.' Kheda

gazed out through the gaps between the stakes making up the wall of the hut. 'We need to convince them not to kill their enemies outright, but to offer them the choice of alliance instead of death.' He sighed. 'There will be those who will prefer to die, especially at first, but we can hope that the more intelligent ones will see the advantages to living free of magical tyranny.'

'Which all sounds very fine in theory.' Velindre couldn't curb her irritation. 'Just how do you propose to take magic out of the scales hereabouts?'

'By having you two kill as many mages as we come up against,' Kheda said with brutal frankness. 'And by having you two take no responsibility for these people beyond defending them by meeting wizardry with wizardry. Let them find leaders among themselves. And I can teach them things that will weight the balance heavily in their favour whenever it comes to a fight without magic' He paused for a moment. 'If we can make these people a power to be reckoned with, and the rest can see they can do it without magic, without the suffering that's the cost of having a wizard on your side, perhaps we won't need to fight too many battles. Perhaps other people here will want to share in a better life.'

'Perhaps,' scoffed Naldeth. He looked at Velindre. 'What about the dragons?'

'What about the dragons?' The magewoman looked at Kheda, her angular face severe. 'I won't kill them for you.'

'The first thing a warlord does if a jungle cat has turned man-eater is to make sure there are no men, women or children in the forest for it to catch. Every village locks its ducks and geese away and hogs and deer are driven out of the beast's territory.' He looked at Velindre. 'If you say these dragons are only here because they're used to easy meat, we deny it to them. We stop the slaughter of

prisoners and wounded. You burn the dead to ashes every time.'

'It's not only the meat that keeps them here,' said Naldeth doubtfully. 'There's the confluence of elements.'

'You kept that black dragon distracted and out of the fight today.' Kheda looked from the young mage to Velindre. 'If you can keep that beast or any other from backing a wild wizard, I can give these people new tools to fight with, weapons that will give them a fair chance of killing an enemy mage without any magic of their own. Once that happens, everything changes.'

'You condemn them to death simply for being mage-born?' Naldeth protested. 'Besides, I thought you said only wizards kill wizards here. Isn't that the custom?'

'Then it's time to change the custom.' Kheda was unmoved. 'You were the ones decrying such magical tyranny. Don't you want to break this vile circle these people are trapped in?' he challenged Naldeth. 'Does it really favour these wizards and these dragons? Isn't their magic just as crude and makeshift as the wretched lives these lesser people lead? I thought you northern mages were all for advancement and learning.'

'It's a shame these people can't get the benefit of all the eloquence of an Aldabreshin warlord.' Velindre switched her gaze to Naldeth. 'We might be able to persuade these wild mages to surrender, short of killing them, if we stifle their magic. If we can drive the dragons away, there'll be no aura for them to draw on.'

'But how do we drive off dragons?' Naldeth shook his head. 'We should take this to Hadrumal and lay it before the Council. We've done all we can.'

'I still don't fancy my chances of working any spell over that distance,' Velindre told him with some chagrin. 'I'm definitely not about to try any translocation and I don't know what would happen if I tried a bespeaking. The fire

dragon that attacked Chazen insinuated itself into my magic and looked right back through my spell at me when I was scrying for Dev once, before I ever came to the Archipelago. That black dragon could well do something similar.'

'Then what are we going to do?' Naldeth cried, exasperated.

'We try using nexus magic to drive off the dragons,' Velindre said promptly.

Naldeth gaped at her. 'What?'

'You were working with Usara and Shiv, weren't you?' she demanded. 'I know they've been looking into blending sympathetic elements. You've a powerful fire affinity and working with Planir has honed your abilities with the earth. There are few wizards to equal me with the air, even if the Council decided Rafrid was a safer choice for Cloud Master.' She swallowed the bitterness tainting her words. 'And unwelcome as Azazir's attentions were, the mad old bastard taught me more about water magic than I ever expected to know.'

'Every scholar in Hadrumal would still say it takes four wizards to manipulate four elements.' Despite his reservations, Naldeth sounded tempted.

'Ordinarily, with the usual run of affinity and elemental power available.' Velindre nodded. 'But we will have the elemental congruencies here to draw on.'

'Nexus magic is best worked through a focus gem,' Naldeth said unguardedly.

'A ruby, perhaps?' Kheda asked bluntly.

Velindre surprised him with a sudden laugh. 'I imagined you'd go poking about in the holds.'

Kheda wasn't smiling. 'Are you sure you can do this? Overconfidence killed Dev just as surely as that fire dragon's egg.'

'We should be able to repel any dragon if we can draw

the other elements into a nexus antithetical to its own affinity.' She sounded confident.

'Then we have to recover the Zaise,' Kheda said determinedly. 'And I can find good uses for the rest of that cargo. Our best chance of doing that is if we take the fight to the tree dwellers while they're still reeling from this defeat. Can you undertake to keep that dragon away, and curb their mage's power?'

Velindre nodded slowly, frowning. 'I'd like some time to think through a few ways of constraining that wizard's magic without killing him outright.'

'We should discuss this theory of nexus magic' Naldeth didn't sound quite so sanguine as the magewoman.

'As long as we're not attacked, we can wait a day or so.' Kheda looked around. 'These people need time to recover a little.'

'What then?' Risala was gazing at Kheda, unblinking.

What are you expecting me to tell you? I'm sorry, my love, but I won't lie to you.

'Then we will have the Zaise and its cargo and we can decide how to make best use of both.' He swallowed unpalatable truths that he could not bring himself to voice just yet. 'Now, let's teach these people a few things that will give us the advantage in the fight.'