Southern Fire

Chapter Twenty

In the blink of an eye, Dev had stepped from their perch on the headland down to the empty dust between the defensive ditch and the first of the village huts. His white garb shone luminous among the sun-burnished savages as he stood motionless, hands loosely tucked through the golden chain of his belt. Some of the closest invaders were already gaping at him, a few raising wooden spears and stone-studded clubs. The commotion beyond the spike-studded ditch continued unabated, newcomers still intent on getting through the barrier.

Risala nocked a paste-tipped arrow. 'When do we start shooting the wizards?'

'That's what I was about to ask Dev.' Kheda ground his teeth. 'As soon as he gets his head stove in would probably be a good time.'

A circle of savages was slowly closing on Dev, weapons raised, ugly intent in their every advancing step.

Pillars of red light erupted from the dry ground, coalescing in the radiance. A giant bird appeared, towering over the closest savage, walking on legs as thick as a man's waist. It bent a sharply crested head to snap at his eyes with a viciously hooked beak. He screamed and recoiled, stumbling into those behind him. The apparition batted stubby, flightless wings and threw back its head to crow in harsh triumph. One wild man had the presence of mind to thrust his dark wooden spear at the apparition. It passed straight through the brilliant bird's fiery plumage and the man pulled it free without resistance. He turned to brandish the weapon in triumph and Kheda saw his mouth open in exhortation.

The magic-wrought Yora Hawk pecked at his head. The man's bristling, mud-caked hair burst into flames. He screamed, the shrill sound glancing off the stunned silence that had now fallen along the entire shoreline. His head was ablaze with scarlet fire, crimson drops falling all around, not of blood but of magical flame. It took hold on the empty ground, flowing together to ring him in an all-consuming conflagration. The wild men closest fled.

Those who'd been trying to attack Dev from behind weren't sure where to run. Four of them faced a serpent easily as tall as the Yora Hawk, rearing up on trailing wings of flame to stare at them with unblinking ruby eyes. A tongue of piercing red light flickered in and out of the lipless mouth as it swayed slowly from side to side. One man broke and the serpent struck, not biting but darting forward to loop itself around the man and drag him, shrieking, back across the sand. His flesh was already smouldering from the touch of its iridescent scales before the Winged Snake bit him in the neck with a flash of flame. The wound glowed as lines of fire beneath his skin showed the unearthly venom coursing through his veins. The hapless savage burned from the inside out, his skin finally cracking and crumbling into blackened embers. The other three ran but the snake swept past them on its burning wings, cutting off any hope of escape. It hovered, waiting for another victim to try fleeing, long tail lazily looping and coiling in the dust.

'For a barbarian, Dev certainly knows his constellations,' Kheda managed to say, mouth dry.

A massive Mirror Bird was standing guard on Dev's seaward side, another creation of shimmering flame, stalking back and forth, rattling the great fan of its tail as its long crested head quested forward. Those savages now retreating hastily towards the spike-studded ditch were doing their best to evade the speckles of light struck from the apparition by the sun riding low in the sky behind them. Every time one of the glints of red touched bare flesh, a man cried out. Leather loincloths and wooden weapons were already scarred with sparks. The bird opened its mouth and hissed and the invaders fled, throwing away weapons now burning in their hands. The recent arrivals on the beach had set aside their tussles and were now lining the other side of the defensive ditch.

I wouldn't be relying on that to protect me.

'I don't think I could make an epic poem of this.' Risala's voice was hoarse. 'Not without being stoned for it.'

'Look, there!' Kheda caught his breath as three men emerged from the biggest hut left standing in the village. The first was cloaked in the barbaric splendour of pale grey lizard skin; the second in multi-hued feathers; and the third wore a red cloak dark as dried blood yet somehow glowing in the sinking sunlight.

'That's the dragon-hide mage,' Risala confirmed shakily. 'Those two with him, they're the ones we have to kill as soon as we can.'

'Only when Dev has got everyone caught up in his magic,' warned Kheda, infuriated.

Risala tensed as the mage with his lizard-skull helm walked slowly towards the Yora Hawk. The great bird's head wove from side to side, as if assessing this new threat. The savages now forming in a dense, impenetrable ring at a prudent distance from this unknown sorcerer all took a pace backwards. The others still hesitating between the spiked ditch and the Mirror Bird seized their opportunity to flee. Those still trapped by the Winged Snake weren't so lucky. The monster's glittering head darted forward, mouth agape. One man fell to the sand, blood burning within his veins, then the next and the last. A murmur of apprehension swept through the invaders and the circle retreated a few paces more. Lizardskin was still studying Dev's proudly strutting hawk.

'How will we know when?' Risala looked at him. 'What if he can't do it, what if Lizardskin kills him?'

'We'll just have to try shooting the most dangerous wizards.' Kheda shrugged helplessly. 'Perhaps they won't be expecting arrows. We might get a few of them.' He risked a quick survey of the seaward side of the ditch and found the savage with the grotesque necklace of loal hands. He was watching intently, his followers levelling their spears to claim a half circle of empty sand for their master.

'There's Catskin.' Risala pointed a discreet finger. 'And Palm Crown.'

The savages' deference was making both men comparatively easy targets. Kheda nodded slowly, still searching for the one with the butterfly breastplate. 'Can you make that kind of shot?'

'I can try for either,' Risala responded wryly.

'We've got more than one arrow for each of them.' Kheda assessed the steepness of the brush-choked slope beneath them and the utter confusion now swirling around the beach below the ditch.

Seeing us is one thing; they've got to reach us and that's no easy climb. We might get half our arrows off and still have a chance to run before they reach us. It had better be the arrows with the paste on. But where have the other mages gone? How are we supposed to pick them out of that horde? And it's not just spears we have to fear. If a wizard can see us, surely he can kill us. What hope then?

A flash of golden light wrenched his eyes back to Dev. A surge of dust was flowing across the ground. It rose like mist, sparkling and swirling. The Yora Hawk looked as if it were wading in mud, the Winged Snake's lashing coils were slowly being stilled and the Mirror Bird was struggling like a sea bird caught in a slick of filth.

Risala gasped as the fiery apparitions disintegrated, her cry as one with the rush of fearful triumph spreading through the massed savages. Kheda watched, breath held, as Dev's scattered magic drew itself back into a wall of flame that held back the rising, stifling dust. The flames rose higher, unnatural crimson painfully bright, hiding Dev from sight. The dust subsided and its colour faded from a sunlit gold to a darker, amber hue. The radiance slowly sank into the ground. Dev's wall of fire remained impenetrable.

'If he doesn't get on with this, there's going to be no light for shooting,' Kheda muttered apprehensively, glancing towards the west.

'Look!' Risala urged in shocked wonder.

The solid ground around Dev was turning to powder. The savages encircling the northern mage were scrambling backwards, the slower among them already stumbling, knee deep in sand. The landward edge of the ditch crumbled, stakes falling this way and that, earth flowing to fill the trench. The bottom of Dev's ring of fire hung in the air, unsupported.

The flames subsided, shrinking to waist level then to knee height, then disappearing altogether to reveal the wizard standing on a solid circle of untouched ground. Dev's hands were on his hips, his whole stance one of challenge and mockery.

Kheda tensed.

Lizardskin raised his hands and the dust surged upwards all around Dev. Dev gave a careless wave and a surge of blue light drove the choking cloud sideways straight across the ditch to send the savages there stumbling backwards, coughing and pawing at their eyes. Even as Lizardskin raised his hands intending some new attack, Dev snapped his fingers and sent a ball of scarlet fire straight as an arrow for the savage mage's head. Lizardskin batted it away with a shaft of blue light but another was already on its way, and another. As fast as the savage mage waved one ball of flame away, Dev sent two or three more arcing towards him. Lizardskin began ducking and weaving, successive fiery missiles getting closer and closer before they were abruptly quenched.

Kheda heard the feather-cloaked mage's shout at the same time as everyone else. A paralysed hush seized the entire shore. The feather-cloaked mage strode down the beach, waving his arms, his heavy mantle of iridescent plumes sweeping around him. A full-throated roar burst from the savages and raising their weapons, they charged as one man at Dev.

Dev raised his hands and every thrusting spear burst into flames. The hafts of stone-studded clubs split into smoking splinters and the stones themselves exploded into vicious shards. The savages fell back in confusion to cower among the huts of the village and hide behind the piles of plunder. Some clutched bloodied heads, others stumbled and crawled, hands groping, eyes blinded. Kheda saw the vicious wounds to their arms and chests were seared black or swollen with weeping blisters.

The wild warriors weren't the only ones confused. Even as every weapon was turned against its wielder, Dev flung a final handful of fire at Lizardskin. This time the savage wizard was an instant too slow and the ball of scarlet flame dodged past the skein of blue light that Lizardskin cast out to catch it. The sorcerous fire caught him full in the chest. He staggered backwards, shrieking, clawing at the clinging magic. Fire ringed his torso with a brilliance painful to behold. Lizardskin threw back his head and screamed, falling to his knees. He toppled backwards, dead before he hit the ground. The flames vanished. Beneath the lizard's skull, his face was unmarked, frozen in a rictus of agony. His legs and feet were similarly untouched Between his shoulders and his waist, there was nothing left but a few dark knots of charred bone and a stench of burning carried on the breeze.

Feathercloak's howl of fury rose above the stifled pain of the injured savages and the fearful commotion among those on the seaward side of the stake-filled ditch. A spear of lightning arced down from the cloudless sky. The ground where Dev was standing exploded with an ear-splitting crack.

Kheda and Risala both jumped, startled beyond words.

'Is he dead?' quaked Risala.

'No.' Kheda pointed. 'There.'

Incredibly, Dev was now standing well clear of the seared sand.

Feathercloak gestured and more lightning seared through the air. Dev raised an out-turned palm and knocked the blast aside with a blue-white streak of his own magic.

This can't be lightning. We couldn't see it if it was. It would be too fast.

Feathercloak was sending spear after spear of the unnatural lightning at Dev. The northern wizard knocked each one awry with a shattering shaft of his own. Shards of azure light showered down on the huts and heaps of booty. Palm thatch started to smoulder damply.

A wind arose from nowhere, swirling with sapphire radiance. Gathering into a narrow spiral, a whirlwind danced along the shore towards Dev. The northern mage continued trading magic with Feathercloak, ignoring the swaying, bending spiral of destruction sweeping his way. The magical whirlwind darkened as it sucked up debris from the ground, now the smoky blue of a storm sky. Smouldering leaves on a nearby roof burst into open flame, fanned by the breezes drawn into the vortex. Pouncing like a jungle cat, the whirlwind doubled over and enveloped Dev in a funnel of livid, clouded light.

'Where did he go now?' wondered Kheda aloud. This time the wizard was nowhere to be seen when the whirlwind halted on the broken lip of the ditch. It slowed, magical radiance fading, debris falling from it. Feathercloak shouted harsh rebuke at his terrified minions hiding among the huts and piles of plunder. He gestured and a few reluctantly edged towards the spot where Dev had been standing.

Risala clutched Kheda's arm. 'Dragonhide!'

The mage in the blood-red cloak had emerged from the shadow of the doorway where he'd stood to watch the contest. A wail like the cry of a pack of whipped dogs went up as the wild men fell away before him, bowing low, arms outstretched in supplication. Dragonhide called out to Feathercloak with an impatient jerk of his head. Feathercloak turned to reply, hands spread in bemusement.

Disregarded, the whirlwind's speed slowly increased, a pale blue light threading through the spiral. The vortex widened and reached down into the ditch. Those who'd been clustered along the seaward side fled as the revitalised whirlwind uprooted the stakes, flinging them in all directions.

Whatever Dragonhide was saying to Feathercloak, his gestures eloquent of fury, was lost in the new commotion. Feathercloak faced the errant whirlwind, hands upraised in command, expression one of outrage. Sapphire light shot through the spiral like the crackled glaze of a lustre vase. The whirlwind was wrenched this way and that, ripped and distorted. It struggled in the bottom of the ditch then slowly, inexorably, advanced up the beach towards Feathercloak. The magic within it shone ever brighter. Kheda felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck bristle as if a thunderstorm to drown the world were about to break. The whirlwind slowed, a sight against all nature, but still it crawled up the shore, edging ever closer to Feathercloak.

He didn't take his eyes off the rebellious vortex but he did spare one hand for some frantic signal to Dragonhide. In the next instant, the whirlwind had claimed him. It spiralled upwards, taller than the highest trees on the slope behind the beach, narrowing, darkening to a dull lapis. Then, shocking the savages' appalled cries to silence, the whirlwind vanished. Feathercloak's body fell from the skies to land with a thud on the sands.

'He must be dead,' gasped Risala.

Kheda simply nodded. The savage mage's corpse was pierced time and again with splintered stakes from the ditch. Pieces as thick as a man's hand and as long as an arm or leg were driven clean through his chest, his belly, his thighs, one run through his head from just below his jaw to emerge above one ear. Blood oozed slowly over the raw pallor of the newly broken wood. Brightly coloured feathers slowly floated down from the empty air, drifting aimlessly in all directions. The wild men shied away from their fragile touch, swatting them away hysterically.

Dragonhide strode to the centre of the beach, cloak swinging as he looked this way and that. He ignored the swelling chaos around him, eyes intent on something only he could see.

Kheda reached slowly for a paste-tipped arrow. 'We had better be ready'

'Not so many to shoot now,' said Risala with a humourless smile.

She might have said more but Dragonhide flung out a hand and Dev appeared, falling and rolling across the beach, lashed by brilliant white light. There was a crack like thunder, the light vanished and Dev scrambled to his feet. Kheda saw red glistening on the white silk of his tunic.

That's not rubies.

Dev's head was hanging, his shoulders heaving. Dragonhide advanced towards him, still half crouched, like a hunting dog. He brought one arm around to his front, palm turned out. A shimmer of magic gathered around his hand. It rose and floated towards Dev, who lifted his head to gaze at it, mouth hanging open. He half lifted a hand but it fell back to his side, limp and defeated. The living magic swirled and grew, threaded through with sapphire, ruby, emerald and amber light. Dragonhide took another step, then another, every line of his body tense. The glittering sphere of intertwined magic floated closer and closer. Dev stood frozen, helpless.

Or just waiting for his moment.

As Kheda wondered with desperate hope, Dev suddenly reached out and caught the sorcerous radiance in both hands. Dragonhide fell back on to the sand as if he'd been punched in the face. The white silk of Dev's tunic glowed and then the northern mage disappeared once again. In his place stood a beast like nothing Kheda had ever heard tell of.

The body might have belonged to a loal, if there had ever been such a beast twice as tall as a Yora hawk. It was all colours and none, rainbow hues sliding over it and surrounding it in a haze of magical light. It had a tail but this was a lashing flail of jagged scales thick enough to cut a man in two. Furred, its head nevertheless had hooked beak rather than muzzle, white fire dripping from its down-curved end. The apparition gave a blood-curdling shriek that silenced the entire beach.

Dragonhide scrambled to his feet and disappeared in a blaze of emerald fire. As Kheda scrubbed at his watering eyes, he saw a new monster down on the sands. It had the blunt head of a sea serpent, crested with a glaucous fin, flowing neckless into a low, stubby-legged body vaguely reminiscent of a whip lizard. Its tail curved up and over its back, tipped with a spear-like sting. It shimmered with all the rainbow vividness of a butterfly's wing.

If Dev can deal with that wizard, it's down to you to deal with the others.

With a lurch, Kheda remembered why he was perched above this incredible scene. Tearing his eyes away, he searched the lower beach for the other savage mages. There was the man with the butterfly breastplate. He was standing alone; all his followers retreated some distance behind him. Loal Hands and Catskin were standing together now, closer to the water, their minions mingled in a belligerent circle around them. The lesser mages with their more paltry adornments were strung across the beach, each with a few terrified invaders in attendance, frantic glances betraying their consternation.

Kheda shook Risala's shoulder. 'We have to be ready.'

She was still gazing at the monsters the mages had become, mouth open.

The serpent-headed monster lunged at the loal-bodied one. It snapped heavy jaws laden with needle-sharp teeth and the loal-bodied one sprang aside, twisting to lash at the serpent-headed beast with its saw-scaled tail. The serpent beast jabbed and thrust with its monstrous scorpion-like sting but the loal-bodied one dodged it time and again.

The serpent beast's head broadened and grew wide, thick horns, its shoulders swelling, rising on lengthening forelegs. More ox than serpent now, it ducked its head and charged at the loal-bodied beast. Wings sprang from the loal monster's shoulders with a spread that knocked blazing thatch off huts on either side. Half flying, half springing, it leaped clean over the horn-headed monster. Its feet twisted into a new shape in mid-air, growing talons like a cliff eagle's, raking at the horn-headed monster's eyes. Wounded, the horn-headed monster did not bleed. Instead the gashes on its face were rimmed with many-hued magical light.

The horn-headed monster reared up on its hind legs, tail flowing into its spine, hips altering, legs lengthening to support it. It reached out long arms now tipped with claws as long as daggers and seized the loal-bodied one, dragging it out of the air, stabbing again and again, ripping rainbow gashes in the other monster's hide.

That hide turned to a hard carapace. Spiny shell like a coral crab's sheathed the loal beast's limbs. Its wings disappeared and the creature that had been the dragon-hide mage found itself overburdened with the weight of the monster that Dev had now become. It toppled backwards, the armoured beast landing on top of it, the spiral spear of a horned fish lengthening on its forehead even as Kheda watched.

It was Risala's turn to shake him. 'Look!'

Down on the shore, the savage mage painted in crosswise stripes of red ochre was writhing in convulsions. Kheda looked for the other wizards. The wreath wearer was on his knees, one desperate hand raised to his followers, who were backing away in alarm. The palm-crowned mage and the one wearing the garland of logen blooms were luckier in their minions, both supported as they staggered away down the beach.

'They're heading for their boats,' Kheda realised with alarm.

'Catskin, Loal Hands and Butterfly Wings are still by the ditch.' Risala squinted as she picked them out. 'I'm not sure if they're caught up in this magic or not.'

Kheda let slip an exasperated hiss. 'We can't let those two get away.' He stood and drew down a careful aim on the more distant figure. 'I'll take Palm Crown.'

Risala rose beside him and the two arrows flew at almost the same instant. Both missed; Kheda's sailing high and unnoticed over Palm Crown's head while Risala's fell short to lose itself in the confusion milling around the sand.

Kheda lowered his bow and took a long, measured breath. His eyes met Risala's but there were no words to express such a potent blend of chagrin, apprehension and plain rage. They each carefully removed a second tipped arrow from their quivers.

This time they both shot true. The mage belted with logen blooms doubled over as a broad-bladed arrow caught him full in the belly. He writhed on the ground, maddened with the agony of the barbed blade driven deep into his innards, blood dark around his hands as he clutched at the wound.

Palm Crown stumbled as a chisel-tipped shaft went clean through his shoulder, only slowed by the fletching catching in the wound. He fell to his knees, vainly trying to stem the blood from a gash as wide as his hand and as deep. His followers whirled around in consternation, looking this way and that. To Kheda's overwhelming relief, no one looked in the direction of their vantage point. Better still, their cries of alarm went entirely unheard in the general commotion.

The chirrup of Risala's bowstring startled Kheda. He followed her gaze to see the red-painted wizard who'd been racked by convulsions now pinned to the sand by an arrow running through his chest. The wizard struggled feebly then lay still, blood trickling from his mouth.

Taking a careful breath, Kheda assessed their next targets as he reached for another tipped arrow. 'If you can take the one with the butterfly wings, I'll try for our friend with the green wreath.' A quick glance showed him that the dragon-hide mage was now some nightmare sea beast with a plethora of strangling arms while Dev's monster had grown vicious pincers to tear them away.

Kheda's first shot at the wreath-crowned mage went wide and his second skewered a panicking savage who rushed forward at precisely the wrong moment. Ignoring a torrent of muttered curses from Risala, Kheda lowered his bow and closed his eyes before trying again. This time the broad-bladed arrow struck Green Wreath a glancing blow on one thigh, ripping flesh but not biting deep.

No more than a flesh wound. Will that be enough?

'I got Butterfly Wings.' Risala's voice was tight with anguish. 'I can't get any kind of shot at Catskin.'

'Nor me,' Kheda said through gritted teeth. 'Nor Loal Hands.'

Both savage wizards were surrounded by their followers, the men drawing in close, spears at the ready, driving off those scattered by the deaths of the other mages who came desperately offering themselves, pleading for protection.

Kheda looked back to the struggle engulfing Dev and Dragonhide. The shelled beast had grown spines all over its back and curled into an impenetrable ball. The many-armed monster had turned into a thickly plated serpent with crushing coils writhing over and around its foe.

Kheda reached for the untipped arrows in his quiver. 'I'll try to scatter the men around Loal Hands. See if you can get him.'

He loosed arrow after arrow. The knot around Loal Hands slackened, men knocked off their feet by arrows to the belly and chest. At Kheda's side, Risala shot once, twice, finally hitting the mage with her third chisel-tipped arrow. It hit the mage in the face, his cheekbone exploding in a gout of blood. Passing clean through his skull, the vicious arrowhead bit deep into the minion behind him.

Loal Hands disappeared as his retinue clustered round.

'They're looking our way,' Risala said grimly.

'I can't see how we can get Catskin,' raged Kheda.

Risala gasped with fear. 'What's happened to Dev?'

Kheda looked to see the armoured serpent's coils collapsing inwards, unresisted. The spiny beast had vanished. 'There!' He saw Dev a few paces down the beach, half kneeling, half falling, covered in blood. The great serpent glowed, all the colours of the rainbow blurred around it.

Dev raised his hand, fingers twisted and broken. The armoured serpent writhed and its tail split into a fan of lesser snakes, each with gaping, questing fangs. Many-hued radiance crackled along the edges of every scale. Dev rose to his knees, both hands raised in denial, forearms clawed and bleeding. The light suffusing the snake monster grew brighter, merging into a blinding white. The beast began to split, scales separating, raw flesh beneath shining with a turmoil of magelight. It thrashed from side to side, scattering dust and bloody magic, carving a great gouge in the ground.

Kheda tore his gaze away. 'How many arrows do we have for Catskin?'

'About half of them.' Risala rubbed at her face.

'This is nearly over, one way or the other,' Kheda scowled. 'Let's use them.'

'On who?' Risala pointed down the slope to a knot of savages ripping aside the tangled vegetation as they started climbing towards the vantage point.

'Catskin,' Kheda said vehemently. He reached for the arrows, not caring which were tipped with Shek Kul's powder and which were not. Risala shot with the same abandon. Catskin was at the very edge of their range, hurrying down to the water, the heavy folds of his brindled cloak flapping. Arrows fell short, useless in the sand or wounding some frantic savage.

We're not going to manage this.

Then, startled, Catskin whirled round. He ran back up the beach, cloak flying out behind him. With a shot more instinct than calculation, Kheda let one of his final arrows fly. Risala's bowstring sang in his ear. Catskin fell, two broad-headed shafts hitting the same thigh, severing muscle and sinew, splintering bone. The screaming mage collapsed, leg nigh on cut off, and died in a welter of unstaunchable bleeding.

'Kheda!' Risala cried out in alarm.

Kheda looked down to see determined savages more than halfway up the slope. On the far side of the broken ditch, Dev struggled to his feet, painfully, slowly, blood smeared across his bald head. The nimbus of white surrounding the frantically writhing serpent monster began to contract. The light within darkened; ruby, sapphire, emerald and amber darkened, the snake disappeared and the dragon-hide mage stood there, blood trickling down his legs, his own hands upraised with the jewel colours of his magic swirling around him.

The circle of white light shrank further. The jewel colours within hammered at the inexorable barrier. It made no difference. With blood-curdling shrieks several savages hurled themselves at Dev, spears raised. With a single gesture, Dev sent them tumbling backwards, seared with scarlet flame. The sphere of white light around the dragon-hide mage took fire, flashed like rainy-season lightning before hissing with steam and cracking for an instant like crazed glass. Dev's wizardry held and then with a blast that struck Kheda like a physical blow, the magic collapsed on itself. In the next instant, the burning radiance burst outward in a shower of many-hued light. Rags of blood-soaked dragon hide and gobbets of torn flesh scattered all across the beach. Shaking his head in a vain attempt to regain his hearing, Kheda dug the heels of his hands into his eyes to clear the blinding after-image from his sight.

'Where's Dev?' Risala searched the far side of the ditch for their wizard.

'I can't see any sign.' What Kheda did see made his blood run cold. 'That man, that's the mage with the sharks' teeth necklace.'

The final, disregarded mage had gathered a gang of savages who were tossing aside the piles of loot, digging out caskets, dodging in and out of the burning huts to claim choice coffers. With Sharkteeth gesturing, the small contingent formed into a line, other savages grabbing salvaged weapons and simple lengths of wood to join them.

'He's getting away,' gasped Risala.

Shouts from below drowned out her cry as the savages climbing the slope below them drew ever closer.

'Not if I can help it.' Kheda threw aside his bow and gripped his heavy jungle blade. 'Come on.'

The dusk was really gathering beneath the lilla trees now, the warm air dense beneath the leaves. Kheda hacked at the clinging logen vines and the burgeoning berry seedlings hampering his every stride. He could hear twigs snapping in a commotion that was Risala or pursuing savages drawing nearer. He sliced at the thick vegetation, tearing at leathery green leaves and frail new fronds with his free hand. The fiery slice of cuts to his fingers brought him to his senses and he pulled his dagger free of his belt. The braided cord grip soaked up the blood slick on his palm. Plunging on, his breath rasped in his throat. As the dew rose to meet the approaching night, the rich scent of the dark forest surrounded them.

Risala bumped into his back. 'Where are we going?'

'Sharkteeth looks to be bearing this way. If we can move fast enough, we can cut him off.' Kheda slashed at the underbrush with renewed determination as shouts and trampling feet behind told him their pursuers were getting closer.

With Risala treading on his heels, whimpering in her frantic breaths, Kheda ran as fast as he could, heart pounding, chest burning. Stumbling on a faint trail, he nearly fell, recovering himself in the nick of time. He ran on and heard noises ahead. Curt orders in an unknown tongue punctuated the sound of urgent hands beating back underbrush with sticks. A new cry rose from behind, in triumph and cruel anticipation, as the savages chasing them found the path. Bare feet pounded on the bare earth.

'They're going to catch us!'

Stifling Risala's panic with a brutal hand, his dagger's hilt crushing her lips, Kheda dragged her off the path. Throwing himself beneath a berry bush choked with striol vines, he rolled on top of Risala, stilling her struggles with his weight. Her eyes, white-rimmed, stared uncompre-hendingly into his as the savages who'd been pursuing them came howling down the path. Sharkteeth's men met this unexpected attack with brutal cries and vicious blows. The pursuers were ensnared in retaliation before they had time to realise what was happening.

Kheda slid his hand down to Risala's chin. Bloodied fingerprints showed dark on her skin. 'Any arrows?' he mouthed.

She twisted under him to pull her quiver out from beneath her back. Kheda gathered all the remaining shafts into a single bundle. 'Make for the Amigal,' he told her soundlessly.

Risala nodded, face frozen with fear. He left her crouching beneath the paltry shield of the bush, fumbling to draw her heavy jungle blade. Sheathing his own and crawling on hands and knees, Kheda headed towards the fiercest sound of fighting. The arrows he held caught themselves in the tangled ground plants. He sliced them away with his dagger. Sharp stubs bit at his knees and unexpected puddles of muck soaked his trousers. An invader, falling backwards through the bushes, fell over him, crashing to the ground, an attacker leaping on top of him. Kheda felt a spray of blood warm on his face as he sprang forward to dive beneath a straggling lilla sapling, unnoticed as the two wild men fought to the death.

Yells and abuse echoed around the trees. Kheda strained ears still ringing from the disaster that had befallen the wizards on the beach. He caught a note of command in a guttural shout and slowly rose to his feet, ready to attack any savage who might turn on him, alert for any hint of magelight. There was the wizard with the sharks' teeth necklaces, shouting furiously at the men laden with coffers of loot. Some had let caskets slip from their shoulders as they jostled and shoved in a panicked attempt to flee down the track.

In the same instant that Kheda took in the scene and realised Sharkteeth's unprotected back was towards him, one of the burdened savages saw this unexpected newcomer, raising a pointing hand, mouth opening to shout.

I've no idea if there's any of Shek Kul's powder on these arrows. I have to kill the invader's wizard some way or another. Skewering his kidneys should do it, regardless of his magic. If I die for it, so be it. If I live, all well and good. Let's worry about that later.

All these thoughts ran through Kheda's mind in the time it took the savage's hand to rise to shoulder height. Kheda threw himself forward, stabbing the bundle of arrows deep into the hollow of the shark-tooth mage's back just above his leather loincloth. Reaching round with his other hand, he reversed his grip and thrust his dagger into the base of the mage's throat, hilt deep, feeling the blade grate on bone. He pulled the man close, their bodies matched like lovers, the warmth of the wizard's back pressing the cold muddied cloth of his tunic to him. His nostrils filled with the savage's rank, animal scent. Kheda twisted and wrenched at the dagger. The mage's necklaces broke, sharks' teeth cascading in all directions, hard as little stones. Blood poured over Kheda's hands, down the mage's chest, soaking the moist ground, warm on Kheda's feet. The mage struggled feebly in his embrace, breath bubbling in his throat and his gasps spraying a fine mist of blood into the air.

The ferocious fight raged on, uncomprehending, all around. Those few who had seen the sudden attack stood transfixed with horror at the death of their leader. Kheda forced his way backwards through the undergrowth behind him, the limp mage a dead weight in his arms, a stinking burden as the man's bowels voided, but too valuable a shield to discard.

With cries of anguish, several savages hurled themselves towards him. Kheda threw the wizard's corpse at them and turned to dive through a tangled mess of striol creeper. The thorns pierced him from head to toe but he didn't slow for a moment. Throwing himself to the ground, he fled, wriggling beneath the impenetrable vegetation on belly and elbows, face in the leaf litter, expecting the agony of a spear in the back with every twist and turn.

None came. Kheda rolled on to his side and looked warily around at the blank, unhelpful leaves surrounding him. The sound of fighting subsided as the savages' cries turned to lamentation and audible indecision.

How long before they decide to beat the undergrowth for you, flushing you out like a hook-toothed hog and met with spears just the same? Not long, and they'll get Risala too, if she's still anywhere around. Time to run. But which way?

The ground rose sharply ahead of him. Kheda scrambled to his feet. Uphill was a start. They had come over the rise of the headland so the Amigal must lie somewhere beyond the top of the hill. He struggled up the slope as fast as he could, using hands and feet like a loal. Discovering he'd lost his heavy blade somehow, he skirted around berry thickets, shying away from the thorny tangles of striol.

Which at least means you're leaving no trail and moving more quietly.

Taken unawares by the crest of the rise, he slipped and fell down the far side, a tandra sapling breaking his fall and stabbing him painfully with snapped-off twigs. Panting, Kheda waited. The hue and cry that the savages were raising on the other side of the headland rose into the evening sky. Kheda's breath slowed and the hammering blood in his throat abated a little. The sound of pursuit was scattering, heading away from him, disintegrating into confusion. Kheda took a deep breath and the stench of death that coated him made him retch uncontrollably.

When he was finally done vomiting, he hauled himself upright on a handy lilla tree. Down below, he could see the untroubled sea fading imperceptibly into the distant blue dusk of the evening sky. Over to the west, the afterglow was fading on the horizon. He couldn't see the Amigal but now cold calculation replaced the trepidation of his flight. Calmly, he traced the lie of the land and worked out which clump of trees must be hiding the ship from view. Slowly, picking his path with care, he went down the slope towards it.

'Kheda!' Risala was on deck, jungle blade in her hands, ready to hack the hands off anyone trying to come aboard.

Unable to think what to say, Kheda dived into the water, ducking his head under the cool sea, rubbing his fouled hands over and around each other, scrubbing at his head and body. Rolling and twisting, he struggled out of his tunic, letting it float away, his trousers too. Broaching the surface with a gasp when he could stay submerged no longer, he found the salt freshness had driven away the stink hanging around him.

'Dev's here!' Risala hung over the Amigal's rail.

Kheda wiped water out of his eyes, seeing Risala as no more than an outline against the first shimmer of the rising moon.

The Lesser Moon, just at half, distant and aloof, on the cusp of decline, so soon to be lost in the return of the greater jewel, but biding its time, knowing the next cycle of the heavens will see its full riding unchallenged in an empty sky.

Kheda swam for the rope Risala had thrown down for him. 'Where is he?'

'I can't get any sense out of him.' Risala was bloodied with scratches, dishevelled and exhausted, but there was a light of terrified triumph in her eyes. 'What's happened to him?'

Dev was huddled at the base of the Amigal's mast. Kheda knelt and pushed him upright against the wood. The wizard's head lolled as he grinned crazily at Kheda, dark eyes rolling. The fine silk of his tunic was stained and scorched, his gaudy jewellery clotted with dried blood, the very metal broken and twisted. His arms were scored with deep scratches still oozing sluggishly. Even in the failing light, Kheda could see appalling bruises through the tears in Dev's trousers, one foot darkening and swelling with the hint of broken bones within.

'Didn't realise, did he? What was he was doing, drawing more and more elements into himself? I could do it, though, matching him turning himself wrongways out and upside down.' Dev waved a feeble, broken-fingered hand and Kheda saw all the nails were torn, thumbnail wholly missing. 'He didn't know what I could do. It's all very well, calling that kind of magic, as long as you've got somewhere to send it.' Dev licked ineffectively at the spittle coating his chin. His lip was split, there were bite marks on his chin and his bald head was scraped raw in places. 'You're as screwed as a tuppenny whore on market day if you've nowhere to go with such power. I slammed the door on him good and proper, didn't I? Bet Kalion couldn't have done it, nor yet Planir, not hardly, not likely. What say I challenge one of them to try it? That's how the savages do it, prove who's best. Who's still standing at the end, that's your man, not whoever can make the most friends in the halls and copyhouses.'

Kheda silenced the wizard's ramblings with a slap to the face that echoed across the deck. Dev looked at him, mouth open, shocked. Kheda could feel Risala's astonished eyes boring into his back but there was no time to explain.

'Get some of that brandy of his, quick!' He seized Dev by the shoulders and shook him. 'The moon, Dev, look at the moon. Remember, we have to send the sign, to bring the other ships down here. There are still hundreds of those savages. They're everywhere. They'll kill us if they find us. We need Daish men and Chazen to come and reclaim the domain. The moon, Dev, you have to raise a cloud to colour the moon!'

Loose and boneless in his grasp, the wizard blinked, bleary-eyed, trying to focus on the distant half circle of light in the darkening sky. 'The moon?'

Risala appeared at Kheda's shoulder. Kheda propped Dev up with one hand to his chest and took the stubby black bottle, pulling the stopper free with his teeth. He spat the cork aside, coughing as the reek of spirits bit at his throat. 'You said you could do it, remember? You said you could lift sand high enough into the air to colour the moon for anyone looking from Daish lands? You promised me you could do it!' He forced the neck of the bottle between Dev's flaccid lips and tipped white brandy into the wizard's mouth.

Dev choked and coughed on frenzied giggles. 'A cloud to colour the moon? I said I could do that?' He reached for the bottle with clumsy hands.

'You did. You swore it.' Kheda wrapped the wizard's fingers around the brandy. 'Don't tell me you can't, not after everything you've done today!'

Hands trembling, Dev took a long swallow of liquor, his body shaking like a man in the grip of fever. 'You saw it,' he said, husky with emotion. 'You saw it all. I did it, matched that Dragonhide and more. Didn't know if I could. Didn't tell you that.' His laugh was little more than a hysterical gasp.

'Can you colour the moon?' Kheda thrust his face close, forcing the wizard to meet his gaze. 'You told me you could do that! Was that the truth?'

Dev sat up a little straighter, grip on the bottle firmer, face turning ugly. 'No man calls me a liar,' he snarled breathlessly.

'I'm not calling you a liar.' Kheda sat back on his heels. 'I'm asking you to prove yourself.'

'That wasn't proof enough?' Dev gestured in the vague direction of the carnage beyond the headland.

White brandy sloshed from the bottle to land cold on Kheda's bare arm and sting his scratches viciously. He tasted it on the air, sharp and spicy. 'Can you do it or not?

Furious, Dev hurled the bottle down the deck. The throw too feeble to break it, it rolled away leaving a glistening trail of brandy on the planks. 'Watch this, you ignorant pig of an Archipelagan!'

With a sweeping motion of one hand, Dev cast a swathe of faint red out towards the island. The magelight spread and faded and Kheda's heart sank as the last vestiges melted away into the ground. He turned away, sick at heart.

It's not going to be over then. There'll be no rest for you, no return home in triumph, not with these wild men still plaguing the Daish domain. How can we gather a force to fight them, before they summon some more of their iniquitous wizards?

'Look at that,' whispered Risala, awestruck.

Kheda opened his eyes to see red magelight rising from the shore; thicker now but dimmed, spreading like a mist but heavy with dust and debris from the ground. Dev thrust his other hand upwards and a shaft of searing blue light soared up to challenge the cold light of the first stars. It drew the haze of powdered earth inexorably upward, higher and higher, finally breaking like a fountain to be lost in the vastness of the sky. The dust kept on rising from the island, the magic darkening and deepening. The blue light carried it up, threads and flurries twisting and knotting.

Kheda waited, heart pounding in his chest. Slowly a shadow edged across the half circle of the distant moon, barely more than imagination at first but little by little thickening to a veil of red.

'That's your sign?' asked Risala.

Kheda nodded. 'It's a portent that everyone should be able to read. If Janne's done her work, it'll bring all the ships south. That should be swords and arrows enough to kill every last one of these accursed savages.' Hope twisted in his chest like the piercing blade of a dagger.

The magical radiance vanished like a snuffed candle. Dev fell to the deck with a heavy thud and Kheda and Risala dropped to their knees either side of him.

'He's barely breathing,' said Risala with consternation. 'What do we do?'

What does one do with a wizard? You were always taught magic was dangerous, destructive, corrupting. You've seen it for yourself and the slaughter that even a few mages can encompass. What does one do with a wizard? One kills it as one would a venomous snake.

He's helpless, unconscious. He's a mage who can scatter a beach full of armed men by turning their very weapons against them. He's a man who can burn men to char and ashes without so much as laying a finger on them. You've a dagger to hand, a Daish dagger no less. Cut his throat and who would ever blame you? Cut his throat and there's no one to tell Chazen Saril, Ritsem Caid or anyone else that you suborned sorcery as the only way of driving out these savages.

You don't think this barbarian, this traitor and vice peddler, you don't think he'll bleed you of every advantage he can, in return for his silence? Kill him now and there's no one to bear witness to you using his power to pervert the very skies in raising an omen that is pure falsehood. Kill him now and his blood might even cleanse you of the taint of magic that must surely stain you to the bone. You're no innocent victim, not any more; you've mired yourself neck deep in sorcery.

But there would be a witness. There'd be Risala. Are you going to kill her as well? She would truly be an innocent victim. Are you going to forswear yourself to Shek Kul, when he asks her fate? Don't you owe him better than that, for the secret of the powder and sending Risala to you? You'd never have found another way to drive out these invaders.

Don't you owe even Dev his life, vile though he may be, in return for doing what you could not, killing the mages who have given these invaders their overwhelming supremacy? Besides, there are hundreds of these savages still plaguing these islands, hundreds of islands to clear and reclaim. What if Dev hasn't seen all the mages? What if there are still some more to be found? Sharkteeth very nearly got away. What if more come from overseas, to find out what has happened to their fellows? It might happen, this season or next, there's no telling, not without Dev and his mirrors of water and sorcery. What will you do then, if you've no wizard to call on? Shek Kul's powder won't last for ever and there's no telling if you'll ever find out just what it is made of.

Kheda straightened Dev's contorted limbs. Cold sweat covered the mage, making the dried blood coating him shine like fresh wounds. 'We get him into his hammock. I don't know what ails him; I imagine it's something to do with the magecraft. He said it could exhaust him. All we can do is let him sleep and see if he wakes.'

If he doesn't, then I'll think through the significance of that omen when I've had some sleep myself.

Kheda looked across the prostrate wizard to Risala. 'I know it's nightfall but we should sail to a safer anchorage. Then we'll head for the thousand-oyster isle. I said I'd meet Janne there. She'll know what's going on across the domain. We can work out what to do next together.'