The Magician’s Apprentice

taking power from Mikken disturbing, too. It felt wrong to be sapping the strength of people he knew, even if it didn’t affect them physically.

When Mikken had then offered to be Jayan’s ongoing source, Jayan had fought off a strong reluctance to agree. At first he suspected he didn’t want to out of jealousy. He often saw Tessia and Mikken talking now, and couldn’t help questioning his resolve not to get too attached to her while Kyralia was at war. The only thing that kept him from refusing was the knowledge that, as a new higher magician, he was weak and vulnerable. He needed to build up his strength so he could fight in the next confrontation with the Sachakans.

But then, so did most of the magicians in the army. More than half of them had been exhausted by the confrontation with the enemy. The only consolation was that the enemy must also have depleted much of its strength, too.

If the conclusion of the next battle was decided by a race between the two armies to recover their strength, then the Kyralian side had the advantage. By removing as many sources of strength from the Sachakans as possible, they were preventing the enemy from recovering.

But we are doing no better than they. It’s taken all our time and persuasion to get the people to leave, leaving no opportunity to gain any power from them. None of the magicians wanted to round up the villagers and forcibly take their strength from them. Jayan kept hearing them muttering that they would have to find time to convince the people to co-operate later.

His attention was drawn to a rider who galloped past and pulled up alongside Werrin and Sabin at the front of the army. Recognising one of the scouts, Jayan watched as a short conversation followed. Then the rider steered his horse away.

He watched as information melted back through the army. One by one the magicians riding before him looked over their shoulder at those riding behind, lips moving. Narvelan turned to speak to Dakon. Then Tessia’s horse moved to the side of the road and slowed. She looked back at him.

Stop it, he told himself as his heart suddenly began beating faster.

“What are you scowling at?” she asked as she guided her horse in alongside his.

“I’m not,” he told her. “But everyone else is. What’s got them stirred up?”

Her brows lowered and she glowered at the back of her horse’s neck. “News has come that another group of Sachakans have been attacking villages in the north-west. They might have headed west to cut off the Elynes, or they may be taking advantage of the fact that the people in the western leys weren’t evacuated.”

“Oh,” he said. He opened his mouth to say more, then realised he had nothing to say that wasn’t obvious or didn’t involve cursing. Not that Tessia wasn’t used to cursing. But he wasn’t about to break a long habit of avoiding it around women just because she was used to it.

They continued in silence for a while. “Sorry,” she said eventually. “I keep forgetting to call you ‘Magician Jayan’.”

“So do I,” Mikken inserted quietly.

Jayan looked from one side to the other, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re my friends. I’d rather nothing changed between us.”

Tessia looked up at him, her eyebrows rising. “Really? Nothing?”

“Yes.”

“How wonderful.” She looked across at Mikken. “I guess that means he wants to continue to be as rude and annoying as ever.”

Mikken laughed, then, as Jayan shot him a glare, covered his mouth.

Jayan turned to her. “If I have been rude I apologise. I do believe, as a higher magician, I have an obligation to . . .” He stopped. Tessia’s eyes were bright with humour and anticipation. Relaxing, he allowed himself a rueful smile. “Yes, I promise to be as rude and annoying as before.”

She sniffed with disappointment. “You were supposed to promise to not be rude and annoying.”

“I know.”

“Hmph!” She urged her horse forward, leaving him and Mikken behind as she returned to Dakon’s side.

“You two are like old friends, or brother and sister,” Mikken said. Then he added: “Magician Jayan.”

Jayan stopped himself from wincing. But I don’t want us to be. Curse this war! Sighing, he resolutely set his gaze on the road ahead.

CHAPTER 37

Towards the end of the day, reports of the distance between the army and the king grew more frequent. At first both forces were on the road, closing the gap between them steadily. Then news reached them that the king had camped outside Coldbridge. He would wait for them to arrive. Dakon could not help feeling annoyance that the king was giving up more ground to the Sachakans, probably for the convenience of having a town nearby to service the army.

But it made sense. The army servants were exhausted. Several were ill and were travelling in a cart. With all the best food served to the magicians, some of the servants had cooked meat kept too long after slaughter for themselves. Two had died, and neither the guild healers nor Tessia had been able to help.

“What water or sustenance we give them goes straight through their bodies,” she’d told him. “We’ll see more of this, if we begin to run short of food.”

It was incredible that she could mend a broken back, yet was helpless to stop simple gut sickness claiming lives. Refan had the advantage of magic giving him resilience, though. Tessia’s description of sensing magic repairing Refan’s body had fascinated Dakon. It confirmed what all magicians had long believed without any proof, except the observation that they lived long, healed fast and were resistant to disease.

A murmur among the magicians and apprentices around him brought his attention back from his thoughts. Looking ahead, he saw what the others were remarking on. A town lay ahead, houses dotted along each side of the road.

Coldbridge. Spread before it were lines of tents and wagons, with tiny figures roaming about the space between them. The king and the rest of Kyralia’s magicians, he thought. Which should increase the size of our army to just over a hundred.

At the centre, beside the road, was a large tent striped in the colours of the king’s family. Already a crowd was gathering around the tent, no doubt in expectation of meeting the advancing army.

The pace quickened and the sound of voices rose around Dakon. He glanced around, noting the excitement and relief in the expressions of magicians and apprentices alike. Tessia, however, was frowning.

“What are you worrying over, Tessia?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “I’m not sure. Every time we gain more magicians we have to teach them so much. Not just Ardalen’s method, but not to wander off, or who’s in charge. Do we have the time, this time?”

Dakon looked at the tents ahead and considered. “We may have to give up more ground in order to gain the time we need.”

She nodded. “There is another thing I’ve been wondering about.”

“Yes?”

“Lord Ardalen taught us how to give power to another magician. He died at the pass. Would the Sachakan who killed him have had the chance to read his mind and discover the trick?”

Dakon shook his head. “Mikken said his master was killed instantly, once his shield was overcome.”

She grimaced. “I guess we should be thankful for that.”

He sighed. “Yes, I guess we should. Though . . . I’m not sure a Sachakan would have paid much attention anyway. He or she would not have known the significance of what he saw, since we hadn’t fought them in direct battle at that time. If a Kyralian magician were captured now, however, I’m sure their mind would be thoroughly searched.”

“Let’s hope they don’t get the chance, then.”

The front of the column had reached the edge of the field of tents now. All fell silent as the leaders of the army approached the king’s tent. Dakon saw that a line of three men stood waiting. He recognised the young man standing at the centre. The two men on either side of King Errik were magicians more than twice his age, regarded as two of the most powerful and wealthy men in Kyralia.

Werrin and Sabin signalled for the army to stop several paces from the king. Slowly the long column widened as