magicians and apprentices gathered before the tent. Then, as all movement ceased and sounds quietened, Werrin and Sabin dismounted and bowed, and the rest of the army followed suit.
“Lord Werrin,” King Errik said, stopping before them. “Magician Sabin. My loyal friends and magicians. It is good to see you again.” He grasped their arms in turn, then straightened and faced the army, raising his voice. “Welcome, magicians of Kyralia. You risked your lives to face our enemy, responding quickly and bravely to the country’s need. Though the first battle was lost, we are far from beaten. We have the rest of Kyralia’s magicians with me, bar those too feeble to ride and fight. We are now one army, and as such we must ready ourselves to face the enemy with our full strength. We have the assistance of magicians from other lands.” He turned and gestured towards five men standing nearby. Dakon saw, with surprise, that two were tall, well-tattooed Lans and the other three were of the less imposing Vindo race. Between them stood Magician Genfel, looking pleased with himself.
The king had paused, and his expression grew more serious as he scanned the faces of the newcomers. “There is no time to lose. The leaders are to join me to discuss our strategy. The rest of you may rest, eat and make camp for the night. By tomorrow we will have decided what our next move will be.”
As he turned back to Sabin, the army stirred and began to disperse. Dakon looked at Tessia.
“Duty summons me yet again,” he said.
The corner of her mouth twitched in a half-smile. “I expect a full report later, Lord Dakon,” she said loftily, then nudged her horse after the crowd.
He chuckled, then rode up beside Werrin’s horse, dismounted, and handed his reins to a waiting servant. Narvelan was already hovering nearby. Dakon moved to the young magician’s side.
“That’s Lord Perkin. And Lord Innali,” Narvelan choked out. Dakon looked at the two older men who had been standing beside the king. “The unofficial patriarchs of Kyralia?” He shrugged. “They had to show their faces eventually. And they’re hardly going to be excluded from this discussion.”
“I guess not,” Narvelan said, his voice thin with resignation.
“Don’t let them intimidate you,” Dakon told him. “They may have money, and ancestry that goes back before the Sachakan occupation, but neither will matter in battle. You have fought and killed Sachakans. That makes you far more impressive than a pair of old men with only fancy names to speak of.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Narvelan said. He sighed. “I almost wish it weren’t so. Though it was easier the second time. And the third.”
Dakon frowned at his friend. “What was easier?”
“Killing Sachakans.” Narvelan glanced at Dakon nervously. “I’m not sure whether to be relieved or worried that it gets easier.”
“Choose relieved,” Dakon advised. “If all goes well we will kill many more Sachakans. If it doesn’t, I doubt we’ll have the chance to worry if it was easy or not. Ah, we’re heading inside.”
The king, Werrin and Sabin were moving towards the tent. Dakon saw that the rest of the army advisers were edging after them. The king beckoned to the two patriarchs, who strode forward to follow him inside. Dakon, Narvelan and the rest came after.
Wooden chairs had been arranged in a circle. The king took the larger, fancier one, and the others settled into the rest. Magician Genfel introduced the Vindo and Lans magicians.
“I have some reports of the first battle,” Errik told them. “But not a detailed account.” He looked at Sabin. “Describe it to me.”
Sabin obeyed, and Dakon was struck by how much the army leader had actually missed. Sabin’s attention had been on attacking the enemy, relying on those around him to tell him how the rest of the Kyralian army fared.
To fill in the details he could not relate himself, Sabin turned to Werrin. After a while the king interrupted.
“This strategy of fighting in groups shaped much of what you were able to do. Tell me more.”
Dakon smiled as Werrin related how Ardalen demonstrated his magical trick of giving power to another, and the advantages and drawbacks of the method. He then explained how setting the apprentices to playing Kyrima with themselves as pieces and using only strikes of light had led to fighting in groups, with one given the task of striking and another of shielding to focus concentration.
A message arrived for the king then, and servants brought food and drink. The king returned quickly, his face grim.
“The Sachakans have overtaken Calia,” he told them. “They have not wreaked the destruction they have in the past, however.”
Dakon shook his head. Calia was a major town, prospering from its position near the meeting point of two major roads.
“They aren’t wasting their strength,” Innali said. “At least there are no people left for them to take more from.”
The king frowned. “Then why did I receive reports of bodies?”
Werrin sighed. “There are always some who refuse to leave, who hide to avoid being taken away against their will. Some even skirt around the army and return home.”
“Why?” Innali asked. “Do they not understand the danger?”
“Some do, some don’t. They think they can hide from the Sachakans – and some do manage to. To them protecting their property from thieves is more important. Or else their plan is the thievery itself.”
Innali scowled.
“The enemy isn’t keeping them alive to continue using them as a source,” Sabin added. “So to them they are a limited resource.” He looked at the king. “The Sachakans have their slaves, but we have the people of Kyralia. If they are willing, they could be our best resource.”
“But they are a resource we haven’t been using,” Werrin pointed out. “It has been difficult enough getting villagers and townsfolk to leave their homes, giving them a chance to gather what food and possessions they can. We haven’t had time to persuade any of them to let us take their magical strength.”
Lord Perkin shook his head. “And the people of Kyralia aren’t here for us to take power from. Instead they are arriving in Imardin in droves. The supplies they bring won’t last long and most have no roof to sleep under. We will soon begin to lose them to starvation and disease.”
The king frowned. “If the Sachakans decided to, they could ride here in a few hours. The towns and villages between here and Imardin are yet to be evacuated, and as you’ve said, that takes time. More than usual, since they contain not just their normal occupants, but those who have not travelled as far as Imardin but chosen to stay in these villages instead. I am reluctant to give any more ground.
“Then there is the news of another group of Sachakans in the north-west, travelling this way,” he continued. “If we wait too long they may join with the main army. Are we strong enough to confront the Sachakans now? Tonight?”
The magicians exchanged glances.
“Let’s sum up,” Sabin said. “After the battle more than half of us were exhausted of power, the rest depleted to some degree. We each have had one day’s recovered power from our apprentice or servant. Tomorrow we will have had two. And we have over thirty magicians who have not used up any power in battle yet. Together, we number over a hundred.
“We have no idea how depleted the Sachakans were after the battle, but we did kill twelve of them and we can assume several more were near exhaustion. They have more slaves per magician than we have apprentices or servants. They have been taking power from those people who foolishly remained in their path. As far as we know, no reinforcements or new allies have joined them. They number something over fifty.”
“It sounds as if we have the advantage,” the king said. Sabin nodded. “We do.”
The king nodded. As his expression turned to one of determination Dakon cleared his throat. There was one issue they had overlooked, which had to be tackled before this new army threw itself into battle too quickly.
“There is one other matter we have to address, your majesty. We need time to train the rest of the army in our new methods.”
The king’s stare was direct and challenging.
“How long will that take?”
“A day last time,” Sabin told him.
