“There were over two hundred in Sachaka, according to my spies,” the king said.
“So over a hundred remain,” Hakkin said. “We number no more than eighty.”
“Some of their magicians are too young or too old to fight effectively,” the king added.
“The odds don’t sound good, even so,” Perkin said.
“I think we’ve learned the hard way that it is not the number of magicians that matters, but their strength,” Narvelan said.
“And their skills and knowledge,” Dakon added.
“It is not only their strength to begin with, though that is important, but their
“I think they’ve learned their lesson,” Hakkin said.
“But how long before they forget it?” Narvelan asked. “Will our children fight and die in another war? Or our grandchildren?”
“Can we prevent its ever happening again?” Sabin asked. He shook his head. “Of course we can’t.”
“Or can we?” Narvelan said. All turned to look at him, many frowning. His eyes were dark as he smiled back at them. “They wouldn’t invade us if we ruled them.”
That sent a ripple of murmuring out from the circle. Dakon saw eyes widen at the possibility, and heads shake.
“Invade Sachaka?” Hakkin scowled. “Even if we had a chance of success, we’ve just fought a war. Do we have the energy for another?”
“We might, if it would ensure Kyralia’s future,” Lord Perkin said.
The king was frowning. “Can we afford to lose more of our own magicians?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the ground. “We may return victorious only to find ourselves vulnerable to attack from elsewhere.”
“Who else would dare, or bother, your majesty?” Narvelan spread his hands. “Lonmar? They are too busy worshipping their god and barely pay attention to what we do. Lan? Vin? Elyne? They are here, supporting us.” He turned to regard Dem Ayend, smiling but with a hint of seriousness in his gaze.
The Dem chuckled. “Elyne has always been a friend of Kyralia.” He paused. “And if you allow it, we would join you in your endeavour. We know we will not last long if Kyralia ever falls to Sachaka. I know I have my king’s support on this.”
Sabin hummed in thought, then looked at the Dem. “Your offer would have to be discussed, but I can see one problem to be overcome. If we are to invade Sachaka, we must do it without hesitation. We have only our apprentices and servants to draw strength from. Like us, the Sachakans will evacuate their slaves so that we can’t gain strength from them. We must give them no time to.”
“We should not kill the slaves, but free them,” Dakon said. He smiled as heads turned towards him. “We couldn’t hope to win without taking their power, of course, but after a country is taken it has to be ruled, and it would be easier if the majority of people were co-operative because we had treated them well.” Dakon was pleased to see the king nodding, his expression thoughtful. “If we must invade Sachaka in order to save Kyralia, let’s not become Sachakans.”
Sabin chuckled. “Their way of doing things didn’t work for them, so it won’t work for us.”
More murmuring echoed around the ravine. The leaders were silent, lost in thought. Then Bolvin sighed.
“Must we invade? I’m tired. I want to go home, to my family.”
“We must,” Narvelan said, his voice full of certainty. “So that your children will have the freedoms we have.”
“Perhaps I can help you decide,” Dem Ayend said.
All turned to look at the Elyne. He smiled wryly as he reached into the satchel he always carried. He glanced down and drew out a small drawstring bag. Untying the knot, he tipped out into his palm a large milky-yellow stone the size of a fist, cut like a precious gem.
“This is a storestone. It’s the last of its kind. It and others were found in ancient ruins in Elyne, built and abandoned by a people we know little about. We don’t know how they are made – and believe me, many magicians have tried to find out over the centuries.”
He held the stone out so all in the circle could see. “It stores magic. Transferring power to it is not unlike sending power to another magician. Unfortunately the magic within must be used in one continuous stream. If not, it will shatter and release the remaining magic in a devastating blast. And once the magic is all used, the stone turns to dust. So, as you can imagine, you must choose the moment such an object is used very, very carefully. Especially since when this one is used, there will be no more left.”
Dem Ayend looked up. His eyes were bright. Dakon saw awe and excitement in the faces of the magicians around him. Looking closely at the stone, he felt something at the edge of his senses. Concentrating on the feeling made his head spin.
The stone was radiating a feeling of immense power, unlike anything he had ever felt before.
“My king gave it to me to use only in the most desperate moment, and fortunately that moment did not come. I have consulted with him via messengers, anticipating this moment. He said if the chance came to conquer Sachaka, then we should seize it. Because I, and my king, can see no cause more worthy of the last of the storestones than ending the Sachakan empire for all time.”
Looking at the faces of the magicians around him, Dakon knew, without a doubt, that he would not be going back to Mandryn to rebuild his life for some time yet.
The morning air was crisp, but Hanara knew that once the sun rose above the mist that shrouded the hills below, baking the air dry, the day would be a hot one. The place Takado, Asara and Dachido had chosen to camp was several strides from the road, out of sight on a rock shelf. If they moved to the edge and looked down they could see the road twisting back and forth down the side of the mountain, curving over hills and eventually straightening and pointing, like an arrow, toward Arvice.
Hanara’s master was not enjoying the view. He was being served by Asara’s remaining slave, while Hanara kept watch on the road. Dachido’s slave was packing up his master’s belongings. The three slaves took turns at these tasks every morning, until all were ready to travel on.
But for the first time, none of the magicians were in a hurry.
Hanara looked up. The pass itself was not visible, but he could see where the road emerged from it. They had fled through it the previous morning, aware the Kyralian army was only a half day’s ride behind them.
“Why send a whole army after us?” Asara had asked, a few nights before. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Because they want Takado,” Dachido had replied. “It was his idea to conquer them, after all. And they fear he will come back for another try.”
Takado had chuckled. “I would, if it were possible.”
The three magicians had argued over what to do when they reached Sachaka. Takado wanted them to stay together and gather supporters. Hanara wasn’t sure if this was in order to invade Kyralia again, or in order to gain enough status and allies to return to his former life.
“None of us can expect to walk into our old homes and continue as if nothing happened,” Takado had pointed out.
Asara had nodded. “We need to know if Emperor Vochira has learned of our defeat and taken our assets for himself, or given them to someone else. It’ll be easier to regain them if he hasn’t given them away.”
It hadn’t occurred to Hanara that he might not be returning to the place of his birth. Since he’d realised how unlikely it was, he’d woken with an ache in his stomach every morning, and a nagging uneasiness.
Though none of the magicians had stated it, the lack of conviction in their voices when they discussed regaining the emperor’s favour told how much they doubted it would happen. Last night, as if standing on the soil of their own country had broken them out of a trance of denial, they had finally discussed what they would do in the short term.
“I’ve decided I’m going north,” Asara announced. “I have contacts there. People who owe me favours. And ...I must go alone. They will not help me if there are others with me.”
