wasted.
But he also knew his time was better spent dealing with the invaders. The sooner he and his colleagues drove the Sachakans out, the sooner people could return to their homes. He was not the only magician frustrated by their failure to do that. An understanding had grown between them as the weeks had crawled past. All were annoyed by their situation, all tempted by the knowledge that change could be forced if they were willing to take risks. None complained, though, because none wanted to urge anyone else to endanger his life. All were waiting and hoping for some benign influence to shift the balance of power, hopefully in their favour and not the Sachakans’.
Two were magicians from the Circle of Friends, Lord Moran and Lord Olleran. The other three were city magicians, Magician Genfel, Lord Tarrakin and Lord Hakkin. Magician Genfel had neither supported nor opposed the Circle as far as Dakon or Narvelan knew, but the other two city magicians were detractors. The most surprising of the latter was Lord Hakkin, who had openly mocked Dakon and Everran at the Royal Palace.
Dakon was not sure why Hakkin and his friends had come. Perhaps at the king’s request. Narvelan had suggested a sense of duty, or there being nothing more interesting happening in the city, as possible motivations.
Lord Hakkin appeared to have assumed the leadership of the five during their journey here. Dakon suspected the man would have tried to take over the leadership of the entire group if the king hadn’t already chosen Lord Werrin for the role.
Over the morning meal, the newcomers were coming to understand what they were now a part of.
“We haven’t even come close to what we set out to achieve,” Lord Werrin concluded as he finished describing their search so far.
“What were you hoping to achieve, exactly?” Lord Hakkin asked.
“To drive them out of Kyralia,” Narvelan replied. “Preferably without anyone being killed. Driving them out requires us to find them first, and the trouble is, even when we do gain an idea of where they are, they move before we have a chance to confront them. We have to approach carefully, sending scouts ahead to discover their numbers, because we can’t confront them until we know there is a chance of winning if they decide to fight us.”
“Do they know you’re hunting them?” Magician Genfel asked.
“Yes,” Werrin replied. “They have caught and killed enough of our scouts to know what our intentions are. Those scouts that have returned have given us conflicting reports of their numbers, but we are gaining enough from their descriptions to recognise individuals.”
“We suspect there is more than one group,” Narvelan continued. “Each time a scout has seen the enemy they have counted seven or eight magicians, plus slaves. But the physical descriptions of the individuals are inconsistent. We get different combinations. They may be changing the members of each group around to confuse us.”
“Presumably they meet from time to time,” Lord Olleran said.
“I expect so,” Narvelan agreed. “Though we have to consider that they may be independent of each other, perhaps even competing. The only benefit to us, either way, is that each group appears to be small enough for us to tackle now.”
“Yet we should still be careful,” Werrin said. “Because if we are to avoid killing the Sachakans, and then escort them to the border, it is likely they will call on the other groups for help. And then we
“So we need more magicians?” Lord Tarrakin asked.
“Yes.”
“More than five, from the sound of it,” Lord Hakkin concluded, glancing around the group. “How many Sachakans do you think there are in total?”
“A few short of twenty.”
“Were there that many to begin with?”
“I doubt it.”
“So others are joining them. Is anyone watching the pass?”
“The scouts we sent haven’t returned.”
“So there must be Sachakans there, too.” Lord Hakkin pinched his bottom lip between two fingers. “A magician should check. He may succeed where a scout would fail.”
“So long as he doesn’t encounter any Sachakan magicians,” Narvelan pointed out.
“One would not be a problem.”
“One can call for assistance. The road to the pass is exposed and surrounded by sheer rock slopes. It is difficult to approach in secret and it would be easy to become trapped between the pass and any Sachakans returning to help their allies.”
“But you said earlier that the Sachakans are avoiding a confrontation with us,” Lord Moran reminded him. “Because they don’t want to risk killing a Kyralian magician for the same reason we want to avoid killing one of them.”
Prinan shrugged. “Yet if they’re relying on new allies coming through the pass to join them, they will have to deal with anyone trying to prevent that. They may prefer to wait until their numbers are large enough to take and hold land before killing any Kyralian magicians, but if we block the pass we may give them no choice.”
The other magicians nodded in agreement.
“All the more reason for us to strike them before they grow that strong,” Lord Hakkin said. “If we must be the ones to spill magician blood first, so be it. They are the invaders, after all. We are defending ourselves.”
Werrin smiled crookedly. “Until the king decides otherwise, we must endeavour to achieve our aims without shedding Sachakan blood.”
Hakkin frowned. “So even if we do manage to find one of their groups, they’ll call for the help of another group and we’ll find ourselves outnumbered. We are unable to prevent their numbers from continuing to grow by stopping allies coming through the pass, while our numbers are not growing as quickly. But even if we were enough to face them it wouldn’t help because we can’t find them.” He shook his head. “Why did I bother coming out here? I may as well go home and wait for our new Sachakan masters to arrive.
Dakon couldn’t help a small smile at the man’s use of “we”. Lord Hakkin hadn’t been riding day after day, for weeks, searching for the Sachakans and finding only cold campsites and dead Kyralians.
“We need to change our tactics,” Lord Olleran said. “Draw them out. Trick them into making a mistake.”
“How do you suggest we do that?” Werrin asked. Dakon smiled at his patience. The group had discussed this many times already.
“Herd them into a corner. Bait them.”
“Herding them would require us to split into smaller, more vulnerable groups.”
Olleran shrugged. “More dangerous than staying in one, but that danger would be minimal if we stayed close enough together to help each other if one group was attacked.”
“How do you suggest we communicate instructions to each other in order to co-ordinate our movements, or call for help?
“We could use mental calls – if the king would allow it.”
“And alert our quarry to our intentions, or our vulnerabilities?” Werrin shook his head. “It would only work if we already had them trapped. To do so we’d need to split into many different groups. The more groups, the more likely it is that communications will become confused.”
“What of baiting them?” Lord Moran asked.
Werrin looked around the group. “Someone would have to volunteer to be the bait.”
Lord Ardalen shook his head. “I may be willing to risk my own life, but I won’t risk my apprentice’s.” Dakon was pleased to see that many of the newcomers were nodding.
“Of course, we wouldn’t take any risks unless success was certain,” Hakkin said.
“If it was certain, it wouldn’t be a risk,” Narvelan pointed out.
There was a long pause after that, and Dakon noted the signs of suppressed amusement among his colleagues, especially those who had travelled with Lord Hakkin.
“Surely it will not be long before more substantial reinforcements arrive,” he said. He turned to Hakkin. “Last
