offered it to Dovaka again.
“The Kyralians are few and they’re stupid,” Dovaka said, then drank deeply. His gaze moved from Takado to the other magicians, moving from face to face. “We could take a third of their land now. Their villages are spread too far apart for them to be defended.”
“By them or us,” Takado replied. “Why waste time and energy, and Sachakan lives, taking a village that you would lose again?”
“We could leave as easily as we could arrive – and once news we have taken land reaches home, those joining us will increase tenfold. Hiding and skulking in the forest is not going to inspire anyone to leave the comfort of their mansions. Taking land will. And when they join us we could take more land, until we have only Imardin to make our own.” Dovaka took another swig of the spirit.
“Are you inspired?” Takado asked.
Dovaka blinked, looked down at the bottle then passed it to the next magician. “I am more than inspired. I have a goal, and a plan.”
“Hmm,” Takado said quietly, nodding. “So do I. What is yours? What do you want from all this?”
Dovaka’s eye gleamed. “Kyralia.”
“All to yourself?”
“No! For Sachaka.” Dovaka grinned. “Well, with a part of it mine. I’d want something in return for taking the lea— all the risks.”
“Yes,” Takado said. “We all do. Every one of us has something to offer, whether they be risk takers or cautious planners, in this enterprise, as we all have something to gain. We must all act as our good sense tells us to.”
As food was brought out and shared, including a magic-roasted leg of a reber brought by Dovaka’s group, talk moved on to more practical subjects. Takado’s bottle of spirit was emptied, then another produced. It felt like a celebration, and though Hanara was relieved the meeting of Dovaka and Takado hadn’t turned into a confrontation, he knew all was not well.
The night deepened. Magicians yawned and began to retire for the night. Dovaka and Nagana stagged off to their beds and their slave women. When they were gone, Dachido leaned closer to Takado.
“What will you do?” he murmured.
A small crooked smile tweaked Takado’s lips. “Nothing. In fact, I’m glad the first death has occurred, as some parts of my plan may now be set in motion.” He nodded. “Our risk-taking friend has his uses.”
Dachido looked doubtful, then considered Takado again. “I’d ask what you were up to, if I didn’t already know there was no point. We’ll find out in time. Sleep well.”
As the man left Hanara felt a weight on his shoulder and realised Jochara was falling asleep on him. He elbowed the young man awake, getting a sullen scowl in return for the favour. Then Takado stood up and walked away to his tent, and they both hurried to follow.
Somewhere behind the thick cloud, the sun was slowly climbing up from the horizon. Only a dim natural light seeped through to the clearing, so a few globe lights had been created to illuminate the camp. Most of the magicians were still asleep – only a few early risers had emerged from their tents to relieve those on watch.
The apprentices standing before Dakon looked mainly puzzled or sullen, though more and more were blinking with sudden realisation and looking more enthusiastic.
“Some of you have guessed why I’ve woken you all up so early,” he said. “A few nights ago we decided that your training must not be neglected, but the only practical way for your lessons to continue was for one magician to teach all of you simultaneously. I volunteered to be your first teacher.”
He examined each of them, noting which apprentices looked worried, doubtful or eager. The death of Sudin and Aken might have forced everyone to see how dangerous the Sachakan invasion was, but he knew that some magicians still disagreed with and feared the sharing of knowledge.
To reassure the doubters, Dakon had a plan. They all agreed that apprentices ought to be able to defend themselves. So lessons should be all about magical fighting skills, with a heavy emphasis on defence.
He’d thought about it long into the night. He’d imagined lessons rather like games of Kyrima, but there were great differences between real life battles and the way Kyrima was played.
“We’re going to start with a game of Kyrima where you are the pieces,” he told them. “Before we begin, there are some basic rules that you should all follow. All strikes must be harmless bolts of non-continuous light. Do any of you not know how to do this?” None of the apprentices responded, so Dakon nodded. “We’ll consider an apprentice’s shield broken if it is struck once, but if he or she hasn’t given strength to their magician yet that round, they get two strikes. When your shield is broken you must leave the game. Be honest: what we’re trying to do here is learn, not achieve high individual scores.
“One of each side will choose someone to play the magician. A magician may shield, but can only be struck five times plus once for every apprentice he or she manages to take strength from. Magicians can elevate apprentices between rounds. Of course, those playing magician will not have to cut their apprentices, but they do need to touch for at least a count of thirty. If I catch anyone cutting someone or using harmful or painful strikes, they will be excluded from training.”
He walked between them, effectively separating them into two near-equally sized groups. “Those to the left of me will form one group; those on the right the other,” he continued. “As you play, note the ways in which Kyrima does not reflect real magical battles. We’ll come back together and discuss them, and how to deal with them.”
Most of the apprentices were smiling now, thinking that their lesson was going to be an easy, fun game.
“Which rules do we follow, Lord Dakon?” Mikken asked.
“Standard.” Dakon had considered using no system of rules, but many of them were intended to make the game easier or more interesting to play. Those that weren’t could be removed once they’d played a few games and worked out which of the rules weren’t practical.
“Are we going to roll dice to decide how strong the magicians are?” Leoran asked.
Dakon shook his head. “Since we’re using harmless bolts of light, strength won’t matter. We could give each magician a different number of bolts they could use up, but it will be hard to keep count. Still, we might try that later.”
“Will you be keeping score?” Tessia asked.
“No scoring.” Dakon smiled grimly. “The game ends when one magician’s shield has broken.”
At that their expressions turned sombre.
He raised his eyebrows, waiting to see if anyone had more questions to pose, but everyone was silent and expectant. “Shall we start? Choose your leader, then.”
Even as the two groups separated and began debating who should be their magician they began to point out differences between what they were doing and real life. Apprentices didn’t get to choose their masters. Most magicians had one apprentice and, from what they’d been able to discover, the invaders did not have more than four or five slaves on average.
Once the “magicians” had been nominated, one group turned its back so the other could position itself around the camp, then the hidden group were trusted to avert their eyes as their opponents arranged themselves. Dakon noticed that some magicians had emerged from the tents and had stopped to watch.
There was much laughter and cursing as the “battle” unfolded. Dakon noted how vulnerable apprentices were once their strength had been taken. Their best strategy was to hide or keep close to their master, staying behind his shield. One “magician”, frustrated at being the only one attacking his opponent, elevated an apprentice to “magician”, but chose a friend rather than the apprentice who would have suited the role best.
When the game ended, they all came together to discuss the battle. Aside from a few accusations of dishonesty – apprentices who hadn’t sat down after their shield was “broken” – they buzzed with ideas. All agreed that there should be more “magicians” on each side, with no more than two apprentices each, and they should have a limited number of strikes, all decided by the roll of dice. They started another game.
This was dramatically different. Suddenly there were more attackers and more targets. Immediately all had problems with communication and co-ordination. Both sides began to use signals to indicate their intentions, but these were spotted by the opposing side. Having no particular magician in charge led to arguments and the actions
