Frostfell

Amira sifted his words, his accent. The slight roll in his r's and his broad vowels gave him away as a southerner. Commani, perhaps?

Maybe raiding into Khassidi territory, if they were clanless bandits.

'Who you are does not concern me,' she said. 'What do you want?'

'We saw your fire and hoped you might offer us hospitality.'

Amira risked a quick glance over her shoulder. The other four had stopped at the opposite edge of the gully. Three of them had bows.

Damn, she thought. She prayed for the sun to hurry. Direct sunlight in their faces might give her an added edge. If Gyaidun didn't return soon, she'd need it. Where had he gone?

Durja landed several paces behind the leader and cawed, but the men ignored him.

'Let me gather my things,' Amira said, 'and you can have the fire to yourselves. I have a long way to go.'

'Where is a fine woman like yourself going all alone in these hard lands?'

'I am not alone.'

The leader chuckled and looked to his men. 'Ah, yes. The big one.

We saw him as we came in.'

'Skulked in, more like.'

The leader shrugged. 'One must take care. You might have been bandits trying to lure us in by your fire.'

'As I said, let me leave and the fire is yours. There's enough fuel there to last a while.'

'Your friend, the big one, where has he gone?'

Durja cawed several times, loud and harsh. It gave her an idea.

'That was my slave,' she said. 'He displeased me, so I turned him into a raven. That raven.' She pointed at Durja with her staff and gave it a theatrical shake.

The men didn't move, but she saw them go stiff and still. The bowmen's fingers tightened round the nocks of their arrows.

'You are a witch?' said the leader. 'A Rashemi witch, then?'

'No. I am a War Wizard of Cormyr. Our apprentices practice on the Rashemi witches.'

The men made the Tuigan sign to ward off evil, and two of them exchanged nervous glances.

'My father was a powerful shaman,' said the leader. 'His cloak shadows me. I do not fear you.'

'What about your men? I think that one there would make a fine donkey.' She shook her staff in his direction, and he started backward, staring nervously at his leader. 'I could ride him out of here. Save my feet the journey.'

Durja cawed again and flapped his wings. The two men flanking the leader spared the raven a nervous glance, but the bowmen kept their gaze fixed on Amira.

'We wish you no trouble,' said the leader. 'Nor trouble on us.

Give us some hospitality and we will be on our way.'

'Hospitality?'

'A drink. Maybe a bite or two and some gold if you have it.'

'You are robbing me?' Amira put every ounce of steel she could muster into her voice, stood straight and tall, and readied her staff.

Rise, rise, rise, she called to the sun. Come up now!

The leader feigned shock. 'Rob? Curse the notion, holy one! You are a guest in these lands and so do not know our ways. We offer you the gift of our protection. It is custom that you offer us a gift in return. Some food, drink, and maybe a little gold to trade in the caravans would warm our hearts.'

Bright light flickered on the tallest bushes and began to bleed downward. The sun was coming up at last. Durja called out again, this time hopping and flapping his wings.

'I care nothing for you or your customs,' said Amira. 'Be off before I become angry and turn you all into donkeys. I'll herd you to the nearest settlement and geld the lot of you!'

Durja raised a racket and would not stop. The Tuigan nearest to him, one of the bowmen, scowled and turned to him.

'Ujren!' he called. 'Look here!'

The leader kept his eyes on Amira. 'What is it?'

'The raven. He's standing on a bit of cloth buried in the dirt, and there's some silver.'

'Silver?'

'Looks like a bit of necklace or something.'

The leader gave Amira a hard look. 'You buried your belongings, did you? Stay there. We will take our gift ourselves, then be off.'

'I don't know what you mean,' said Amira. 'Ravens are hoarders.

Probably just a trinket he found on the steppe.'

'You said this raven was your slave.'

'He wanders.' Amira shrugged. 'One of the reasons I turned him into a raven. I can't abide a worthless slave.'

Still keeping his gaze fixed on Amira, the leader said, 'See it, Geshtai.'

The bowman looped one finger round the arrow on his bow to hold it in place while freeing his other hand. He approached the ground where Durja was still keeping up his racket. The raven glared at the Tuigan, his cries becoming enraged. When the man was a few paces away, Durja hopped backward, his wings flapping. Finally, he gave up and flew a short distance before landing again and resuming his racket.

Chuckling, the bowman bent over, his free hand reaching out.

The ground at his feet erupted.

Through the spray of dirt Amira saw the glint of the new sun on a blade, and the bowman screamed as if he were being flayed alive. He went down, his shrieks increasing, and through the cloud of dirt, Gyaidun stood, a bloody knife in one hand and his long black iron club in the other.

Amira had an instant to decide-three swordsmen and a bowman facing Gyaidun in front of her and at least three bowmen and two others at her back. She chose.

Amira spun as she fell, whipping her staff around to face the four bowmen on the other side of the gully. She took a breath even as they raised their bows and pulled feathers to cheeks.

'Vranis!' she shouted.

Flames roared from the ground at the four Tuigan's feet, a gout of fire that turned grass to ash in a rush of breath, caught in the fur lining the men's trousers and continued its way up into their wool shirts-all in the time it took them to gasp in shock. Each man fell screaming to the ground, and their arrows flew harmlessly away. All but one, which skidded through the grass near Durja, who cried out and took to the air.

Amira returned her attention to the foes in front of her. She saw fear in their eyes, but also determination. They knew death was before them, and their only hope was to face it and fight.

Gyaidun had already made it to the first swordsman. With his comrades standing between him and the large warrior, the remaining Tuigan bowman pivoted and brought his aim to bear on Amira.

'No!' she shouted. She'd had no time to prepare any shields.

Her attention focused, becoming acute so that the scene before her seemed frozen. She saw the fingers of the bowman's right hand open, and the tension held in the bow relaxed. Amira took one step back and leaped, partly hoping she'd make it back into the gully and partly dreading the fall.

The arrow passed so close that she heard the buzz of the wind through its fletching as it passed over her. Her hip hit the lip of the gully, and she went down head first into the dry wash. The fall knocked the breath out of her, and when she opened her mouth to fill her lungs, her mouth filled with dirt. She rolled to her hands and knees, coughing and spitting. She could hear screaming, the clash of weapons, the fire from her spell still burning on the other side of the gully over her, and above it all, Durja raising a holy racket.

Though every breath felt as if she were drawing needles into her lungs, she forced herself to her feet and risked a look above the rim of the gully. Only three Tuigan were still standing, Gyaidun facing off against the leader and the other swordsman. The third had another arrow ready, and as she watched he pulled it to his cheek and took aim at Gyaidun.