‘I’d take a dagger over a broken spear.’ She tapped his shoulder with the blade, more urgently this time. She had to get rid of him. One way or another. ‘This will be far more use to you than me.’
‘Just get ready to run.’ He turned his back on her again. ‘We’ll only get one chance, so be quick.’
‘Over there.’ She pointed to where a spear lay discarded on the ground. ‘Do you think you could get to it?’
‘After I get you to the ships there’ll be plenty of chances to get back to the fight.’ With another look he made ready to run, but Iwa put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Go for the spear; I’ll manage by myself.’
‘Against those demons? They’ve slaughtered many of our best.’
‘Get back into the fight: your krol needs you.’
‘I can’t leave you out here. Not with those things ready to butcher everything in sight.’
‘It’s my fault for straying away from the ships, I can hide here.’ Even after all she’d seen she wasn’t prepared for what happened next; had he just kissed her? ‘Keep to the ships. Go now, run for the ship and keep out of sight.’ Then he leapt up and prepared to enter the battle once again.
‘May the protection of Piórun guide you to safety,’ Iwa called after him, but he’d already left, breaking into a crouched run as he darted out of the shadows. She saw him take up a discarded spear and then he was gone. She drew a deep breath; she had the dagger and no scruples about using it on Wislaw. Taking one last look to check that the coast was clear, she levered herself from the side of the ship and began to run towards the priest.
Of course, if Lord Bethrayal was victorious, then the young woyak would probably be ripped to shreds by the Karzełek – and I’d have killed him as surely as if I’d slit his throat. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She had to block out everything but the priest. The dagger was ready in her hand. All was smoke and confusion, figures scattered through the dark as the camp burned, but she hardly noticed. She could feel that priest nearby; almost taste the scent of his magic.
Suddenly she stopped dead. Wislaw was looking at her. In his hand he held the manikin. Now it was his turn to show his mastery of the craft for, without breaking his previous spell, he pushed his fingernail into the doll’s neck. Iwa clasped her hand to her throat, the dagger dropping to the floor. Wislaw smiled as he pressed his thumb further into the clay, crushing the air out of her as she collapsed to the ground.
With a flourish Wislaw released his grip on the doll, but not his power over Iwa. He still wants me as a sacrifice, she realised. Frantically she tried to scrabble away, but the doll wouldn’t let her. Its power burned inside her head, calling her on. I have to find Lord Bethrayal. It was no use; Wislaw held her in his grip just as assuredly as his hands tightened round the doll.
She found herself on her feet, currents of magic swelling around her, guiding her every move as Wislaw bade her to walk forward. No. She had to stop herself, but there was nothing she could do. Around her she could see his magic; soft tendrils that called her forward.
Somehow she had to stop the magic. Seeing it made things easier as she tried to focus on the craft inside. Miskyia! There was still no sign of the witch – perhaps she was dead. Desperately Iwa tried to get the tendrils of the craft to move. Perhaps if she imagined them changing…
She was closer now, Wislaw standing ready to receive her as she moved into the shadow of a ship. Then the magic shifted; Iwa felt it swirl and eddy as another power took hold. She found that she could move then. Wislaw drew back, his face filled with fury as he gripped the doll ever tighter, and she felt the magic inside her fall away.
No, she couldn’t let him catch her again. She screwed up her eyes, every ounce of her being drawn into trying to pull the spell away from him. From deep inside she felt her power rise, the spell working on her lips. Suddenly the tendrils changed as Wislaw moved to counter the spell, his lips also working frantically as he drew the doll to him, but it was too late. He’d been caught off guard and cried out in horror as the thing burst into flames.
With a gasp Iwa felt the magic loosen as the bond of Wislaw’s power fell away, but now she was exposed in the middle of the camp with the battle raging around her. She had to find somewhere safe and reestablish contact with Lord Bethrayal. Already she could feel him fading, the firmament waiting to reclaim him like an open mouth. With all her might she tried to summon what magic she had, but it was no use; he was too far away, his power exhausted. She ran through the battle, ignoring the shouts and cries that thundered around her. Only when she got to the shore did she stop.
‘Miskyia!’ she yelled. ‘Tell me what to do!’ Iwa closed her eyes and tried to work a spell. The craft has left me. Iwa fought against a rising tide of panic. There was no sign of the witch. Maybe she was hiding, or dead.
‘No!’ Iwa cried as the form of Lord Bethrayal stumbled blindly into the river, his features contorted into a mass of flame and mist.
She felt his anger and frustration close in upon her. Then the craft found her again. Without realising quite how, the magic ran through her, reaching out across the void to Lord Bethrayal. Her
