War of Magic (Dual Magics Book 4)

by Meredith Mansfield

  Just as a real lion would, Vatar sprang straight for the bear’s throat. Even undersized, the shape of the bear’s neck and the dense fur covering it kept Vatar from biting through to the jugular veins, but his jaws clamped tightly enough to cut off his enemy’s air. The bear struggled, but it was no match for the lion. Vatar shook his head with a snap and the bear went suddenly limp. Vatar still didn’t loosen his grip, even as the shape beneath his jaws shifted from bear to human. When Loran still didn’t move, Vatar let go so he could step back far enough to see the damage. With his neck at that sickening angle, there could be no doubt that Loran was dead. Vatar couldn’t regret it.

  He lifted his head to see what was happening. Loran and Platan must have been alone, because Thekila stood where she’d been, gripping Vatar’s heavier spear in her hands. Good.

  Vatar looked to the other fight. Balan must have shifted into his avatar, because all he could see was a blur of white and black fur. No way to insert himself into that battle without risking hurting his ally instead of his enemy. Even as he watched, though, the wolf yelped in pain and broke off, limping away on three legs.

  Vatar let his concentration go and shifted back to human again. Reflexively, he threw up a magical shield around all three of them. But he let it go again as he turned. For the moment, at least, the battle had swung away from them. They could take a moment to rest and regain their concentration before continuing their task.

  Balan shook his fur and shifted back to himself, too, rubbing his left shoulder. He flashed a grin. “Everyone always underestimates the fighting ability of an otter. They’re not the most aggressive of the weasel kin, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have the ability.”

  Based on the way the Dardani warriors were looking back over their shoulders at least some of them had seen Vatar change into the lion. Well, and Balan’s avatar, too. Not something they would soon forget. Well, it had saved Thekila, so he couldn’t regret it. And, anyway, this wasn’t the time to worry about it.

  Chapter 51: Comrades in Arms

  Kiara stood with Theklan on one side and Terania on the other, watching as the battle began. The Dardani fought by clans; five knots of mounted warriors—all the clans except the Bear Clan—faced the Themyri, who fought on foot. Against the Themyri alone, it would have been effective. They weren’t fighting only the Themyri, though. Some of those arrayed against them were Dardani, too. Bear Clan warriors. Worse, the men appearing to be beasts who led them changed everything. Kiara’s gut knotted with doubt that she would be able to do what Vatar expected of her. And worry over what would happen if she couldn’t.

  The magical side of the battle started when rocks lifted from the ground, apparently by themselves, and whirled around the mounted warriors, striking some and spooking the horses. Only pebbles, fortunately. All the bigger rocks had been removed at Vatar’s suggestion.

  Worse, the Themyri spears seemed to fly impossible distances and to change direction in midair. Even from this distance, Kiara could see the confusion and consternation among the warriors. Their superstition about magic in any form was their second greatest weakness in this fight. Theklan and Terania drew deep breaths and sank into the focused state Kiara still had trouble with. Beads of sweat popped out on Theklan’s forehead, but the Themyri spear casts returned to more normal capabilities. One by one, the rocks fell back to the ground. She was very glad for Terania’s reassurance that that particular kind of magic couldn’t be used against a living thing. Kiara didn’t like to think what the Exiles might do otherwise.

  The next phase, Kiara’s phase, started with the Bear Clan. Apparently Vatar had succeeded in turning them against the Exiles. About half of the Themyri hurtled down on the Bear Clan warriors, led by a pitch-black bear—or what looked like a bear. Wherever it moved, the Bear Clan warriors shied away, unwilling to strike at their clan’s totem.

  Kiara tried to concentrate. She’d never had to focus her will with so much going on around her. She finally understood the exercises Vatar and Thekila had tried to teach her. At this distance, it was much harder to find the chinks in the Transformation and peel it away. The Bear Clan warriors scattered. She had to do this now, before they were slaughtered. She screamed a war cry. That helped. She found a crack and stripped away the Transformation, leaving a very confused and vulnerable-looking middle-aged woman standing in the midst of the battle. A Horse Clan rider, coming up in support, put a spear through her chest.

  Kiara’s breath was coming hard and fast with the effort, but she had no time to rest. The Themyri formed up behind that same gaunt black lion she’d first spotted months ago and charged the Lion Clan warriors. Her clan brothers wavered. Soon, they’d be in as much danger as the Bear Clan had been a moment ago. She took a deep breath and reached for that lion, scrabbling at the falseness for some kind of hold. No war cry this time. A grunt was all she had breath for. That and a sigh of relief when the lion faded and was replaced by a scrawny young man. She wiped her sleeve across her forehead to keep the sweat of the effort out of her eyes. Theklan nodded to her in approval and she shot him a smile.

  Because she was scanning the battlefield for more avatars, she was the first to spot the young man who had been a lion staring at them. This was going to be trouble. Just as she pointed the man out to Theklan and Terania, the ex-lion rallied a small contingent of Themyri and led them toward the hillock. Kiara gripped her spear and prepared for a fight, but Theklan and Terania stepped in front of her, shielding her.

  Theklan turned to look at her. “Leave this to us. You keep on with what you were doing.”

  Kiara drew in a breath to protest.

  “That’s what’s important, Kiara,” Theklan said. “The Dardani can only fight off the Themyri raiders if you take care of the Exiles masquerading as totem Spirits.”

  Reluctantly, Kiara nodded and set her focus on dealing with a fake wolf nearby. Even knowing what Theklan was doing, it was hard not to flinch as the spears flew right at her, only to be brushed aside by Theklan’s or Terania’s magic. Harder to keep her concentration as a thin trickle of blood ran from Theklan’s nose and he staggered back a step. Terania seemed in even worse condition.

  They couldn’t hold back all the projectiles. An arrow whizzed past Kiara’s ear. She was not the only one who noticed. The Themyri, falling back just a moment before, charged back up the knoll towards them. Theklan pulled his spear, the one Vatar had made for him, into position to fight. Terania copied his move with her much lighter-weight spear, holding it uncertainly. Kiara took a firmer grip on her own spear. If it came down to a close fight, she’d be much more use than Terania.

  “Keep on with what you were doing,” Theklan said. “Don’t stop for anything.”

  Theklan nodded to Terania and they charged down the slight slope, to keep the Themyri farther away from Kiara. She tried to do as he said, but she couldn’t help checking back frequently to see what was happening, especially since there didn’t seem to be any Transformed Exiles in sight. Probably that man-who-had-been-a-lion had warned them off. Still, she kept looking.

  Kiara didn’t see what happened. Only that the next time she looked, Terania was on the ground with a spear through her chest. The position of the spear—and that its wielder evidently hadn’t been able to pull it back out—didn’t leave much doubt that the older woman was dead.

  Theklan tried to take on the skirmish single-handed. He was magnificent, holding them off unaided. The blade of his spear glinted in the sun with an odd, almost hypnotic light. Kiara couldn’t force herself to look away from him. She could almost swear that spear point was . . . singing. The cries and clashes of the larger battle dwindled as she focused all her attention on Theklan. She saw, in agonizing detail, when a Themyri spear took him in the side, just as he thrust at another opponent.

  “No!” she yelled. She was running forward before Theklan’s knees hit the ground. Her spear point, driven by the momentum of her downhill charge, caught in the chest of the Themyri who would have finished
Theklan. She picked up the spear Theklan had dropped, hefting its unfamiliar weight. She felt more than heard its whisper of protection. She parried when the next Themyri tried to attack with his spear. Theklan’s spear cut the tip off the other spear cleanly and Kiara brought the flashing blade back in front of her, ready for the next attack.

  That wouldn’t work. If Theklan couldn’t stand against them, she wouldn’t last half as long with this unfamiliar weapon. Dardani didn’t fight alone. She cast around, searching for any help. Her clan brothers and his were too far away and too busy to help. The battle had moved to the other side, nearer Vatar, and only her foes were near her, now. But she found something else.

  A pride of lions hunkered down in the tall grass, watching the battle. Waiting for carrion, probably. Possibly drawn in while tracking down the counterfeit lion who would have seemed like an interloper in their territory. She could feel their agitation. It would take only a nudge to make them attack.

  Without meaning to, Kiara slipped into the perspective of the big male. The battle looked strangely different through his eyes. She pushed just a little. The next thing she knew, the lion was charging past her into the battle, scattering the Themyri before him. The other lions rushed after him.

  Kiara blinked her awareness away from him before his first kill. Her eyes lit on the young man who had been the scrawny black lion, standing nearby as if in shock. At least she’d take him down with her.

  With both hands, she raised Theklan’s spear and rushed at him. He gave way before her charge so that her spear passed him by harmlessly. Kiara whipped the spear back up, point aimed at his black heart. Maybe it was something in her face. Maybe it was the realization that the real lions were already chasing his Themyri out onto the plains and he was alone. The coward turned and ran.

  Part of her was wild enough to want to chase him. Kiara looked up and saw that he was running straight into the Raven Clan warriors. They’d take care of him. She needed to see to Theklan.

  He was unconscious. Kiara didn’t like the pool of blood that surrounded him at all. She couldn’t leave him lying out there in the open. If—when—the battle swung back in this direction, he could too easily be trampled. She saw a dead horse nearby. It offered some shelter, if not much. She struggled to drag Theklan behind the body of the horse, his spear tucked under her arm in case the attack swung back their way.

  There was nothing more she could do for him. Not until the battle was over. The sooner that happened, the sooner she could get him to the healers. And the quickest way to end the battle was to do what Theklan had tried to give her the chance to do.

  With difficulty, Kiara took her eyes from Theklan and climbed up on the horse’s flank. Concentration eluded her for a moment. She bit her lip. This was what Theklan expected of her. More, it was what he needed from her. She wasn’t going to disappoint him. Now where was that phony bear she’d spotted earlier?

  Anger fueled her focus as Kiara stripped away the bear’s Transformation. She turned her head to find the next imitation wolf, bear, or lion. By the time she heard the horn call, her head was swimming. Through a haze of exhaustion, she saw Daron rally the Lion and Horse Clans for a charge. There were other riders, too. Not Dardani, but they fought alongside the Dardani. They all wore the same brown and green, like a uniform. Were those some of Orleus’s Tysoean Guards? The combination of forces finally sent the Themyri into a retreat that became a bloody rout. She dropped to her knees, head sagging to her chest in fatigue. It was over.

  Her hand sought Theklan’s chest. A shallow rise and fall. He was still alive. Now to call for the Healers. That was part of Zoria’s function, standing nearest the shaman—to act as their liaison. Kiara reached out to her with Far Speech.

  It was Sharila who rode up and jumped of her horse. Kiara’s first gut reaction was to lean across Theklan’s prone form, guarding him from this new threat.

  Sharila smiled sadly. “I’m here to help you guard him until the Healers get here. Nothing else.” She picked up a discarded Themyri spear. “The battle has turned into a rout, but the Exiles could still be dangerous in small pockets. And you can’t both tend to him and fight.”

  Kiara’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t move from her protective crouch. “Why?”

  Sharila sighed. “Because he’s my friend. I understand now that that’s all it is. I . . . I watched Balan and Zoria together. During the autumn and early winter he came to the Wolf Clan often, just to see her. I . . . Theklan was different. Confidant in a way the other boys couldn’t match. And I was attracted to that about him. Even though I knew he didn’t feel the same way about me. But . . . I understand better now. I never felt for Theklan what Zoria does for Balan. And what Balan feels for Zoria . . . that’s what Theklan feels for you—not me. But he’s still my friend. At least I hope he is.”

  Kiara eyed her for a moment more. Then she gestured Sharila to Theklan’s other side. “Put that thing down. You wouldn’t know what to do with it. Put pressure here, to slow the bleeding. And hold it.”

  When Sharila was applying pressure in the right place to suit Kiara, she grabbed Theklan’s spear and stood up, ready to fight off any attacker.

  Chapter 52: Reinforcements

  Vatar looked up as a huge shadow passed over them. What now?

  But he broke into a grin when he saw the white wyvern flying high overhead. Quetza. That must mean Orleus and his Tysoean Guard had arrived—or at least were close enough to help end this battle before it got worse. Before too many more were killed.

  Quetza dipped a wing and whirled to fly off to the south. That was probably best. The Exiles would know who she was. And the Dardani—and their horses—didn’t know enough not to be afraid of her.

  Part of him wanted to reach out to his half-brother with Far Speech. But now was not a good time to distract either of them. There would be time to talk—in person—later. He hoped. Right now, there was another false wolf to deal with. And he’d far rather it was the Exiles who died on this battlefield than any more of the Dardani. There were too many still bodies lying on the bloody field already.

  ~

  Thekila rested the spear butt on the ground and took a deep breath. Vatar’s spear was a lot heavier than hers. Her arms felt like they just might fall off after wielding it for what felt like days. Something was wrong, because the sun didn’t seem to have moved that far from the last time she’d had a chance to rest for a moment. When Quetza flew over—how long ago, now?—she’d hoped for a quick ending. But Quetza’s flying range as a wyvern could mean that Orleus was still too far away to be of any help at all.

  Vatar was deep in the calm, centered state that enhanced the use of magic. Someone else had to keep an eye on the battle and stop more mundane threats. So despite her weariness, she scanned the immediate area for threats. And realized why it was that she had a break from using Vatar’s spear.

  Every Themyri and Exile left on the battlefield was running south—away from where Vatar, Balan, and she stood. And . . . there were a number of new warriors, all wearing the green and blue of the Caerean City or Palace Guard. Reinforcements!

  She reached up to lay her hand on Vatar’s shoulder. “Look! Vatar, look.”

  As she watched, the battle—now more like a rout—turned again as the Themyri and the remaining Exiles turned east instead of south. And riders in the brown and green tunics of the Tysoean Guard came into view. “And Orleus, too! I wondered if they’d get here in time.”

  ~

  At Thekila’s touch and the sound of her voice, Vatar shook his head to clear it of the concentration he’d needed to strip so many Transformations. He blinked at the sight of all of the enemy moving away. The Themyri had been stronger opponents than anyone had expected. They must have been armed and trained by the Exiles, somehow, to fight so much better than they ever had before. That, or they were more terrified of the Exiles than of dying on the spears of the Dardani. Or maybe a little bit of both. So what had changed?

  And then he re
cognized the uniforms of the Temple Guard and the Tysoean Guard and knew the answer.

  Arcas, who must have guided the Caereans here, rode up. “Thought maybe you could use a little help.”

  Vatar grinned at his cousin. “Good timing.”

  Arcas frowned down at him. “You’re swaying on your feet. And Thekila and Balan don’t look much better. You sit out the rest of this.” His eyes swept the battlefield and his frown deepened. “In fact, get the Dardani to let us take it from here, if you can. They deserve the rest. And the Temple Guard and Orleus’s Tysoean Guard won’t be fazed by any magic the Exiles can throw at us.” He looked around one more time. “Might be a good time to send someone back to Zeda for the Healers.” He looked back at Vatar. “Boreala’s there, with your twins.”

  “Boreala?”

  “And several other Healers she brought with her. She said she couldn’t think of anyplace their skills would be more needed. And, after what she did to Gerusa and Selene, Boreala also thought Savara might be needed here. Your father agreed. Jadar and Taleara are still at the farm, with Elaria. I’d have left Zavar home, too, but they both pitched a fit at the idea of being separated. Now I’d better get out there before there’s no more fighting to be done.” Arcas shifted his weight, preparing to spur his horse forward.

  “Don’t forget about the women Exiles,” Vatar said. “There don’t seem to have been many of them in the battle. At least, I didn’t see many. But they’re just as dangerous as the men—at least in terms of magic.”

  Arcas nodded. “Quetza spotted them when she flew over.” He grinned. “Miceus’s guards and all the Valson they could muster have already diverted to make sure they’re contained.”

  Vatar turned back toward where Zoria waited beside the shaman and reached out with Far Speech. “Tell the shaman to call back the Dardani. Our allies will take it from here. We need to tend to the wounded and send someone for the Healers.”