'Two mages sounds like more trouble than we want to meet head on.' Kheda scoured his hands red with the balled-up remnants of the cotton rag.
'Which is why we'll anchor some way off and approach them through the forest.' Dev's reply surprised Kheda.
'What do we do with this?' Risala reappeared holding a stubby black bottle.
'Wash your hands.' Kheda shoved the bucket towards Risala with one foot while pouring a generous measure of spirits over his own hands.
'How many ways have you people got for wasting good liquor?' shouted Dev with irritation.
'Account it against the pearls you just got.' Kheda fished his spark maker out. One snap of the metal wheels ignited the alcohol and he plunged his hands into the bucket. 'It doesn't hurt too much,' he assured Risala with a grin.
She held out her dripping hands mutely, eyes wide.
'When you're quite done messing around, trim that cursed sail,' growled Dev. 'Before we wreck on that reef.'
Once she had quenched her hands, Risala hurried to the mast's ropes. Kheda moved to throw the water from the bucket over the leeward rail.
Is there any point trying to read whatever signs there might be in the cast? Would there be anything to see in water already soiled with magic, in seas that must be running with the taint? Will even the heaviest rains and the fiercest storms ever be able to scour these isles clean of sorcery?
He flung the water away, without looking to see how it flew through the air. Risala appeared at his side and handed him a leather water bottle. 'Want to learn how to sail this ship?'
Once he'd quenched his considerable thirst, helping Risala with the ropes gave Kheda something to concentrate on for the short voyage to the next island, to drive out the recollections of those Chazen dead and to still the ongoing debate with himself about just what he was going to do, to see these wizards driven out of the Archipelago.
Dev steered the little ship deftly into a secluded cove, barely beaching the hull on the shelving sand. 'Get us secure.'
Kheda and Risala didn't argue, each deploying an anchor before splashing ashore through waist-deep water. Dev soon joined them, turning for a moment to gaze intently at the Amigal.
'Is that magic?' Kheda watched, bemused as the vessel shimmered like something seen through a heat haze.
'Quiet as you can through the brush. I don't want to use any more magic than absolutely necessary.' Hefting a broad hacking knife, Dev led the way through the tangle of shrubs and saplings with unerring confidence.
Kheda gestured to Risala to follow the mage and brought up the rear, one hand on his dagger hilt, glancing backwards every few paces to make sure they weren't being stalked in turn. The noontide jungle was still and silent, the heat pressing down like a palpable weight.
A dry clear day, just when we could have done with rain to keep all these savages close to their huts and give us noise to cover our steps. What kind of omen is that? Are you leading us into some disaster, wizard? Though Daish Retk would have thought you a fair enough hunter, you move stealthily enough. I wonder what places you have been sneaking around, to learn all our secrets for your unwholesome trade.
Then again, you move just as quietly, Risala, and you're still a puzzle to be solved. What places have you visited for Shek Kul? What news have you sent him, in return for what reward I can't guess at? How do you send him your news? At least I feel certain I can trust you.
Kheda abandoned such musings when Dev halted up ahead, raising one hand in warning. Risala crouched low on the scrape of a path. Kheda moved cautiously to one side for a better view. They were on a tree-cloaked rise above a scatter of storehouses and modest dwellings much like the ones they'd seen ripped apart by magic. A narrow strip of shallow water patterned with corals separated the two halves of the village. Across the water from their vantage point, a wider beach boasted racks of drying nets and a row of fishing skiffs much like the one Risala sailed.
Kheda saw invaders lounging on both sides of the strait. In twos and threes, they were taking their ease beneath the broad shady eaves of the huts they had claimed; roughly equal numbers on both sides of the narrow strait. Quilts had been plundered to soften the ground, bright embroidery now wet and dirty, though the Chazen islanders' clothes had been scorned; the savages still only wore their brief leather loincloths. Archipelagan food hadn't found much more favour. Gourds and jars of carefully hoarded foodstuffs had been opened, sampled and tossed aside. Flies clustered around preserved fruits discarded to rot and the darkness would see bigger vermin sneaking towards a side of smoked deer meat left half eaten over a fire, curling in the sun.
Every skiff had been holed, gently curving hulls splintered and gaping. The little vessels had been dragged aside, shoved askew, left at the mercy of tide and storm. Their sails had been stripped away, some entirely, some leaving rags drooping from remnants of cut and tangled ropes. Most of the nets had been slashed, others burned, blackened remains hanging from the racks of scorched wood. Up beyond the high-water mark, a neat row of the invaders' log boats was drawn up like black tally marks on the sand, each one tethered to a firmly rooted stake.
'No beach defences as yet,' Dev murmured, sinking low to the ground. 'There're your stockades.'
'One for each side of the water,' Kheda noted, joining him. He could see heads huddled inside the wooden walls of the crude prisons in a vain attempt to find some shade.
Bark still clung to the posts, leaves wilted and brown on half-snapped twigs, Trampled scars in the forest showed where trees had been hacked down, the trunks split, driven deep into the ground and lashed together with vines. Single vines, bristling with the rootlets ripped from the trees, not even plaited into anything like a rope. Kheda noted there was no sign of any gate in either tightly fitted circle.
Dev was looking at the crude log boats. 'Whoever these people are, they're certainly not carpenters.'
Risala was keeping watch at their backs. 'Or fishermen. Or farmers.'
'We know they're warriors. That's enough if you simply steal to meet your needs.' There were plenty of weapons in plain sight, the same stone-studded clubs and spears of fire-hardened wood that he had seen before. Kheda glanced at Dev. 'Does being ruled by wizards give you the right to leech on the toil of others?'
'It gives you the power.' Dev laid a hand on Kheda's arm. 'Hush.'
The door of the biggest hut on their side of the water was opening. One of the savages lounging outside hurried in, head bowing like a river bird bobbing for fish. A stir ran through the other invaders, men rising to their elbows or sitting up, all their attention on the big hut.
That prompted curiosity on the far side of the water, the men gathering into fours and fives, some plucking spears from the sandy ground. A single runner hurried to hammer on the door of what had once been a sailer granary. Some of the savages strolled down to the water's edge, insolence in every line of their bodies. One waved a rough-hewn club and shouted unintelligible taunts. Scathing response and counter-insult echoed between the beaches.
'We'll need to move quickly if they come this way,' Kheda said urgently to Dev.
'They won't follow us through a wall of fire.' Dev was offhand. 'I can keep one between us and them until we can get back to the boat. This is just the usual bluster. I've seen plenty of it, though I've no idea what they get so heated about.'
To Kheda's relief, the activity on the beach subsided, most of the savages returning to their indolence, only a few remaining to continue the posturing. 'Your magic can't tell you what they're saying?'
I've spent my life being warned of all the evil magic can do. Now I find myself with this wizard as my most unwelcome ally, all he tells me is everything he cannot do.
'Not my spells.' Dev was unbothered. 'Sometimes they give up after tossing a few insults around, the wild men that is. Other times they come to blows, until one or other wizard calls his dogs to heel. We're not going to learn much from that.' His gaze fixed on the sparkling edge of the strait below and a malicious
grin slowly curved his thin lips. 'I think I'll stoke the fire a little.'
The water glittered in the sunlight and slowly, imperceptibly, began to shimmer with an uncanny green light owing nothing to the sun above. Lapping on the sand, falling back and lapping again, the sea began to reach higher, every ripple advancing further up the shore towards them. The green glowed brighter, colouring the foam cresting the little waves. The water began to surge forward around the invaders' log boats. The emerald radiance darkened around them, gouts of spray scattered on the breeze as the boats began rolling, floating free in the magic's embrace.
The desultory shouts of derision on this near side of the water turned to yells of anger as the wild men saw what was happening. Some of the savages waded thigh deep into the water, grabbing at the boats. A crash reverberated around the trees and startled crookbeaks fled shrieking as the door to the big hut flung back. An invader whose whole body was patterned with yellow handprints strode out into the sunshine. He flung one hand out in front of him and the green light in the water retreated into the depths. The painted wizard stood on the sand and looked across the water to the sailer granary where the runner had taken his news. Amber light glowed and the ground began shifting beneath the posts holding it up. The timbers twisted and cracked as their foundations vanished.
A handful of savages emerged in a hurry, the first one stumbling as the sandy ground flowed away beneath his feet. Behind him, a man crowned with a fresh green wreath of leaves swept his hands around in a quelling gesture. The ground stilled and his laughter rang out over the increasing abuse the two bands of warriors were throwing across the water.
One wild man raced forward, brandishing a spear. Skidding to a halt on the water's edge, he sent it soaring across the water, straight at the wizard with the wreath of leaves.
'There's always someone too stupid to see sunset,' sighed Dev with scant sympathy.
The spear exploded into a shower of splinters and two blasts of magic, one from the wreath wearer and one from the painted mage, knocked the hapless savage off his feet. Wrapped in coils of green and golden light, the man screamed once before he collapsed in a heap.
'See, only wizards kill wizards,' Dev explained conversationally.
Risala sank down to kneel close to Kheda. He laid his hand over hers as grassy light crawled all over the split tree trunks making up the prison enclosures. 'Dev? What are you doing?' He winced at the feebleness of the despairing shrieks from the unseen captives.
'Not a thing, not any more.' Dev's face was rapt with fascination. 'Shut up and let me see what they're about. Wizards only kill wizards but they can do a lot to discourage the spear-carriers. '
The vines tying the stockade together were glowing green and writhing as they uncoiled themselves from the wood. Wild warriors shouted with alarm as the tendrils curled speedily across the sand, catching at feet and ankles, tying up anyone they caught. Any man trying to free himself found his hands ensnared as well. Several fell heavily to the ground and one yelled with rising terror as a questing tendril looped around his neck.
The yellow-painted wizard made a sweeping gesture and the vines crackled into brittle fragments laced with crimson light. As his men tore the dry remnants away, their leader lifted his hand in a slow arc and the water in the strait quivered. A swollen wave ran up the beach on the far side of the strait, water bulging with amber radiance. The ripple left the water and continued up through the sand, the ground rising and falling like a shaken cloth. Most of the invaders were knocked clean off their feet. Even the men clustered around the wreath wearer staggered.
He alone stood upright, unaffected, and his retaliation was immediate. A storm of green light flashed around the village below them. Cries of pain outstripped the shouts of anger and men hugged themselves in agony, thrusting hands beneath their armpits. Some fell to the floor, clutching at their feet, others clapped hands to their faces.
'I don't suppose you people know what frost nip is.' Dev sounded more amused than concerned. 'This is getting nasty'
The yellow-painted wizard spared no attention for his suffering followers. He swept both hands towards the far side of the strait and this time the ground turned to liquid mud beneath the wreath wearer's forces. Wild men sank up to their knees, the mud spreading in all directions as they tried to climb out. The painted wizard clapped his I hands together with a golden flash that rivalled the sunlight and they found themselves struggling in solid earth once again.
'Predictable.' Dev was unmoved. 'Though effective. They're well and truly stuck,' he chuckled.
'What now?' The screams from the despairing prisoners tore at Kheda's nerves and Risala's hand tightened around his.
He might have said more but a brilliant green light swirled above the strait, aquamarine deepening to a dark ominous jade. The storm of magelight rushed ashore, a dense cloud obscuring everything, sounds of suffering sunk beneath its roaring. As suddenly as it had come, it was gone, leaving the beach strewn with men clutching gashes to their arms and legs or holding hands to bruised and bloodied heads. The sand was littered with pale, glittering shards and the breeze momentarily carried a chill breath brought down from the highest mountain's night.
'If you fancy a wager,' Dev remarked, 'my money goes on the lad with the leafy wreath. An ice storm like that is no easy trick in this heat—'
'Look, they're getting free of the ground.' Risala was watching the far side of the strait where the wreath wearer's men were freeing themselves, hard dry ground breaking up beneath the determined assault of clubs and spears.
The yellow-painted mage strode to the water's edge, still ignoring his wretched followers' sufferings. He flung out a hand directly towards the wreath wearer, who screamed and clutched at one leg, the lower bone snapping audibly, splintered ends ripping through his skin to bloody his frantic hands. The yellow-painted mage's men raised a ferocious cheer, drowning out the opposing force's insults. Risala quailed beside Kheda, pulling her hand free to muffle her ears. Kheda put an arm around her shoulders and held her close, but found himself unable to look away as, fallen to his knees, the wreath wearer punched at the painted mage, as if he could strike him where he stood.
The yellow-painted mage staggered backwards. Wounds appeared on his arms and legs, lengthening, his limbs swelling, skin splitting like overripe fruit to reveal a mossy light within soon lost beneath gouts of blood and corruption. Kheda coughed at the foul stench of gangrene floating up as the savage wizard fell to the sand, twisting and gasping in agony.
'That's interesting.' Dev leaned forward, keen curiosity in his dark eyes.
The yellow-painted mage rolled on to his belly, head whipping from side to side. He was entirely alone as his minions abandoned the beach. Twisting around and dragging himself to his knees, the yellow-painted mage raised one hand to throw vivid coils of amber magelight over the water. The enchantment scooped up stinging whips of sand, hurling rocks like slingshot. None of the magic came within a spear length of the wreath wearer. He looked as if he was laughing, his own followers bowing and congratulating him even as they too retreated with alacrity for the safety of the trees.
The wreath wearer sent a delicate tracery of emerald light floating across the water. A new sound rose above the strangled agony of the yellow-painted mage and the wretched whimpering of the unseen prisoners. Slowly at first, then gathering pace and volume, it was the unmistakable hum of swarming insects.
'We have to get out of here.' Memories of the foully distorted whip lizards that had killed Atoun choked Kheda. 'Whatever he's calling up, they could be as long as your arm.'
'We're in no danger.' Dev shook off his hand. 'Look.'
Seeing the insects were a normal size was scant comfort to Kheda. They were coming from all directions, abandoning the discarded food, winging in from the forest all around. They clustered around the injured wizard, covering his festering wounds, innumerable wings gleaming, rainbow colours jewel bright in the sunlight. Carrion beetle carapaces made a shimmering
carpet on the ground as they appeared out of nowhere. The yellow-painted wizard's screams were choked as torrents of insects filled his eyes, ears and mouth.
The savage mage swept flies and beetles alike away in a sandstorm but only for a moment. The magic fell away into confusion as he clawed at his throat with frantic hands, his own blood coating his fingers. Falling backwards, he thrashed from side to side in convulsions, back arched so viciously only his head and his heels touched the ground.
Silence abrupt as a thunderclap fell as he died. The insects were stilled, the savages on both sides of the strait frozen, even the wounded stifling their torment. The wizard crowned with the wreath of leaves rose to his feet and limped slowly to the water's edge on the far side of the strait, his broken leg whole again. The painted mage's men immediately prostrated themselves, hands outstretched in supplication. All of the wreath wearer's own followers looked tensely at him, weapons in hand.
The savage wizard nodded and his own men began dragging their log boats down to the sea. Paddling across the narrow stretch of water, some headed for the big hut where the dead mage had dwelt, reappearing with coffers and sacks of loot. Others began ripping down the wall of the prison enclosure, taking the split logs down to the water and lashing together crude platforms to lie across pairs of log boats. The painted mage's erstwhile followers threw aside their weapons and cowered, abject, until the newcomers clapped them on the shoulder in welcome, returning their weapons with nods of approval. Once accepted, they eagerly joined in transferring all the painted mage had amassed to the wreath wearer's store of plunder.
Kheda tensed as the huddled misery of the Chazen islanders was laid bare. They weren't even trying to flee, hiding their faces from any hope of freedom.
Risala's words echoed his own thoughts. 'Isn't there anything we can do to rescue them?'
'And give ourselves up to that bastard?' Dev spoke almost absently, watching the wreath-crowned mage intently. 'No, I'm not going up against him or any of his kind until I've thought all this through.'
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