Chapter Fifteen Night Sortie

Sunset was long past and the moon was low on the horizon. A cold wind gusted over the plains. Darkness in Mavek’s camp was broken only by the flickering from campfires, each with its knot of soldiers huddled around, silent and unsleeping. Their eyes were fixed on the snapping flames. Most were standing, a few sat, but none lay on the ground, apart from the dead.

As Tevi marched by one group, a soldier collapsed in a shuddering heap and then was still. She glanced at him in passing—an older man, heavily built. It was always the ones with tired hearts who went first. His comrades dragged him away, to add to the piles forming out on the plains beyond. As yet, the number of corpses was small in relation to the size of the army, but once the sleepstop ran out, the situation would change. Who would be left to bury them all?

Tevi’s teeth clamped together. For the moment, qualms about her mission faded. Cold-blooded assassination was not something she could ever feel happy about, but Mavek had to be stopped.

Jemeryl marched in line behind her. Tevi would have preferred walking side by side, and even holding hands for comfort, except that the action might compromise their pretence of being soldiers in Mavek’s army. After considerable debate, Jemeryl had decided not to use magic, either to disguise them or render them invisible. The ungifted and most witches would not see through the cover, but in the case of the acolytes, magical disguise would alert rather than fool them. And the acolytes were the ones who posed the greatest risk. Anyone else, Jemeryl might have some chance of silencing without raising the alarm.

A simple spell had diverted the attention of the sentries when they infiltrated the enemy line. Apart from this, Tevi and Jemeryl were merely dressed in the uniforms of common soldiers with smears of mud across their faces for disguise. So far, it was working. No one was giving them a second look as they marched through the camp in search of Mavek’s quarters.

Tevi had been tempted to ask directions at one of the fires. Was it unreasonable that in a camp of this size, some soldiers with a legitimate need to find the commanding officer might not know where he had based himself? However, there was no need to take the risk. Time was not an issue and they had only to march the full circuit in a purposeful fashion to locate their target.

Seen from Uzhenek, the campfires formed a perfect, unbroken ring. From in their midst, the situation was far more chaotic. Sentry points had been set at regular intervals encircling the city, but behind them, the fires were scattered at random, without planning or order. The gaps between them varied from a spear length to an arrow flight. The most distant were a quarter mile out into the plains.

Supplies and weapons had been dropped wherever the owners saw fit. Bows and swords lay unprotected in the damp grass. Some groups had made attempts to erect bivouacs, but few were completed, and none were in use. Tevi wondered at the mental state of the soldiers. In Ranenok’s section of the army, sleepstop had been given as a last resort. In her time serving under him, Tevi had only seen it used twice. Both instances had been for short periods, but even then, the deterioration in the soldiers’ ability to think and act rationally had been manifest.

These soldiers were clearly not in a normal frame of mind. If it came to battle, how would they perform? Could they still obey orders? Would they be able to fight at all? Or might they be reduced to acting like frenzied animals? That last possibility was obviously the most worrying.

Tevi gave a quick glance behind her. Jemeryl had been very keen not to take the lead, in case they were stopped and questioned. Not only was there slightly more chance of Jemeryl’s face being recognized by someone with enough power to cause problems, but the experience at the fort in Redezth had shown the gaps in her experience. Leaving the talking to someone who could give the right sort of military answers was definitely a good idea.

Walking along, Tevi once again reflected in amazement on her lover’s naivety. How long had Jemeryl thought a captured deserter would be allowed to live? If it had not been for the captain’s desire to make a public example, Tevi doubted that they would have even bothered taking Jemeryl as far as the cell. Did Jemeryl not have the first idea of what the life of a common soldier in Bykoda’s army was like?

A soft tap on the arm broke into her thoughts. Jemeryl was pointing furtively towards a distant collection of tents gathered around a high pavilion. A stacked bonfire blazed in an open space before it like a beacon. The skyline beyond was broken by the ominous silhouettes of huge catapults and trebuchets. A trio of banners flapping in the wind provided further confirmation that this was Mavek’s headquarters. If he was not in the pavilion, then he would surely not be far away. Tevi changed course.

From some way off, Tevi could see a few figures gathered around the bonfire, clearly in search of warmth. However, unlike the common soldiers, these stood in relaxed poses. A flagon was making the rounds on the far side. Heads were turned together in conversation. Obviously the people here had not taken sleepstop, which meant that they were most likely officer witches.

Tevi’s intention was to skirt around the headquarters area, avoiding the firelight, and then loop back behind the pavilion. Only when it was too late did she spot the two people standing alone in shadows between outlying tents.

Ranenok was facing in their direction, although his attention was focused on another person who had her back to them—Kharel. Tevi recognized the seer from her outline against the firelight. The pair were standing close and holding hands. Either they were taking chances, or Mavek was unconcerned about liaisons between his more powerful followers.

The path Tevi was on went within a few feet of where the two acolytes stood. And it was too late to back away. Such behavior would only risk drawing attention to herself. Tevi marched on without a pause.

Her old commander was clearly unhappy. The stump of his left arm was tapping his side in a gesture she recognized as annoyance. Even in the darkness, the frown on his face was unmistakable. The faint glimmer from the bonfire accentuated the downturn of his lips.

Tevi passed by close enough to hear him murmur to his lover, “I wish I knew what was going on in Mavek’s head. Why ruin the army to attack a town like Uzhenek? What does he want from Jemeryl?”

For a second, Tevi was tempted to stop and answer the questions. She still respected Ranenok and would rather have him as an ally than an enemy. Maybe she and Jemeryl could tell him the truth and win him over, but the risk was not worth the chance. She carried on.

For his part, Ranenok did not even glance in her direction. At that time of night, few common soldiers were still occupied with errands, but enough were active to make the sight of two more marching through the camp unworthy of notice. The sound of his voice faded into the night behind her.

Beyond the tents lay an unoccupied region given over to engines of war. Tevi wondered why they had been dragged all the way from Tirakhalod. Was it just Mavek seizing the chance to play with his creations, like a child with a previously forbidden toy? Uzhenek no longer had any walls to batter down and no defenses to justify using such overwhelming power.

On Tevi’s right, the machines were a silent, deadly presence. On her left, the nearest campfire was more than fifty yards away. No one was around to see or hear them. Tevi checked to front and rear and then ducked into a gap between two carts. Here the darkness was total. She felt, rather than saw, Jemeryl slip into the space beside her.

“We’ve found his headquarters. What now?” Tevi asked.

“You could wait here while I go to tackle Mavek.”

“No.”

Jemeryl had not wanted Tevi to come on the night sortie and had initially tried to talk her out of it. Only Tevi’s experience with the army had silenced her objections and cut short the argument, since there was no chance that Tevi would have quickly agreed to her lover going alone. She was not about to change her mind now.

Jemeryl sighed but did not try to restart the debate. “Well then. I guess that we sneak up carefully, find Mavek, and kill him.”

Tevi could not bring herself to speak. She had liked Mavek, and now she was preparing to murder him. Restraining a groan, she let her head fall back and looked up. Black against the stars were the outlines of giant catapults mounted on carts. Their ammunition would be nothing so mundane as rocks. The vision of fire and acid falling on Uzhenek rose before her mind’s eye. Tevi thought of the girl who had brought the message about the herald, with her trusting smile and colored braids, and then imagined the sight, sound, and smell of the girl screaming as the flesh was seared from her bones.

Alternately, Tevi thought of Mavek claiming the talisman and destroying half the world. The scenario was less gruesome and violent, but far more devastating. The people would not merely die, but never even have existed. Their lives would be erased utterly.

Mavek had to be stopped.

“Did you hear what Ranenok was saying?” Jemeryl asked.

Tevi drew a deep breath and turned her thoughts away from images of death. “Yes. And I bet he’s not the only one who’s confused by Mavek’s behavior.”

“None of the ordinary soldiers were talking.”

“That’s the sleepstop. At first it makes people jabber away, but as time goes on, they get quieter and quieter.”

“Did you see any other acolytes around the fire?”

“No. I kept my eyes straight ahead. Why?”

“I wonder what happened to Anid. She can’t have passed on what I told her to Ranenok or Kharel.”

“Do you think she challenged Mavek?”

“She said that she was going to.”

“Mavek is still here, so I guess he killed her before she got the chance to speak to the other acolytes.”

Jemeryl only sighed in response.

“Whatever happened to her isn’t your fault.”

“You keep saying that about everything.”

Tevi found Jemeryl’s hand in the darkness and squeezed it. “Once we’re safely back in Lyremouth, you have my permission to start wallowing in guilt, but not before.”

“I may hold you to that.”

Despite the words, Tevi could hear a smile in Jemeryl’s tone. Tevi squeezed her hand once more and then let go. “Time to move?”

“Yes. I’ll lead.”

Jemeryl slipped past her and continued along the space between the carts. The darkness was too complete for Tevi to see anything, and she only realized that Jemeryl had stopped when she banged into the sorcerer’s back.

“What is it?”

“There’s a trap set here.”

“Magical?”

“Yep.”

“Can you disable it?”

“Of course. Hang on one minute.”

Closer to five passed before Jemeryl took Tevi’s hand and guided her on. At the end of the carts was a narrow gap, and then Tevi’s elbow brushed against the round sides of stacked barrels. A tug from Jemeryl drew her right, left, and right again, past the huge wheels of more wagons.

“You need to duck,” Jemeryl whispered.

“Another trap?”

“No. You’re about to walk into the shaft.”

Tevi reached out with her free hand and felt the wooden pole at nose height. She dipped under it. Jemeryl had once explained that her sorcerer senses did not allow her see in the dark, but if she concentrated, she could spot where things were. Tevi assumed there was a difference.

Twice more they stopped for Jemeryl to disable traps. This was clearly a region where the ungifted where not supposed to be wandering. At last, Jemeryl pulled her down into a crouch, between a final huge set of wheels at the end of a wagon. Tevi looked up. Blocking out the stars above her, like a gallows, was the towering frame of a trebuchet.

In front was a clear strip of trampled grass, twenty feet or more in width. The weak rays from the rising moon shed just enough light for Tevi to make out the rear of the pavilion at the other side. She was about to whisper a question in Jemeryl’s ear when she heard the sound of footsteps. Three witches strolled into view. The one in the centre was carrying an oil-soaked torch.

She yawned loudly. “I think I could do with a dose of sleepstop.”

“I’d rather have brandy.”

“I’d rather be back in my bed.”

“Alone?”

“To be honest, I’m too tired to care. Just as long as they don’t steal all the blankets.”

“War is hell.” The other two laughed at the dry tone.

“Especially when your leader has lost his marbles.”

The laughter stopped.

“I mean, hypothetically speaking.” The speaker backtracked on his words.

“Yeah, right.”

The three witches had now passed the point where Tevi and Jemeryl were hidden. Tevi was just starting to relax when one of them stopped and looked back. For a moment it seemed as if he was staring directly at her, but then he wiped a hand over his face.

“Dammit, I’m tired.”

“We all are.”

One of his colleagues looped an arm through his and towed him away. The witch went, unresisting.

Tevi looked at Jemeryl. The sorcerer had her hands up in a warding gesture. Only when the witches had passed from view did she lower her arms.

“That was close,” Tevi said.

“Very.”

“Now we cut our way into the tent?”

“Yes. And hope that plan number one works. Because I’m not so keen on either two or three.”

Jemeryl darted across the grass, beckoning for Tevi to follow. The material of the pavilion shimmered like silk, even in the weak light. Jemeryl ran her hand over it and then drew her knife from her belt sheath. While she carefully unpicked a seam, Tevi knelt by her side, anxiously looking out for the return of the witches. Were they sentries walking a patrol, or just incidental passers-by? Would they be back?

The cutting of the row of stitches, one by one, progressed with agonizing slowness, but Tevi trusted that Jemeryl had her reasons for not simply slicing the material. Presumably, magic had been woven into the fabric. Minutes trickled by before the gap was big enough to crawl though. Jemeryl went first. Tevi followed, after one final look back for the patrolling witches.

The rear of the pavilion had been divided into separate sections by hanging drapes. The space they entered was being used for storage. Several small crates were stacked to one side. A saddlebag had been dumped in a corner, and a mound of clothing was heaped in the centre. Through a gap in the curtain, Tevi could see into the central region of the tent where glowing iron braziers gave off both heat and light.

Jemeryl moved forwards slowly, placing each foot with care. At the opening, she stopped for a long time, studying the space beyond before she slipped through. Tevi made to follow, but an upheld hand caused her to freeze. Jemeryl shook her head sharply. Their eyes met in a silent argument. Tevi clenched her jaw but then nodded.

The likelihood was high that Mavek would have set traps and alarms. Tevi knew that she could do nothing except trigger them. This was a task that Jemeryl must tackle alone, but she could keep watch— for what good it might do.

The dull light from the braziers cast a red glow over the carpets and cushions on the floor and the tray bearing the half-eaten remains of a meal. A heavy curtain hung over the entrance. The bonfire outside threw huge shadows of the army officers over the front of the pavilion. Tevi’s attention switched between the moving images and Jemeryl.

Step by step, the sorcerer advanced across the pavilion, avoiding some spots and stopping to weave patterns in the air at others. Tevi could feel her heart pounding as she watched. From outside the tent came the crackle of the bonfire and the murmured conversation of witches. The only other sound was the wind rippling over the roof of the pavilion.

By the central support post, Jemeryl halted and looked around. Her gaze fixed on some drapes partitioning off another section of the large tent. She looked back to Tevi and nodded slowly and with meaning. Mavek was there.

Jemeryl continued her stealthy progress. She was almost within six feet of the section when the curtain hanging over the entrance to the pavilion was pulled back and Ranenok appeared.

For a moment, everyone was frozen in shock, and then Ranenok drew breath.

Tevi leapt forwards. “Wait, listen.”

Ranenok paid no attention. “Help! Intruders! To me!”

Shouts erupted in the night. The clamor was drowned out by the sudden roar of flame. Jemeryl had hurled a web of fire at the concealing drapes. From somewhere nearby Mavek’s voice rose in a strangled scream, but the cry was of fear and surprise, not pain.

Burning tatters of material fell to the floor, revealing the blacksmith rising from his bed. And before him was a glowing blue screen. The chances had never been good that he would have gone to sleep unprotected. When he saw Jemeryl, his expression changed to one of raw, hysterical panic.

More officers burst in through the entrance behind Ranenok. Tevi was sure that Jemeryl would be able to break through Mavek’s shield, but she would need time. Tevi doubted that she would be able to buy more than a second or two, but maybe it would be enough. She drew her sword and charged forwards.

Ranenok turned to face her. His eyes held a look of regret, even as he raised his hand. Tevi saw the cartwheel of sparks stream towards her. They hit, and then there was only blackness.

 

Tevi came back to consciousness with a burning ache in her joints. Her face was pressed into the rough floor carpet and all she could see were boots moving back and forth in front of her eyes. Her arms were bent behind her—tied, she realized, when she tried to move them. Voices murmured in disjointed sentences.

Shouts reverberated in the distance, and then the sound of pounding footsteps became louder. Someone burst into the pavilion. “She’s got away, sir.”

Tevi’s head cleared a little. Were they referring to Jemeryl?

“Where did she go?” The voice Tevi recognized as belonging to Dunarth.

“It doesn’t matter.” This time it was Mavek who spoke. “She won’t go far.”

“You hope.”

“I know. Because she’s going to want to talk to me.”

A hand grabbed Tevi’s hair and hauled her to her knees, and then wrenched her neck back. She was staring directly up into Mavek’s face. The blacksmith’s eyes still showed the fading traces of his fear. A tic jumped in his cheek, but his lips were set in a twisted leer as he studied her.

“We have a bargaining chip that Jemeryl won’t be able to ignore.”

 

Jemeryl sat alone in the room with her head clasped in her hands, trying to fight back her despair. Assassinating Mavek had always been a long shot. Everything would have been so much simpler and less fraught had it worked, but she had to remain positive. Their plans were not totally in ruins, even though Tevi had been captured.

The most hopeful sign was that, although dawn was long past, Mavek’s troops had not yet attacked. If Tevi was right about the limited supplies of the drug, this could only mean that Mavek had another scheme in mind. The most likely candidate for this new plan was some sort of negotiation involving Tevi, which had to mean that she was alive and in a fit state to be traded.

The next move was therefore up to Mavek. Jemeryl fought to remind herself that every hour of delay would be working to her advantage, but the waiting was torturous. Even so, the knock at the door was unwelcome. Regardless of how things went, the next few hours were unlikely to be pleasant, and the person wanting to see her might only be Captain Curnad ready to repeat the appeals for information that she had no intention of granting.

Jemeryl braced herself for the worst and called out, “Enter.”

The face that appeared around the door did not belong to Curnad, nor to anyone else she knew. Had the captain and other witches abandoned her? Not that it mattered.

“Ma’am. An envoy from the enemy is here to see you.”

Listlessly, Jemeryl signaled for the messenger to be shown in.

A few moments later the door opened again for the deputy blacksmith, Cluthotin, who looked no happier or less nervous than the last time they had met.

The two of them stared at each other in silence for a while and then Cluthotin cleared his throat. “Jemeryl. The Emperor Mavek wishes to speak with you in person and asks that you accompany me to see him.” He looked at her significantly. “He promises that you will not be harmed.”

The request was pretty much what she had been expecting. Jemeryl merely nodded and stood. The waiting was over. Now it was time to see how the game would play out.

The streets of Uzhenek were crowded but quieter than Jemeryl had ever heard them before, making the wailing of infants all the more noticeable. The adults gathered in small groups, heads together, muttering, or sat alone in doorways, huddled in sullen despair. Their faces held anger, bewilderment, and fear. Jemeryl knew that tales of the failed sortie had spread through the town. Her own blazing retreat had ensured that it could not be kept secret. Were the rumors also now spreading that the Dragon Slayer was captured, or dead?

Jemeryl looked at the squalid, rotting huts and mud-filled roads, the people dressed in rags and the half-naked children. Tevi was right. These people had so little, it was not fair if even this should be taken from them. The attempt to assassinate Mavek had been made on their behalf, to limit the risk of an all-out attack. Jemeryl thought about the gnawing of her own bad conscience. No matter how things went, Jemeryl understood why Tevi had been willing to take the risks she had, and respected her decision.

Cluthotin led the way to the side of town nearest the escarpment. When she emerged from between the last of the huts, Jemeryl could see that the valley rim was lined with a hundred or more people. These would undoubtedly be the massed witches and acolytes, Mavek’s insurance that she would not use the opportunity for another assassination attempt. However, Mavek must be very certain that he had her in his grasp. He had to be sure that she would not try to explain to everyone assembled just how Bykoda’s death had taken place and what was really going on.

Mavek’s standard flew in the middle of the line, at a point where a slight projection from the lip of the escarpment made a natural platform. As she grew closer to the spot, Jemeryl easily identified the tall form of the blacksmith in a regal stance, flanked by three of the other acolytes. Anid was not one of them, she noted.

At Cluthotin’s indication, Jemeryl stopped fifty yards below where Mavek stood. Close enough to see and hear, but not close enough to hope that a surprise attack might get through—not when the witches and acolytes were alert and ready to come to his defense. Jemeryl’s escort backed away a few steps, leaving her alone.

She struck her own pose, hands on hips and head thrown back. “You wanted to talk.”

Mavek took a half-step forwards. “No. I wanted you to surrender.”

“You’ve already made the suggestion once. In case you’ve forgotten, I refused.”

“I think you’re the one with the bad memory. Have you so soon forgotten what happened last night?”

Mavek turned and gestured to the witches standing behind him. On cue, Tevi was dragged forwards and thrown to her knees beside him. Despite the circumstances, Jemeryl felt her heart leap to see her lover, alive and whole. Their eyes met across the distance, and momentarily the rest of the scene faded from her thoughts. Jemeryl took a breath. It was all going to work out all right. It had to. She looked back to Mavek.

“I hadn’t forgotten. But in order for a threat to be effective, what happens when you refuse has to be worse than what happens when you give in. Tevi’s life is far more at risk if I surrender.”

“It’s a debatable point. But even if it were true, there are lots of different ways to die.”

Mavek gave another signal. This time, Dunarth stepped up to stand behind Tevi. She placed her hands on either side of the kneeling woman’s head. For an instant, Tevi froze, and then her body bucked. A scream was torn from her throat.

“Stop that!” Jemeryl shouted. Regardless of the forces gathered above her, she could not prevent herself from reacting. Her hands moved, summoning the elements.

All along the line of witches, there was an immediate response, arms and staffs at the ready. Jemeryl froze. The battle would be hopeless, and no matter what else, Mavek would surely not allow Tevi to die right now. She forced her hands back to her side.

For another minute, Tevi’s screams rang out over the valley. Each one ripped through Jemeryl—more potent than any injury inflicted on herself. And then, at last, Dunarth released her grip and stepped back. Tevi collapsed to the ground in a ball, shuddering convulsively. Jemeryl’s eyes could not pull away from the sight. Her stomach felt as if it held needles of ice, while the remainder of her insides had turned to water. Her knees shook, threatening to give way.

“Jemeryl!” Mavek’s shout barely reclaimed her attention. “Do you want to think again about surrendering?”

In all her planning and calculating, Jemeryl had not expected to be quite so completely overwhelmed by impotent fury. Controlling her breath enough to reply was beyond her. Jemeryl was aware that

Cluthotin had returned to her side. Slowly, she turned her head towards him. The witch was holding out an iron collar. Jemeryl’s gaze travelled up to Mavek, then on to Tevi’s crumpled form, and finally back again to Cluthotin.

Wordlessly, Jemeryl took the collar from his hand, lifted it up, and snapped it shut around her own neck.

 

The inside of Mavek’s pavilion showed evidence of clearing up after the previous night’s battle. Somebody had hastily patched the gash in the wall that Jemeryl had created during her escape and removed the damaged braziers. The floor had been swept clean, removing any scraps of burnt cloth, although the scorch marks were still there.

Jemeryl squinted at her surroundings through half-shut eyes—not that it helped. Her eyes were not the problem. The energy tensors of the sixth dimension streamed through the iron collar. They covered her head in a chaotic vortex of power that blinded her to anything beyond. The auras of the fifth dimension were shifting and untouchable, like shadows falling on water. Time was linear, locked, and unbranching.

She felt so vulnerable, worse than ungifted. Her sorcerer’s senses were now a liability, not an asset. In an attempt to stave off the panic, she concentrated on her ordinary senses. Tevi coped with just four dimensions under her control. She could do the same. She had to. The impending conversation with Mavek was too critical to make a mistake, and she had mere seconds to compose herself while he ordered his followers to leave.

Mavek waited until Jemeryl and he were alone before speaking. He smiled at her in triumph. “It’s time for you to give me the talisman.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re not in any position to refuse.”

“I don’t mean I won’t. I mean I can’t. I don’t have the talisman to give you.”

“You’re lying.”

“No. Last night, before we left Uzhenek on the way to your camp, I dispatched the talisman to Lyremouth with my familiar. You remember, Klara the magpie? We knew that the attempt to kill you was

not certain to succeed, so we wanted the talisman safely away from here. Of course, if the attempt had succeeded, I would have called her back before she had gone too far.”

Mavek grabbed Jemeryl’s shoulders. His fingers dug painfully into her joints. “You’re lying.”

Jemeryl shook her head in answer.

“Call it back, now.”

Jemeryl jerked her jaw upwards to emphasize the iron collar around her neck. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t with this on.”

“It’s all a trick to get me to take the collar off.”

“No.”

“Well, I know how to check.” He stalked to the entrance of the pavilion and called to the people outside. “Bring the other prisoner here at once.”

“There’s no point in hurting her,” Jemeryl said quickly.

“I won’t...much.”

A minute passed before the curtain opened and Tevi was brought in by two witches. Her eyes were still glazed from the punishment she had received at Dunarth’s hands and her feet stumbled. She seemed oblivious to where she was. Jemeryl felt her stomach clench at the sight. Mavek gestured for the witches to leave. With them gone, he then advanced towards the bound prisoner.

“Please,” Jemeryl begged. She could not bear to see Tevi hurt more.

Mavek ignored her. He placed one of his huge hands on Tevi’s head. With the other, he drew patterns in the air, spell-binding his victim. The effect was less dramatic than the previous magical assault. At first Tevi did no more than shudder. Then she gasped loudly and her eyes closed. When they reopened, they were utterly blank and devoid of life.

“Last night, when you left Uzhenek, what were your plans?” Mavek demanded.

“We were going to kill you.” Tevi’s voice was an apathetic monotone.

“And what did you do with the talisman?”

“Jemeryl sent it off to Lyremouth with Klara. She would only call Klara back if you died.”

Mavek swore and shoved Tevi away. She fell limply, without any attempt to save herself and then lay, unmoving, where she landed.

“You’re going to call it back.” Mavek snarled the words at Jemeryl.

“I don’t even know if can. By now, Klara should be halfway through the Barroden Mountains.”

“If you can’t, you are going to regret it. I swear. You will regret it.” He loomed over Jemeryl, pinning her against the central support post. His voice softened. “I won’t harm you. But I’ll hurt her.” He pointed at Tevi’s unconscious body on the floor. “I’ll hurt her so much that she’ll beg for death. In the end, you’ll kill her yourself as an act of mercy. And then I’ll leave you to live with that knowledge for the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

Jemeryl nodded, appalled by the intensity of anger in his eyes.

Mavek continued. “I’m going to get Dunarth in here and get her to take your poor sweetheart over to the far side of camp with a large escort. You’re then going to have five minutes to establish contact with your familiar and get her to return. If you don’t, or if you attack me so I can’t send Dunarth the right message, then I’ll make sure that she has some suitable instructions to implement. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“And do you agree?”

Jemeryl could feel tears forming in her eyes. She looked at Tevi, who was starting to stir. At that moment, their plans were irrelevant. Everything was irrelevant except Tevi’s safety. She dare not risk further defiance; she could only hope.

“Yes. I agree.”

 

Jemeryl gasped in relief as the whirlpool of forces around her head dissolved.

Mavek stepped back, holding the open iron collar in his hands. “Hurry up. You don’t have long. And I’m going to be monitoring what you’re doing, so you’d better get back in contact with your familiar and don’t try anything clever.”

Jemeryl nodded. Any show of aggression on her part would be futile. Apart from Dunarth holding Tevi as assurance of her good behavior, Ranenok and Kharel with two dozen witches were just outside the pavilion, armed with a selection of weaponry. They would spot any attempt to overpower Mavek.

However, Jemeryl wondered if they had noted that a sorcerer who could so spectacularly defeat Bykoda needed such elaborate protection against her. And what conclusions might they draw? However, there seemed little hope that they would come to her aid or mount their own challenge to Mavek.

Jemeryl knew that she was on her own, and she had to make sure that she gave Mavek no grounds to further mistreat Tevi. A show of instant obedience was wise. She closed her eyes and started to focus her thoughts, opening pathways through the upper dimensions. Her projection shot along waves in the ether, as she sought the small avian aura that was intimately bound to her own.

The blacksmith’s aura was a shadowy presence, skittering around the edges of her search, but Jemeryl knew his claim to be monitoring her interaction with Klara was a bluff. The blacksmith, with his weak grasp on the fifth dimension, could not hope to follow her. Even Dunarth would have found it impossible. The bond between sorcerer and familiar was the strongest that magic could forge and impenetrable to anyone else. In a very real sense, Klara was her. As long as they were both alive, the ties between them could not be broken.

The bonds reformed and she melded with Klara enough to sense her surroundings and know that the magpie was not flying, but underground.

“No!” Jemeryl jerked back, ducking as if from a blow.

“What is it?”

“Klara. She’s been attacked.”

“By what?”

“An eagle, at the edge of the Barrodens.”

Mavek leaned across and grabbed Jemeryl’s jaw in one hand, squeezing in her cheeks. He forced her head up and his eyes searched hers. “You’re playing tricks with me.”

“No. I swear it.”

He let go of her. “And?”

“Klara. I...I think her wing is broken, but she managed to escape. She’s in a rabbit hole, hiding. We have to get to her.”

“Has she still got the talisman?”

“Yes. Of course.”

For a moment, it looked as if Mavek would strike her, but then he snapped the collar back around Jemeryl’s neck and pulled her forwards until their faces were mere inches apart.

“All right. We’ll go south. After all, time isn’t an issue. But if you’re playing games, then you will end up being sorry. I promise you. Death will be an easy option.”