Elfsorrow

'More mages running from their responsibilities,' he said, standing close to them, letting the venom in his mind spit from his mouth. 'Running from what they have created. Where were you going, eh? Away to join your armies for a new assault on the innocents of Balaia?'

He shrugged. 'You're scum. Worthless, cowardly scum.'

'We'd have stayed to help but your supporters wanted us gone,' said one of the mages, voice thick through split and swelling lips.

Selik stepped up and grabbed him by the throat, pushing his head back. 'The damage was already done, fool. What help could you give now?'

'So what is it that you want from us? To stay or to leave?' said the mage, desperation clear in his voice.

'I want you to face up to what your kind has done to my world,' said Selik, not releasing his grip. 'You know what I saw in Erskan? Three children who would have killed each other for a scrap of bread a rat would turn down. You have sapped the strength and the will from those who trusted you. You have broken their spirit. But I am going to give it back to them and you and your kind will never wield your unholy power so freely again.'

'We could have helped, had we been allowed to stay,' pleaded the mage. 'We could have healed the people. Healed the ground.'

Selik dropped his hand and stepped away. 'You really don't understand what you've done to Balaia and its people do you? How blind you are to think that after magic has destroyed so much, people would allow you to cast a few more spells to put it right. You have lost their trust but still you think it is as easy as waving your hands.'

He turned to the second mage, finding the man glaring defiantly back at him.

'Nothing to say?' he asked.

'To someone who would deny magic to an entire population because of a single rogue, no. It is you who are blind, Selik, you and the monkeys who follow you so slavishly.'

'Some fight still left, at least,' said Selik to the chuckles of his men within earshot. 'Trouble is, I don't really think I want to hear your voice on the road. Because you won't listen. So you will stay as a warning and your friend here will accompany us.'

He gestured to the men holding the mages. 'Get him on that carthorse and away from here.'

'I'm sorry,' said the mage to his doomed colleague.

The man shook his head. 'Don't be. These bastards can never defeat us.'

'But you won't live to see whether that's true, will you?' said Selik.

'I am proud you think me so dangerous that you have to kill me.'

'Kill you?' said Selik, a smile creeping over his face. 'No, no, that would be too easy. All I can promise is that you will die unless you are very, very fortunate.'

The Black Wings captain saw the mage's eyes flicker, his bravado punctured, and all he could do, while his colleague was loaded, hands bound, onto the carthorse and away with a guard of six, was watch while his fate unfolded in front of him.

Quickly, the cart was stood on its end and braced, its wheels facing in the direction of the mage lands to the north-west. The traces and lines from the harness were cut into four pieces and the mage strung upright between the four wheels with his clothes ripped from him to leave only a loincloth. Selik watched it all dispassionately, a slight twinge of disappointment at the bearing of the mage, who didn't struggle or protest. When he was secured, Selik unsheathed a dagger and walked slowly over to him, the mage's eyes never leaving his.

'There are people like you all over this land. Left as warnings to others of your kind that the Black Wings are growing. That we will pursue you relentlessly, that you will atone for what you have done and that we will not stop until the evil of magic is scrubbed from Balaia. You, at least, will not join the war.'

The mage spat at him, the blood-veined saliva catching Selik on the cheek and running down the side of his face. He merely smiled.

'You'll regret that when your thirst becomes unbearable.'

'Come closer and I'll do it again. I'm not afraid to die.'

'Lucky for you,' said Selik, his mouth bent into a grotesque sneer. 'Our trouble is that there can be no warning without a message. And, since we've run right out of parchment, we need to use a somewhat different medium.' He turned to his men. 'Hold him still and shut his useless mouth.'

Black Wings moved in and hands pressed on the mage's head, shoulders, knees and the top of his legs, rendering him immobile. Selik walked up slowly, staring deep into the mage's eyes, watching the fear begin to grow and the first cracks appear in his bearing.

Taking the tip of his dagger between his thumb and first two fingers, he began to carve letters on the mage's chest, letting the blade bite deep, feeling his human canvas heave and hearing choked cries through his closed mouth.

'Hold him, I'm trying to write,' he said.

He bent back to his task, dragging the dagger in letter shapes, keeping the mage's chest and stomach skin taut with his other hand. Soon it was done. He backed up, wiped and sheathed the dagger and looked at his handiwork, which was a little lost in the streaming blood. With a flick of his hand, he waved his men away. The mage drew in shuddering breaths, his face dripping sweat and pale. He swallowed.

'You'll die at the hand of a mage, Selik,' he managed. 'And when you do, my death will seem painless by comparison.'

Selik ignored his words. 'I expect you're curious to know what I've written.'

'I couldn't care less,' said the mage, regaining some control over his wracked body. 'You are worthless vermin, Selik. I'm surprised you can write at all.'

'It says, "Mages: fear the Black Wings." Succinct, I think. To the point, if you will.' He laughed. 'Of course it isn't easy to read but I expect whoever finds you will fathom it eventually. And if you are very lucky, you'll be able to tell them yourself.'

He swung away and strode back to his horse. 'Mount up, Black Wings; we've a long way to go and a mage to educate.'

'Burn in hell, Selik!' roared the mage, straining at his lashings.

Selik laughed again. 'No, dear mage, I will not. Because the righteous are blessed, not cursed.'

He kicked his heels into his horse's flanks and led the Black Wings away, the mage's shouts growing ever fainter in his ears. It had been a truly uplifting day.

Chapter 11

The Calaian Sun sailed slowly into Ysundeneth shortly after midday on the third day after leaving the Ornouth Archipelago. Even Jevin had declared himself surprised at the speed they'd made. A steady southerly wind had driven them through a light swell and the dolphins that had swum with them most of the journey added to the idyll.

Standing next to Ilkar as they cruised towards their berth at the heart of the docks, Denser could sense the relief in the Julatsan mage, shot through as it was with nerves. It mirrored Denser's own feelings, though his reasons were very different. The voyage had not been easy. Erienne had barely left her bunk the entire time, her heart re-broken by the ever-increasing distance from Lyanna's grave. And when she had walked the deck, the set of her body kept everyone away from her.

Denser could understand her reaction but was frustrated he wasn't being allowed to help. She had withdrawn into herself completely, ate little and said less. Ilkar had given voice to his concern the day before. Calaius and its climate were not like Balaia in any way. It drained and fatigued the fittest of bodies and sickness was so easy to contract, particularly for those not born there. Erienne, he said, would be seriously risking her health if she refused to keep up her strength for much longer. And if her capacity for casting was impaired, she could be risking the health of The Raven too.