Tayend walked over and placed a hand lightly on Dannyl’s shoulder. It was both unwelcome and yet soothing.
“Let’s go inside and wait,” he suggested. “Merria can take over from here.”
Resentment faded. Tayend understood. He followed his friend down into Achati’s house, along corridors and into the Master’s Room. There they stopped, looked around the room, then at each other. Tayend’s eyes glittered with tears. He walked over and wrapped his arms around Dannyl.
“I thought you didn’t like him,” Dannyl whispered.
“I did. Just not as much as you did.”
No. Not as much as I did. Dannyl bowed his head and let the tears come. When the worst of it had passed he was surprised to find he could feel affection and gratitude at the same time as grief and horror. I am so lucky Tayend is here with me. He has always understood me better than anyone. Even if we are never more than friends again, I hope we will always have this.
With Tayend beside him he would not mourn Achati alone. With Tayend close by he would be able to face the people who had killed Achati. With Tayend he had someone who would remember how fine a man Achati had been.
And now that I’ve seen how ruthless the Traitors can be, I must do what I can to ensure they don’t decide the Allied Lands need “freeing”, too.
Without taking his eyes from the Ashaki, Lorkin explored the pockets of his vest in case he had missed any strike or shield stones, but found none. The red and blue rings were depleted, so he had been using his own store of power. He didn’t want to use the power within the storestone until he had to.
He suspected it wouldn’t be necessary. The Traitors who had emerged from the palace were now joining with the main army, encircling the remaining Ashaki. Only a dozen or so Ashaki were left, surrounding and protecting the king.
He was not sure how long had passed since the battle had begun. A few hours, perhaps? From the angle and length of his shadow he guessed it was afternoon, but the smoke from the burning houses was giving the sunlight a deceptive golden glow that suggested the day was older than it was.
The battle had been surprisingly uncomplicated, with few Traitor deaths. Twenty or so had been lost during one side attack. While the Traitors on the right had defended themselves successfully, those on the left had been taken by surprise when the building beside them had exploded and Ashaki had surged out into their midst.
But the Ashaki had never stopped retreating. The battle had become a steady Traitor advance to the city centre. The Ashaki began to fall long before they reached it, and by the time they were driven to the parade their numbers were down to a third.
No magical battle that he’d ever read of had resembled this one. The parameters of magical fighting have changed. Gemstones have made it into something completely new. The Guild knows that it needs gemstones for defence, but it has no idea how badly. If it doesn’t adapt it will be left behind.
Still, the battle wasn’t over yet. He was all too aware that he wasn’t the only Traitor who had run out of stones. Their method of fighting ensured that, barring surprise attacks, all were protected until the entire army was exhausted. Only Savara knew how strong the army was now, through communication with the other Speakers, who received reports from each Traitor as he or she left the front. We could be onto our last stones or still bursting with power, Lorkin thought. Savara has shown no sign of concern, but then she’s very good at looking calm and confident.
He looked at her again. She was taking in the scene with narrowed eyes. Straightening, she raised an arm, palm facing outward – the signal to stop.
At once the Traitors stopped striking the Ashaki. The hum of power streaking through the air ended. The shuffle of feet ceased. Voices fell silent. The few sounds that followed were muted, as if all noise had been dampened.
A circle of Traitors surrounded the remaining Ashaki, who stared back defiantly. Lorkin looked from them to Savara.
What will she do? So far the order has been to kill all Ashaki. I’ve seen no Ashaki attempt to surrender. The few we heard about who were sympathetic to the slaves and did not want to fight the Traitors have left the country.
The order to kill all Ashakis had been to ensure their defeat. Now that they were defeated, would they remain unharmed if they surrendered? He thought of the stones keeping the wasteland lifeless. The Traitors could be ruthless...
Savara took a step forward, then another. Lorkin saw Tyvara tense. He turned the ring holding the storestone around so he could curl his fingers around it, ready to draw power if he needed it. Savara stopped.
“King Amakira,” she called.
The Ashaki did not move. Lorkin searched for some glimpse of the king among them. The silence lengthened.
“You are defeated,” Savara said. “Come forth, or are you too cowardly to show your face?”
Low voices were heard from the Ashaki now, then Lorkin saw movement.
“You expect me to surrender?”
Lorkin shivered at the voice. A memory rose of an old man on a throne, followed by the palace prison, the slave girl... He blinked them away and concentrated on the scene before him. The Ashaki parted and the king stepped out.
“We do not submit to Traitors,” he said.
As he spoke, his hand moved to his belt and closed around the hilt of a knife. Gems glittered in the sunlight as he drew the blade. He extended his arm toward Savara, pointing at her. He let the knife go. It hovered in the air. His arm dropped to his side.
Then, in a movement almost too fast to follow, it reversed and shot backward, plunging into his chest.
Lorkin sucked in a breath, and heard gasps from all around. Well, I didn’t expect that, he thought as the king fell, and was caught and lowered to the ground by the Ashaki behind him. Did he just commit suicide, or did he ask one of the Ashaki to—?
The rest of the Ashaki stepped back hastily as a bright light enveloped the king’s body. A sharp crack, followed by a roar like a fire flaring before a gust of wind, echoed between the buildings. The king’s remaining power, released as his control failed. Lorkin shuddered.
The light vanished, and all that was left was ash.
Then the air before Savara began to vibrate. Lorkin looked up to see that the remaining Ashaki’s gazes were fixed on her. Realising that the men were striking at their queen, the Traitors attacked. Lorkin winced at the dull thuds and crack of bones, as the last Ashaki fell before the onslaught. They didn’t bother to shield. They used their last magic in a final vain attempt to kill the Traitor queen, and to ensure they would die.
The Traitor strikes ended as quickly as they had begun, and a different kind of silence fell. One filled with relief as well as horror. Savara’s shoulders lifted and dropped and she bowed her head. She didn’t look up or speak, and as time stretched the Traitors began to frown and exchange glances. As Tyvara stepped forward, concern in her eyes, Lorkin followed, but he kept a few steps back, ready to help but leaving Tyvara to speak.
Savara looked at Tyvara and shook her head. “Ashaki and Traitors. We are so different. And yet we are the same. So determined we are right.
“The Traitors are no more too. We will have soon destroyed what we rebelled against. We should now call ourselves Sachakans.”
“We are not the same,” Tyvara told her. “The Ashaki are no more.”