“No, it has been decided!” cried a voice above them.
The witch Naba stood above the waterfall with several other Retha’noi men, all with oo’lus poised to play. Behind him Retha’noi archers were taking aim, and two other witch men were there with their horns.
“This can’t be good,” muttered Micum.
“If any of you move, the archers will find you,” Turmay warned. “Rieser í Stellen, you were sent to find this tayan’gil, and to destroy the ya’shel. I was sent to destroy both, and the Mother has given me the means and brought me to my brothers of the south.”
“This is treachery!”
“Please, Rieser, you must listen to me,” Turmay pleaded. “I have no desire to see Hâzad blood spilled.”
“Then you have chosen the wrong friends!” Rieser growled.
At that moment the witches on the heights began to play. First Rane, and then Relian slumped to the ground, dead or unconscious; it was impossible to tell.
Micum fell to his knees. Seregil could feel the effects creeping over him as he knelt in front of Sebrahn and shouted, “Sing, damn it! Sing!”
And Sebrahn did.
Seregil carefully refrained from touching Sebrahn, but he still felt the rush of power strike through him, banishing the effects of the horns. A swirling wind blew up from nowhere at the center of the clearing, scattering gear and blowing the fire to pieces. Neither the Ebrados nor the Retha’noi fell, and Seregil guessed that the wind must be Sebrahn’s magic colliding with that of the hill folk. He’d never seen anything like it, but the Retha’noi were still on their feet. Ducking a flying branch, he crawled over to Micum and felt for a pulse. He was alive, and woke when Seregil shook him.
The Retha’noi fell silent first, then Sebrahn. Seregil heard shouting on the heights, and a sudden scream from the trees behind them.
“They’re flanking us,” said Nowen.
“Aura’s Light, that sounded like Kalien!” Morai exclaimed even as she took aim and let fly.
Nowen and several of the others who were still on their feet pushed the cart onto its side to shield them as the Retha’noi shouted what were probably war cries—he hoped to hell they weren’t some new magic—and the Retha’noi archers shot back. Arrows thudded into the bottom of the cart and embedded themselves in the trees behind them.
“Will you be able to fight, if it comes to that?” Seregil asked Rieser.
The man shrugged. “I will do what I can.”
Some of the Ebrados scrambled for their bows while Nowen and Sorengil chanced death to drag Rane and Relian to safety. They were nearly there when Relian was struck in the neck. Seregil and Micum ducked out and helped bring them in. Rieser quickly inspected Relian’s wound and shook his head. Blood was pulsing out around the shaft and he was wheezing bloody foam. Sebrahn was with him in an instant, but there was no water for him to use.
Seregil pulled him away. “Leave him. There’s nothing you can do for him right now.”
“I wish Alec was here with his bow,” said Micum, crouched beside Hâzadriën and Rieser, sword drawn.
“So do I,” said Seregil.
Taegil burst from the woods at their back and ran for cover. “They’re in the trees! I think they killed Kalien!”
“How many?” Rieser demanded.
“I don’t know. At least a dozen.” Taegil fell to his knees, gasping for breath. “We heard that awful noise, then suddenly they were there. We both ran but—”
“You have a bow,” Rieser snapped. “Use it!”
Seregil looked up at the darkening sky. “Alec won’t wait much longer.”
It was only then that he realized that Sebrahn was gone.
Looking around frantically, he saw that the rhekaro had left the shelter of the cart and was making for the pool with the bowl Hâzadriën had dropped. Sebrahn filled it, but as he turned to come back, an arrow struck him in the side. He staggered, but kept going. Another struck him in the leg and this time he fell.
Seregil dashed out and grabbed him, pulling the rhekaro to safety. Ignoring his own wounds, Sebrahn immediately reached for the bowl and looked up at Seregil, the message plain. Seregil filled it from a fallen waterskin and helped him over to Relian. Sebrahn didn’t have to cut a finger; using the white blood from his own wounds, he made a dark flower and pressed it to the wound in the dying man’s neck.
“It’s no use,” Seregil told him, but Sebrahn made another, and another. His wounds were still bleeding, and Seregil saw that the rhekaro was taking on a shrunken look; his already thin arms were noticeably smaller.
He pulled Sebrahn away, and over to Rieser. “Sebrahn needs strong blood!”
The Hâzad cut his finger and stuck it in Sebrahn’s mouth. The rhekaro latched on to his hand and sucked desperately.
Then the sound of the oo’lus began again. Dropping Rieser’s hand, Sebrahn jumped to his feet and began to sing again.
“It’s been too long,” Alec said, watching as the sun sank toward the peaks in front of them.
“I don’t like it, either,” said Skywake. “We haven’t heard a damn thing. I say we go find them.”
Alec hobbled Patch and took up his bow. “Come on.”
“Wait, I hear a horseman,” said Skywake.
A moment later Rhal burst from the trees, an arrow bobbing from his horse’s shoulder.
“The camp’s under attack,” he shouted. “I was on my way back for you all and suddenly someone was shooting at me!”
Just then they heard a distant droning.
“What is that?” Skywake exclaimed.
“Oo’lus. Lots of them,” Alec began, then another piercing, unmistakable sound joined it. “And that’s Sebrahn. Come on!”
“Don’t run off alone,” Rhal called after him. “Your man will never forgive me if I let you get yourself killed.”
“Then you better hurry up!” Alec called back, sword in his right hand and his bow in the left.
Running in the lead, Alec was the first to see the body of a dark-haired man lying facedown in the road, two arrows in his back. The clothing wasn’t Seregil’s, but Alec still had to stop and roll him over, just to be certain. It was Kalien.
“We’re deer in a meadow here,” he told the others as they caught up. “Get into the trees. Rhal, you take that side of the road, I’ll go left.”
Five of the sailors followed Alec as he plunged through the shadowy wood. In a matter of minutes a small dark form leapt out at him with a long knife. Alec struck him down before he was in reach, and the one right behind him. There were more and suddenly he and his men were in the middle of a melee. From the shouts and ringing of steel nearby, Rhal had met with the same welcome.
They dispatched the men with knives, only to find themselves targeted by unseen archers. One of the sailors—it was too dark under the trees to be certain which one—was struck in the arm, and another fell.
“Keep going!” Alec shouted. They could hear more shouting from the direction of the waterfall, and now he could smell wood smoke.
Illior must have been still pleased with him; Alec reached the edge of the clearing without losing anyone else. A few trees on the far edge of the clearing were in flames, making it easier to see in the gathering gloom.
The droning started again, and Sebrahn’s answering song rose to mingle with it. Alec gritted his teeth against the sound, watching a violent wind whip up near the waterfall.
Rieser and some of the Ebrados were just in front of him, hunkered down behind the overturned cart. A few others were in the woods, shooting at the enemy on the high ground above the falls. Micum and Seregil were in the act of chasing after Sebrahn, who stood in the open, singing.
There were a lot of men up there, and some of them had oo’lus, but they had gone silent when Sebrahn began to sing. “We’re here!” Alec shouted to Seregil, then sheathed his bloody sword and raised his bow, aiming for the witches.
He struck two of the five in quick succession before the others ducked from sight, then turned his attention to the armed men streaming down through the trees in their direction.