Michael Foster - She Who Has No Name

Balten had finished gathering his power and sent the first of his spells rolling down the hillside. Explosions rattled the slope, sending desert-men and their severedlimbsflying into the air. Their horses fled, frightened by the noise and went galloping awaydownthe steepdecline with their ears pulled back. Samuel joined Eric, tapping the Argum Stone as little as he could. He did not want to tire himself too quickly for,judging by the volume of men that surrounded them, the battle would not be over quickly. He sent waves of fire rolling down the hill that set their attackers rolling and thrashing and slapping at themselves. As they lost their footing,they went toppling down the hill, forming wailing pinwheels that tumbled and bounced and left their fellows diving out of the way. Thisinitial defence seemed successful, but a feeling tugging at his mind had Samuel worried for,on the far side of the hill, below where Balten was defending, Paatin magic was hard at work.

‘Where are they all coming from?’ he heard Eric shout from beside him.

‘They must have been following us for some time,’ Master Celios called back, ‘waiting for an opportune time to attack.’

‘We would have felt so many tracking us,’ Eric responded.

‘They can use our footsteps and subtle signs of the desert to follow us,’ Balten called back, following the conversation as he threw down more bolts of power. ‘Skilled trackers can know our every move from well beyond the horizon, once they have caught our trail.’

‘What is that?’ Canyon then cried, sounding shrill and pointing to Balten’s side of the hill.

Samuel turned his gaze and saw specks of desert-men leaping up the hillside towards them, bounding like fleas.

‘Paatin wizard-work!’ Balten called. He began aiming at the leaping figures with his spells, but the men leapt erratically, bounding over their countrymen and scaling the hill by the drove.

Samuel stood beside him and pointed his fist down the hillside. He called forth the energy of the ether and a screeching gale of magic swept out from within him. It washed down the hill and the first lines of Paatin it met grew incandescent, glowed red and then blew to dust as the spell burnt them to cinders. Leaping desert-men, caught in mid-air, shrieked and vanished as they were caught in the spell.

Balten nodded his approval, but Samuel had no time to savour the victory. A clot of fire was stuck in his chest and he laboured for breath against the pain. He felt a flood of magic building up within him, forcing its way through the passage he had opened, but he refused to be overcome. Inch by inch, he swallowed the magic down and forced closed his connection with the ring. Finally, he could breathe again and he turned away from the others and pulled the Argum Stone from his finger with desperation.

‘You will need to pace yourself, Samuel,’ Balten said. ‘The battle is only just begun.’

Looking down the hill,Samuel saw thatthe effect of his spell had vanished and the leaping desert-men he had defeated had only been replaced by hordes of more such men. Some were getting near and Samuel could see enormous,black, taloned legs jutting out frombeneaththeir pale cloaks, driving them into the air with each leap. They held no swords, but they had no need for,in place of hands,they had razor-sharp,chitinous claws. The men had saucer-likeeyes and came at them without emotion, stinking with the vile magic that had recently transformed them.

‘We need help here!’ Eric called and Samuel lurched around to find that waves of Paatin had nearly reached them from that side of the hill.

There were no bug-menhere, but with swords they were just as dangerous, shouting and trilling as they came, howling for blood. Some had scaled the rise further along and now came charging along the crest. Samuel considering putting his ring on again, but he quivered with hesitation. The thing was intensely painful to use and he needed time before subjecting himself to its punishment once again.

The first Paatin drew near and was coming straight for him, but the ring stayed inches from Samuel’s finger, held tightly in his other hand. He wanted to put it on, but somehow he could not do it,for even the memory of the pain was enough to make him recoil. As the curved sword came down upon him, he finally thought to run, too late-but the blow did not arrive. Horse had flown past him and had shoved a pointed finger into the desert-man’s throat, felling him instantly.

‘What’s wrong,Magician?’ Horse asked him in his cumbersome Old Tongue. ‘If you cannot use your magic, you must find other weapons to defend yourselfwith.’

Other Paatin came howling in and Horse danced around their blades. All the while, with each turn and opportunity, he kept one eye towards his god. The Koian warrior would protect Samuel while he could but,if even one Paatin came nearer to her, Samuel knew he would be left to fend for himself. Horse moved deftly and had three tan-cloaked men dead at his feet as more came rushing in upon him. He leapt high, vaulting from the small mound of bodies and into the pack of surprised desert-men, killing the first two while they still had their mouths open wide at the sight of him. Others continued past and made for Samuel and he wasagainleft wondering whether heshould resumewearing his ring or if he should run. This time Horse was busy, for blades surrounded him like a cage of swords and the man was working hard to defend himself.

Whenthe two first Paatin reached him, Samuel was alone. He pushed the ring deep into his pocket and waited. He was not entirely sure he knew what he was doing, but he could not spell and he could not run. There was only one choice left. Stand and fight.

The two blades cameat himalmost together and Samuel bobbed down and stepped in, just as with a Harvest Stance, and found himself squatting at the men’s feet. They only had time to show their surprise for,in the next instant,he turned and leapt back, throwing his back against the men and sending them sprawling. They snarled and regained their feet, enraged at the weaponless magician, and they came at him again, hurling insults in their tongue. Samuel darted in, squeezing between them. The Paatin followed him with their blades, but they could not finish their movements lest they slice each other in two.

Samuel stepped even closer and slipped behind one of the men, grabbing him by the seat of his pants and spinning him around full circle. He then pushed the fellow away towardsanother, leavingbothdesert-man stumbling and disoriented. The two came at him once again and Samuel now realised these men were not seasoned warriors. Anyone with a sword was dangerous, but their steps were awkward and their movements were untrained. He was no longer afraid of them, for he knew he could defeat them,even unarmed as he was. He could sense their actions from the shifting of their weight and their footsteps pointed out their intent like painted arrows. It seemed a simple task to predict their steps.

Now confident, his movements became easier. Unless the Paatin could catch him, they could not harm him. All he had to do was wait for an opening and an opportunity to strike back.

He skipped away lightly as they came leaping and slashing the air with their swords. Samuel watched their steps carefully and took his chance, dancing in and throwing his fist into one of their chins. The pain that exploded in his wrist was terrible and he howled aloud as he shuffled back away from the Paatin pair. He rubbed his tender joint gingerly and scolded himself for forgetting Horse’s advice, for he had struck with a loose hand. The two Paatin followed after him and Samuel vaulted in. Their second step had barely touched the ground before he collided into them. A solid kick to both sent them toppling head over heels down the hill and he doubted from the way their bodies flopped about that they would be coming up again anytime soon.