Gail Martin - The summoner

"Bandits!" Vahanian shouted, drawing his sword. From out of the night came a hail of flaming arrows, and around them, the caravan tents

and wagons burst into flames as the wagoners ran cursing to extinguish the fires.

Men on horseback ringed the camp. From their motley armor and the haphazard tack of their horses, Tris guessed that their attackers came together by chance more than design. No doubt more ranged in the forest, responsible for the hail of arrows. As the bandits charged, Tris ran for a place on the line, sword drawn and ready.

An arrow grazed his shoulder. Some of the car-avaners charged forward with a cry, while others began to pull the wagons together for defense or ran to protect the horses. Just at the edge of his sight, Tris glimpsed a fleeting spirit, and a moment later, another and a third.

Sweet Chenne, I can see them dying! he thought, fighting down panic. As his gift had strengthened in the weeks since they fled the palace, sighting the spirits came easier and easier, until now it was almost impossible for him to block out the hum of the revenants that invisibly surrounded the living. But even that, outside the heat of battle, was far different from sensing spirits fresh-torn from their bodies, feeling the sundering of soul and body.

One of the bandits was riding right for Tris, his foam-flecked horse wild with battle. Struggling to keep his wits about him, Tris ducked under the rider's swing and parried as the horse nearly rode him down. The attacker wheeled and charged again. This time, Tris stood his ground, dropping low and scything his sword along the grass to catch the rider's mount.

The screaming horse flailed to the ground, throwing its rider clear. With a sword's stroke, Tris dispatched the hapless beast, then closed on his rider as the bandit climbed to his feet, eyes dark with rage. With a cry and upraised sword, he ran at Tris. The prince lunged, slipping inside the man's guard and sinking his weapon deep into the man's chest. The bandit gasped and fell to his knees, clutching his chest. His eyes widened as he cursed in surprise and then, blood flowing from between his fingers, fell over dead.

Tris felt a sudden, disorienting lurch as if he had been slammed hard from behind. He shook his head to clear it, and stared at the dying bandit. As he watched, the man's form shifted, and two identical bodies lay one on top the other. The second form grew more and more transparent, then rose, barely visible, and fixed Tris with a sad and knowing gaze before fading into the air completely. Before Tris could shake the image from his mind, he heard the rush of hoofbeats behind him and a sharp, heavy thump on the side of his head sent him reeling, then turned the world to black.

When he came around, the situation did not look good. The bandits fought like men possessed. Vahanian waded grimly into the battle, cursing as he swung his sword. Being on horseback gave the bandits an edge they did not deserve, and made the raid doubly costly for the caravaners. Watching Vahanian and Harrtuck, Tris knew their first priority was to take down as many of the bandits' mounts as possible. As Tris

staggered to his feet, his head pounding, steel clashed and axes swung as the caravaners held their ground. The clamor of the spirits around him threatened to crowd all reason from Tris's mind, and he murmured a warding spell Bava K'aa had taught him. It did not silence the spirits, but it pushed them just far enough from his thoughts to make action possible.

Tris could see that Vahanian's opponent was fixed on reaching the centre of the battle, and worse, the bandit was damnably skilled with his weapon. Flames rose at the centre of the battle, diverting at least half of the caravaners from defense as they ran to save the tents and wagons. A glance told Tris that the bandits chose their targets well, setting ablaze the tents and wagons least likely to contain booty. He reclaimed his fallen sword and headed toward the action.

To his right, Tris could see the old grannywitch swinging an axe with two-handed determination. Wild-eyed, with her gnarled hands white-knuckled on the axe's handle, her lips moved in arcane verse as she kept her opponent at bay. Suddenly, the bandit dropped his sword as if stung, and the pommel of the weapon glowed red hot. The bent old crone seized the opening her spell made to swing her axe without remorse.

Tris headed for the battle at a run, resolutely ignoring his pounding head and the revenants rising from the newly dead on the battlefield. Carroway joined him halfway across the open area, appearing from the smoke that shrouded the burning camp. "Look there!" Tris said, pointing.

The shell of the house Carina had converted into a makeshift hospital attracted the attention of one of the brigands, who was single-mindedly attempting to enter. Carina, armed only with a long stave, barred the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Tris saw Vahanian dispatch his opponent and head for the healer's shelter at a dead run.

"Maybe I can help," Carroway muttered, digging into the pouches at his belt for one of the pellets he used in his storytelling. A flare of green light startled the bandit, giving Vahanian an opening. As Vahanian cut down the bandit, Tris looked up to see another streak of green light rise in a flare from the minstrel's hand.

"Parlor tricks," Carroway said with a wicked grin. His right hand twitched and a blade flew, dispatching one of the bandits as it stuck neatly between his shoulder blades. The bard's tunic was soot streaked and bloodstained. Carroway ran over to the fallen bandit and matter-of-factly retrieved his blade. Tris staggered, feeling the sundered spirits wrench free of their dying flesh. Lady save me, there are so many! he thought, struggling to renew the warding that offered some protection for his sanity.

Carina was still engaged grimly in protecting the patients in her sickroom as another bandit charged. The bandit slashed at her and Carina parried his blows with the stave, but it was obvious that she was tiring.

"You don't get in without the price of admission," Vahanian called to the bandit from behind and the brigand turned.

"And what might that be?" the bandit sneered, his blade raised.

"You've got to need a healer," Vahanian returned, swinging his blade hard. He cut through the bandit's parry as Carina swung her stave, full force, at the bandit's knees. Cleaved shoulder to hip by Vahanian's blade, the brigand fell to the ground just as Tris and Carroway arrived, swords raised. Tris stumbled at the jarring impact he felt in his mage senses, caused by the bandit's swift death, and he clung to the warding with all of his waning might.

"That was a fair defense you put up," Vahanian said to Carina. Carina was breathing hard and her tunic cfung sweat-soaked to her form. Her short, dark hair hung in her eyes and as she pushed it back, her hand trembled. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine," she assured him, although her words sounded more certain than her tone. Footsteps from behind gave him no time to argue, and as Vahanian turned to meet his next opponent, Carina retrieved her stave and withdrew into the shadows of the ruined building. Tris took up a guard post outside.

A crash like thunder sounded behind Tris. One of the main caravan tent posts snapped and fell across the roof to the makeshift hospital, dragging the burning tent with it. He wheeled in time to see the blazing tent set the roof of the healer's shack afire.

"The roof's on fire!" Tris shouted above the fray.

Vahanian and Soterius were close enough to hear. "Leave the bandits, come with me," Vahanian shouted to Soterius as Tris covered his face with his tunic and ducked inside.

The sagging canvas of the ruined tent crackled with flames. Fire spread quickly to the dilapidated thatch of the building's roof, and smoke billowed from its doorway. As Tris fought his way through the smoke, Carina was already dragging one man from the burning building, though it took all her might to move his heavy body. Although the smoke made his aching head even worse, Tris helped Carina drag the man to safety.