David Coe - The Dark-Eyes War

The n'qlae nodded and started south once more.

Sirj and Besh went back to the west end of the settlement, taking care to keep low to the ground, lest the J'Balanar were watching.

"Have you figured out the spell yet?" Sirj asked in a hoarse whisper.

"No, not yet. But it'll come to me."

Sirj looked at him. "When?"

"Soon, I hope."

They crept past the last of the shelters, and pulled their knives free. Besh reached for a handful of dirt and cut his hand, catching the blood on the flat of his blade. He mixed the blood and dirt and then closed his eyes.

"Blood to earth, life to power, power to thought, earth to mist, mist to magic, magic to Qirsi…" He trailed off again. He only paused for an instant, but that was long enough. He even managed a smile. Why limit the spell to the warriors, when he could disrupt the J'Balanar's plans so much more? "Magic to horses, mist to ants."

He let the magic fly from his hand.

"You heard?" he said, looking at Sirj.

Judging from the grin on the man's face, he had. He chanted the same spell and threw the blood and earth in the same direction.

Already Besh could hear men muttering in the distance. They weren't directly in front of him, but it seemed that the spell had found its way to the Qirsi just the same. A horse whinnied, and then another.

"Come on," Besh said.

They ran back into the sept and to the southern edge, where the n'qlae and her warriors were waiting for them.

"It sounds as though your spell is working," the n'qlae said.

Besh smiled. "Yes, it does." Sirj had already grabbed more dirt and was cutting his hand. Besh did the same, and the two of them spoke the spell in unison before throwing it into the night. Once again, it didn't take long for them to hear voices rising in surprise and anger.

"You attacked their horses?" the n'qlae demanded, sounding displeased.

Besh knew that he should have anticipated this. The Fal'Borna were fiercely protective of their own animals, and were said to be as merciful with their enemies' horses as they were merciless with the enemies themselves.

"The animals are in no danger, N'Qlae," he said. "They'll have some discomfort, but that's all."

"We need to strike at them now, N'Qlae," Cresenne broke in.

The woman didn't appear mollified, but after a moment she nodded to Cresenne, and said in a soft voice, "Language of beasts."

Besh saw several of the Fal'Borna nod in response, but otherwise he couldn't tell what was happening. An instant later, however, he heard the sound of galloping horses and more angry shouts from the J'Balanar.

"Those of you with language of beasts go to the west end of the sept and send away the horses of the men there," the n'qlae said. She looked at some of her other warriors. "Shapers."

This time the sound that followed made Besh's stomach turn. He'd been attacked with shaping power; he knew how much it hurt to have the bone in his leg shattered by magic. The muffled cracks and screams of pain that rent the night brought back those memories far too vividly.

The n'qlae turned to look at several other Fal'Borna, and then at Cresenne. "Fire."

The flame seemed to rise from the ground, like an orange mist. But it fanned out quickly, lighting the night. Besh could see the J'Balanar now. Most of them were sprawled on the ground. Some were still upright, but were vainly trying to outrun the n'qlae's fire. They never had a chance. It swept over them like floodwaters, and when it had passed, all on the plain was still.

They could hear more shouts coming from the west, and the n'qlae wasted no time.

"Follow me!" she called, sprinting in that direction. Besh, Sirj, and the other Qirsi did as she commanded.

Before they could reach that end of the sept, however, they saw a second wave of fire. This one was headed toward the sept.

"Damn!" the n'qlae said. She halted, closed her eyes, and held out her hands.

Besh was running beside Cresenne and now he saw her stumble, right herself, and stop, swaying slightly.

Another wave of fire formed, sailed over the shelters that were still in front of them, and then swooped down to meet the J'Balanar's magic. The two walls of fire crashed together a short distance from the sept, lighting the night as if the sun itself had fallen to earth. But the enemy's flame was stopped.

The n'qlae started running again, shouting "Shapers!" as she went. Perhaps a dozen of the Fal'Borna women ran after her. The others followed, too. And before they made it past the last of the shelters another wall of fire was headed at them from the J'Balanar.

The n'qlae called on those with fire magic once more and sent another flame to meet that of the enemy. The two bursts of fire magic met farther from the sept this time, but the effect was much the same as it had been last time: brilliant and violent. He could see the J'Balanar beyond the conflagration, the dark markings around their eyes stark against their pale skin.

"Shapers!" the n'qlae said again, even before the fires had faded.

Silence, and then that terrible snapping sound, and the howls of agony.

"Why haven't they attacked us that way?" Sirj asked of no one in particular.

"I think they must have sent their shapers to the south end of the sept," Cresenne said, her voice low. "They're dead already."

"Fire!" the n'qlae said, a note of triumph in her voice.

Already another flame was forming out on the plain, but this one was small and weak-a far cry from the attacks that had come earlier. The n'qlae's answering fire dwarfed that of the J'Balanar. It rushed toward what remained of the raiders, smothering that small flame and abruptly cutting off the low moans and cries of those who had been wounded.

Silence descended on the plain, broken only by the wind, the dry crackle of burning grass, and the crying of a young child from one of the z'kals.

The n'qlae turned to all of them, the smile on her face harsh and exultant. "The night is ours!" she said.

A cheer went up from the Fal'Borna.

The n'qlae approached Besh, Sirj, and Cresenne. "The three of you fought well! The a'laq will hear of what you did tonight." She looked around at her fellow Fal'Borna. "These three fought as Fal'Borna! It'll soon be dawn and I say we should feast on the morrow and all day to honor them as new members of our clan! What say you?"

Again the Fal'Borna shouted their approval.

The n'qlae nodded, still smiling. "So be it!" She looked at Cresenne and the two Mettai. "You have our thanks. We'll see to the young ones and then gather the dead," she said, raising her voice again.

She walked away, followed by the women and those few men who were still in the sept.

Watching her go, Besh felt sick to his stomach. He had done what he had to-and he would have done it again if it meant saving Sirj and himself, and Cresenne and her child. But this had been his first battle, and though he and Sirj hadn't killed anyone, they'd had a hand in the deaths of dozens.

"Are you all right?" Cresenne asked him, seeming to read his thoughts.

"Yes, thank you."

"You saved us all," she said. "Both of you did. The a'laq is sure to free you now, no matter what happens."

Besh nodded, but neither he nor Sirj said anything.

"I need to check on Bryntelle," the woman said, backing away from them, clearly anxious to find her daughter.

"Of course. Go." Besh made himself smile, though it faded as soon as she turned her back on them and hurried away.

"We're warriors now," Besh said, as they watched the woman disappear into the night. "First Lici made me a killer, and now I'm a warrior."

"What did you expect would happen when we cast that spell?" Sirj asked. "I didn't think about it."

Sirj turned to look at him. "Well, I did. If we'd lost, the J'Balanar would have killed us both, and that woman, and her baby. Maybe I should feel guilty, but I don't. You promised Elica that you'd keep me alive, and you did that. Again. So, unless you regret it, I'd suggest you stop feeling sorry for yourself and instead thank the gods that we're still alive to tell Mihas and Annze and Cam the story of this night."