woman could respond the air was filled with a rushing shriek, the village disappearing in a welter of raised grit and swirling debris. Vaelin’s legs were swept from under him and he found himself cartwheeling across the ground, brought to a sudden and jarring halt as he collided with the well. The gale raged for several seconds more, Vaelin seeing Shuhlan’s body tumbling past, limbs slack and head lolling atop a snapped neck.
The whirlwind died as swiftly as it had been born, detritus showering down as the last of the smoke faded away. Vaelin saw Eresa propped against the wall of the well, but there was no sign of Juhkar.
“Where,” a youthful and enraged voice demanded, “is my fucking sister!”
Babukir guided his horse through the remnants of a ruined house, sabre in hand. Behind him rode an unarmed woman clad in the garb of the border country, gaze fixed on Eresa. Her face, streaked with blood from recent and extensive use of her gift, was set in the hateful mask all true believers reserved for the heretic. “Betrayer!” she called out in a near scream. “How could you offend our lord so?”
“Oh,” Eresa responded in a weary sigh, “go and rut with a goat, Drehka.”
“Shut your mouth, you traitorous whore,” Babukir snapped. He walked his horse forward, furious gaze shifting between Eresa and Vaelin. Stahlhast, mounted and on foot, were at his back, thronging the village. “Where is she?” he demanded, levelling his sabre at Vaelin. “I won’t ask again, Thief of Names.”
Vaelin rose, working his neck to banish the ache of connecting with the well. “Then don’t,” he said, raising his sword.
He saw bloodlust vie with fear on Babukir’s face. Having witnessed Obvar’s end, he seemed to possess enough wisdom to calculate the likely outcome of single combat, nor did his pride compel him to risk it. “Kill them,” he said, waving the Stahlhast forward. “Then scour this place . . .”
A blast of heat and displaced air drowned his words, Vaelin whirling to see a fireball erupt amongst a group of Stahlhast. They fell writhing amidst the flames, screams high and piteous. Another fireball streaked towards Babukir, although he dragged his horse aside in time to avoid it. The Stahlhast behind him took the full brunt, a dozen flame-wreathed figures performing a crazed dance.
Vaelin saw Kihlen and Jihla advancing from the upper end of the village, marching in perfect step as they cast fireballs into the ranks of the Stahlhast. Drehka, the Gifted believer, spurred her horse forward, arms raised and fresh blood leaking from her nose and eyes. A vicious invisible whip swept the twins off their feet, quickly enveloping them in a small whirlwind that sent them spinning. Something buzzed the air close to Vaelin’s ear and he jerked aside, lowering into a crouch, but the arrow hadn’t been meant for him. It took Drehka in the belly, doubling her over to collapse from the saddle, the whirlwind that embraced the twins dying along with her a heartbeat later.
“Pity,” Juhkar said, emerging from the tumbled stones of the pigsty with bow in hand. “I always had a sense she rather liked me.”
“Help me,” Vaelin said, rushing to help Eresa to her feet. Together, he and Juhkar bore her up the slope, making for the horses. Kihlen and Jihla were back on their feet now, keeping the Stahlhast at bay with their fiery projections. From the twins’ increasingly bleached pallor and the blood streaming down their faces, Vaelin doubted they had the strength to last much longer.
“Get to the horses,” he commanded. “You’ve done enough.”
They fled past the steaming remains of the two-storey house, making for the rope line where they had corralled the horses, then coming to a halt at the sight of mounted warriors atop the ridge. Knew enough to send a flanking force too, Vaelin thought, his grudging respect for Babukir’s tactical nous increasing further. He put the riders’ number at close to forty, too many to have a hope of fighting their way through, at least not without Gifted assistance, but one look at the twins told him they were close to collapse.
“We can try, at least,” Jihla said, reading the unspoken question in Vaelin’s gaze. She and her brother staggered a short way up the slope, holding on to each other for support as they raised their hands. The riders on the ridge seemed to take this as some form of signal for they spurred into an immediate charge, streaming down the