She turned her horse around with obvious contempt. Alyx followed her lead.
“Fuck you!” screamed Appius. “Fuck you and all your accursed kind!”
“Temper, temper!” said Marigoth derisively. “If you want to fight so much, why don’t you go back to Miraya and fight in that civil war of yours? Nobody wants you here.”
As Appius stormed off, Alyx drew her horse close to Yani’s.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t do very well, did I?”
“Nonsense,” said Yani. “You didn’t hit him. That’s a good start. Who could have foreseen that Appius would be so unreasonable? I guess he’s dealt with the Tari often enough not to be awed by us any more.”
“I wonder where he’ll go now,” chuckled Marigoth.
***
As he stormed back down the ravine, Guilius Appius was wondering the same thing. This was the third time he’d been confronted by the Guardians and he hadn’t liked it any more than the previous times.
“How did they do that?” wondered Kindrus, Appius’s second in command, fresh out from Miraya, who had never seen Tari before. “Three mages putting twenty mages to sleep. Even death mages can’t do that.”
“They hardly seem human, do they?” said the other lieutenant, who had seen Tari before but never seen them in action. “Those strange eyes. If the Inquisition were here they’d make roast meat out of them, I’d bet.” He raised his voice to speak to Appius. “I thought the Guardians were from that central island, you know, Yarmar. What are they doing out here on Pels island?”
“Ten years ago there were no Tari anywhere,” Appius snarled back at him. “Then those bloody witches appeared out of nowhere like some kind of filthy disease, calling themselves ‘Guardians’, and bring down Olbia. Then they prevented the subduing of the rest of the islands and now it looks like they’ve decided to run the whole Archipelago. They claim to love peace but they just encourage the natives in ignorance and paganism. Damned whores!”
He turned to a waiting Sergeant at Arms and said, “When the men are back from their nap, get them to form up on the beach.”
“Do I start loading up the ships?” asked Kindrus.
“Shut up! I need to think.” Appius strode over to the tent which had been set up for him in the lee of the headland, flung in through the canvas door, dashed his gauntlets on the ground and, with a growl of fury, swept everything off the table.
Ten years ago he had been heir to the greatest estate in the newly colonised Principality of Olbia in Southern Seagan, before the Tari had fomented a slave rebellion, driven his family off their hard won land and replaced them with native chieftains. Now he was nothing more than a landless mercenary and, after this day’s work, an unemployed mercenary at that.
“Curse them!” he muttered.
“Tedious, aren’t they?” purred a voice.
Appius jumped, his hand leaping to his sword. Then he recognised the speaker. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to help you.”
“What? Against the Guardians?” He snorted derisively. “I know you’re a great mage but...”
“If you know their weaknesses, they’re not such a problem.”
The mage was sitting in Appius’s chair. He crossed his elegantly booted legs at the ankle. “Do you know that there are only eight of them?”
“What? I’d heard there were thousands up in the hills.”
“Those ones have turned their back on the outside world. No, there are only eight of the creatures out here in the real world. Ten if you count Yani and Elena Tari, but they’re not mages. The half-breed daughter doesn’t count at all. If a person could get rid of those eight creatures, only eight...”
“No one can defeat a Tari mage. They’re superhuman.”
“Not with magic, it’s true. But with cunning, there are ways. I already hold one Tari prisoner and soon will have more.”
“You have a Tari prisoner? How?”
The mage smiled silkily. “If you can get witch manacles on them, iron disrupts their magic just as it does with any other mage.” He leaned forward. “Now, my dear friend, I have a plan for reasserting civilisation in this Archipelago and I need some well-trained mercenary troops to do it. Soon I could be in a position to offer you back your family’s lands in Olbia. Maybe even a Dukedom. Does that appeal?”
“You know it does.” Appius looked at him speculatively. “But I need money before that. Otherwise this company of dogs will scatter.”
“I understand entirely. I want you to set sail for the pirate haven on the island of Baracau. Any ally of mine will find good welcome there - food, lodgings and entertainment provided. In the meantime, here’s a little something to tide you over.” The mage threw a leather pouch on the table. “In return, when I order you out, you will come immediately. Understood?”
“Done!” said Appius, offering his hand.
The mage shook it.
“Good. Someone needs to stand up to these Tari bitches before they destroy every Mirayan colony in these islands!”
Chapter 1
3 months later.
Ezratah
Warm torch light shone on polished wood panels, rich red and gold tapestries and tables set with silver plates loaded with succulent looking fruits and nuts. Ezratah Karanus, the Guardians representative at the court of Lamartaine allowed himself to feel a glow of satisfaction as he surveyed the room. Beside each Seagani sat a Mirayan and all were chatting together very civilly - the two dominant racial groups of the Duchy of Lamartaine forming bonds of friendship over a pleasant evening’s feasting.
For the last ten years Ezratah and the rest of the Guardians had worked hard to smooth relations between the recently arrived Mirayan colonists and the native tribes. This feast celebrated the fruition of these efforts, for earlier that day nuptial agreements had been signed between Duke Wolf Madraga of Lamartaine’s oldest son and the heiress of a leading Southern Seagani Chieftain, strengthening Madraga power into the next generation, and ensuring that the Seaganis would continue to have a stake in it.
The engaged couple – tall, fair-haired Paulus Madraga and delicate-boned, dark-haired Dianou Seagani - sat at the centre of the high table, drinking from the same cup and smiling into each other’s eyes. The fact that the marriage had been at their own suggestion made Ezratah feel all the happier about the alliance.
Ezratah’s gaze moved to where Duke Wolf Madraga sat beside his son’s betrothed. The Duke was laughing easily with Dianou’s father Geran Seagani. Duke Wolf, a small neat man whose easy manner disguised an iron will, might have gone the traditional Mirayan way of refusing to countenance a mixed race match, but Duke Wolf had always been too practical to be a traditional Mirayan. That was what had made him so popular with his Seagani subjects and was probably why, after the collapse of the Mirayan domination of Yarmar ten years ago, Geran had put the Mirayan Duke forward for the elected Chieftainship of the Seaganis of Lamartaine.
The door of the great hall swung open and steaming bowls of soup were carried into the room by a procession of well-disciplined servants in the red dragon livery of the Madragas. Ezratah cast another glance around the room and was alarmed to see an empty place. A source of potential insult? He scanned the tables again and was relieved to see that the only one absent was Serge Madraga, the Duke’s scamp of a youngest son. No one was going to be offended by the absence of that popular but notoriously unreliable young roisterer.
The Duke’s