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Redburr’s eyes gleamed as Findle entered the shed.
“That’s right,” growled the Shaper. “I forgot to mention that part. Findle escaped. He’s going to help us with Reiffen tomorrow.”
“Escaped? How?” Avender stared in astonishment as the open bellows roared on the other side of the door, orange sparks snapping at the night.
“The chains loosened when I hit the bottom of the pool,” Findle explained. “After that, it was easy to work myself free.”
Avender remembered how Reiffen had whispered something just before smashing the bottom of Findle’s boat. Perhaps he had voiced a spell to loosen the Dwarf’s chains. But why free Findle after killing Skimmer? It made no sense.
“Findle walked day and night to get here,” said Brizen. “Right across Banking and West Wayland.”
“Crossing the Great River was harder than I thought,” the Dwarf confessed. “Some of those oldfish lurking on the bottom are plenty big. Still, it’ll be a long time before I trust a boat again.”
Avender, stunned by the news that Reiffen had killed Skimmer, nursed his grief while the others discussed their plans. Plainly, what good Reiffen had done in the last few days was nothing compared to the evil. He had only been trying to win Avender over to his side. For all Avender knew, the whole scene with the Keeadini and the farmwife had been staged for his benefit. The tribesmen could easily have butchered the woman the moment he and Reiffen rode away. The same as Reiffen had murdered Skim.
The Dwarf’s voice caught Avender’s attention; Findle was asking if he should challenge Reiffen to single combat. “His magic won’t affect me,” the Bryddin said. “The rest of you can stay safe while I take care of him.”
“Ossdonc would love a challenge,” replied the bear. “But not Reiffen. He’ll run. He knows honor’s just for songs. Brannis has always been right about that. We have to all go for him at once if we’re going to have a chance.”
Findle patted his sword. “He’ll never escape the three of us.”
In that moment Avender made up his mind. Killing Skimmer outweighed everything else. Even if Reiffen managed to save Rimwich and slay all three Wizards, it would never make up for his murdering a friend.
“The four of us,” he said, rising from his barrel. “A long time ago I promised Giserre I’d forget friendship if Reiffen ever stopped being himself. Killing Skimmer’s proof of that for me. He might as well have murdered Ferris.”
“I’m glad you think that way, boy.” The bear’s heavy growl rumbled through the shed. “Makes me think I haven’t failed completely.”
Brizen stirred uncomfortably. “I for one would welcome the opportunity to forgive Reiffen. But I suppose he’s gone too far for that.”
“Much too far.” The bear’s teeth snapped sharply on the last of his roast, grinding gristle and bone.
The decision made, Brizen and Findle left to take their places on the outer wall. Avender would have accompanied them, only the Shaper stopped him with a heavy paw.
“Not you, boy. You look like you could use some sleep.”
“Do you think Brizen will sleep tonight?” Avender protested.
“Brannis will see to it that Brizen gets a few hours’ rest. Besides, I want you to tell me everything you can about Reiffen. The more I know about what he can and can’t do, the better chance we have to defeat him.”
Wearily Avender slumped back down on his barrel. His first surge of horror at Skimmer’s death had ebbed; body and soul, he was exhausted. “I have no idea what he can’t do,” he said. “As far as I can tell, he can do anything. Summon storms, heal wounds, make people invisible. He offered to teach it all to me, too. But how he can think anyone can ever trust him after killing Skimmer...”
His tale broken up by yawns, he told Redburr everything that had happened since first waking in the tent by Backford Pool. For once the Shaper listened without interrupting, asking no questions and leaving Avender to longer and longer silences as the young man tried to remember every last detail. With each pause Avender fought harder to stay awake.
His chin dropped to his chest; the hammer blows from the smithy grew soothing as far-off thunder. “For a while tonight I thought it was going to be like the old days,” he mumbled. “I was sure Reiffen had found a way to turn the tables on the Three.”
“No one turns the tables on Wizards,” said the bear.
More anvil blows woke them before dawn, the weary men still hard at work in the red glow of the forge. Darkness lay close about the rest of the keep, though from the courtyard the sky did appear lighter than the ground.
They saw no one on the streets except a company of the city guard, but there was more activity at the gate. Torches burned low along the walls to keep the light hidden from the Wizard’s sharp eyes and expert aim. Above the massive wooden doors, two large caldrons squatted over a bed of glowing coals. Stones lay stacked close to the bottom of the wall, slings and cranes ready to hoist the rocks up to the parapet as soon as they were needed.
Brannis, Brizen, and Findle stood on the wall to the side of the gate, away from the heat of the fires. The slick scent of oil filtered the air, reminding Avender of Hern and Ferris cooking sinkers. It occurred to him that, however angry he might be with Reiffen, Ferris’s disappointment would be worse. Her faith in their friend had remained undimmed.
Rearing massively on his hind legs, Redburr leaned on the wall beside the king, an arm’s length taller than everyone else. “They’ve let their fires go out,” he said, squinting at the shadows in the blackened fields.
“That began in the middle watches of the night,” answered Brizen. His father wore a thick cloak against the early chill, but Brizen’s back was bare of any covering other than his armor.
“No doubt they wanted to hide their movements,” said the king.
“I still think we should send out a patrol,” urged Findle.
“Not until there is light enough to see.”
“Reiffen’s message said to wait till an hour after dawn,” Brizen reminded his father.
“We’ll leave earlier than that,” said Redburr.
Brizen turned to Avender. “There was a lot of coughing out there last night, but most of it stopped an hour or so ago. Was much of the army ill when you left?”
“Yes,” Avender answered. “Maybe Reiffen’s cured everybody’s colds the way he healed my wound.”
An officer appeared at the king’s shoulder. “Sire, the cooks are ready. Shall I start sending the men to breakfast?”
“Yes, captain. Start at the gate and work outward from there. I want the fresh troops here first, where an attack is most likely to occur.”
Beyond the wall the gray dawn lifted to reveal a mist rolling in from the river, but the inland fields remained clear. Dark lumps speckled the burnt ground in the uncertain light.
“Where are their pickets?” asked Avender.
“I can’t see that far.” Screwing up his weak eyes, the Shaper leaned farther over the parapet.
Concerned, the king glanced toward the river. “You’re right. They must be using the fog to mask some movement on the water. Brizen, go to the north wall and check with Sir Firnum. Make certain the river guard remains alert.”
The prince hurried off. In the east, the day’s first color spread from sky to ground. A songbird called from a lemon tree on the terrace of a house behind the wall.
“I still don’t see anything,” said Avender.
“Nor I,” agreed the king.
The charred fields, however, looked much more uneven than they had the day before. The number of lumps thickened the farther they stretched from the wall.
Brizen came running back, his hand on his sword to keep from tripping on the scabbard.
“Corpses, sire,” he called, before he even reached his father. “Dozens of corpses are floating in the river.”
“Corpses?”
Avender realized at once that was what the lumps in the field were as well. His gorge rose, though all he smelled was oil. “Don’t you see?” He swept an arm along the view. A large, black crow was already hopping toward one of the limp piles. “Those black mounds on the ground, they’re the pickets. And behind them it looks like more.”
“Of course.” Brizen moved to the wall beside him. “Nothing’s moving out there at all.”
“I still can’t see a thing.” Redburr sniffed the air. “Can’t smell anything, either. The breeze is wrong.”
Findle shrugged. “Don’t ask me what I think. We Bryddin have eyes for short work, not distance.”
“Has there been a quarrel in Ossdonc’s camp?” wondered the king. “Sissit and men at each other’s throats?”
“Maybe Gerrit isn’t a traitor at all.” Brizen studied the mist. “Maybe he crossed the river and slew them in the night.”
“We would have heard any fighting,” said the Shaper. “This is something else entirely.”
“Reiffen?” suggested Avender bitterly. Skimmer was still dead, after all. “Some new trick?”
“He has shown a penchant for murder,” the bear agreed.
“This strikes me as more the work of a hero,” said Brizen. “Those are our enemies lying dead out there.”
More crows settled on the ground. No one shooed them away. A few pecked at specks of grain in the blackened grass, hopeful of better to come. Still more flew down from the trees.
Findle slid off the top of the wall to stand beside the others. “No more waiting. Who’ll go with me, or shall I go alone?”
The king raised his eyebrows. “I will give the orders, Sir Findle.”
Findle snorted. “It’s not a matter of orders, Your Majesty, but speed.”
“I agree.” Redburr dropped back to all fours. “I can’t see anything from up here anyway.”
“I’ll go,” said the prince.
“And I,” said Avender.
Brannis scanned the fields one more time. Except for the mist along the river, the view was clear. “What about Ossdonc?”
“He’ll show up eventually,” said Redburr. “Whether he has an army or not.”
The king turned to his son. “If the Wizard appears, return at once.”
“I shall not be shepherded, Father. I carry one of the heartstone blades after all.”
“It is not shepherding to be cautious in the face of a Wizard, Prince.” Redburr turned back to the stone stair. “Brannis, make them open the post-door so we can leave.”
Calling out the order, the king accompanied them to the gate. For a moment it appeared the small door inside the larger portal was too narrow for the Shaper but, with a final, determined grunt, Redburr squeezed through. Brannis embraced his son, then let him go. Avender and Findle followed, paying no attention to the clumps of reddish-brown fur caught in the wooden frame.
With Redburr leading, they entered the outer town. Smoke curled from the blackened beams of the ruined houses, the stench of burning much stronger than it had been from the walls. Behind them every archer on the parapet had an arrow at the ready, but no one challenged them. In the fields nothing moved but the crows.
Leaving the road, Redburr guided them across the burnt ground straight toward the closest body. Avender grew aware of a low, buzzing hum.
“Approach no closer.”
The company stopped. A man stood to their right, a dark cloak covering him from head to toe. At the sound of his voice the buzzing thickened and a swarm of flies rose briefly from the nearest corpse. Findle and Brizen placed their hands on the hilts of their swords. Avender felt the Shaper tense beside him.
“Do not attack me, Redburr,” said the stranger. “It is your death if you do. The same as Ossdonc’s army’s.”
“It’s Reiffen,” said Avender. Strangely, he felt no fear as he recognized his old friend, though he knew at once all this death was the young wizard’s doing. His anger surged.
Redburr raised a paw to take another step.
Reiffen’s face remained hidden beneath his hood. “You will die if you come any closer,” he repeated. “Whether you kill me or not. Better I should go to you.”
“That will certainly make it easier,” answered the bear.
“Safer, as well. But perhaps you will not want to kill me once you hear what I have to say.”
His boots crunching on the seared earth, Reiffen approached. His hands he kept hidden within his sleeves.
“Show yourself,” Redburr demanded.
Reiffen pulled back the hood of his cloak. Dark circles drained his eyes, and his brown hair stood stiff as the half-burned straw in the meadow. A far cry from a triumphant king, he looked more like a half-mad village fool.
“What is it that is so dangerous?” asked Brizen.
“The bodies of the men and sissit I have killed.”
“Why should bodies be dangerous?”
“Have you ever heard of plague?”
His face ashen, Brizen took two or three quick steps backward. Growling in anger, Redburr also retreated. Only Avender, who felt oddly confident Reiffen had kept them far enough from danger, and Findle, who had never been sick a day in his life, and never would be, remained where they were.
“Do not worry. I stopped you with room to spare.” Reaching slowly into his cloak, Reiffen pulled out a small flask. Avender recognized it as the one he had drunk from the day before. “One sip of this and you will be safe, if you really think it necessary to examine the bodies of the dead.”
Brizen’s eyes narrowed. “Can we afford to trust you, Reiffen?”
“Not that I want to vouch for him, but I drank from that flask yesterday and feel fine.” Avender took a step toward the closest corpse. “I’m guessing it’s safe for me to look?”
Reiffen nodded.
Redburr’s eyes glittered warily. “Be careful, Avender. Ossdonc is still about. Reiffen, you can’t believe your poison had any effect on the Wizard.”
“Of course not.”
“Then where is he?”
“Sleeping. His evening was most entertaining. But he will be up and about soon, though we are not yet in any danger. We will hear him long before we see him.”
Avender looked back; the Shaper signaled his consent. Findle followed as the young man advanced toward the nearest body.
“Tell us plainly what you’ve done.”
Reiffen answered Redburr across the ruined ground. “I have brought sickness to Ossdonc’s camp. Every sissit and human has died. And the dogs. Crows and flies are the only survivors.”
Avender hesitated when he reached the corpse, but Findle poked it with his foot. Flies rose in a hazy shroud; the dead flesh sagged backward. Black scabs covered the face, a bloody crust coated chin and tunic. Avender’s stomach rolled. He had seen dead men before, but there was something unnatural about this one, something wrong, almost as if the poor soul, however bad he had been in life, had suffered far more than he deserved before he died. No wonder Reiffen looked so ghastly. To do this to so many must have been horrible.
Not that that had stopped Reiffen from doing it.
“You did all this with a spell?” Redburr wagged his massive head in the direction of the feasting crows.
“A number of spells actually. You saw what it was like at Backford. All that waste. Women and children killed. This struck me as a much better way. There are no innocents among these dead.”
A shout rose from the forest, the crowing of an enormous rooster still delighted with his world. Avender retreated back to Redburr and Brizen, his eyes on Reiffen, who gazed coolly toward the woods before joining them. Findle remained beside the body, flicking flies from the air with nimble fingers.
“Let’s get back to Rimwich,” said Redburr to his companions. “Ossdonc will be in a rare temper now, and we’ve lost our chance with this one.”
“Now is not the time to leave,” Reiffen replied. “You can deal with me later. When the Black Wizard loses his temper, that will be the best time to deal with him. Much the same as you, Redburr, when you are taken with the blood rage.”
“Well I’m not in one now. And I don’t particularly want to get myself into one if it’s only going to get me killed.”
Reiffen’s eyes gleamed, much as they had when he had offered to teach Avender magic. “We may never have a chance like this again, Redburr. Believe me, Wizards are a lot easier to handle one at a time.”
“I’ll stay,” said Findle. “Fighting the Wizard is what I came for.”
Brizen looked uneasily at the bear. “I would not want it said we left our companions to face the Black One alone.”
Redburr stared hard at Reiffen before making up his mind. “You still have to answer for Skimmer and the pup, boy. No matter how many Wizards you kill.”
“I know.”
Avender’s eyes blazed. “I’ll always hate you,” he said.
“I know that too.”
“Ferris will hate you even more.”
Reiffen’s jaw tightened.
“Here now,” said Brizen. “There’s no need to bring Ferris into this. I’m sure she’ll let us know what she thinks in due time.”
Reiffen’s glare shifted to the prince. “As if you could ever know what Ferris might do.”
Redburr growled. “It’s not Ferris we’re fighting about, boys. It’s the Wizard. Reiffen, I assume you have a plan?”
“Yes. Stay out of the way until I cast my spell. Once Ossdonc is stunned, there will be a short moment before he recovers. Strike him then, before he gets back to his feet. Otherwise some of us are going to die.”
Avender hoped it would be Reiffen. Though, with the rest of them doing the close-in fighting, that was probably the least likely result. Maybe it would be better if he hoped he died himself. At least then he wouldn’t have to listen to the cheers Reiffen would undoubtedly receive as the savior of Rimwich if they won. Outside of Valing, no one was going to care much about what had happened to Skimmer.
He raised his sword solemnly, unable to resist declaring whom it was he might be dying for.
“For Ferris,” he said.
“For Ferris,” Reiffen and Brizen replied.
The Wizard emerged from the forest, dark as storms.
“He’s normal-sized.” Brizen lowered his weapon in surprise.
“Last night’s pleasure required it,” said Reiffen.
The prince’s face crinkled, then turned to a frown as he understood Reiffen’s meaning. “How soon before he changes back?”
“I believe he’ll change as soon as he understands what has happened. It won’t be long.”
A second shout shattered the morning as Ossdonc discovered the wreck of his army. Every crow in the fields leapt for the sky.
“REIFFEN!”
“I am here.” Like birdsong, Reiffen’s voice piped in reply
Ossdonc raced forward, his figure growing. Trumpets rang out from the Rimwich wall.
“The king sounds the recall,” said Brizen, bracing himself for the Wizard’s attack.
“Go back,” said Redburr. “No one will blame you for obeying the king’s command.”
“No one will blame me if I don’t, either.”
The earth trembled. The Wizard was nearly upon them, tall as a tree, wild as a boar. Arms lifted, Reiffen began his spell, his thin hands protruding like claws from the sleeves of his cloak. Avender and Brizen raised their swords. Avender recalled how useless his weapons had been the last time he fought the Black Wizard. At least Brizen and Findle had heartstone blades.
The Dwarf darted forward.
Reiffen’s chanting faltered. Redburr snarled. “Cast your spell, boy—now! The Bryddin won’t be affected.”
“He’s blocking my target.”
Findle charged across the blackened field, much faster than Avender had ever seen a Dwarf run before. When he was directly in Ossdonc’s path he halted, both hands thrust before him.
“Stop! I, Findle of Smales, challenge you to trial by combat! Let the blood of Nurren’s murder be washed clean in my stone blade!”
Much to Avender’s surprise, Ossdonc stopped, his boots carving great swaths in the burnt earth. Flecks of glee graced the corners of his dark and empty eyes, and he made great show of putting his hands on his waist and peering down at the Dwarf as if at an ant.
“A challenge, little one?” Throwing back his head, the Wizard laughed. The crows, who had settled in the nearer trees, left the field for good.
“You have to understand,” answered the Dwarf, “I’ve never done this before. Manders and rock eels don’t require challenging. I hope I followed the rules.”
Ossdonc’s leer broadened. “You have done well, Dwarf. And I see by your presence that Reiffen’s treachery has been long planned.”
“I freed myself, if that’s what you mean. Reiffen had nothing to do with it.”
“I doubt that. You Dwarves are an arrogant kind. I look forward to your comeuppance.”
The bear called loudly to the two dissimilar figures standing alone in the field. “Yes, that would be something, Wizard, you slaughtering somebody five times smaller than yourself.”
From the side of his mouth he added in a whisper to the humans beside him, “Reiffen, think of something. I’ll stall him as long as I can.”
Ossdonc looked over Findle toward the Shaper. “Patience, bear. After all these years, your time has finally come. Surely you can wait a minute longer.”
“I have no intention of waiting any longer than I have to. When you’re done I’m going to flee as fast as I can. I’m as old as you, remember, and I didn’t get that way by taking foolish chances. But I had thought you might find the sport more amusing if you returned to human size. At the very least, it might last an extra minute or two.”
Findle brandished his thin sword. “The Wizard must not reduce himself in any way. These contests are supposed to be fair, you know.”
“Bravely spoken, Dwarf. You heard the challenge, bear. Far be it for me to deny this small one the death he wishes. I advise you to start running now and find yourself a deep hole to crawl into, or I shall be sure to find you.”
Certain Reiffen was stalling deliberately, Avender grabbed him roughly by the shoulder. “Do something!”
Reiffen eyed his old friend coldly. “There’s nothing I can do. The magic won’t work correctly around a Dwarf. Findle will have to take his chance. Whatever you do, don’t join him. With the rest of you out there, I’ll never get a clear shot.”
“If Findle dies, that’s one more on your head.”
“Fair enough.” Reiffen straightened his cloak after Avender had let him go.
A second round of trumpets blared from the walls of the city, different from the first. “My father sends a sortie,” said Brizen in a low voice. “Soon the odds will be in our favor.”
“If the five of us fail to kill the Wizard,” answered Reiffen, “no number of Wayland knights will do the trick.”
“Then I suppose we have found ourselves in a song after all,” said the prince.
Ossdonc drew his black sword. “On your guard, small thing. I have more work to do when I finish with you.”
Next to the Wizard, Findle looked like a child about to receive a lesson in swordsmanship from his father. None of his companions believed the Dwarf had a chance. How could he, when he was one-third the size of his enemy and had only known of swords and swordsmanship for twenty years? Ossdonc had easily defeated Nolo years ago at the henge, and Nolo was larger than Findle.
Grinning, Ossdonc sliced at the Dwarf’s head. Findle dodged easily, more nimbly than Nolo could have managed, and the Wizard’s sword smote the ground. The earth shook. With a quick lunge Findle buried the point of his blade in the Wizard’s wrist. Ossdonc grimaced and backed away, a crimson bracelet dribbling down his arm.
“The Inach makes you bold, small one,” he declared. “Too bold, perhaps.”
He swung his blade in a great, slashing arc, almost too fast to see. Findle ducked beneath the sweeping sword, but this time the Wizard had anticipated the move. At the last minute, with unbelievable strength, he dipped his blade. The sword caught Findle on the chin, knocking him backward and spinning him to the ground. Avender’s heart rushed to his throat as Ossdonc cut savagely at his fallen opponent, expecting to see Findle shatter into a thousand pieces; but at the last minute the Dwarf managed to raise his own weapon to deflect the Wizard’s blow. Once more Ossdonc buried his sword in the earth, deeper this time than the first. Iron rang against buried rock; Findle rolled to his feet and stabbed Ossdonc deeply behind the knee.
The Wizard went blind with rage. Blow after blow rained on the Dwarf, but somehow Findle caught them all, bearing the force with a wrist as strong as Inach. Sparks flashed above his head with every stroke. The clashing blades rang.
Hoofbeats thudded from behind. Brannis, accompanied by a squad of cavalry, halted beside his son. Half a dozen Dwarves lagged behind on stubby legs, still only halfway from the castle.
“What is going on here?” the king demanded.
“A matter of honor,” said Reiffen without turning around.
“And who might you be?” inquired the king as another round of blows crashed across the field.
“That’s Reiffen, Father.”
“Reiffen!”
“Quiet,” growled Redburr.
The fury of his attack spent, Ossdonc stepped back to catch his breath. Reiffen raised his arms to cast his spell. Findle, however, wouldn’t let the Wizard rest, and sprang forward like a terrier worrying a boar. Scowling, Reiffen stopped his magic a second time. Grimly now, without boasting, the Wizard blocked the Bryddin’s cuts. Bloody streaks appeared on his arms and legs, showing he couldn’t stop them all. But Findle was too small to press the Wizard as fiercely as the Wizard had pressed him. Realizing this, the savage brightness returned to the Wizard’s dark eyes. His sword strokes became more careful. Clearly he was gathering himself for another rush. But once again Ossdonc’s impetuosity was nearly his undoing. Findle ducked inside the Wizard’s thrust and stabbed him deeply in the thigh, the Dwarf’s sword point once again finding the gaps in the Wizard’s armor.
This time Ossdonc didn’t lose his temper. Punching his other knee forward, he caught Findle full in the chest. The Dwarf flew backwards, but even as he was in the air Ossdonc swatted him with his empty hand. Once again Findle spun across the ground. Ossdonc fell on him immediately, beating Findle’s head and shoulders with great blows before the Dwarf could regain his feet. Findle had fought boldly, and far more successfully than anyone had believed possible, but the end had plainly come. Each attack drove the Dwarf deeper into the ground, until he disappeared completely into the earth. Black dirt sprayed across the sky.
Reiffen began his casting a third time.
A dog barked from the wall. War horns called from across the river. Kneeling on the ground, Ossdonc raised his sword with both hands and brought it down with one last crushing blow, as if to rend the earth. A loud crack burst from the ground, the sound of stone breaking. Ossdonc struggled to his feet.
Six Bryddin rushed through Brannis’s troop toward the Black Wizard as Reiffen finished his spell. Three bolts of lightning flashed from his fingers, striking the Bryddin as they darted awkwardly into the way. Five of the six fell like tenpins. The sixth stopped when he realized he was the only one still standing.
Laughing, Ossdonc plucked a stone from the pouch at his side. Avender ducked, remembering what had happened the last time he had seen the Wizard throwing stones.
“Wide,” said Reiffen, not flinching. The stone sped past his ear.
Ossdonc laughed again. “You will have no further chance for spells, traitor. Drop your guard for a moment and I shall kill you.” The Wizard turned his attention to the Dwarves, who were groggily picking themselves up off the ground. Avender wondered how the magic had been able to affect them at all. “As for you, small things, your brother lies in the earth, where I have planted him. Perhaps fresh stones will grow to take his place, since you can raise no new ones of your own. Come, let me bury the rest of you beside him.”
The Wizard took a step forward. As he did so a small hand reached up from the ground to grasp his boot. Like a man stumbling over a root, the giant toppled. Findle crawled out of his grave. Clumps of dirt fell from his shoulders as he raised his sword and thrust it full into the back of Ossdonc’s neck. The Black Wizard writhed; his feet beat against the ground. Findle’s fellows stumbled up to help him, but there was nothing more to be done. The Wizard was dead. His spasms passed as a cold wind swept from south to north across the land.
Avender stared in disbelief. Humans and Dwarves shouted with joy. Reiffen’s entreaties to keep back from the blackened dead were buried beneath their gladness.
“We thought you were broken,” said one of the Dwarves to Findle as the tumult began to ebb.
“That’s what I wanted Ossdonc to think.” Dark wetness seeped slowly from the gouges on Findle’s head and shoulders, but he paid it no mind. “He pounded me so deep he couldn’t see what he was doing any more. So I pulled a rock out of the ground and held it up as a shield. That’s what broke.”
Avender felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Reiffen still looking grim.
“We have to go.”
“Go? Why would I go anywhere with you? I wish you’d died with the Wizard.”
“Giserre is in danger.”
“Giserre?” Being angry with Reiffen was one thing, but Giserre was another matter entirely. “Where?”
“In Ussene.”
Avender’s hands went cold. “How will we get there?”
“Get where?” Elated by the Wizard’s defeat, Brizen beamed over Reiffen’s shoulder. As Avender had expected, the prince had forgotten all about Skimmer. “What are you two talking about?”
“There are other Wizards yet to kill, cousin,” answered Reiffen. “Tell your father not to be too harsh on Prince Gerrit and the others on the far side of the river. It was me they joined, not Ossdonc. I tricked them. Besides, your father will need their help to drive the Keeadini from Banking. Give him this.” He pulled a parchment from his cloak. “With this abjuration I renounce all claims to the thrones of both Banking and Wayland. Some day they’ll be yours. I’m in too much of a hurry to stay.”
Brizen’s delight was replaced with confusion, though he held in his hand what should have delighted him even more.
Another voice, deeper and gruffer, growled at Reiffen’s back. “I don’t suppose that’s it for the day, is it? What else do you have in mind, boy?”
“We’re going to Ussene.”
“So I guessed. Can your magic take me as well?”
“I think so. Though I’ve never tried with three.”
“Let’s see what happens. But remember, you’re not out of the woods yet.”
“What about me?” Disappointment creased Prince Brizen’s face as he realized Reiffen meant to leave without him. “I also have the means of killing Wizards.” Shoving Reiffen’s proclamation awkwardly under his arm, he half pulled his Inach sword from its sheath.
“You have to stay and help your father.” Reiffen spoke patiently, despite his hurry to get away. “He’ll need you more than we will, even if you manage to avoid fighting Prince Gerrit. And make sure you and every man out here drinks from this flask before you return to town. It will be safe to walk these fields this evening, but until then keep everyone inside.” Reiffen pressed the small flask he had shown them earlier into Brizen’s hand. “Lastly,” he went on, “I would consider it a great honor if you would allow me to borrow your sword, Your Highness.”
Somewhat crestfallen that his sword was needed rather than himself, Brizen handed over the blade. Bowing, Reiffen accepted the gift.
“Now then,” he began. “Avender, I need you and Redburr to grasp my arms.”
Reluctantly, Avender did as he was told. Things were moving too fast for thinking now. If only Reiffen hadn’t murdered Skimmer, everything would be perfect. But he had, which meant, for Avender at least, that everything was worse instead of better. A murdering hero would be much harder to deal with than a murdering villain.
His yellow teeth bared, Redburr took Reiffen’s other arm in his mouth. Avender took some satisfaction in the notion that, at the first sign of treachery, the Shaper would probably tear Reiffen’s arm off at the shoulder. Reaching the arm Avender was holding across to the other, Reiffen took hold of the thimble in his right hand. “Return,” he said simply, pulling the hard iron from his finger.
“So that’s how it’s done,” mumbled Redburr through Reiffen’s sleeve as the world disappeared around them.