44

Miraveh knew she had no other option. The forces the Hunters O' The Dark had raised against them were too great, and they hadn't even brought in as many as they could have. Hundreds of warriors and magic wielders against a pitiful force of less than two dozen emaciated, tired Witches, elves and goblins who had, in all likelihood, never fought a battle in their lives. Miraveh could take up the unicorn horn and fight, but people would still die.

As she reached her packs, she began to unbuckle her sword belt, only for Sialira to race up and place a hand on her arm. She didn't ask the question, though Miraveh could see it in her eyes. One death to save many. The ends of her belt fell away from her waist and she held the sword, given to her by Alran, up. She liked to think he would approve of her decision. An honourable sacrifice. Without saying a word, she wrapped the belt around the sword in its sheath and handed it to Sialira.

"You can't be considering this!" With a flick of her hand, Sialira tossed the sword on top of Miraveh's packs. "You really do want to die, don't you? Well, I won't have it. I won't!"

"Look around." Miraveh jerked her chin to guide Sialira's gaze around the courtyard of the keep. The people had begun to gather, coming in their threes from where they had been assigned. Murmuring. "These people can't win. It will be a pointless slaughter and if I can stop that by giving my life, then it's my duty to do so."

"Perhaps it's not a matter of winning?" Turotara had joined them, crouching down to retrieve Miraveh's sword. She had examined it before and Miraveh could still see the appreciation the guard had for the blade. "Perhaps it's a matter of not giving in? Perhaps its a matter of drawing a line in this dirt and refusing to let those bastards get away with this? Perhaps it's their choice?"

It wasn't their choice. It couldn't be. None of these people had had a choice from the day they were born. Until recently, the humans here would have lived a life without magic spoiling everything. They may have known of their magical potential, but it would never have come to this, where they feared for their lives because they could touch magic. Miraveh, and Kay and Yusuvur, had brought magic back. They had started this.

The elves and goblins were a different matter, but still did not deserve this. They had lain in slumber for hundreds of years while magic had remained lost to the world. Awoken as magic had returned, they had even less choice than the Witches. They were magic. Born from it. Magic infused them and sustained them. Persecuted for the mere act of being born elven or goblin. With a single sacrifice, these people, all of them, stood a chance of living a long, fulfilling life, far from Hunters O' The Dark.

"Then perhaps it's also a matter of making a point?" Miraveh wanted to take the sword from Turotara's hand, but the woman deserved that blade more than her. "Let my sacrifice mean something. Let it show the Hunters O' The Dark for who they are. Let it be a beacon for others to resist this foul hunt."

"How can that happen when everyone within these walls will be slaughtered the moment you fall?" Now Brothimir had joined them, pushing through the crowd that had gathered as news of the Hunters' demands had flowed around the stronghold. "You cannot trust them. Believe me, I know. They will kill you, their greatest challenge, and then they will take the others. They are not honourable people, Miraveh!"

"You can make a portal while they are distracted by me." Miraveh's eyes twitched toward her packs, where the unicorn horn lay hidden. "You could use a relic and ..."

"I can't." With a sigh, Brothimir dropped his eyes and held up his hand. String wrapped around his fingers fell and a relic dangled below his fist. "I stole it. After you released the unicorn, I thought I'd never touch a relic again, not one of my own. So I stole it, but ... I think something within me broke when I created the portal here. I cannot use a relic. The magic does not flow for me anymore."

Miraveh snatched the relic from Brothimir's hand and felt a thrill as her skin touched the piece of unicorn horn. But she also felt the darkness within it. The corruption borne of becoming bound to someone with a dark heart and darker intentions. She let the relic fall, holding only the string, and held it to the side for Sialira. The young Witch took the relic without a word as Miraveh stepped toward Brothimir, her face a fraction of an inch from his.

"You intended running away, taking one of the few weapons these people have." He couldn't look her in the eye, not that it mattered. She knew Brothimir for who he was and he could never change. "You never had to stay with us, anyway. I'm sure your former brothers and sisters will let you pass them unharmed."

"You don't understand!" Brothimir looked around, circling as he spoke, taking in all the eyes that watched the ongoing conversation. "None of you do! They will kill you all. Miraveh's sacrifice only takes your most powerful warrior off the battlefield. I thought I could end it. I thought I could kill Yaerual, there and then, under the flag of truce, but I couldn't. I couldn't use the relic and now ... now ..."

As Brothimir finished circling, he returned his eyes to Miraveh and she saw tears. Genuine tears. Somehow, Miraveh knew they were not tears for his own predicament, or for what he had lost. These tears were something altogether different. To the side, she could see that Turotara, too, had not expected this reaction from the former Hunter. Even Sialira had edged forward, a hand rising as though to comfort the man.

"Something has changed in him." Sialira's hand, after a pause, fell onto Brothimir's shoulder. "Not the inability to use relics. Something else. I ... I must confess, I thought him different before, but I did not believe someone like him could change. This emotion. It's real."

"You, Miraveh Arachild. You showed me, back before Comragon. You expressed your magic and I had never seen it in that way before. So vibrant and colourful and beautiful. We are taught that magic is evil, that we Karline are evil for having magic, but we can repent by helping to find others with magic. By ..." Again, Brothimir lowered his head, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. He couldn't look anyone in the eyes. "But you showed me that wasn't so. Magic is what we make it. It can be beautiful or terrible. Look at what you have done here. Witches, elves and goblins, working side by side. By necessity, of course, but I doubt any here would have it any other way."

"What are you trying to say, Hun ... Brothimir?" With less viciousness than she would have used before, Turotara gripped Brothimir's chin, raising his head. "You're babbling and we do not have the time."

"Miraveh has created something here. Inadvertently, of course. I doubt she planned it so." Tears still pricked his eyes, but Brothimir managed a choked laugh. "A different way. The Witches sit in their Coven towers and do nothing. The Order of Velaurian Warriors were too honourable for their own good and their descendants, the Hunters? Well, you know. This? This is different. Better. A cooperation that I do not think could happen without Miraveh. No-one else could bring Witches, elves and goblins together."

Miraveh didn't like to admit it, but Brothimir had the right of it. At least, partially. These disparate people had come together through circumstance. Forced to congregate under a mutual threat. Miraveh had convinced them to work together. To compliment each other, as equals. Brothimir was right, too, that she had not planned it, but it had come about through necessity. Groups of three, working together to protect each other, to defend each other and fight for each other. Witch protecting elf. Elf protecting goblin. Goblin protecting Witch. A circle of cooperation in order to protect those around them.

And several circles became a chain. Strong and binding. Linked together as one. Miraveh could see it. Bound, not by a shared hatred, as the packs of Hunters were, but by shared desires, shared hopes for a better, long life. She certainly had started something and, as she saw them all, still standing in their groups of three, even now, she knew they didn't need her to continue.

Without warning, Miraveh embraced Brothimir, feeling him stiffen in surprise before relaxing. She pulled away from him and turned to Turotara, repeating the embrace, though she did not relax. Then she turned to Sialira and the young Witch stepped back before Miraveh could wrap her arms about her shoulders. Sialira searched Miraveh's eyes and her little hands curled into fists.

"You're still going to go." Sialira's forehead creased as she tried to read Miraveh. "After everything we've said, you're still going to give yourself up to them. Are you having difficulty hearing? Well, I'll repeat myself, shall I? No. I won't allow it! I won't!"

"Nor will I." Turotara moved herself to stand beside Sialira, proving a far greater barrier than the little Witch.

"Nor I." Brothimir. He, too, moved to stand beside Sialira, taking his place at the girl's other shoulder.

Then other voices joined in. Human voices, guttural elven voices, gravelly goblin voices. People holding hands in their threes, creating a barrier between Miraveh and the gates of the keep's courtyard. They all repeated the chant, the words beginning to reverberate against the chipped and broken walls, echoing. They raised their voices making a wall of sound and bodies, preventing her from doing the right thing.

They had made their choice and she had to respect that. For now. Later, if needed, Miraveh would give the unicorn horn to Sialira and charge her with the decision of what to do with it. Despite Brothimir saying that magic was neither inherently good or bad, ugly or beautiful, she couldn't help but fear touching that horn and becoming something monstrous. Or, worse, that happening to anyone else.

-+-

Before Miraveh could say anything else, she heard the sound of stone crashing upon stone. Her head whipped around to see dust falling from the keep walls, shrapnel, small pieces of stone falling like hail all around them. The voices raised in defiance of her decision had turned to fearful mutterings, some screams and shouts and Turotara had already begun to run for the keep's gates, out toward the outer walls of the stronghold.

Along the way, Turotara pushed and dragged people, sending them back to their defensive positions. Miraveh began to run, also, Sialira and Brothimir in her wake, and, as they passed through the gates into the outer bailey, she saw more rocks flying through the sky to come crashing down, splintering as they smashed against the walls, the cobbled ground and buildings. Without thinking, she created an invisible barrier, as Yaerual had done, stopping any of the slivers of rock from hitting herself or her companions.

"That wasn't an hour!" Sialira touched her cheek, where a piece of stone had struck her, despite Miraveh's barrier, blood trickling down. "See! They can't even keep that promise!"

"They never intended to." Behind a barricade, now, Brothimir looked over the top to see the plains below, where a line of Hunter's stood, hands raised as they performed their magic. "It was nothing but a ploy to give them time to muster. Oh, if Miraveh had gone, they would have loved it, but it would not have stopped this."

To the left, Turotara shouted at the defenders, telling them to keep their heads down, to weather the storm of rocks that now assailed them. They had expected the battle to begin like this. Magic first, followed by those Hunters without magic to approach the stronghold without fear of retaliation. Only, Miraveh had hoped her sacrifice would have stopped the need. Clearly, Brothimir was correct. They never intended honouring the terms of the truce.

She held out her hand as Turotara returned to them, striding as though the shower of stones and rocks were nothing more an early Spring rainfall. Turotara knew what Miraveh wanted and Alran's sword became slapped into her waiting palm. As Turotara did, so did Miraveh. She stood, moving past the barricade toward the rock she had stood upon only moments before, fastening her sword belt around her waist.

With her magical barrier maintained, the flickering purple whorls of magical energy the only sign that she had protection, she stood upon that rock and glared down at her enemy. There, before the other Karline, stood Yaerual. She recognised the white sash about his chest. She fancied she could see his ruined fingers, even at this distance, and she pledged they would be the least of his worries before the end of this day.

Protected by her magic, she took account of what they faced, even as the rocks appeared to target her, bouncing from the magical barrier, smashing against the rock upon which she stood. She could see those Hunters without magic forming into infantry lines. Behind them, archers. Behind them, the more usual groupings of three that Hunters O' The Dark normally preferred to fight in. They were treating this as a normal battle, but it was not.

She had seen enough. Turning her back, showing contempt for the efforts of the Hunters, she gave a nod towards Turotara who, in turn, raised a hand, waving at those few people upon the battlements of the stronghold. In response, Miraveh saw the goblins stand, the Witches and elves with them providing their own magical barriers, and the goblins began to perform their own magic.

The stronghold was old. Old and close to ruin. Many of the immense stones that were once part of the walls sat upon the ground, fallen and broken, at the edge of the slope that led down toward the plains below. Miraveh had seen the state of that slope, where countless rocks and stones lay in tentative states of grace, the tiniest of nudges causing them to trickle and race down the side of the mountain.

The goblins were not told to make a nudge, but a shove. They focussed their attention on one or two of the stones that were once part of the wall. At first, Miraveh only saw a slight shake upon those stones, then a tremor, before the goblins found their way, toppling the stones and causing them to begin to fall down the slope. As those stones fell, they dislodged others. Small stones, large stones, boulders, until it became a rushing cascade of material, a river of stone, a great waterfall of stone that bounced and crashed down the slope towards the assembled forces below.

Some of those would manage to project barriers of their own, but the momentum, alone, of the larger stones would prove those barriers ineffective, tossing those Karline aside as the rockfall continued to tumble through their ranks. Yaerual had not moved. He had set his feet and his magic and managed to hold his ground. Others of his people were not so lucky.

The newly assembled infantry lines, the archers, the reserve groups of three, all ran this way and that, trying to avoid the worst of the rockfall. Some did not run fast enough. Crushed beneath the larger stones, cut to shreds by the smaller ones, battered and broken by stones of all sizes. After long moments, as the sound of falling stone and screams faded, the dust settling back to the ground, Miraveh waited to assess the success of the counter-attack.

The Hunters were in disarray, their lines buckled, but there were still too many of them. The attack had hit more than Miraveh had expected, but fewer than she had hoped. Even now, their camp followers were pulling the injured back behind the lines. The few dead became left where they fell, and the infantry lines had begun to reform. Miraveh knew it would not have ended the battle, but it gave out the message that they would not fall so easy.

"Now, if they have any sense, they'll hold off. Turn this into a siege. They know we have little more than the clothes on our backs." Turotara ducked her head to listen to a report from a runner, one of the elven children. She gave the elf a nod and they scurried away. "No dead. A few cuts and bruises, but nothing serious."

"They won't besiege us. This isn't just about beating us." She looked down, again, towards the Hunters. The attack had given their enemy more ammunition, but it wasn't as though they couldn't find rocks for their own attacks. "We humiliated them in Comragon. Tales will spread about what happened there and they know it. This is about projecting power. If we can get away with fighting back, so can others."

Even now, Miraveh could see the lines of the Hunters changing. Yaerual gestured furiously to his companions, that also bore the white sash, who went out, waving their arms, pointing. The lines became squares. The line of Karline, that had stood at the forefront, now began to form at the corners of those squares. The tactics were changing in reply to Miraveh's, but she wouldn't use the same trick twice. Not exactly.

She didn't look towards those few upon the battlements. She had asked them about their families, their lives before all of this. To a one, they had told her that they were alone on this life. Later, if needed, they would take that life into their hands. But not yet. Not ever, if Miraveh could help it. She felt her thoughts drawn once again to the unicorn horn and what she could do with it. And also the price she could pay for using it. It was not time for that, either, and, though she could feel her magical strength returning fully, she hoped she would never see that time.

"What do you expect them to do next?" Sialira joined Miraveh, the young Witch's hand clasping hers. "Perhaps it's time for Vendurthia ..."

"No, not yet. She knows what to do." She looked down at the girl and smiled. Perhaps the first smile she had felt upon her own face for some time. Such a pity it was forced. "Don't worry. We will react to whatever they do and, if all else fails, I will create a portal and hope that we do not bring the evil of these people down upon others."

Miraveh had thought about it several times. She could, she felt certain, create a portal now without the aid of a relic or the unicorn horn. Creating one was not, and never had been, the problem. Mandelar had said the Hunters could track the portals, follow them and then all this would begin again somewhere else. Miraveh could never forgive herself if she brought these people to Donsa, or to Kubsa. Even Jukunashar, where the dragon resided. How much damage could the Hunters cause in their pursuit of wielders of magic and magical creatures? Could even the dragon stand against thousands of Hunters O' The Dark?

She didn't want to think about that. Her choices and mistakes had brought this upon these people and, whether she liked it or not, it had become her responsibility to protect them now that a sacrifice would not have sated the Hunters' hunger for death. To even begin to think of bringing this to the doorstep of others made Miraveh's stomach turn.

"They are coming again!" Brothimir, silent, hiding behind the barricade while the first attack had gone on, now stood and spoke. "I've not seen this formation before, but I assume the Karline at the corners are ..."

"I know very well what they are for." The Karline were now being used as a shield wall. Miraveh had seen such formations in the past. Tight, few gaps. As they came closer, the Karline magic would bloom and the warriors would be protected on all sides. "Once again, they are thinking in manners of formal battle. I hope they continue to not learn from their mistakes."

Miraveh drew her sword. Of all the people left within the stronghold, only she, Turotara and, perhaps, Brothimir had an experience with skirmishing, but that was not why she had drawn her blade. Not yet, at least. With a glance to the skies, assessing the position of the Sun, she held the sword close to her chest, angling it so that it caught the Sun's light and reflecting it out, towards the next line of defence.