Disclaimer: I do not own these characters – they belong to Trudi Canavan.

Defeat

Rothen almost welcomed the jolting motion of the cart as it juddered from rut to rut on the old forest road. They had tried to make him a comfortable bed in the back, piling some old coats and sacking in amongst the vegetables, but it was still a painful experience. Concentrating on his pains helped him forget.

They had found him, half-hidden under the rubble of the collapsed building, when they returned to see what was left of their village. He had heard them scrambling among the heaps of stones and broken rafters which had been their houses, calling out when they had found something still serviceable. Rothen had tried to shout for help, but his voice was weak and his head hurt when he tried to lift himself up to see if anyone was coming. Most of him was trapped by several large pieces of wood and other debris, and he was afraid that if he tried too hard to move, some terrible damage would be done to his back and legs.

Magicians aren't supposed to feel this much pain, he thought. My power is too weak for even the most basic Healing and if I can't get out of this rubble soon, I will never move again.

Yet it had all started so well. Yikmo's plan had been to ambush the Ichanis and destroy as many of them as possible and he seemed to have found the ideal place, a small village set in a valley, surrounded by a range of hills. The Ichanis would be forced along the road and through the village; there was no possibility of them being able to avoid anything which lay along the route. The villagers had fled as soon as it became obvious that the magicians were taking control of the buildings, so Yikmo was able to spread his Warriors around, enabling a "cross-fire" of power which would catch anything on the road.

Taken by surprise, the Ichanis had taken precious minutes to identify the threat and the likely locations of the attackers. During that time, several slaves and two magicians had been killed. After that initial success, though, events gradually turned against the Guild magicians. Building after building was destroyed by the Ichanis and the Warriors were either killed in the collapsing buildings or captured and killed by the Black Magicians.

The building where Rothen and a Warrior named Vinnel were working was caught by a large blast and partially collapsed. Vinnel was thrown into the street and, although he continued directing forcestrikes at the Ichanis, he was soon overwhelmed as his power declined. Rothen had been injured by falling stones and was unable to defend Vinnel effectively. To his horror, Rothen saw one of the Black Magicians cut Vinnel's throat and hold his hand over the wound. A few seconds later, he kicked the Warrior's lifeless body aside and moved further down the street. A second Ichani, following behind, sent a huge blast towards the building, which caused it to crumple, taking Rothen with it.

Thinking it over later, Rothen decided he must have been knocked unconscious by the destruction of the building and perhaps this saved his life as his limp body simply fell with the rest of the debris until the movement stopped. He never knew why the Black Magicians overlooked him. Perhaps by then his power was so weak they missed locating him. Perhaps they needed to continue their journey without further delay and didn't have time to conduct a thorough search. Whatever the reason, it seemed likely that Rothen was the only member of Yikmo's party to survive.

He lay in the rubble for some time before he heard the villagers return. Eventually, someone noticed him lying there and called for help. Once he had been freed from the rubble, one of the villagers checked him over for injuries. They found several broken bones, as well as cuts and bruises.

"You must rest, Magician," their leader said. "You are in no fit state to travel. Perhaps we can send a message to the next village – there's a Healer there who will be able to help you."

"I must get to Imardin as soon as possible, you must help me find transport." Rothern was determined that the Guild should have a first-hand account of what had happened.

The villagers shook their heads in disbelief at his recklessness and went into a huddle. At last the leader returned and said that they did have a cart. which took vegetables to market, and he was welcome to travel in that.

They did their best to patch up his injuries, making rough splints for his broken arm and leg. They smeared ointment on his cuts and bruises and bandaged the deep cuts on his head. They told him that there were many bodies in the village and asked what they were to do with them. Rothen asked them to make a temporary grave for the fallen magicians and bury them.

"The Guild will send someone to collect the bodies and take them back to Imardin. You will be compensated for what has happened here, today." Rothen promised.

As he limped towards the cart, Rothen passed the bodies of his companions, neatly laid out by the villagers. The fact that there were any bodies at all emphasised the huge expenditure of power they had made and still, they were defeated. The Black Magicians were such a powerful enemy Rothen doubted that even the massed magicians of the Guild itself could withstand them.

Akkarin was wiser than we gave him credit for. Studying forbidden magic and working on his own, he preserved the Guild by his actions. He prevented an invasion of Black Magicians as long as he was able to carry out his secret work and we have brought down this terrible war on our own heads by exiling him and telling the world why we did so. Rothen's thoughts gave him no comfort and neither did they stop going round and round in his head, like a donkey pushing a mill wheel. No matter how hard he tried, his thoughts returned to the same point. We were wrong; we should have listened to Akkarin, now we will pay the price.

That had been yesterday and now he was jolting his way towards the capital, gladly embracing pain to distract his thoughts. He was not looking forward to describing what happened to Lorlen and the Higher Magicians. He didn't know how he was going to explain the loss of so many experienced Warriors, and how he, an Alchemist, had survived.

At the back of his mind, a niggling thought refused to go away. What if there is no Guild by the time I get to Imardin?