Disclaimer – I do not own BMT world, it belongs to Trudi Canavan

Death in Corres Town

Sonea was frozen to the spot. How could this have happened? She was close enough to see a small bead of blood appear on Balkan's throat, as the knife pressed deeply against his flesh. She could see the tell-tale signs of Osen's fear in the slight trembling of his fingers as he stretched his head and neck as far back as he could, away from the jewelled knife at his throat.

You will not move. The mental voice was cold, dispassionate.

Sonea's erstwhile opponent walked towards the group holding Balkan and turned to face her again. Akkarin's opponent did the same. Regin, without conscious thought, started forward, but Akkarin's arm shot out to hold him back.

"You heard the instruction," Akkarin's voice was calm, "do not move. The High Lord is in danger."

Regin's face suffused with colour as he fought his natural instinct to shake off Akkarin's arm, and forced himself to remain still, his breath sounding strangely loud in the silence which surrounded them. One of the Ichani smiled, a broad mocking smile. "Yes," he drawled, his thick accent almost camouflaging the words, "you would do well to heed the Dark One."

Regin abruptly nodded his head and Akkarin dropped his arm. "What do you want?" he asked courteously.

"We want entrance to the Fort. Take us there and we will let you all go."

Akkarin stared hard at the Ichani, as if he would penetrate his innermost thoughts by the power of his eyes alone. Sonea flicked a sideways glance at him. What will Akkarin do? She knew he was unlikely to trust the word of an Ichani black magician, but any attempt to overpower them would lead to the deaths of the High Lord and his Administrator. Of that, Sonea was sure.

It seemed that the same thought had occurred to Osen as the trembling in his fingers became more pronounced, spreading up his arms. Balkan remained still, giving no outward sign of his thoughts, his expression remote and cold. Much as Sonea disliked him, she could not but help admire his courage. He is a true Warrior at heart.

"And if we agree to your terms, what will you do with the Fort?" Akkarin's voice remained courteous and gave nothing away of his feelings.

The Ichani spokesman smiled and it wasn't a friendly smile. "It's a pretty building and we have a fancy to live in a pretty building."

"The King would never agree to let one of his Forts fall into the hands of his enemies. You know that."

The Ichani's smile widened, "Then he will have to come and force us out."

"Everyone here will be unharmed if we take you to the Fort?"

"And get us inside."

"And get you inside?"

The Ichani leader nodded his agreement. Akkarin said nothing but continued to stare at him. Regin, however, had other ideas. He turned to Akkarin, his face contorted with anger, "You can't let them inside! Or was this always your plan, Traitor? You want to give your friends a foothold in the Kingdom!"

Akkarin ignored the interruption. "Why should we trust you to let us go?" he asked.

"That is your decision, Dark One," the Ichani replied.

Silence again as Akkarin appeared to consider the Ichani's proposal. Sonea kept flicking her eyes from Akkarin to the group holding Balkan and Osen, then back again. Akkarin's face was expressionless. He stared at Balkan and it was as if a silent message passed between them.

"If I agree," Akkarin said quietly, "you will let Lord Balkan and Lord Osen go?"

Again, there was a quickly supressed movement from Regin, but he was ignored. There seemed to be a staring match going on between Akkarin and the Ichani leader. Sonea wondered if they were trying to read each other's minds. Although Akkarin was far and away the best reader of minds in the Guild, that power came from his being a black magician and it was quite possible that the Ichani leader was equally gifted.

Then a whole series of things began to happen at once. Some sort of message must have passed between Balkan and Osen because the Administrator suddenly started to struggle, taking his captor by surprise. There was a muttered expletive from the Ichani as Osen wriggled to avoid the knife at his throat and strained to throw off the man's arms.

At the same moment, Balkan sent loudly, AKKARIN!

The High Lord, too, began to struggle to escape as Akkarin sent a strike right into the middle of the group of young Ichani, scattering them. Regin immediately began to attack them, driving them away from the central group around the two captive Guild magicians...

Sonea found herself defending against heavy strikes from which were battering her shield. Luckily it held up well and after the initial shock, she found her rhythm which allowed her to cut through the shield of her opponent, slash and drain him without two much expended power.

She glanced up. Osen was lying on the ground, the blood still oozing from the gaping cut on his neck, his power drained, his body of no further use. Balkan was continuing to fight, striking out at his captor, although his strikes were weak and unable to do much damage. Akkarin was standing still, a heap of bodies at his feet. The numbers of Ichani were dwindling rapidly and the leader was now looking less confident.

Sonea noticed that Akkarin's shield was sparkling strongly like the walls of the Fort. He must have absorbed a lot of its magic. His shield seemed stronger than ever, no strikes getting even close to weakening it. She moved to stand next to him, concentrating her strikes on the leader, alternating hers with Akkarin's so that he was under a constant barrage of powerful strikes. He began to retreat under their combined power, step by step. One of the older black magicians attempted to support him, but Akkarin was able to hit him with a powerful forcestrike which caused him to falter and fall back.

While he was still a little disorientated by the force of Akkarin's strike, Sonea slipped in a few powerful blasts of her own, shattering his shield, enabling her to grapple directly with him. She felt his knife cut her arm, but it was a matter of seconds for her to Heal the cut. The man swore loudly and she felt another cut. Again she Healed it, pressing forward with her own attack.

Perhaps she was overconfident, or perhaps she stumbled over something on the ground, but suddenly she found herself falling backwards. Immediately the Ichani was on her, forcing the hand which held her knife hard to the ground, pinning her other arm to the ground with his body while at the same time, he used his other hand to strike again and again at her upper arm with his blade. As fast as he cut, she Healed. He couldn't drain her because it was all he could do to prevent her cutting him, so his hand had to keep her knife away from his own body.

The man was a heavy weight, crushing her into the unyielding ground as she bucked and struggled beneath him to escape. She could feel his hot breath on the skin of her neck and face, its odour making her feel queasy. Suddenly, his head was no longer near hers and she took a few gulps of fresh air. Then she realised what he was trying to do. Unable to get his other hand over the cuts on her arm to drain her power, he was trying to use his mouth to accomplish the same purpose.

She forced her head upwards, she could see his mouth very close to her upper arm where he continued to score cuts in her flesh. Only a little more movement and he would be able to cover a cut. She gave a desperate heave, at the same time she sent an anguished cry for help.

The heavy weight pressing down on her juddered and she was conscious of a lifting of pressure. Akkarin has rescued me! But looking up, she was startled to see it was Regin who had thrust a blade into the Ichani's back. She had to act quickly, before the magic began to escape. She swiftly made a cut and clamped her hand over it, relishing the rush of power which fled from the fallen black magician. She pushed herself to her feet and nodded her thanks to Regin. Their account was now even, she had saved him earlier and now he had saved her. Seeing her ready to rejoin the struggle, Regin went over to where Balkan lay unmoving on the ground, kneeling down beside him and straightening his robes.

All but two of the Ichani were dead or had fled, only the leader and another experienced black magician remained to continue the fight. Neither could break Akkarin's shield and the frustration they felt was etched on their faces as they grimly stuck to their task. Akkarin moved very little, his shield shrugging off the forcestrikes as it they were feathers. For a while, he let the Ichani use up their power futilely, then he began to strike back, each forcestrike stronger than anything Sonea had seen before.

She joined in the struggle, although it didn't seem that Akkarin needed any assistance. As he continued to push the Ichani backwards, his shield sparkled even more brightly, so much so that Sonea was almost dazzled by it. It was a thing of beauty but also somehow dreadful, something which could never be defeated, something which struck terror into the heart of an enemy.

There was a loud noise and a sudden bright flash, closely followed by the sound of magic destroying a magician's body. One of Akkarin's deadly forcestrikes had struck a black magician, shattering his shield and blasting his body with its force. Akkarin was not near enough to capture the escaping magic so the Ichani simply vanished.

Shock caused the Ichani leader to falter only for a moment, but that was enough for Akkarin to take advantage. His shield shattered and this time Akkarin was close enough to slash and drain before the magic could escape. The Ichani's lifeless body fell brokenly to the ground and it was all over.

A heavy silence followed as Sonea looked around to check that all their enemies were dead. Akkarin was already in motion, hurrying over to where Regin continued to kneel by Balkan. As Sonea joined them she could see that the High Lord was dead. Blood soaked the front of his white robes and trickled away into the ground. The cut on his neck was a relatively small one but it had bled strongly. Sonea could even see a bloody handprint, where the Ichani had taken what was left of Balkan's magic.

Regin was white faced as he stared down at the man he had given his allegiance, a look of disbelief still in his eyes, even though he must have known for some time that Balkan was dead. Akkarin stopped beside him, dropping a hand on Regin's shoulder, "The High Lord was a brave Warrior," he said softly. "He knew the price he and Osen would have to pay."

Sonea was surprised to see the sheen of tears in Regin's eyes as he looked up at Akkarin. "What are we going to do now?" he whispered.

"We are going to take the High Lord and his Administrator into the Fort and arrange for their sacrifice to be honoured."

As Regin turned again to watch over the fallen, Akkarin took Sonea's hand and pulled her away. She smiled up at him uncertainly and was reassured when he smiled down at her.

"You have a habit of turning up at the right time," he said cheerfully. "I was pleased to see you."

Sonea, who had been expecting a different and more difficult conversation, grinned cheekily, "I do, don't I! What shall I do now?"

Akkarin's long fingers tilted her chin so he could kiss her briefly, "I suggest you return to your hiding place for the moment. It is difficult to know how people will take the deaths of Balkan and Osen in my company. I may need you to reappear at an appropriate time."

She wondered if he would ask what she had been doing or where she had been hiding, but he did not. He simply kissed her again, longer this time, and turned away. She heard him send to Wilden asking for a group of Warriors. She watched him for a moment, then slipped away. It seemed that Jalette must once again grace the Fort with her presence.