'Which ones?' demanded Kheda. 'And how do I explain that to these men?'

'Velindre says she can hold the dragon's attention as long as it thinks she's being distracted,' Risala said resolutely. 'Naldeth says that will leave the wild mage working his magic without the beast's assistance, so Naldeth thinks he should be able to break the illusions

and you can lead the spearmen against the real enemy.' She looked at Kheda with ill-concealed apprehension. 'You have to look for dust. That's what the wizard with the beaded cloak is using to make his illusions.'

'I should be able to do that.' Kheda felt strangely calm.

'Wooden spears and stone-studded clubs killed plenty of armoured men in Chazen.' Risala slid her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. 'Promise me you'll be careful.'

'I promise, and I'll be the only one in the fight with steel weapons, won't I?' He brushed a kiss on her forehead and tasted the salt of the sweat slicking down wisps of her black hair. 'Now get back to the village and stay safe for my sake.'

She reached up a hand to draw his head down and pressed a fervent kiss on his lips. 'Be careful.' She didn't say anything more, simply turned away.

Apprehension fluttered in Kheda's belly as he watched her run back through the scrub, perilously exposed among the sparse thistly plants and upthrust spiny spikes. The wild men of the village crouching closest watched her go before turning their gaze on Kheda, some curious, some uneasy. The warlord nodded to them in turn, catching their eyes and trying to convey a confidence he didn't entirely feel before turning and darting swiftly from tree to tree to return to the scarred spearman's vantage point.

He crawled across the last gap on his belly. The enemy, be they real or illusions, were considerably closer now, far easier to pick out among the grasses. Kheda looked at the scarred spearman, who was intent on the slowly encroaching foes. He didn't see any bloodlust in the savage's eyes, just a resigned acceptance that this task must be done, coupled with grim resolve to defend his own.

Not so different from the men who laid down their lives to defend Chazen, even when they knew they were facing magic. Do you know what you re facing? Has this wizard across the river tested you with illusions before? How by all the stars and moons do I explain this to you?

Kheda looked back to see the enemy drawing closer still. He frowned as he saw a plume of dust flourish for a moment before dissolving in the breeze. Then he saw a second sandy smudge spiralling upwards to vanish, and a third. With sudden exultation, he realised there was only one column creeping low and stealthy through the grasses with no such betrayal trailing behind them. They weren't the closest, nor yet the ones looking to advance directly into the open ground dominated by the barrel trees. As far as he could tell, given the lie of the land, they were intent on slipping up the deep ravine choked with nut trees and thistly scrub that ran away inland on the far side of this higher ground.

So they can come up to attack our flank, or even bypass us altogether and strike at the village while all the spearmen are waiting here. That must be the real enemy. If Naldeth is right. Well, we '11 just have to trust that he is, always assuming I can make myself understood.

Kheda shook the scarred spearman's shoulder. When the wild warrior looked at him, the warlord bent down and scored four marks in the dust roughly in keeping with the supposed enemy advancing down on the grasslands. The spearman nodded with cautious understanding. Kheda used his sandaled foot to obliterate three of the four marks, leaving just the one he hoped signified the real foe.

The spearman frowned at Kheda, baffled. Using the end of his spear, he redrew the three marks and pointed insistently out at the plain. Kheda shook his head emphatically, pointing at each of the false foes before he rubbed

out the corresponding mark again. As the scarred spearman's frown grew more perplexed, Kheda swept his hand around to indicate all the spearmen from the village who were hiding behind the various fat trees. Drawing his hacking blade as well as his sword, he pointed first at the sole remaining mark on the ground with both murderous steel points and then over towards the scrub-choked ravine.

The spearman looked at Kheda, desperately wanting to understand - that much was plain in his eyes. Kheda gazed back at him, frustration burning in his throat. He set down his hacking blade and clapped a hand to his throat. Swiftly, he laid down his sword and unclasped Itrac's silver and turtleshell necklace. Redrawing the three marks that signified the false foes, he laid the necklace in the dust across them and then pointed back towards the village.

The scarred spearman nodded slowly, cautious understanding sparking in his intelligent eyes.

Kheda scooped up the necklace and a handful of dust, obliterating the marks as he did so. Opening his fingers, he let the dust blow away before closing his fist on the soiled necklace and stretching his arm out towards the unseen village again.

Do you understand? Do you see this as an adornment one of your mages might wear? Do you understand that those false enemies are the beaded wizard's work? Or that my wizards will defeat them for you? It comes to the same thing. Do you understand that the real enemy will be evading you by sneaking along that ravine?

The scarred spearman turned to gaze in that direction, new keenness brightening his eyes still further. He stooped to redraw the original marks showing all four putative foes and looked up at Kheda, unblinking. He tapped the side of one dark eye with a dusty forefinger and pointed at the

first mark before pointing authoritatively at an individual spearman lurking behind another tree. He did the same for the second and third, his expression now demanding Kheda's understanding. When it came to the fourth mark, he swept his hand around as if to gather up all the rest of the men and smacked his palm down hard to sweep the mark into oblivion.

You 're trusting me this far. You'1l leave men to keep watch on these three groups while the rest of us attack the force slipping up the ravine. That's good enough for me.

As Kheda nodded vigorously, the scarred spearman darted to the next tree and drew the men hiding behind it into a whispering huddle. Those three split up to run to different trees, beckoning and hissing to the wild warriors now alert on all sides. The scarred spearman hurried back to Kheda, new eagerness in his eyes.

The warlord turned to look at the fringe of the grassland at the base of the steep slope where dark figures were now obvious, squatting among the tussocks.

Too obvious, some of them. But I'd never have guessed they were a magical deceit if Naldeth hadn 't sent word. Still, what wouldn 't I trade for a decent bow and a quiver of broad-bladed arrows, so I could put a shaft into one of them, just to be sure?

He looked at the scarred spearman, who nodded back, his brown face implacable. At his sudden shout, the bulk of the spearmen from the village sprang out from behind the barrel trees and ran towards the ravine. Only a few remained behind the foremost trunks, clutching their spears as they looked down the slope of the plateau.

Kheda flinched as a shower of lethal-looking spears soared up from the enemies lurking in the bristling grasses. Before the shafts of fire-hardened wood had landed, several of the village's spearmen had stopped to hurl their own weapons down the slope in answer. Stones whizzed

through the air, apparently slung by the attackers below. Some fell short, others glanced off the swollen-bellied trees. More of the spearmen halted, stricken with doubt.

Can't you see their spears aren 't landing anywhere close to us and that the stones from their slings aren't kicking up any dust?