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tightened his grip on his axe.
    The hooves came closer, so close they had to be just a yard or two behind the hedge. With a snarl he pushed himself up off the ground and sprinted around the hedge towards the two figures on the
road. Their horses shied and turned, forcing both travellers to grab their reigns and lose a precious second as Daken closed. Yanal was on the near side but dropped a pace back as Daken came. His
companion was a tall man in a long patchwork cloak, each coloured patch edged in metal and set with what looked like glinting glass charms.
    Suddenly the image changed and Yanal became the further man, then the air seemed to waver before Daken’s eyes and the two figures winked out of existence, swapping places once, then twice.
Daken staggered, confused by the strange happenings, and looked from one figure to the next. Just as he focused on one they swapped again and he saw it was an illusion, each one backed by a black
silhouette in the instant the images swapped. He kept going for the right-hand figure, now the man in the cloak, and the man reached an open hand towards him.
    Daken charged.
    A searing flash of light whipped across his eyes and the charms of protection glowed warm on his skin – then he reached the man and punched the top edge of his axe into his ribs. The man
folded inwards under the blow, legs collapsing as one final burst of magic sparkled the air and dissipated. The air went still again, the gloom of evening returning as Daken blinked down at the
figure doubled-over at his feet. He scowled; it was Yanal.
    Bugger.
    He turned, bringing the axe up and around as he moved. The tall man stepped back with unnatural speed and the weapon caught nothing, but before Daken could close the gap an explosion of white
light burst before his eyes. Desperately shielding his face, Daken fell back and ended up crouched on the road; axe abandoned and hands over his eyes as knives of pain scraped his skull.
    ‘Are you quite finished?’
    Daken cursed and growled with fury, but even as he fought back the pain he knew he could see little beyond the stars bursting darkly before his eyes.
    ‘I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you,’ the white-eye gasped, reaching blindly for his axe.
    ‘Like you have your friend?’ the mage said, amused, as a moan of pain came from behind Daken.
    ‘Yanal?’
    ‘Ah Gods!’ the man gasped weakly, ‘you . . .’
    Wincing, Daken shook the daze from his head and looked at his companion as best he could. Yanal was sprawled on his side, curled around his chest where Daken had struck him and whimpering. The
blow had been a heavy one; even without a sharp peak on the axe-blade he would have snapped a few of the man’s ribs on impact.
    ‘Your friend will die,’ the mage declared, taking a step closer to Daken, ‘unless you do exactly as I say.’
    Dakan finally found his axe and used it to push himself to his feet, but as he wobbled on treacherous legs something struck him on the chest and knocked him back.
    ‘Are you listening?’ the mage said. He stood over Daken with a strange greenish light playing around his head. When he pushed back the hood of his cloak, Daken blearily made out the
thin, imperious face of a middle-aged man staring down at him like he was a beetle flipped on its back.
    ‘Never liked ’im anyway,’ Daken said drunkenly. ‘Still gonna fuckin’ kill you.’
    The mage sighed. Through the haze Daken saw he had strange yellow eyes that made him look something other than human.
    ‘Very well, if you’re too stupid to play to the niceties, what’s the betting something in the packs on that horse is yours?’
    Daken rolled onto his front and managed to manoeuvre himself until he was up on one knee, trying to make sense of what was going on.
    ‘What’s it to you?’ he said eventually.
    The mage crouched down to his eye level, close enough for Daken to reach out and grab his throat, but the sight of yellow lightning crackling over the man’s skin