On the far side of the waiting ship, the seabed didn’t slope down as steeply as this side. As low tide approached, the coral reefs and old buildings from which they’d grown were getting dangerously close to the surface. Below the ship, not far from where the anchor had dug into the soft seabed, was a reef that felt different to the rest.

  This reef had the same miasmic, hazy, nauseous and warm feeling that the others did, had the same soft, concrete, porous feeling that the others did. Below that was a feeling like high waves and lashing rain, a feeling like warm sun and a cool breeze.

  Wirrin smiled to herself. If the Church thought reinforcements were needed, then they didn’t trust whoever was waiting to be able to fend for themselves. At the very least, it meant she wouldn’t have to wait for the messenger ship that had disappeared over the horizon behind her to catch up.

  The ship that waited at Haerst’s statue was a wide, shallow sail-barge, substantially bigger than the messenger ship that had chased Wirrin here. It had three masts, must have been a good ten metres across and perhaps thirty long, with a flat deck and a proportionally shallow hull.

  Wirrin doubted the ship would attempt to flee for just her, but if it had, it would certainly have torn itself up against the reefs barely a hundred metres to the west.

  ‘They know you’re coming,’ Mkaer rumbled.

  ‘They can see us,’ Wirrin said.

  Yern, who had moved to the prow and was shielding her eyes, nodded. ‘They’re pointing at us,’ she said. ‘And there are mages on the deck.’

  ‘They know you’re coming,’ Mkaer rumbled. ‘Everything you’ve done to fight them so far.’

  ‘They didn’t know any of it when they came out here,’ Wirrin said. ‘How many people can one Flesh mage protect?’

  ‘And why are there so few Flesh mages to begin with?’ Yern mused. ‘I reckon three or four out of nearly thirty that came to the dock.’

  ‘They were always concentrated in the west,’ Naertral burbled. ‘Near Iltavaer. Our mages stayed near us, even before the war, even as much as they spread out over time.’

  ‘Except for Haerst’s,’ Mkaer rumbled. ‘There were always some here, certainly. But it’s mages spread far and wide, always moving.’

  ‘My people were always moving,’ Ulvaer rattled. ‘I concede it wasn’t the same. Mine were closest to me of all, I suspect.’

  ‘Hence assuming that it must have been more complicated than just killing all of your mages,’ Wirrin said. ‘If Haerst’s were scattered all over, and it was first to be banished.’

  ‘How long was the fight, though?’ Yern asked, still staring at the ship. ‘Travelling by sea is supposed to be very fast.’

  ‘Even faster for Haerst’s mages,’ Naertral burbled.

  ‘They held for about three months,’ Mkaer rumbled. ‘Enough time to prepare at Tertic.’

  ‘Haerst’s mages at Tertic came here to join the fight,’ Ulvaer rattled.

  ‘About three months,’ Wirrin said. ‘And I expect Haerst’s mages could control the wind. So they could have gotten here very quickly indeed.’

  Yern nodded. ‘More mages are coming out,’ she said. ‘They have very big bows.’

  Wirrin frowned. ‘Taller than them? With the top arm much longer than the bottom?’

  Yern nodded. ‘I’ve never seen bows like that.’

  ‘They’re competition bows,’ Wirrin said. ‘I’ve only seen them used to tournaments and such in Keredin.’

  ‘Can they shoot far?’ Yern carefully backed up to stand behind the mast, still shielding her eyes with one hand and keeping an eye on the rapidly approaching ship.

  ‘I’ve never seen one shoot this far,’ Wirrin said. ‘But yes. They’re much heavier than any other bow I’ve ever tried. Supposedly they were once used for fighting, back when that was more common.’

  The second time Wirrin had been in Keredin, she’d spent quite a lot of her time at the original Church, which had been largely converted into something like a museum to the Gods’ War. These War bows, as they were called even in competition, had had quite a prominent display along with old sets of chain and plate armour with arrow holes in them.

  The first time Wirrin had been in Keredin, she’d watched some of the endless sporting competitions that went on in the city, and had tried to draw one of the War bows. She’d managed it, but only just. Compared to her hunting bows, they were astoundingly heavy.

  After her stay in Ettovica, as an adult, Wirrin had put a few things together. In particular, the mention that these War bows had been used very heavily in the Gods’ War, but had mostly been relegated to sport shooting before and since.

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  Wirrin, who was not yet a mage of Haerst, could not control the wind. She wasn’t sure what to do about bows that could reach her well before she could confidently do anything in return.

  Except that the seafloor was getting very close beneath the boat and, soft and sandy as it was, it was ground just like anywhere else.

  ‘Swap with me,’ Wirrin said.

  ‘I don’t know…’ Yern frowned at the tiller, but came to sit with Wirrin.

  ‘Just keep it straight,’ Wirrin said. ‘If we start aiming away from that ship, you move this in the opposite direction to the way we want to go. Got it?’

  Yern grabbed the tiller and nodded. ‘Got it.’

  Wirrin was at least twice as heavy as Yern, the boat rocked around in the water a lot more as she shuffled forward to the prow. Even if she expected the War mages to target her instead of Yern, she didn’t want to chance it just in case these competition bows were even stronger than the normal ones.

  When she was fourteen, Wirrin had participated in a target shooting competition in Tellan. She’d come fourth out of seven, and she’d decided she didn’t care about winning. Since then, she’d lost count of the number of animals she’d hunted with a bow.

  When the first shots were loosed from ship, Wirrin could tell immediately that they weren’t going to reach her. Yern went ‘eep’ and the boat wobbled on its course before Yern corrected. The arrows landed easily more than a hundred metres ahead.

  ‘Are they trying to warn you off?’ Yern asked, voice a little high.

  Wirrin shrugged. She was distracted by the reefs again as she tried to feel something in the water that might demonstrate the War mages’ impressive accuracy. But they hadn’t hit anything.

  ‘Maybe they think I’ve never seen competition bows like that,’ Wirrin suggested. ‘Certainly a hunting bow couldn’t have shot that far.’

  Only a couple of seconds later, the boat passed over the arrows, where they were sinking to the sea floor. The bows fired again. This time, Yern held the boat steady. A lump of sandy mud burst out of the water with more than enough time to be struck by the two arrows and splash back down.

  Wirrin took the second last bite out of the remains of the Flesh mage. The boat sped up, just a little. The next pair of arrows met exactly the same fate as the first, and the two War mages put their bows aside.

  It was almost a surprise that they had enough sense to not launch themselves at the boat, as Wirrin and Yern closed the distance.

  Just ahead of the little boat, water started to gather. A rapidly growing wave that, as Wirrin dragged the boat to a stop only a metre of so from the ship, washed over a dozen mages and what must have been nearly two dozen sailors.

  That was unfortunate.

  Sunlight tore through the bubbly grey clouds above, quick enough that only two mages collapsed to the deck. What must have been a couple of Flesh mages grabbed whichever colleagues were in reach and the scorching light dried the ship off in a matter of seconds.

  Wirrin supposed that sunburn was the least of anyone’s worries right now.

  ‘Stay out of the way of arrows,’ Wirrin called to Yern. She stepped off the prow of the boat, onto the rigging down the side of the ship, and the boat pulled away, turning north without Yern’s input.

  Another wave pushed Wirrin over the boat’s railing and sent five War mages running as the Flesh mages grabbed whoever couldn’t get out of the way in time. The sun burst down again, almost blinding.

  Before it could dry, the water ate through clothes and planks, sending up a cloud of rancid steam across the ship. Pools of calm excluded the sailors as they scattered across the deck, running for the hatch.

  Wirrin already had her curved sword ready when the first of the War mages dashed at her. A crosscut diverted the mage’s course and a wad of sandy mud interrupted an attempt to stab Wirrin in the back.

  She hadn’t noticed how much she already relied on her sense through the ground. But as the boat shifted and creaked, it was much harder to keep track of the ten mages and twenty-odd sailors than it would have been on land.

  The deck splintered as a wall of planks rose to block another wad of sandy mud hurled out of the water. Three War mages lunged at once, but Mkaer had been right. They were ready for Wirrin, and they were scared of her teeth.

  Another stab in the back turned into a tackle as Wirrin deflected a strike and opened her mouth wide, pulling at the stitches. Wirrin crashed to the ground out of the way of the third War mage just in time for a spray of sandy mud to tear into the mage on her back.

  That wall of planks, now floating completely free of the ship, blocked the next mudball, but could not stop the whole of the wave that followed it. Water splashed across the deck between Wirrin at two more War mages, halting their charges.

  The boards under Wirrin grew vines and branches to hold her down to the deck, pulling her sword from her hand. A stone spike erupted through the deck, launching another War mage into the air. The vines and branches cracked and crumbled as Wirrin grabbed her sword and pushed herself up.

  Stone shards exploded in all directions and one of the War mages made the mistake of leaping from the boat to avoid them. He was grabbed by the water at the same time Wirrin scooped up the dead mage who had tackled her and took a big bite.

  For a moment, everyone paused. Two Flesh mages had firm hold of three other mages. Three War mages were ragged and peppered with scratches. The sun was scorching.

  Wirrin took another bite.

  A Flesh mage let go of a Work mage. The floating planks only caught the edge of the next lump of sandy mud. A War mage scratched Wirrin across the left side, almost exactly where she already had stitches.

  The Flesh mage was engulphed by the lump of mud, the War mage dried solid. The lump of mud picked up the Flesh mage and launched over the side of the ship. One of the War mages almost leapt after it, but stopped short of the railing.

  A wave washed over the other side of the boat and that War mage, collapsed to the ground, foaming at the mouth. The last War mage dashed wide around Wirrin to join the huddle.

  Wirrin took another bite.

  The light that emanated from the Light mage was blinding, scorching, and had a single source. Wirrin felt the Flesh mage grab the War mage. She turned and started running, just about blind in one eye as she headed for the far side of the deck.

  Wearing the Flesh mage like a cape, the last War mage dashed at Wirrin. She dropped into a summersault far too early. The War mage adjusted. A ball of sandy mud exploded over the railing, showering the War mage and the Flesh mage, who didn’t so much as flinch.

  Just as the War mage hit that last step into the thrust, the coating of mud wrenched him off his feet. Wirrin rolled back into her run and dove off the side of the ship.