'What's your guess at the numbers in there?' asked Selik of Devun.

The man blew out his cheeks. 'Well, they're very slow but it's impossible to see what the horse's condition is from here. I reckon they're overloaded so, assuming there are two up front, there could be as many as four inside, plus baggage.'

'That's assuming there were ever that many mages in Erskan.'

Devun shrugged. 'Best to assume more than less.'

'All right.' Selik nodded, then raised his voice to address all of them. 'We're going to assume there are six but I doubt there's a warrior guard in there with them. You all know what to do. Let's not rush and they may not hear us until it's too late. It's time to make another statement. Let's go.'

There was precious little cover and they would be seen as soon as anyone looked back; and with no magical defence, they were open to spell attack. But there were fifty Black Wings, all of whom knew the dangers of attacking mages, and their tactic was simple.

Pushing on at just under a canter, they narrowed the distance quickly, the carriage ahead bumping and rattling over the uneven ground. Selik rode front and centre of the formless group, feeling a thrill through his body as they closed. This would be a blow for Balaia. A blow for the righteous.

Perhaps half a mile behind the carriage they were spotted. The back of the square-framed canvas covering twitched aside, and though he couldn't hear it, Selik could imagine the shout of alarm and saw its result as the single horse was urged to a flat-out gallop.

The carriage began to pull away but Selik could see immediately that it wasn't sustainable. Resisting the urge to up the Black Wings' pace, he was content to follow, waiting for the carriage to slow when the horse spent itself and enjoying the desperation he knew they must be feeling. Even if they didn't know exactly who was following them, fifty men on horseback were never going to be good news at a time like this.

A quarter of a mile behind and with the horse slowing dramatically, the carriage slewed to a halt across the trail in a cloud of dust. Figures leapt from back and front to kneel motionless. Casting.

It was to be expected. Selik signalled spread and gallop, circling his arm above his head and splaying gloved fingers wide. Behind him, the Black Wings picked up the pace, driving into a rough double-rowed crescent. The quartet at the points, his finest horsemen, nocked arrows into bows, steering their mounts with stirrup and thigh.

The blood surged through Selik's body, sending pins and needles into the dead parts of his face and chest. He dragged in a huge breath and yelled a triumphant cry, the sound of two hundred hooves thrumming in his head.

In front of him the mages remained still, bar one who looked up, spreading his arms wide in an enveloping motion. At the points, his bowmen tracked in, loosed their arrows and wheeled away immediately, Selik seeing the shafts all bounce from the cast HardShield.

The sky flashed orange.

'Break!' yelled Selik, half a dozen FlameOrbs soaring out towards them.

The Black Wing lines broke and scattered, the globes of mana fire, each the size of a skull, arcing across the sky. The mages were good, individual Orbs following their targets faster than a horse could gallop and splashing down to cover two or three riders and mounts, the soundless impact rendered horribly real by the screams of men and horses.

Hunched low in his saddle, Selik looked back over his shoulder, eyes narrowing and anger building. He counted four men ablaze in their saddles, horses shrieking, plunging this way and that, stumbling and falling as they attempted to dislodge their riders. Another three were already on the ground, beating uselessly at the flames that consumed armour and flesh. And streaking across the plain, fire gorging on mane, back and tail, a horse trailed smoke as it galloped to inevitable and agonising death, rider already gone.

But if the mages expected their attackers to be dismayed by death so easily wrought, they were sadly mistaken. The Black Wings were on them. One more mage cast, her ForceCone punching out, stopping three horses in their tracks and smashing riders from saddles. Selik heard the snap of equine bones, shut the pain from his mind, drew his sword and plunged into the enemy.

Leaning down from his saddle, he whipped his sword through low, the blade carving into the mage's face, snapping the head back and cartwheeling her flopping corpse end over end. Not pausing, he rode down the HardShield mage and only then dragged at the reins to turn his horse round to a stop.

His men had done exactly the job required. A third mage was dead, body twisted unnaturally, a slick of blood already subsiding into the earth under his chest. The other two were being held while they were beaten into a state where they couldn't have cast if their lives depended on it. Shame, because for one of them, it did.

Selik trotted back to the wagon, which two of his men were already ransacking. He smiled and swept back his hood, dismounting when he reached his captives, the sound of their gasps and grunts of pain sweet in his ears. He spared a glance at the fires still smouldering a hundred yards away and the smile left his face.

'Enough,' he ordered.

The rain of punches, sword pommels and kicks stopped, both men having to be supported to remain upright.

He nodded. 'Good work,' he said, seeing the blood running from noses and mouths, the puffed eyes and torn ears. But no amount of blood on their faces could mask the fear in their eyes.

'More mages running from their responsibilities,' he said, standing close to them, letting the venom in his mind spit from his mouth. 'Running from what they have created. Where were you going, eh? Away to join your armies for a new assault on the innocents of Balaia?'

He shrugged. 'You're scum. Worthless, cowardly scum.'

'We'd have stayed to help but your supporters wanted us gone,' said one of the mages, voice thick through split and swelling lips.

Selik stepped up and grabbed him by the throat, pushing his head back. 'The damage was already done, fool. What help could you give now?'

'So what is it that you want from us? To stay or to leave?' said the mage, desperation clear in his voice.

'I want you to face up to what your kind has done to my world,' said Selik, not releasing his grip. 'You know what I saw in Erskan? Three children who would have killed each other for a scrap of bread a rat would turn down. You have sapped the strength and the will from those who trusted you. You have broken their spirit. But I am going to give it back to them and you and your kind will never wield your unholy power so freely again.'

'We could have helped, had we been allowed to stay,' pleaded the mage. 'We could have healed the people. Healed the ground.'

Selik dropped his hand and stepped away. 'You really don't understand what you've done to Balaia and its people do you? How blind you are to think that after magic has destroyed so much, people would allow you to cast a few more spells to put it right. You have lost their trust but still you think it is as easy as waving your hands.'

He turned to the second mage, finding the man glaring defiantly back at him.

'Nothing to say?' he asked.

'To someone who would deny magic to an entire population because of a single rogue, no. It is you who are blind, Selik, you and the monkeys who follow you so slavishly.'

'Some fight still left, at least,' said Selik to the chuckles of his men within earshot. 'Trouble is, I don't really think I want to hear your voice on the road. Because you won't listen. So you will stay as a warning and your friend here will accompany us.'

He gestured to the men holding the mages. 'Get him on that carthorse and away from here.'