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.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said the mage to his doomed colleague.

The man shook his head. ‘Don’t be. These bastards can never defeat us.’

‘But you won’t live to see whether that’s true, will you?’ said Selik.

‘I am proud you think me so dangerous that you have to kill me.’

‘Kill you?’ said Selik, a smile creeping over his face. ‘No, no, that would be too easy. All I can promise is that you will die unless you are very, very fortunate.’

The Black Wings captain saw the mage’s eyes flicker, his bravado punctured, and all he could do, while his colleague was loaded, hands bound, onto the carthorse and away with a guard of six, was watch while his fate unfolded in front of him.

Quickly, the cart was stood on its end and braced, its wheels facing in the direction of the mage lands to the north-west. The traces and lines from the harness were cut into four pieces and the mage strung upright between the four wheels with his clothes ripped from him to leave only a loincloth. Selik watched it all dispassionately, a slight twinge of disappointment at the bearing of the mage, who didn’t struggle or protest. When he was secured, Selik unsheathed a dagger and walked slowly over to him, the mage’s eyes never leaving his.

‘There are people like you all over this land. Left as warnings to others of your kind that the Black Wings are growing. That we will pursue you relentlessly, that you will atone for what you have done and that we will not stop until the evil of magic is scrubbed from Balaia. You, at least, will not join the war.’

The mage spat at him, the blood-veined saliva catching Selik on the cheek and running down the side of his face. He merely smiled.

‘You’ll regret that when your thirst becomes unbearable.’

‘Come closer and I’ll do it again. I’m not afraid to die.’

‘Lucky for you,’ said Selik, his mouth bent into a grotesque sneer. ‘Our trouble is that there can be no warning without a message. And, since we’ve run right out of parchment, we need to use a somewhat different medium.’ He turned to his men. ‘Hold him still and shut his useless mouth.’

Black Wings moved in and hands pressed on the mage’s head, shoulders, knees and the top of his legs, rendering him immobile. Selik walked up slowly, staring deep into the mage’s eyes, watching the fear begin to grow and the first cracks appear in his bearing.

Taking the tip of his dagger between his thumb and first two fingers, he began to carve letters on the mage’s chest, letting the blade bite deep, feeling his human canvas heave and hearing choked cries through his closed mouth.