She pointed out five green-robed men astride ponies. “Their shamans wear green, too,” she shouted over the wind. “The dust before them is alive. When they came before, Akhnan Ibn Nazzir could not fight them, and the dust devils killed three men.”
“I’m not Akhnan Ibn Nazzir!” Alanna shouted back. Drawing the crystal sword, she focused her attention on the length of the blade, holding it directly before her. Now was the time to put its energy to use: it would extend her ability to command things to break and split far more than she could have done normally. She shouted the spell, sending her energy streaking down the smoky blade and into the earth just a few yards in front of the oncoming riders. The earth grumbled and cracked, forming a deep trench. Their own frontal vision ruined by the dust devils, the hillmen in the first rank rode into the trench.
“That’ll stop ’em for a minute!” Alanna yelled. “Kourrem, do you have some string?” The girl pulled several hanks of thread from her pocket. She was never without them these days. “Try to hobble as many of their ponies as you can!” Kourrem grinned and started to work, her heavy brows pulled together as she worked.
“Kara!” Alanna continued. “Force the wind back into their faces!” Both girls tore off their veils in order to see more clearly as Alanna turned to her third apprentice. “Ishak—d’you remember how to throw fire?”
“Yes!” he cried.
“When they get close enough, scorch them out of the saddle!”
Ishak bellowed, “What about the dust devils and their shamans?”
“Leave them to me!”
The sound of the high winds changed: Kara was at work, her burnoose whipping frantically around her. The first pony stumbled and fell, thanks to Kourrem, tossing his rider. Flames soared from Ishak’s fingers, enveloping a big man.
The hillmen were leaping their ponies over the trench. Once more Alanna pointed the crystal blade and sent her Gift into the ground before the dust devils, breaking it open. The brown columns of dust passed over the second trench as easily as they had the first, and Alanna turned her attention to them, reaching out with her mind to see what they were.
They were mindless blots of energy, wielded by the shamans and collecting desert sand and dirt to give themselves shape. She knew better than to use the sword to split them in two: then she would have twice as many dust devils to contend with. Instead she sent a whip of violet fire at the shamans, determined to end the problem at its source. One dropped to the ground when her magic reached him, screeching in agony. A second streak of fire, red in color, picked off another shaman—Ishak had seen her purpose, and was helping.
Varicolored shields were forming around the remaining three; the element of surprise was gone, and they were defending themselves. Now Alanna called up a sparkling, amethyst-colored wall that encircled one of them, cutting off his air. His pony panicked and reared, dropping him in the dirt as he fought to breathe. When she was sure of his death, Alanna applied the same trick to another shaman. The remaining wizard was already fighting off Ishak’s red flame—and losing. With the deaths of the last two, the dust devils collapsed.
Hillmen thundered past them, their numbers reduced. Kourrem sagged and dropped, exhausted from the effort of maintaining five spells at once. Kara was looking white and ill, but with the deaths of the shamans the winds had also stopped. Alanna made her sit down. Ishak was still flaming the raiders, laughing merrily as they tried to put themselves out.
“It’s beautiful, Alanna!” he cried loudly, not realizing the winds were gone. “The power is beautiful!”
“Look!” Kara gasped, pointing to the west. Halef Seif and his men were riding furiously into the village, their swords ready. Caught between Ishak, Coram, and the fiercely fighting old men, women, and the boys, as well as the young warriors of the tribe, the hillmen didn’t stand a chance. Alanna picked off those who tried to escape, so that none survived the raid.
The moment the fighting was over, Alanna ushered her apprentices back to the well. Here Farda was already putting women to work cleaning and bandaging wounds. Alanna made Kara and Kourrem sit, then briskly rolled up her sleeves. “Anyone killed?” she asked Farda, washing her hands.
The big midwife shook her head. “Hassam and Mikal are the worst hurt—Hassam with a head wound, Mikal with an open gash on his thigh. Will you see to one?”
Alanna nodded and entered her immense tent, feeling Ishak behind her. The wounded lay quietly on the carpets placed before the plain altar, waiting for someone to see to their hurts. Clearly Farda had taught the women how to care for injuries, because every matron in the village was cheerfully at work. Some of the hurt, such as Hassam, were boys, but they were as silent as the men.