The flies buzzed around us constantly, but as annoying as they were, they were far better than the long-legged stinging insects native to this continent that left red welts where they bit you and carried disease.

I wiped sweat from my face and waved my kerchief before me, dispersing the swarming flies and providing a moment of blessed relief as the turgid air moved just enough to provide a breeze. Nimble ignored the heat and flies alike as she leant back against the rampart and inspected her pistol.

The stock was polished walnut while the barrel and cocking mechanism was made of steel. Its barrel was a good ten inches in length and she had engraved a skull and crossbones on the grip. The carving was discoloured from handling, with the sweat and grime that came with battle.

She raised the pistol and closed one eye as she sighted down its barrel. Once satisfied that it was in good working order, she sheathed it once more on her belt and pulled free her short sword. Much like the one I had been provided, it was a light one-handed weapon designed for thrusting and slashing in close combat.

Doubled-edged and two feet in length, she placed it across her knee before taking out her sharpening stone. With the stone in one hand, she ran it over the edge of the sword in one long, smooth, motion.

“Should I be doing that?” I asked, and she smiled, shaking her head.

“If you need to use it, the battle’s lost and you’d be best served by hightailing your arse back to the river.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that but anything that prevented me from having to do what looked to be incredibly dull busy work was good enough for me. I wiped sweat from my brow and peeked over the edge of the wall.

There was a good four hundred feet of open space before the jungle closed in and that would give us time to let loose at least two volleys, perhaps three. We had thirty rifles in our Company, and the colonials had three hundred.

Ample numbers to crush a few hundred spear-waving natives.

Spaced along the wall were the squad mages. Should the enemy have bows or some other ranged weapon, it would be our purpose to create a magical barrier to protect our people. A relatively simple spell, I didn’t need my journal to recall the spell, though I did run through the weavings in my mind to ensure I had everything ready.

“When will they arrive do you think?” I asked, turning back to my friend who shrugged. Gentle, beside her, didn’t even bother to do that much. He just stared at me, blankly.

I was saved from further attempts at making conversation by the arrival of Dancer. The tall warrior had a slim, almost feminine frame, and moved with the grace of a born dancer. Rapier on his left hip and poniard on his right, he smiled almost shyly as he approached.

Handsome enough that even Nimble took a moment to admire him whenever she had the chance, his tanned face was clean-shaven. Like Nimble and the others, he had donned a steel breastplate and curved bowl-like helmet with a wide brim.

He squatted beside us and removed the helmet to wipe his brow and run one narrow-fingered hand through the sweaty mop of black hair. I wondered idly why I had never been issued a helmet or breastplate and then dismissed the thought. They looked heavy.

“Mercy is on his way.” Even his voice was graceful, the words seeming to dance upon the air before him.

“Expecting them to be here any time then,” Nimble muttered, pushing herself up just enough that she could turn her head to see over the parapet. No movement from the jungle. “Doesn’t seem right.”

“What doesn’t?” I asked.

“This! Why would a few hundred of them hurry north? If they intend to avenge their fallen they’ll need Liral’s blessing to survive the fight. If they are rushing to help defend the city then they’re far too late.”

It did seem wasteful and pointless, but I had no suggestions to offer. My military training was limited and I was learning as we went. I looked down the line. The Company held the western end of the south wall, while the larger numbers of the colonial regulars held the centre and east.

Hard men and women, the regulars had spent the past two days enjoying themselves as they spent their energy on the captives and looted stocks of spirits. There were many dark faces and narrowed eyes beneath their black caps.

I shook my head at the sight of them. I had been raised to see the King’s armies as protectors and peacekeepers in the colonies, and at home. They were noble and brave, defending king and country while ensuring the weak were protected from the strong.

If Draugh’s troops were anything to go by, I had been badly misinformed, and say what you would about the Company, they weren’t worse than those regulars.

Which was a low bar, admittedly.

“My father wanted me to be a lawyer,” I said, letting my head fall back against the rough sandstone of the parapet. “I should have listened.”

Nimble paused in her sharpening as she tilted her head towards me, curiosity aroused. I didn’t often speak of my past, like most of those in the Company.

“Why didn’t you?”

I turned my palm up and concentrated. A light, small and weak, appeared above my palm. Its emerald hue was pleasing to look at and it would only exist as long as I willed it, but I had made that. I had created that light, and there was something wonderful in having such an ability.

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“Magic is a wonderous thing,” I said, voice a whisper as I lost myself in thought. “Capable of such beauty. It has boundless potential and when combined with Aether, can be used to create devices that make the lives better for all of us.”

The light winked out and I exhaled a soft sigh. My dream had been to become an artificer, a crafter of such wondrous devices. I would create ever new and exciting wonders that all the realm would marvel at.

“What happened?” Nimble asked. “To get you from that to here?”

I pressed my lips firmly shut and she shifted, sensing my change in mood. There were things I was not ready to speak of for they brought with them memories and pain beyond imagining.

“Forget I asked,” she said. “I didn’t mean to-“

She cut off as I gasped, sitting bolt upright and turning to stare wide-eyed over the parapet. All along the line, the other mages were doing the same. They’d felt it too. A bolt of lightning across our skin, a pressure against our heads as though they were being squeezed in a vice.

Someone had unleashed a burst of magic powerful enough for us to have felt it.

“Get the Captain!” I snapped and then grabbed Dancer’s arm as he turned to go. “Wait.”

Two other brothers had set off running through the ruined streets, back towards the camp and I surmised that another mage had sent them. I waved him back to his position and swallowed past the fear in my throat.

“What’s wrong?” Nimble asked and I shook my head. Dancer clapped a hand on my shoulder, face showing concern and even Gentle’s face had lost its blank expression as he looked towards me.

Birds with bright coloured plumage burst from the tree canopy and scattered. The sounds of the jungle, that incessant noise from millions of small creatures and insects, fell silent. Then we heard it, a rumble that grew louder as it approached, a rhythmic sound that came from hundreds of throats.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as my stomach churned. The sound grew louder, the words in a language I couldn’t understand, but the meaning was clear. It was a call to arms, a cry for action, a declaration of war.

From out of the jungle they came, a line of warriors that stretched the length of the city walls. Their armour covered their torso completely and was made of the leathery hide of some scaled beast. Each wore a kilt of the same material and had small silver bells attached to their belt.

Their helmets were strips of the same leather that protected the top and sides of the head, with a metal headband on the forehead. Each of them bore a six-foot-long spear with a wide, leaf-shaped blade of steel two feet in length and an oval shield of the same thick leather as their armour.

Skin darker than any I had seen, their voices were deep baritones that could be almost physically felt in my chest. Spread amongst them were tall figures in white cloth robes, each holding a staff of gnarled white wood.

That first rank stepped forward and second followed after, then a third, a fourth, a fifth. I swallowed hard as their numbers grew, the few hundred we had expected becoming an armour of thousands.

A horn blew and a warrior stepped forward. The bells on his belt were gold and a golden torque of twisted strands of metal rested around his neck. He lifted his spear and called out in his own language before bringing the butt slamming down against the ground.

Then he waited.

“How are there so many?” Nimble whispered and I wet dry lips with my tongue before I could answer.

“Old magic, ancient even. Lost to history, or so the scholars at the university thought.” She looked at me, confused. “Somewhere in the jungle is a circle of ancient stone and at another, in their lands. They used that ancient magic to create a bridge between the two, where for a time, both existed as one and an army walked through.”

Crossing thousands of miles in a single step. The idea was disturbing enough but the fact that we were likely about to be attacked by that army was doubly so. I waited and watched, nervously. At some point, the Captain joined Colonel Draugh and the two spoke at length.

All the while, the warrior waited.

A tap on my shoulder almost had me piss my trousers, so focused had I been on that army. I turned to see Mercy’s evilest grin.

“Oh, no!”

“Captain wants you.”

“Why me?”

He laughed then. “Why not, lad. You’re expendable.”

With little choice, I followed him down the ladder to the ground. Nimble, brave and loyal friend that she was, followed me after waving Gentle and Dancer back. The three of us marched to the gates where the Captain waited with the same downcast translator that had interpreted for the Colonel.

“This is Niwasu,” Mercy said as the Captain folded his arms. “He’s coming with us.”

“Us! You’re coming too.”

Mercy glanced back, eyes flicking towards the satchel on my hip. “Wouldn’t let you fuck this up alone.”

The Captain merely nodded and the gates were opened. Mercy led the way, the translator beside him, while Nimble and I followed after.

I almost wilted beneath the weight of those eyes as they all seemed to follow our movements as we walked slowly across the open ground towards the lone warrior. As we neared, he shifted his stance, head turning to look us over.

Apparently, we were found wanting as he lifted his chin and sneered down his nose at us. Perhaps because we had brought four where there was just one of him.

“Ask him what he wants,” Mercy said, nudging the translator with his elbow. Niwasu obliged, speaking rapidly in the same language as the warrior.

“An offence was committed,” Niwasu said after the warrior replied.

“What offence?”

Mercy had no fear, I had to admire that about him. Though I had plenty, as evidenced by the way my knees trembled and felt very much like they were about to give way.

“Busara, a noble lord of a great house was killed here,” Niwasu translated in a monotone voice. “His retainers too.”

“A hazard of battle.” Mercy gestured, his hand making a cutting motion in the air. “People die when war is waged.”

The warrior frowned at the as he leaned in to listen to the translation.

“Atonement is required.”

“Or what?”

“The city will be razed to the ground and all within will be slaughtered like cattle,” Niwasu translated. “Then the might of the Kiswahili Empire will cleanse the land of these northern cities and their decadent people.”

“Seems a bit of an overkill,” I muttered.

“Do that, my lad,” Mercy said, wearing his nastiest smile. “And you might find yourself up against our Kingdom and that will be a far cry from the easy fight you’ll have against the savages here.”

The warrior didn’t seem to need a translation for that and he raised his spear once and slammed the butt against the ground as he bellowed out a war cry that almost had me stepping back.

“Take the message to your masters, dog,” Niwasu translated. “If the killers of Busara are not brought before him by the time the sun sets, it will be considered an act of war.”

Mercy spun on his heel and marched back without another word and I scrambled to keep up with him as Nimble walked along beside me. Niwasu scurried after us and I had to wonder why the Captain had sent Mercy, and more to the point, why I had gone too.

“What did you see?” Mercy asked as if reading my thoughts, and I gaped at him like a landed fish.

“Huh?”

“Did you sense any magic, see any spells?” My eyes widened and he cackled as he shook his head. “You’re a fool, mage. Why else would you come if not to look for magic.”

I was a fool indeed and I had been so scared that I hadn’t even considered looking at the man with an altered vision. I cursed softly and looked back, but it was too late and the man too far away for me to discern anything.

As I turned back to look where I was walking, my gaze passed over one of the white-cloaked men and I recoiled. There was magic wreathing him, a spiralling line of nauseating and off-putting colours that almost obscured the man beneath so thick were they.

If it came to a fight, they would be the ones to worry about. I was sure of that. Almost as sure as I was that the fight would come.