“You don’t need druids,” the boy continued, “you can talk to the gods without them. I do. But I am part god, so that probably makes it easier … I’d recommend you kill all your druids, but you won’t have time, since I’m going to kill you and take your territory. Tell you what; after I’ve wiped you and your army off the battlefield, I’ll kill all your druids for you.”
Lowa clenched her fists. “I would have agreed about druids not long ago, Samalur, but I’ve learnt differently. I know at least one druid who can see an invincible force of Romans coming to conquer us all with the same certainty that we might see rain coming across a lake and know that we’re about to get wet. I’ve seen her do things that make me believe her.”
“No, sorry, won’t work, I don’t believe her or you.”
“Samalur, if our armies clash, thousands will die. Whoever wins, both armies will be weakened and we’ll be more open to invasion. Not just from the Romans, but from the Murkans and anyone else who puts their mind to it.”
“So surrender. I’ve given you my terms.” Samalur smirked.
Even if the terms had been overly reasonable, Lowa could never have surrendered to the cocky little shit.
“You may outnumber us, Samalur, but our skill and experience is greater. We will rip the belly from your army like wolves savaging an aurochs.”
“Take the belly. There’ll be plenty left. We’ll still win.”
“Even if you do, a multitude will be killed. Your people will be weakened for generations.”
“What are armies for if not to fight? I’ve got a huge army and I want to use it and nobody can stop me. Least of all you. You’re not my mother. You can’t be, I killed her.”
Lowa put a hand on her bow.
“Lowa,” said Atlas quietly, “we don’t have—”
She held up a silencing hand. “All right, Samalur, I’ll fight your army and I’ll kill you myself. Wait here, we’ll be back after nightfall.”
As Lowa turned her horse, the laughter of Dumnonia’s upper echelons made her skin prickle. She kicked her iron heels into the animal’s flanks and galloped away.
“Lowa,” Atlas shouted over the drumming hooves, “We need to go back. There are too many of them. We have to come to terms. It is not too late—”
“It is too late. Call a council the moment we return. We have a battle to plan.”
Chapter 2
“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head then looking up.
Lowa looked seriously angry. Spring couldn’t remember anyone ever looking so angry with her, apart from perhaps her father, King Zadar. It wasn’t like Lowa at all. Being in charge changed people, it seemed, and not for the better.
“Spring, whatever you did to Dug and me in the arena, you’re going to do it again to both of us and to as many other Maidun Warriors as you can, and we are going to tear this Dumnonian army to pieces.”
“Lowa, no. I can’t.” Spring looked at the sling in her hands. She’d come into the woods ostensibly to hunt game, but really she wanted be alone. Finding out that she could use magic had thrilled, confused and upset her. Realising after the death of her father that her magic seemed to have left her had not cheered her any. She’d thought that getting away from all the noise of Maidun and walking on her own through the trees might make things clearer. So far it hadn’t. She’d also thought she’d been careful to leave no trail, but Lowa had tracked her.
“You will try,” said Maidun’s new queen. “This isn’t a game. The Dumnonians outnumber us massively. It is very likely that they will kill us all, Dug included. Do you want that to happen? I don’t know what your power is or where it comes from, but I know what it can do. You have to use it to help us.”
Spring wanted to burrow into the ground to get away. If she could have used her magic still, she would have created an island miles across the sea where she could have lived with Dug for ever, and perhaps a few other nice people, but certainly nobody who wanted to get involved in battles. “Can’t Drustan help?” she asked.
“He’s going to do what he can, but he says that compared to you he can’t do anything.”
“I do want to help, but I can’t. I don’t know what I did to you and Dug to give you strength,