The Breath -Sixth Whale Book 1

*11*

He only became more elated when a large group of the hated beasts can bearing burning torches. His followers rose, these would be captured and their death a display. The mob had taken the last ones but these killings would be on in the full honour of the Creator with the temple grounds. His grin became manic.

Prebble was watching and wondering if the guild would come for his neck if he just killed the odious priest. He knew though that would draw attention to the guild and as of yet, the growing mob had left the wizards alone. Setting them on some of the senior members, such as the council of masters had a certain appeal to it but the apprentices and children in the Guild's care didn't deserve what hellish torture the old priest was thinking of. 

Despite the nature of his profession, He could never take any joy in something like this, it would be little more than a slaughter. Done with what the priest thought was a degree of sophistication he was certain, but Prebble knew this whole affair was proving nothing short of barbaric. Murder or a battle was one thing, that required skill an equal gamble between your opponent and yourself. These young ones were practically walking themselves to the butcher's block.  He lit a smoke to disguise the bad taste that was forming in his mouth.

The witches were armed, but not obviously so, in satchels and pockets they had bought stones and bricks and anything hard they could throw. Any witch with an inkling of magic could heat a pan. They were heating the stones in the palms of their hand, when they got close enough the girl leading yelled and a wave of glowing rock stones smacked into the crowd.

 The Halves were silent for the first time in years as everyone waited for the screams. Healers young and old waited at the edge hoping they would be there to welcome back anyone that survived. When the fighting started many knelt to pray. Thandre stood with them, sending his young apprentices to get their rest. This vigil was his. He entered a trance and borrowed the eyes of the birds that nested in the temple roof. Several people had already been injured and the group of witches had been surrounded. The circle of temple goers shifted whenever a stone was thrown their way but there was hungry patience in their eyes.  Eventually, the witches would run out of rocks.

Already their number had dropped considerably. Some witches lay bleeding out into the cobbled floor others had been captured and were being dragged screaming into the temple, He could see the panic in the eyes of those that remained. Thandre made a choice. Possibly not a wise one. He returned to his body and waited for the world to stop spinning. Then he woke his sleeping apprentices. 

" The only way to learn to fly is to be pushed out of the nest. You two have to maintain the barrier around The Halves." He announced to the barely conscious pair. Vern looked flustered and Shae was petrified. Thandre smiled.

" I have to bring the others back, but travelling that far from the barrier will weaken my ability to hold it. You will keep it up and you will keep it stable." Thandre removed the seal he'd placed on Shae's magic before, it spread into the room and seeped out through any crack or hole it could find.

" We could barely keep up with the cabin," Vern answered his face pale with dread.

" You won't be working alone and I'll only really lose control of it for ten to fifteen minutes," Thandre reassured the pair, but neither felt able to say more.

He made them a special brew to perk them up and left the pair once they had started funnelling power into the barrier. He used the only bit of tame magic he had learned and step through space to the temple. Silver eyes all but glowing in the dark his voice boomed through space. It had been a long time since he had to control this many people.

" STOP." and they did. Everyone stopped with their eyes empty. Everyone except the priest who was looking up at him with mad glee. Prebble looked for the first time at the legendary Witchfather and he tried to reach for his knife but his body wouldn't move. As he stared the Witchfather descended the steps and the priest crumbled into a suddenly hollow looking heap.

He walked through the crowd whispering in the ears of the witches with the fewest injuries. With complete silence they gathered up, the injured the dead and the captured and ran with them. They all ran back to the barrier. Prebble's heart raced the barrier would be down. If he could just move. He blinked and the witchfather was gone. No, the witchfather was on the roof with him. He almost felt disappointed with how average the man was, if it weren't for those eyes the witchfather could be one of the guild's skinny scribes, completely unremarkable.

Thandre ignored the wizard on the roof as he observed and counted the fleeing witches. He had to hope that the barrier was still active. If it wasn't then The Halves would be reduced to nothingness. He couldn't see any left behind, or at least any still alive. He had hoped the witches would have taken all the bodies back, but three were left. He looked at the wizard. In the deep tones of command he issued an order to Prebble.

" HELP TAKE THE WITCHES INTO THE HALVES." It would later become Prebbles biggest frustration to discover that's exactly what he did. He and the witchfather carried the bodies right through to the heart of the halves and laid them down in the cold streets around them it was chaos.

When Thandre returned he felt the barrier still holding strong. Shae and Vern both looked exhausted a thin sheen of sweat covered their brows. He wondered how Shae would react when he told her that she would be holding up the barrier alone for five weeks without a break. Now probably wasn't the best time to bring it up. He let them continue holding it up only with him acting as a type of support.

The witches that had been bought back into the barrier were waking up to pain. Corpses were being lined up in the street and covered with cloth. Broken liimbs were being set by healers and Thandre threw himself into the thick of it. He started with those that were so close to death the healers could only treat the pain. Those watching would describe it was a miracle. Wounds closed, bones knitted back together and death rattles faded into quiet and steady breaths.

That night Thandre gained back at least some of the trust of his people.