When it didn't, and when the Mettai recovered from their shock at what had been done to their spell, it all started again. More wolves, more eagles, more serpents.

We're leaving! Tirnya wanted to scream at the white-hairs. Why can't you just leave us alone and let us go home?

But she knew the answer. They were Fal'Borna; her people were Eandi. And this was a new Blood War. She'd started it, and she should have known better than to think that it could end so easily. If white-hairs had crossed the Silverwater into Stelpana, killed thousands of her people, and then retreated, she wouldn't have been willing to let them go. She would have wanted vengeance. She would have wanted to see every one of those invaders killed. The army of Stelpana would be lucky to make it back across the wash.

"How much longer can you keep this up, Eldest?" her father called to Fayonne.

The Mettai woman didn't take her eyes off the Qirsi lines. The back of her left hand was bloody and raw, though Tirnya had yet to see her give any indication that she was in pain. "As long as we need to to stay alive," she answered. "I have a lot of blood in my veins, Marshal."

Tirnya had come to believe that she'd been wrong to suggest the alliance with the Mettai, but she couldn't deny that she admired this woman.

"Do you want us to try the poison spell?" Fayonne asked a moment later. Jenoe looked over at Tirnya, a question in his eyes. She shook her head. "Not yet," he said. "Try the sleep spell again."

Fayonne nodded and said something to her people that Tirnya couldn't hear. A moment later they again threw handfuls of blood and dirt at the Fal'Borna. As before, these balls of mud transformed themselves immediately into streaks of silvery mist.

And once again, the spells hadn't made it halfway across the expanse of plain separating the two armies when they were met by a wave of fire. The magic flared so brightly, it seemed like the sun had exploded above them. When Tirnya could see again, the white-hairs were still awake, still fighting.

"Damn!" the eldest said, her fists clenched, blood oozing from her many cuts.

Tirnya felt the wind freshen against her face, though moments before it had been blowing from the other direction. An instant later it had shifted again, and was blowing from her left, and then from the right.

"They've noticed the archers."

Tirnya turned at the sound of the voice. Enly was beside her, his brow furrowed, his gaze sweeping over the battle plain. After a moment, she nodded.

"Do you think we should let them use the poison spell?" she asked.

"No," he said, without hesitation. "It could kill us all. Even the sleep spell is risky. If it puts all of us to sleep, the Fal'Borna might wake up first, and then we're dead."

"Have you mentioned that to my father?"

He grimaced, though he might have been trying to smile. "Your father hasn't been so fond of me recently. I haven't said much of anything to him."

"You have to tell him this, Enly. He keeps telling the eldest to try that sleeping spell. You have to make him stop."

He looked over at her father with uncertainty.

"Never mind," she said. "I'll talk to him."

"No," Enly said. "I will."

He took a breath and started walking toward the marshal.

Tirnya didn't know much about Mettai magic, and she knew even less about what it meant to be put under a curse. The day before, listening to the eldest's son talk about how his people had suffered because of the spell cast by their Mettai rivals, she had barely grasped all that he was telling them. She had thought about it a good deal in the past day, and had been struck again and again by how awful it would be to feel such malevolence from the very land on which they lived. But even worse than that would be the knowledge that their magic, the single thing that defined them as a people, couldn't be trusted.

Tirnya was a skilled swordswoman. She had tried to imagine what it would be like to lose faith in her blade, to worry that every tactic she tried in the ring might end up helping her opponent. The unpredictability of it all: That was what she would have found the most unnerving. Never knowing when the curse would next strike.

It seemed that this was the worst part of it for the Mettai as well.

They'd been conjuring beasts out of earth and blood for some time now, and all of these magical creatures had advanced on the Fal'Borna. There was no reason to expect that the Mettai's next conjurings would be any different. No reason except the curse.

Fayonne and the other Mettai gathered more blood on their blades, and mixed it with the dark soil of the plain. The mud flew from their hands, as it had countless times already on this day, and it twisted and writhed and grew into wolves, snakes, and eagles. But this time, the animals turned on the Eandi. Several of the wolves lunged for the nearest of the Mettai. Tirnya saw one beast leap at a Mettai and close its jaws on the poor man's throat. He was probably dead before he hit the ground.

Several of the eagles soared up into the sky, wheeled sharply overhead, and then dove at the nearest soldiers, who happened to be men from Gries's company. One of the birds rose into the air again with a man clutched in each talon. Both soldiers were screaming, fighting to get free. Another bird merely pounced on a soldier and with its huge beak tore into the man. Tirnya turned away rather than watch.

"Archers!" Jenoe hollered. "We need archers here now! Eldest, do something!"

Fayonne stared at the creatures, clearly appalled.

Snakes were rampaging through the Eandi lines, striking as if at random, leaving a trail of bloodied, lifeless forms in their wake. One snake actually struck at a wolf, just as the great animal sprang at it. For several moments the two creatures fought viciously, rolling over each other, the wolf snarling, the serpent hissing horribly. Then the wolf let out a yelp and was still. The snake untangled itself from the creature and slithered toward a knot of soldiers.

Everywhere Tirnya looked, soldiers, their swords looking pitifully small, tried to fight off the animals of the Mettai. Men screamed in agony. Archers fired their arrows at the eagles, though they had little effect on birds so large.

The Mettai threw another spell into the air, and this time several of the eagles went rigid and then fell to the ground. Dozens of soldiers were crushed.

"Tirnya!"

Enly's voice.

She turned just in time. One of the snakes was slinking toward her, its mouth open to reveal long, gleaming fangs. She pulled her sword free, and then her dagger as well, and she lowered herself into a fighter's crouch.

As the creature struck at her she dove to the side, rolled, and came up with weapons held ready. Already the snake was rearing back to strike again. She dove a second time, angling away to distance herself from the creature. Not that it helped much. Gods, these serpents were fast!

She lashed out at the creature with her sword, but it snapped its head back out of the way before striking at her again. Once more Tirnya dove away, and as she came up she saw that the snake had anticipated her dive and roll and was already readying itself for another strike. She tried to wrench her body out of the way, but knew that she'd fail this time. The serpent was too quick for her, for anyone.

But just as the snake began to strike, it suddenly twisted to the side, its tail thrashing violently. An arrow had embedded itself in the side of the snake's powerful neck.

Tirnya looked to see where the arrow had come from, and saw an archer standing beside Enly.

"Finish him!" Enly shouted to her.

Of course. She leaped forward, raising her sword, and she hammered at the beast as hard as she could, catching it just below where the arrow had struck. Dark blood spouted from the wound, and the beast flailed about even more desperately. She struck at it again, and the creature gave one last mighty heave and was still.