The cursed towers 266
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and then the Thistle's army rushed from the sides to engage. Tall, surly-faced men armed with poles and
scythes, they did not have the weaponry or skill of Iseult's troop but they knew the terrain far better.
Where many of the Blue Guards slipped in the mud and fell, they stood firmly on their hobnailed boots or
leapt easily from one hassock of grass to another. All around were the screams and gurgles and groans of
dying men.
Anger and despair filled Iseult and she conjured a great, hissing ball of flame and flung it across the
swamp. To her amazement, the very air took flame. Mesmerdean darting overhead were incinerated into
ash in a moment and the mudsprites shrieked and dived beneath the mire. The sphere of fire exploded
into the hordes of men concealed on the far side of the swamp and they heard agonized screaming and
saw a few flaming forms leap and run.
"Marsh gas!" Gwilym cried. "O' course, it burns!" Lifting his staff, he conjured another ball of flame and
flung it to where the Mesmerdean buzzed as thick as a swarm of midges. Meghan followed suit, and in
seconds those Mesmerdean not incinerated had fled.
They could not flame the Thistle's men, though, for to do so would have been to incinerate their own
soldiers. As Iseult and Duncan fought on, side by side, the big captain panted, "We need room ... to
move, Your Highness. Can ... ye bring ice . . .again?"
Iseult swallowed. She was so tired that only her years of training kept her on her feet, ducking, leaping,
thrusting, evading. She found the working of magic far more tiring than fighting hand-to-hand and the
gigantic ball of fire had drained her completely. She said abruptly, "I will try. Guard me?"
Duncan nodded. "O' course, Your Highness," he replied with great respect and affection in his voice.
She smiled at him rather grimly, bent her head and concentrated all her will upon the mire. Slowly, slowly,
the ooze of the swamp congealed and froze, hard as diamonds. The Blue Guards were able to leap
backward to avoid a thrust without being afraid of stumbling into the mud and drowning. The fighting
spread out and those soldiers still lined up back on the road ran out to engage.
"Fire and ice," Duncan said respectfully. "Indeed, ye have an unusual Talent, Your Highness."
The mist was swirling up again, and it had grown bitterly cold. With a shout Margrit's soldiers turned and
ran back into the swamp, disappearing into the thick fog. Swiftly Duncan shouted orders and the Blue
Guards plunged on in pursuit while the rearguard organized litters to take the injured back to camp.
Within minutes the chaos of the battlefield had been restored to order, and the Banrigh's army was again
marching on into the swamp.
Suddenly there was a faint hissing sound and men began to fall with screams. They thrashed about on the
ground in agony, their faces turning a mottled purple, a discolored foam covering their lips. Thin black
thorns extruded from their necks.
The hissing sound came again and Iain cried, "Get down! Get down!" All along the path men dived for
cover, some using the still thrashing forms of their comrades as protection. Then Iain called,
"Aaiiieeeeeeeee!"
Immediately there was silence, and then they heard a tentative, "Aaiieeee?"
"Aaaaiiieeee," Iain called back reassuringly.
"Ee-ann?"
"Aye, it's Iain. Who goes there?"
