2 To Light A Candle.13 (109 page)

And then he heard Kellen cry out.

CILARNEN flung Mageshield over Idalia at the exact moment Jermayan Cast his own shield. Kellen felt Cilarnen reach the end of his own power in seconds—

And felt Ancaladar bolster Cilarnen's power with his own.

"Freely given" Kellen heard. "Freely given"

Cilarnen's shield strengthened.

Held.

The two shields—one of High Magick, one of Elven Magery—sparked and boiled over each other, the emerald and purple refusing to blend.

They have to hold! Kellen felt as if the whole force of both forms of magic— neither his—was pouring through him, tearing him apart.

But the power of the Circle was his as well.

He drew upon it, forcing the two Shields together. His pain was a distant thing; he forced it still farther from his consciousness, focusing all his intent upon holding the two shields together. Now he could see them clasped in a faint blue tracery: his Will. The will of a Knight-Mage, which could not be turned aside from its purpose, save by death.

A bolt of pure Darkness struck their combined shield.

He heard Cilarnen scream; felt Jermayan's agony. Ancaladar bellowed in pain and outrage.

The shield held. And he held; though he felt as if every atom of his body was being torn asunder, he held, and held, and held, by will alone, and then as his will eroded, and he felt even that failing-He was filled again with power, with a pure white power that held every color of magic there ever was within itself. And what little remained of his ability to think put a name to that power.

Shalkan.

This was why Shalkan held back from the other Workings, even when it was to heal one of his own kind. This was what Shalkan had been saving himself for, without knowing exactly what would be needed, only that it would. He fed the very essence of unicorn through the bond that tied him to Kellen, and into Kellen's Will, into Cilarnen, because Cilarnen was as virgin as Kellen, into the shield, so that all powers fused into one color that held all—

With a lightless flash and an earsplitting shriek of backlash, the Darkbolt recoiled upon itself.

The mirror… dissolved.

The Link was gone, and so was the Dome of Protection. The shields vanished beneath Kellen's grasp, and with them, his need to hold them. Suddenly alone in his own skin, Kellen tried to take a step, and went sprawling. Without the spell to concentrate on, all that was left was the pain: he felt drained— unnaturally drained—as if his body had given up more than it could safely give, and he hurt from the energies he had forced through himself.

Never be a High Mage… Kellen thought groggily.

He tried to get to his knees, but he was too sick and dizzy to move.

Cilamen—Jermayan—I have to get up—

"Stay down. It's all right. I know what they want," someone—Idalia?—said. "I know what they're doing."

DARKNESS transmuted to Light fountained forth from the obsidian bowl, shattering it into a thousand razor shards that embedded themselves in the Demon Queen's flesh. Far worse than that was the backlash of her spell—Savilla had struck against the hated Enemy with all her might, and her own power had turned against her to strike her down. Drained of power, she lay insensible until Prince Zyperis found her.

It was he who carried her back to her resting chamber in secret, who drew the stone shards from her flesh and tenderly sucked each wound clean.

"Rest, darling Mama," he said lovingly. "Soon you will be strong again."

PRINCE Zyperis regarded his mother with every expression of tenderness— and why not? For the first time in his life, he had seen her helpless and vulnerable.

For now, it was their secret—and one Zyperis intended to share with no one else. But secrets were power among the Endarkened… and now he knew how Yethlenga had died: by the power of the Wild Magic and the High Magick combined.

It was a fearful thing to know that the puling creatures of the Light could slay them-they, who were meant to live forever, by the favor of He Who Is!

On the other hand, it was also… an opportunity.

He had not been ready to exploit it this time, nor had Queen Savilla been te weak enough. But if he arranged matters properly—if he made sure that the Wildmages pet High Mage flourished—

Then perhaps his beloved mother could meet with a timely accident the next time she faced the forces of the Light.

And there would be a new King in the World Without Sun.

THE cost of the spell to see into Armethalieh had been higher than any of them had imagined. No one had died, but that was as much as anyone could say. If there had been an attack in its aftermath, the army would have been slaughtered, for of those who had shared in the price, many had fainted where they stood, and the rest were too weak to as much as lift a sword. It would be sennights before the army was able to fight at full strength once more.

Those who had not shared in the spell-price—and it was fortunate that so many had been exempted—found themselves occupied caring for those who had—helping the troops from the field around the ice-pavilion, and then returning to carry away the unconscious Wildmages and Cilarnen. Shalkan, too, had been found unconscious, guarded by the rest of the unicorn herd until a Healer could be brought to help him.

SOMEHOW the Demons—not the Mages—had seen the spell. And had managed to turn it against them. If Cilarnen had not been here—if Ancaladar had not granted him the power he had needed to use his magick—if he and Jermayan and Kellen had not somehow been able to fuse their powers and Shalkan had not added his own unique power to the lot…

She would be dead, and the Wildmages linked to her so mind-blasted that they might never have been able to serve the Wild Magic again. Cilarnen… she was not sure what would have happened to him. Nothing good.

If and if and if. But all had gone as the Wild Magic willed.

Their spell-shields had protected her—it was why she was still standing. And now—as soon as there was someone conscious to tell it to—she would be able to tell what she had learned.

Tears of fear and frustration gathered in Idalia's eyes as she thought of what she had seen in the mirror.

SHE was able to speak to Redhelwar that evening, though the Army's General was still confined to his bed. She summarized what she had learned through the spell.

"And soon the human City will be theirs, and all its Mages," Redhelwar said, his voice flat with exhaustion and grief. "As Kellen said: there was something They needed before They were willing to move openly."

"They don't have it yet," Idalia said. And I pray to the Gods of the Wild Magic we can keep Them from getting it.

IT was the next day before she dared to try to wake Kellen—even Jermayan, with Ancaladar's inexhaustible vitality to draw upon, still slept—but Kellen had to know what she knew as soon as possible. They had to plan.

"DON'T wake him, Idalia," Isinwen begged as she entered Kellen's pavilion. The Elven Knight was sitting cross-legged beside the sleeping pallet, though he looked as if he ought to be in one himself. The pavilion was warm; obviously Isinwen was here to see that the brazier remained full and lit.

"I have to, Isinwen," Idalia said gently. "There are things he needs to know, and they cannot wait any longer."

"Then let me make tea first," Isinwen said resignedly, lighting the tea brazier.

When the tea was ready, Isinwen left.

No one can make you feel quite as guilty as a loyal servant, Idalia thought with an inward sigh. And Isinwen certainly seemed to have appointed himself to that position. She went over and knelt beside her sleeping brother.

IDALIA was calling him. But he was so tired… With an effort, Kellen forced himself to consciousness.

The mirror. The spell. The attack.

ldalia knows.

"Cilarnen—" he said, his voice a croak. "Shalkan."

"Alive," ldalia said. "They're all alive. I think he—they—will all be okay. They're still asleep. But I need you now."

Kellen tried to sit up. His body wouldn't obey, and that alarmed him enough to give him the strength to pull himself into a sitting position. ldalia steadied him and put a mug of tea into his hand.

Kellen took a deep breath, clearing his head, and gulped at the tea. It was hot, strong, and horribly sweet—just what he needed.

Exhaustion still dragged at him. But his mind was clearing quickly.

"They attacked us. Here."

"Yes," ldalia said. She shook her head in self-disgust. "Something I should have thought of, I suppose. We made a link to Their servant in the City. We expected an attack from the Mages, but…"

"But an opening is an opening, and They could use it just as well," Kellen finished. "But Their attack didn't work. Just like at Stonehearth—a Wildmage and a High Mage working together can hurt Them. Kill Them. I think… ldalia, I think that's what the High Magick was originally for."

"To help kill Them!. It would be nice to think so. But I don't think knowing that is going to do us a lot of good now."

Kellen had finished his tea. ldalia refilled his mug, adding several more honey-disks.

"ldalia… I saw what you Saw. But I didn't understand it. Anigrel… he's on the Council now?"

"He's the one Cilarnen was told about in Stonehearth. Lycaelon has adopted him, made him a High Mage, and put him on the Council. He's the traitor—he has been for years. There's more—much more—but the main thing is this: he's changing the Wards of the City so that Their spells can pass through them."

His body might be exhausted, but Kellen's mind was fully alert. It was the missing piece of the puzzle he'd searched for for so long.

"Once they can bespell the City, they can take the Wards down entirely and enter it in the flesh. But not… not just for prey. They could have stripped the Lost Land bare any time They liked if that was all they wanted. They want something more. Allies? But They are the ancient enemy of the Mageborn, too. Lycaelon would never…"

"He'll do what Anigrel tells him to," ldalia said grimly. "And Anigrel is telling him that Wildmages are the ones out to destroy his precious City—and have been for generations."

"Xaqiue," Kellen said. "We're the Wildmages, so we're the enemy—us, the Elves, the Allies. Idalia, it all makes sense now. They don't want to face us in the field. They never did. And if They destroy us… even Armethalieh might notice—and fight. But if They can get Armethalieh to do their fighting for Them…"

"Then Light destroys Light… and They destroy what's left," Idalia said despairingly.

"Now we know what They want," Kellen said. "And we know what we have to stop." And he felt a strange elation, as strong as Idalia's despair. "Knowledge is power, Idalia. And—I think—we've only begun to understand ours."

Epilogue

THE FIRST WORKING had been accomplished successfully. There had been a moment—just as he was about to inscribe the first of the seven Seals—when for a moment the Council chamber had vanished from Anigrel's sight, dissolved first in intolerable brightness and cold, and then in darkness and the scent of freshly-spilled blood.

But it had only been a moment. The web of the Working had held. Of course Anigrel wondered about the cause. But none of the other Mages had sensed any disruption in the spell, and his own subsequent investigations had revealed nothing. Perhaps someone in the Mage Council had been attempting to Overlook the Working. Next time he would make doubly sure that any uninvited spectators received a more lasting greeting than they could imagine.

Each day, now, it would be safer to openly use those powers that were his true heritage.

He had waited impatiently for his Dark Lady to use her new freedom to contact him, and as the days passed and she did not, he grew close to despair. He knew his spells had not failed. How, then, had he displeased her?

At last the time came for him to make his own attempt. Even now, he dared not deviate from his schedule, lest his presumption displease her further. Besides, moondark was the time of greatest power for those spells he had learned under her tutelage.

At last the fortnight passed. He retreated to his rooms, filled the iron bowl with blood, and waited.

"You please me—and disappoint me," came the voice in his mind. Her touch was stronger than ever; he could almost feel her soft hands upon his flesh.

Anigrel dropped to his knees in confusion.

"I—I have done all you asked of me. I will do more!"

"Yes. You must do more—and quickly. Did you not notice, upon that night you worked to loosen the chains that bind your city against me, that the Wildmages struck at your life? It was only through my intervention that you still live. If I am to protect you further, those fetters must be loosed entirely. And you must convince the Arch-Mage to ally himself with us at once"

"But—" He'd known it was their ultimate goal. But it would not be an easy one to achieve. Another year—perhaps two—to soften Lycaelon's mind further—

"At once! I have indulged you for long enough—do this now, or face the ruin of all our hopes'."

Her fury was like a lash; Anigrel cringed from her displeasure even as he longed for the pain of her touch.

"Yes, Mistress—I swear to you I shall do this for you. Armethalieh shall be yours before the first flowers bloom."

"Much sooner, I hope…for your sake. M;y sweet Anigrel, do you not know how deeply I yearn to make you mine entirely? Do not make me wait much longer …"

"I swear to you, Mistress. The City shall be yours to do with as you will."

And I—I shall be yours as well.