3 When Darkness Falls.8 (71 page)

Or… better yet.

Let them come out to her.

Since the Starry Hunt had come back into the world, her darkest enchantments had lost much of their potency. It was only temporary, but it was one more insult that she intended to repay in full measure as soon as she had brought
He Who Is
into the world.

As soon as she had obtained a suitable sacrifice. A sacrifice of ultimate purity and power, offered up at a time and place that would not simply open a door between the worlds.

But would rend the veil between them asunder forever.

And then…

She could devote herself entirely to pleasure.

Her gaze fell upon the form of Prince Zyperis, where he soared over the marching column of subject races and Lesser Endarkened that marched beneath her banners.

Yes.

One of her greatest pleasures — soon, and for thousands of years to come — would be in schooling her son and lover to ultimate obedience. She had been forced to allow him far too much freedom while she was occupied with other, far more pressing matters.

Soon it would be time to call him to heel.

* * * * *

"THEY intend to make a Great Sacrifice at Kindling."

Vestakia's words were no more than a whisper.

It was the morning strategy meeting in Redhelwar's tent.

Redhelwar's tent was always the last thing to be packed, being bundled onto its wagon when the rest of the army was already starting to move. The meeting was the last thing held each morning — after Cilarnen had gotten in his hour or so of practice with the Unicorn Knights.

Cilarnen no longer spent his nights in spellcraft and meditation; in an army on the move, it was simply impossible, and he was devoting every minute he had to perfecting the spell that he and the Unicorn Knights would cast at Armethalieh. The only one who was not a part of that spell was Shalkan; once again, Shalkan's own Mageprice set him apart.

In the moments Cilarnen could spare from working with the Unicorn Knights, he assembled the cantrips that would serve him best in the field, and —

Kellen supposed — snatched an hour or two of sleep here and there, in Anganil's saddle as often as not.

He looked as if he were dying of fever.

* * * * *

TODAY they had reached the edge of the Delfier Valley.

Armethalieh itself was only a few days away. Less, really, for the edge of the High Mage's weather-spells was just ahead. They would cross them in a mile or so.

Behind them, the landscape still labored under deep winter and heavy snow. Ahead, at the valley's westernmost entrance, there was less than a foot of snow upon the ground. Ancaladar had flown over the Delfier Valley yesterday — the Bounds did not keep anyone out as the Elven Landwards or the City-Wards did: they simply marked the edge of where spells of the High Magick could be cast — and said that everywhere he flew it was the same. Only the lightest dusting of snow covered the ground.

Here, the course of the Demons' raids could be plainly seen. Ancaladar and Jermayan had reported seeing the burnt-out remains of several villages on their overflight. They could not name the villages that had been destroyed. Even Cilarnen could not do that. A proper young High Mage's knowledge of geography stopped at the City Walls, and Cilarnen knew more of the geography of the Elven Lands than he did of the Delfier Valley just a few miles from the city where he had been born and raised.

Without Jermayan's magic to shield them, he and Ancaladar had not dared approach Armethalieh closely, though Ancaladar was willing to risk such a flight tonight. The High Mages would be awake, and active, but their attention would be elsewhere. A black dragon against a black sky, flying quickly, would not be seen. And Ancaladar was still capable of seeing far more things than a human could.

"'A Great Sacrifice,'" Idalia echoed, puzzled.

"
He
has just learned of it," Vestakia said. "
He
is very… I am not sure what.
She
means to make it at a Place of Power somewhere near Armethalieh.
He
spies on
Her.
When
She
has made this Sacrifice
She
has spoken of, not even the Starry Hunt can keep
He Who Is
out of the world."

Kellen looked at the others — Idalia, Jermayan, Cilarnen — inquiringly. Among them they represented — or had represented, in Jermayan's case — all the forms of magic that existed in the world, and so represented a sort of informal Council-Within-a-Council in Redhelwar's army. Everyone knew that the battle that would be joined — in only a few days, now at most — would be fought more

with magic than with swords and lances, and High Mages and Wildmages had the best idea of the form a battle of magic would take.

"Well," Idalia said slowly, "I suppose it isn't hard to guess
where She
means to do it. There's one of the old Places of Power in the Delfier Valley — a Shrine, like the one in the north where I summoned the Starry Hunt. The one in the Delfier Valley belongs to Men, but unfortunately for us, all the Shrines are completely neutral. Anyone can use them, and for any purpose, even a bad one. I'm not entirely certain where it is exactly, though I could find it if I had to; it's been forgotten for longer than the walls of the City have stood."

"Kindling is only a day or two away," Kellen said slowly. "That doesn't give us much time. But what's a 'Great Sacrifice'? Is it something you do? Or something you have?"

"It's — I'm not sure," Cilarnen said. "But if I had to guess from what's in my old books — and from the look on your face, I'd better — it would be a person. Someone who symbolizes the Land Itself. And considering what we know about
Them
and how
Their
magic works, I'd say it would be a blood sacrifice."

"A King would be the only one who could symbolize the Land," Kellen said. "But Andoreniel is safe in the Elven Lands. And Sandalon is safe in the Fortress of the Crowned Horns. So is Ashaniel, for that matter. And there aren't any other kings."

Idalia frowned. "The Centaurs don't have Kings. Not any more. No Centaur She could sacrifice at the Delfier Shrine would symbolize the Land. The same holds for the Mountainfolk, because whoever
She
tried to sacrifice at the Delfier Shrine at Kindling,
She'd
have to find someone the Shrine itself would recognize as a King of Men — isn't that right, Cilarnen?"

"Magic has rules," Cilarnen said firmly. "Well, the High Magick does. And what I read about the Great Sacrifice was in a book about the High Magick — or its ancestor, anyway. So I'd say that this old form follows a lot of the same rules as what I do. The Sacrifice can't be just anybody. It has to be a specific somebody. At a specific time. The best and most powerful sacrifices — the only kind my book talks about, actually — went willingly, joining their personal power to the Land's power for the good of all, but I really don't think
that's
going to happen. And I think…
She
doesn't have
Her
sacrifice yet. Or
She'd
already have taken the shrine and just be waiting on top of it for the right time."

"
She
doesn't want
Him
to know," Vestakia said softly. Her voice was dreamlike, as if she were still asleep. "And… I don't know who the sacrifice is, but… I know that what
She
does will give
Her
a lot of power. And I think it frightens
Him.
"

"It would frighten anyone," Kellen said quietly. "We'll stop it." He spoke with more certainty than he felt, but he could not bear the sight of her pinched, haunted, face.

Suddenly she gasped and doubled over.

"
They're
coming!" she said. "
They're
approaching from the south."

"To horse," Redhelwar said quietly. "We must reach Armethalieh before
Them.
"

* * * * *

LESS than an hour later they crossed over into the Delfier Valley, and the army's speed increased.

Their army was still too far away too see — at the far end of the valley, coming up the southern road, the one Cilarnen had taken toward Stonehearth many moonturns ago — but everyone in the army, whether they had magic or not, now could sense Their approach. It was as if the air were filled with a constant irritating whine, and there were a shadow over the face of the sun. Half the outriders had dropped back simply to keep the horse herds from bolting, and even the normally stolid oxen, the last creatures to be affected by anything, were on the verge of panic.

But Idalia and the other Wildmage Healers had been preparing for this all the way here. At the first stop of the day, they moved through the army and the herds, distributing doses of the same bright green cordial Kellen had been dosed with by Shalkan when he began his climb to the Black Cairn. It shut down the magical senses — even in the non-magical — and made the presence of the Demons easier to bear.

"How much is there?" Kellen asked.

Idalia had brought a large bucket of faintly green-tinged water to where he and his troop were resting. After all of the Elves had drunk a cup — Kellen, of course, did not — the destriers were each encouraged to drink a bowlful. As Kellen recalled from Shalkan's explanation, it would taste good to them, and calm their nerves.

"Enough to dose the worst cases at full strength for three days, and to take the edge off the entire army for the same time. We've put it in the drinking water, by Redhelwar's command. Don't worry. There are a few barrels of pure water left for the Wildmages. Or you can melt snow."

"If I can find any," Kellen said, looking around. After the landscape he'd been riding through most of the winter, this looked like high summer. "Did you give some to Vestakia?"

"She refused."

"Make her take it. Or I'll come and pour it down her throat myself."

Idalia opened her mouth to protest. Kellen cut her off.

"We need what she can still tell us. And she needs rest. We already know that
They're
there, and where
They're
going. If
They
attack us in the next few hours, I'm sure we'll notice without any extra warning."

Idalia smiled. "I'll tell her you said so."

"Just tell her she has to take it."

"I will." Idalia picked up the empty bucket and moved on.

* * * * *

AS they rode deeper into the Delfier Valley, it became apparent to the Allies that the Demons did not mean to engage. Everyone knew how fast
They
could move — especially the Endarkened themselves, covering miles in seconds. Yet
They
held back, allowing the Allies to push on down the Western Road toward Armethalieh without opposition.

"What are
They
planning?" Kellen demanded.

He was riding beside Redhelwar, at the front of the Allied Army. Soon they would have to stop to make camp. It was possible the attack would come then. Though the Demons marched — and flew — in the day, many of those who marched beneath
Their
banner were creatures of the night.

And tomorrow — if they survived the night—the army would reach Armethalieh.

"Perhaps to have all of
Their
enemies in one place before
They
destroy them," Redhelwar answered, falling easily into the informality of War Manners.

"But
They
don't want to destroy Armethalieh.
They
want to devour it. It's us
They
want to destroy," Kellen said.

"Does the Wild Magic not counsel you?" Redhelwar asked. There was an undertone of worry in his voice.

"It doesn't suggest I'm doing anything I shouldn't be doing — or that you aren't," Kellen said. "So I suppose we're both doing what we ought to be right now by going straight ahead. If Ancaladar can make a flight over the City tonight, we'll have fresher news. And Cilarnen intends to scry, to see what's going on with the Council. They have to know that there are two armies out here. They'll be meeting in an Emergency Session tonight, more than likely. He'll be able to find out what they're talking about."

"And perhaps tomorrow he can speak to them in person, and bring them to their senses," Redhelwar said.

"I hope so," Kellen said grimly.

* * * * *

THEY set up camp in expectation of being attacked at any moment, with a third of the camp on watch at all times. It was all they could do; they dared not march through the night. The Demon army was more than human. They were only flesh and bone. Even if Coldfire would allow them to see in the night, they dared not arrive at the sight of the battle unfed and exhausted.

Kellen was up at the Unicorn Camp. Not only did being there allow him to spend time with Shalkan, he would be nearby when Cilarnen finished doing… whatever it was that Cilarnen did. He wasn't really in the mood to sleep, anyway. And his troop had the second watch, the hardest of the night. He'd sleep for a few hours after that, he promised himself.