3 When Darkness Falls.8 (75 page)

As he had underestimated her.

The time that he could safely have slain her had passed.

The Magery he felt was a creation of great power, disturbingly so. Yet it was not directed at them — the Enemy — but at Armethalieh. Foolish Lightborn! Was it possible that — even now — they did not know who their true enemy was?

Then the spell reached its peak.

Zyperis felt the wave of magic crest over him. It was painful, as all spells of the High Magick were to his kind, but it could not truly harm him. Only a blending of High Magick and the Wild Magic could do that, as they had learned to their cost. But the pain brought with it knowledge, as the dying ebb of the spell told Zyperis everything about its construction and its purpose.

The Wards were down. The City was open.

Cloaking himself in invisibility, he flew to the edge of the forest to see what had transpired. But he did not see what he expected to see.

There was a dragon — a dragon! — crouched upon the City walls. Instead of the radiant wellspring of Power that he had expected to see, that he had yearned to capture for himself, its magic was dim and flickering, nearly extinguished.

Beneath its watchful gaze, the gates stood open. A troop of Elves rode forward, into the City.

But the attack that Zyperis expected did not come.

No gray-robed High Mages strode forward to cast them out with savage spells.

If the Wildmages and the High Mages make an alliance…

Even now — oh, surely, they could not win! But it might cost more of the precious lives of the children of
He Who Is.

If he could prevent that, his Mama might be pleased.

He might save his own life.

She had told him not to attack the City for any reason. But she did not know about this. Surely she would wish him to prevent this if she
did
know.

It would be far simpler for him to ask her for forgiveness later.

He could certainly fly down into the City by himself. He was the Prince of the Endarkened, and the City lay helpless and unWarded before him.

But… he had just seen a Wildmage enter. And he knew there were High Mages there. He had no intention of being killed when there were easier, safer ways of accomplishing his goal.

Zyperis flew back to his army and gave the order to attack.

Sealed to the Light

YOU HAVE DONE well, my sweet slave."

Lycaelon Tavadon heard the words only dimly. His mind was filled with horror. So much, so many impossibilities, had happened in so short a time, that he could not think.

He felt ill, feverish, as if he had drunk poison. Every time he opened his eyes, all he saw was the monsters that had walked the land in the Black Days of ancient memory, the legend of their existence preserved in texts permitted to the study of only the highest ranks of the Mageborn — and then, only when they had proven themselves both sincere in devotion to the City and truly possessed of a need to know. And his son, his beautiful son, was laughing.

"My Dark Lady, my glorious Queen," Anigrel said. "You are more beautiful than I could have dreamed. But… why am I here? I must return to the City, to take down the Wards so you can enter."

"No. The time for that has passed."

"Anigrel…" Lycaelon moaned.

He realized he was lying on the forest floor. Dim memories of a nightmare ride through trees came back to him. They had been riding out of the City to greet their new allies, and then… and then…

He struggled to his knees, forced himself to open his eyes.

Anigrel stood beside one of those… creatures. Her wings were spread, mantling his body. His face wore a look of radiant triumph.

"The Arch-Mage looks confused," she said.

A thrill of sick horror coursed through Lycaelon to hear human speech coming from such a creature. Bile rose in his throat.

"Perhaps you should explain yourself to him. It would please me very much."

"Dear Father," Anigrel said fondly. "Here is my true and only mistress. I have served her all my life, from the time I was a child. Everything I have ever done has been to her glory. There have never been any plots among the Mageborn, nor was House Volpiril guilty of anything, save, perhaps, ambition. I created young Cilarnen's cabal myself. I murdered Lords Vilmos, Arance, and Perizel. The information brought to the Council through the Magewardens is all lies. For moonturns we have tampered with the City Wards, allowing the influence of the Endarkened to spread throughout the City, and now they will claim their ultimate victory. Today."

The Demon standing behind Anigrel gasped, as if in ecstasy.

"Lies… ?" Lycaelon said. "You… lied to me?"

"I did not lie. I told you I acted for the good of the City, and so I have. It is good that Men serve their proper masters. The Endarkened. We have been a blight upon the land for too long. No longer."

"You have learned all your lessons well," the Demon told Anigrel. "Now you will serve me in the best way you can, and have the reward I promised you so long ago."

"Yes, Mistress," Anigrel whispered.

She put her arms around him from behind, running her hands over the heavy silk of his Magerobes. The rank-tabbard he wore, embroidered both with House Tavadon's colors of black and white and with Anigrel's own chosen colors of gold and red, covered with the elaborate heraldry of his rank and honors, slipped from his shoulders and fell to the muck of the forest floor.

Anigrel tilted his head back, exposing his throat, as he sighed in ecstasy and utter submission.

Delicately the Demon Queen parted the gray robes and the fine linen tunic beneath, until Anigrel's bare chest was exposed. The Talisman of the Light that he wore glinted against his pale skin on its fine golden chain.

And then, before Anigrel could move or protest, she tore open his ribs and plucked out his heart.

Blood sprayed over Lycaelon as Anigrel's body dropped to the ground. The Arch-Mage scrabbled backward through the cold wet leaves with a despairing cry.

The Demon bit into the still-pulsing heart as if it were a choice piece of fruit. Chewed. Swallowed.

"Perhaps too quick," she commented. "But he has annoyed me for a very long time with his protestations of soft human love. Do not hope that you may join him, Mage-man. I have something special planned for you. Something rich and rare. I shall enjoy it very much. Perhaps you can bring yourself to enjoy it, too."

* * * * *

"I do not wish to leave you here," Redhelwar said uneasily, as Idalia and Cilarnen dismounted at the City gates.

"You are needed with the army," Idalia said. "You must go. Besides, we have Jermayan and Ancaladar."

"Be sure that I will defend both Idalia and Cilarnen with my life," Jermayan said, stepping out through the open gates.

"And I," said Ancaladar, craning his long neck down so that his head was on a level with them. "I think they might not wish to upset me, you know."

Behind Jermayan, the Delfier Plaza stood as empty as if Cilarnen had obliterated all of the inhabitants of Armethalieh along with its magick.

"Come on," Cilarnen said. "We have to get to the Council House. The first thing that has to be done is to re-cast the Wards. Properly, this time. The way they should be."

"And I will close the gates," Ancaladar said, as they stepped inside.

* * * * *

SHE had been gone from this city almost half her life, and certainly for the best part. As she heard the bronze panels of the Great Gate bang closed behind her with Ancaladar's enthusiastic help, all she could think of was that this city that the High Mages were so proud of was much cruder and shabbier than she remembered it being.

Not smaller, of course. It was larger than all of the Elven Cities — probably put together. But then, no Elf would consider, even for an instant, living in the ugliness and squalor of the poorer quarters of Armethalieh. Nor would they be willing to live so closely packed together. It would not even be possible, without magic. A lot of magic.

"Cilarnen, did you take
all
the magick off of the City?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No. I haven't got that much power, even with the help of the Shining Ones. But the Wards seem to be linked to a lot more spells than I thought. It isn't as if I ever really had a chance to study the spell, or I could have done a much more elegant job. The bell-towers, though… I think they must have been linked to the Wards, somehow. I hope no one was hurt when the towers collapsed, but it was only the tallest spires that fell, and all of those would have been in the Mage-quarter, or near it — the Temple of the Light, the Mage College, the Great Library, the Garden Park. The Council House itself will be safe. It does not have a tower. The other carillons — in the Merchants' Quarter and the Garden Market — are all fairly sturdy. They will be dis-timed, and will no longer ring, but I do not think they will have fallen. The carillons in the Nobles Quarter will all have shattered, but they are not heavy ones, and the Nobles will complain, but they are always complaining, and here we are."

Before them stood the bronze doors of the Council House. They were flanked on each side by a row of Stone Golems. Cilarnen reached out, cautiously, and tapped the nearest one. It did not move.

"Perhaps they, too, have been disenchanted," Jermayan said musingly.

"I think so," Cilarnen said cautiously. "I've been Banished, Idalia's a Wild-mage, and you, well, you're an Elf. They shouldn't let any of the three of us within a hundred yards of these doors without trying to tear us into pieces."

"That's comforting, I don't think," Idalia said.

"Well it is," Cilarnen insisted. "If they aren't attacking, it means my spell took down not only the City Wards, but every piece of defensive magick Armethalieh has, at least in the Mage Quarter, where most of the spells would be. Not so good when you consider that there's a whole Enemy army outside right now trying to get in, but since we're trying to get in, too — without being killed — it's a good thing for us."

"Lead on, then," Idalia said.

Cilarnen mounted the steps and pushed at one of the great bronze doors. Since the doors normally opened and closed by magick, it took the three of them to move it, but at last they got it open.

* * * * *

"NO — no — no!" A gray-robed Council Page stood in the center of the hallway, eyes wide with terror at the sight of the three strangely-garbed intruders. "Get back!"

The boy was a few years younger than Cilarnen was, and obviously half-mad with fear. Cilarnen had never served as a Council House Page because of his rank, but he knew the duties that the Pages performed. This young man would have been supposed to wait in the hall and watch over the doors, but — especially today — he would never have expected them to open.

And Cilarnen well knew what a horrifying sight he and his two companions presented in their furs and armor.

"I am Lord Cilarnen of House Volpiril, and I must see the High Council at once," Cilarnen said. "You must conduct us to them immediately."

"I — I — I — Wait here." The Page turned and fled, his soft boots scuffling across the black and white marble floor.

"Do we wait?" Idalia asked.

"No," Cilarnen said. "I think I know the way."

* * * * *

BUT they had not gone more than a few steps toward the Council Chamber before their path was blocked by six Magewardens.

"I am here to see the High Council," Cilarnen repeated.

There was a sudden flare as the Magewardens' Spells raged and died against the violet glow of Cilarnen's Mage-Shield. One moment Cilarnen had been standing, apparently defenseless. The next, the air between him and the Magewardens was filled with the shimmering light of his spell.

"Do you think I am an idiot?" Cilarnen demanded angrily. "The Arch-Mage has been kidnapped by Demons — Demons whom
you
serve, because Lord Anigrel is your master! You all saw
Them
today, if you aren't blind. Now get out of my way, before I do to you what my friends are going to do to
Them.
"

"Cilarnen?" one of the Magewardens said, stepping forward. "Cilarnen Volpiril?"

"Geont?"

Geont Pentres had been one of his fellow conspirators — in a conspiracy, Cilarnen knew now, that had been created entirely by Anigrel to gain himself a Council seat and remove those members of the High Council — like Lord Volpiril — who could interfere in his plans to hand Armethalieh over to the Demons.

"You were Banished. Stripped of your Gift. What are you doing here? How do you know me?" The young Magewarden stared at Cilarnen, frowning in confusion.

"Once we were close friends, Geont. Anigrel lied to us both. I was Banished — but not stripped of my Magegift. Your memories were changed, if you do not know me. I am sorry to see you have become Anigrel's hound. Once you would have given anything to save Armethalieh from the same enemy you now serve."

"I still will. Do you swear by the Light that you come here in peace?"