Sent Amrun and his men to fight beside the Mountainborn. Safer than putting them where they would be distracted by fighting beside people no one born in the City had ever expected to see in the flesh. But they would see enough on the battlefield to distract them, perhaps fatally.
Kellen knew he was sending them to die, and tried to shut the thought from his mind.
There was a break in the line. He rode toward it.
* * * * *
IF Armethalieh had not sent High Mages, they would all be dead now.
Scattered pockets of Magelight and Coldfire two names for what must be an identical spell illuminated portions of the army, and turned the roiling black pall that hung above the battlefield to a deep indigo. Fortunately, the Elves' night vision was good.
Not that anybody could see much of anything in the smoke.
And Kellen needed no sight to see at all.
Firareth had exhausted the last of even his great resources at sundown; Kellen was riding Valdien now. The Elven destrier seemed to know Kellen's need was great; Jermayan's mount had accepted him unquestioningly.
There was a flash of light as a column of fire arced down from the heavens, followed by the red-gold flare of Fire. Kellen smiled grimly.
The Allied Army was impossibly holding its own upon the field, and because of that the Demons Themselves had come at last to the battlefield, only to find that They had waited too long.
The Allies were ready for Them.
High Magick and Wild Magic together could slay Demons. And every single one of the Mages Armethalieh had sent was acceptable to the unicorns.
There were, in fact, more unicorns on the field now than when the battle had started. Kellen didn't know where the rest of them had come from, but he was glad they were here. They protected the High Mages far better than anything else could; the Demons dared not approach them.
Some of the High Mages were even mounted by now, taking the places of fallen Unicorn Knights.
Another flash more lightning. A spell the Wildmages could not cast, but apparently a simple spell of the High Magick. He saw, with eyes that saw everything, the Demon pinned to earth by the column of white fire. Saw the swarm of dwerro move up to protect their fallen lord, trying to buy It time to Heal Itself. Saw the Elven cavalry slam forward, clashing with the misshapen creatures on their hideous mounts, trying to force them back so that the Wildmages behind them could make the final kill. Both sides slipped and slid in the slurry of mud and blood beneath their animals' hooves.
In the sky above, the Starry Hunt's forces mirrored the actions of the troops on the ground below. A thousand times, since the Demons Themselves had taken to the field, the Allied forces would have been annihilated in a heartbeat, save for the ghostly star-crowned cavalry that rode above them, hunting down the Demons' spells as if they were living foes.
Kellen's sword was slicked with blood, his surcoat and armor was sodden with it, but Kellen's own true battle was yet to come. At the rear of the Dark Army stood the Demon General, waiting. It was He whom Kellen had to destroy.
But it was not yet time.
They were fighting in the forest itself now.
Each lightning strike each Fire spell rekindled the trees around them, though they were hardly more than columns of charcoal now. But even charcoal could burn.
And so, despite all other calls upon their energy, the Wildmages continued to duel with the Demons over the weather, forcing it to rain, and rain hard. Steam and smoke boiled up out of the trees and the ground, veiling the whole landscape in a choking fog. If Kellen had not been able to see with his battle-sight, to give orders constantly and clearly, the Allied Army would have been lost in confusion long ago.
The City Wards might be in place, but the walls of Armethalieh were only stone, and stone could be destroyed… if it could be reached.
They didn't need the City if They could perform Their Great Sacrifice.
But They would certainly want to destroy anyone who could possibly stop Them.
The hours passed.
The battle continued.
* * * * *
ZYPERIS had expected a quick and definitive victory to lay at his Queen and mother's pet fumed and gilded feet. But it did not happen.
Every attack he made was countered. The beautiful children his glorious Mama had bred and nurtured were slaughtered, brushed aside, as if they were not terrifying. The Deathwings fell from the sky in flames.
True, the ground ran red with blood. Coldwarg tore unicorns limb from limb. Frost Giants battered Elven Knights to death with their iron clubs. Shadewalkers ripped Centaurs apart as if they were gutting rabbits.
But it was not enough. Never enough.
They could not reach the City.
Time passed. The hateful glowing orb by which the Lightborn reckoned time moved across the sky. The mortals died by the thousands, but the creatures Prince Zyperis commanded died, too. And he was no closer to entering the City than he had been when he had begun. Somehow, no matter what he did, no matter what orders he gave, the troops of the hated Lightborn were there before him, spending their foolish lives recklessly to keep him from his rightful prize.
Then suddenly he felt a sudden upwelling of the High Magick and knew that he had miscalculated. Disastrously.
The City was Sealed against him once more.
Properly sealed, in a way it had not been since Queen Savilla's Mage-man had begun his tampering. No breath of Dark Magic could cross its walls now to touch the minds inside.
And as the human city was sealed, so he, too, had sealed his fate.
But… there was yet one thing he might do to redeem himself in the eyes of his mother, his love, his glorious Crown of Pain. He understood, now, why the Lightborn enemy had reacted as if it were the fingers of one fist. Why, even though individually they were so weak and powerless, they were such a formidable enemy.
A Knight-Mage was their commander.
Zyperis had not yet been born in the time of the Last War, but his mother had spoken to him of Knight-Mages, and he knew that this one had resisted her at the Black Cairn. Better that she had killed Kellen Tavadon then, instead of trying to make him her pawn.
If Zyperis killed him now, his mother would forgive him everything. With Kellen dead, he would destroy the army, obliterate the city, leave nothing behind but a wasteland in celebration of Queen Savilla's glorious victory.
And so he had waited for a lull in the fighting, and gone to summon his own personal guard to join him upon the battlefield. The preliminary sacrifices at the Place of Power were nearly done; his Mama would not miss them. It was only a few dozen of the Endarkened and Lesser Endarkened at that out of the hundreds gathered there. The Lightborn would be defenseless against their strength and magic.
But they weren't.
They, too, died.
He called the rest of them back. He must save them, now, for the moment when he took the battlefield himself.
And destroyed Kellen Tavadon.
Personally.
* * * * *