* * * * *
IDALIA was in the City.
Not now but then. What she saw was in the past. For a moment she was puzzled, then realized she must need to See this as well as anything that might be happening now.
The Temple of the Light. The Adoption ceremony of a pale fair-haired man a decade perhaps a few years more older than Kellen. The spell let her Know the meaning of everything she Saw, and so she knew that what she saw was Anigrel Kellen's former tutor, Lycaelon's private secretary, the Mage who had neglected to Burn the Magegift from Cilarnen's mind before Cilarnen was Banishedbeing adopted into House Tavadon. Later this same day Anigrel would be appointed to the Mage Council and take High Mage Volpiril's seat.
She knew that Mages Breulin and Isas had been forced to resign.
With dreamlike swiftness, the hours and days of Anigrel's life unfolded to her: the formation of the Magewardens and the Commons Wardens the network of spies to inform upon the people of Armethalieh and sow terror among them. Every thread of unholy Darkness woven through the golden fabric of the City was spun from Anigrel's hands.
The conspiracy for which Cilarnen was Banished never existed. Anigrel started it all
Idalia watched in sick horror as Anigrel murdered Lord Vilmos. It was worse than she had imagined worse than anyone had feared. Anigrel was the Demons' creature had been for years. And now he'd managed to reach a position where he would soon be able to strip away Armethalieh's defenses and let the Demons in.
He was going to give them the City.
And all she could do was watch.
* * * * *
DEEP in the darkness of the World Without Sun, the Demon Queen Savilla stood naked in her ivory chamber. Through the soul-deep link she shared with her Mageman, she felt the festering sickness of the Light approach him.
They will not!
The walls were spattered with blood, and the remains of half-a-dozen dismembered slaves lay scattered about, for she'd had no time to be neat or elegant. The obsidian bowl was filled to overflowing with hot fresh blood, and more pooled on the ebony table and ran down its legs to the floor.
Savilla's fury grew until it nearly choked her. How dare Wildmages meddle in her plans?
She bared her fangs in savage glee as she tested the power of their spell and followed it to its source. They'd worked so hard and so diligently to penetrate the human city's defenses.
But a breech for you is a breech for me, my darlings, Savilla purred to herself in sudden delight. In their desperation, they had made themselves vulnerable. She struck with all her might.
* * * * *
KELLEN Saw all that Idalia Saw they all did but without the Knowing, it meant little to him. He let the images go, concentrating on feeling the currents of power that flowed through them all through the ring of Wildmages into Idalia; from the army into the ring of Wildmages searching constantly for anything out of place.
The spark that was Cilarnen was like a bright ember; different, apart, but not wrong.
Jermayan… another sort of difference.
Kellen ignored them both.
Then:
"No!"
He sensed disaster coming already here he didn't know which. He reached out to Idalia. She had to end the spell. He was too late.
Time seemed to slow. The surface of the mirror faded to darkness, and bowed outward as if its surface were not crystal but oil. It reached for Idalia. If it touched her, they would all die.
* * * * *
KELLEN saw Cilarnen fling Mage-Shield over Idalia at the exact moment Jermayan Cast his own Shield. But Cilarnen had only his own power to draw upon, and Kellen felt him reach the end of that 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. In moments they would fly apart, leaving Idalia vulnerable to the attack.
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 entire Circle was his to wield as well.
He drew upon it, forcing the two Shields together. He felt as if he'd plunged both hands into a bed of live coals, but 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.
Time seemed to speed up again. The bolt of pure Darkness struck their combined Shield, and if he had felt pain before, it was nothing to what he experienced now. He heard Cilarnen scream; felt Jermayan's agony. Ancaladar bellowed in pain and outrage at the pain and more, the vileness of the attack.
The Shield held. And Kellen held; though he felt as if every atom of his body was being torn asunder, he held, and held, and held, by will alone, as the Darkness hammered at their combined defense, 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 had 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.
Kindolhinadetil's mirror… dissolved.
The Link was gone, and so was the Sphere of Protection. The two 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.
I'll never be a High Mage… Kellen thought groggily.
He tried to get to his knees, but he was too sick and dizzy to move.
Cilarnen Jermayan I have to get up