Ganaret raised his hand for permission to speak.
"Lord Ganaret?" Lycaelon said graciously.
"With respect, Lord Arch-Mage, what spells are we to set to stop them? No Mage who has gone forth from the walls has ever returned."
Lycaelon smiled. "An excellent point, Lord Ganaret. I do not propose to send our Mages against this devious foe. I propose an alliance, between Armethalieh and another ancient foe of the Wildmages. Even now this enemy fights them on their own ground. With the Council's gracious approval, I shall invite them to come here, so that a formal treaty can be sealed between us, and together we can destroy our mutual foe."
"But who are these people?" Lord Harith asked. "Why have we not heard of them before now?"
"With your permission, Lord Harith, I will tell you all I have learned," Anigrel said modestly. For the next several minutes he told the High Council very much the same things he had told Lord Lycaelon of a hidden race, strong in Magery, who, seeing Armethalieh about to go down to defeat at the hands of their ancient, hated enemy, had ended their millennia of cloistered isolation to attack their mutual foe.
"And now they will come here, to join their power to ours, if we will only ask them. Together we will have the strength to defeat the Wildmages for all time. I ask you, Mages of the High Council. Will you do it for Armethalieh, and the Light?"
"I call the vote," Lycaelon said.
It was unanimous, of course.
It always was, these days.
Their new allies were to be asked to come.
Lord Anigrel said that they called themselves The Enlightened.
Chapter Sixteen
The Battle for Armethalieh
THEY MOVED OVER the land like a plague of darkness, and in their wake, nothing lived, and nothing grew.
They moved slowly, but Savilla did not mind. After the recent setback in the Room of the Obsidian Spire, the destruction around her was balm to her senses. Soon every slight, every humiliation of the last thousand ten thousand years would be repaid a hundredfold.
From every corner of her shadowy empire, she had recalled her ancient servants the Ice Trolls, the Frost Giants, the bestial dwerro. They marched now beneath her banners, just as it had been in the days of old, protected by the shimmering veils of Darkmagery through which the army moved. Far above the army, the giant white forms of Deathwings soared. Around them, Coldwarg darted in and out, searching for anything they might devour, and the towering Shadewalkers ranged farther still, herding terrified victims into the army's path. It was a glorious sight.
Far afield, the Elves, too, marched toward Armethalieh, thinking they would save it.
They did not know that even now, their pathetic attempts at succor were a part of her plan.
Let them reach Armethalieh.
Let them show themselves to the Mage-men of the Golden City.
Her pet had already sent word that the Mage-men intended to offer an alliance, but an alliance was no part of her plan. She wanted an utter capitulation. The sight of an army of their most hated foes ringing their treasured city should provide that. They would rush to open their gates to her then, doing whatever they had to, to make it possible for her to enter.
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.