Mercedes Lackey: When Darkness Falls

He was no longer the gawky, awkward, half-grown boy who'd been Banished from Armethalieh two seasons before, a child ill-at-ease in his own body.

In the mirror, Kellen saw a stranger. A man… and one he wouldn't want to face in battle, either. Curly light brown hair, long enough by now to braid tightly at the back of his neck, gray eyes. Broad shoulders, strong muscles honed by hours of sword-practice and long hours spent in armor. He towered over Cilarnen — even after several moonturns working in Stonehearth's stables, you'd never mistake Cilarnen for anything but one of the fine-boned and delicate Armethaliehan Mageborn. Kellen…

They'd call me a High Reaches barbarian trying to pass for an Elf , he thought with an inward grin. Well, if he wanted nothing to do with the City, the City had obviously returned the favor.

"It's certainly impressive," he said.

"It will serve our needs," Idalia said with a dismissive shrug. "Now. I'll stand here. You'll stand behind me. You'll see what I See — everyone will, I think, just like a regular scrying spell, but if this spell goes the way I think, I'm the only one who will Know whatever there is to know. But you should be able to sense how the spell is running, and… interfere, if it becomes necessary."

And hope the Wild Magic shows me what I need to do , Kellen thought soberly.

Idalia lit the brazier. As the ghostwood began to kindle, she took her staff and began to walk around the outer edge of the group of Wildmages, drawing a line in the beaten snow.

* * * * *

SHE refused to let herself think beyond each moment, trying to make herself seem confident and assured. She'd refused to accept Jermayan's betrothal pendant for fear that it would establish a deeper form of just such a link as she was proposing to forge now, and allow him to see into her mind to glimpse her unpaid Price in its fullness. She could just hope that with so many minds joined, all focused upon their task, the secret of her unpaid Mageprice would remain unshared by Jermayan.

The circle drawn, she returned to her place in the center of the circle, between Kellen and the brazier. He stood as calmly as if he were already in deep trance, as alertly as if he might be called upon to fight at any moment.

Waiting.

Idalia knelt and took up the tokens needed to cast the spell. She slipped her dagger from her belt and scored a long line down her palm, then clutched the herbs and hair in that hand tightly, moistening both with her blood.

Then she cast them onto the brazier of burning wood.

The smoke coiling upward changed color abruptly, and Idalia felt the shimmer as the dome of Protection rose around them all, expanding outward to enfold the army that waited outside as well.

The Link formed, and the Power of the assembled Wildmages joined together, becoming one, becoming hers. She felt the spell uncoil within her as she inhaled the smoke.

She reached out toward the mirror.

Show me what I need to See: Tell me what I need to Know.

The spellbound mirror glowed bright as the moon, growing larger and larger until it was all there was.

* * * * *

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 Banished—being 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.