second and I hoped he understood. He said something to his father and the Duke and they turned their backs on the men in front of them, charging toward those that remained between them and our line.
“Lyet Bierek” I shouted, placing the center of this one behind them. The sound of it would probably deafen them, but at least they were facing away and the men ahead and behind them were blinded. The huge noise even unsettled those before us and we gained a few feet as some of them fell.
Lord Thornbear and his son hacked their way through the stunned men, while the Duke finished those he could with a long dagger he had found. It looked for a moment as though they would reach us unharmed. Five steps, then ten, they were almost to us, when two men managed to time their strikes at Lord Thornbear. He stopped one blade, and almost dodged the other but his age betrayed him and he was too slow. The sword plunged into his chest just below the sternum.
Dorian came of sturdy stock, the elder Thornbear grimaced and grabbed the man who had slain him. Dragging him close he rammed his own sword home before collapsing with his dying foe. I heard a cry come from Dorian’s lips, a sound I will never forget as he saw his father fall, but there was no help for it. Lord Thornbear was dead.
Dorian slew the second man and might have charged back into the fray but the Duke stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Instead they leapt over the last fallen man, reaching our line. I saw my friend’s face as he came past, spattered with blood and tears falling from his eyes. I would have spoken to him but I had no words, and the assassins were pressing us harder now.
The Duke armed himself and with Dorian among us our line gained strength, still we were little more than thirty men, and the hall before us held scores, easily a hundred black garbed killers. The conclusion could only be bloody and it would not be in our favor. As we fought I could see some of the women and noble ladies picking up swords from dead men, shoring up the line. Rose and Penny were among them. I even saw Ariadne arming herself, though she did not try to enter the battle.
Genevieve Lancaster stood behind us now, shouting at those unable or unwilling to fight, organizing them to form a barricade of tables and broken furniture, seeing that I had an idea, one that would either save us or kill me in the effort. I have since learned that my ideas are something of a mixed blessing.
Chapter 20
Last Stand in the Great Hall
Traditionally wizards are not known for their ability to heal. The reason for this lies in the complexity of the task. Few mages learn to use their sight inwardly in such a way that they are able to perceive and understand the inner workings of the body; those that do find that attempting to manipulate the processes within results more often in harm than good. Channelers on the other hand do not rely on their own power or intuition, but that of their god. Because of this most acts of magical healing are attributed to saints and holy men. This is not to say that wizards cannot heal, in history a number of accomplished mages have been noted healers, but they are the exception. Most are able to do little more than mend cuts in the skin, some manage to fix broken bones, but few learn the finesse necessary to heal anything beyond that.
We withdrew behind a makeshift barricade of fallen tables and broken chairs. To call it a barricade was a bit of a stretch, I’ll admit, but it gave us a slight advantage. It hampered the men coming at us, making it easier to kill or wound them as they struggled to get over the tumbled furniture. They drew back for a moment to coordinate their final push and the fighting paused.
“Genevieve!” I shouted to the Duchess, “I need your help, I have a plan.” She nodded and came quickly to me. She had seen enough to realize that whatever I might do it was better than the alternative.
“What can we do?” she asked me.
“Get the burned logs from the fire. I need a line, as straight as you can make it from one side of the room to the other!” I told her. It took a few more words to explain myself but at last she understood me and soon she had people running to either side of the room, gathering burnt wood to draw the line.
Vestrius’ journal had mentioned great wizards of the past using their strength to create huge shields to protect buildings or men during time of war. Often the effort killed them, especially if they did it without proper preparation. My own experiments had already shown me how much more energy was needed to do something without words as opposed to with them. I already knew the words necessary for creating a shield beyond my own body, but there was another method of increasing efficiency, the use of symbols or visibly drawn lines, much like a summoner’s circle. I wasn’t sure how much help a simple line would be, but it couldn’t hurt.
I had impressed upon Genevieve the need for the line to be as straight as possible and one of the men helping her was a carpenter by trade. Soon he was using a board from a broken table to help them rule the line as they drew it across the breadth of the hall. I was glad he had thought of it, the line was much better than what I thought would be possible.
A man spoke out from the men who stood on the other side of our barricade. “If you surrender now I promise we won’t kill the women.” Devon Tremont was standing behind them, using a chair so he could see us over their heads. “My men could use a reward for their efforts after all.”
I looked at Marc, “Next time I kill him first and we can discuss whether it was the proper thing to do later,” referring to our earlier argument.
He agreed with me, and then James Lancaster shouted out, “I would sooner die than hand over my people to you!” He was red faced with anger.
“I can arrange that for you my dear Duke,” Devon answered him. He closed his eyes and I could see a deep glow forming around him. The power he was radiating now was immense; so far beyond the pale that I could hardly believe he was human. Even the people around me could see it now, and fear ran through the defenders. I began working my way along the line of men and women guarding the barricade, giving quiet instructions. Outwardly I remained calm but the power facing us was so great that I no longer felt the confidence I pretended to. “Mal’goroth, come, use me! Show your wrath to these who would defy you!” Devon shouted.
I looked back at Genevieve, “Is it ready?”
“Almost, we’re almost there,” she shouted back.
Looking back at Devon my heart quailed. I had learned enough to realize what he was doing. He had broken the most important rule for a mage; he had opened his mind to one of the Dark Gods and given himself over to it. The power of the evil deity was coursing through him now and his body seemed to swell larger with it. I knew that if we did not kill him now he would be the doom of the world. Mal’goroth would use his power to open a bridge, a bridge strong enough for the dark god to enter our world.
Then a voice spoke to me within my own mind. It came from within but I could sense that it originated with the silver star in my pocket, the symbol of Millicenth the Evening Star. Let me help you. Together we can stop him before it is too late. In my mind I could see the shining lady speaking to me, and I knew she spoke truly. Without realizing it I drew out the holy symbol, holding it before me in my hand. Almost I accepted her offer, but as I wavered Penny came over and struck the symbol from my hand.
I looked at her, a question in my eyes, “Father Tonnsdale poisoned your family and he tried to poison everyone here!” she shouted at me. I nodded, her words raised many questions but there was no time for them now. I turned back and saw our enemies charging at the barricade.
“For Lancaster!” I screamed at the top of my lungs and every man and woman echoed the cry. Then without warning they turned, ducking down and plugging their ears. “Lyet Bierek” I spoke, and then repeated myself, again and again. The sounds were deafening and it felt as if the castle had come under bombardment from cannonade. The enemy attack faltered as men screamed and fell clutching their eyes, some with bleeding ears, and the men and women of Lancaster took several steps back, crossing the line Genevieve and the carpenter had created.
