the elements-fire, water, earth, air, and aethyr-specifically take on the Mages, and let Elvenkind deal with all else.”
Branwen took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “We thought there might be Black Mages in the fortress. Still, I think it is as Alamar says: the plan changes little, no matter that there are twelve. Yet I and my kind are better suited to dealing with the Helsteeds and Vulgs, rather than trying to bring down the Mages. Likewise, Dalor and those of his training are suited to healing rather than battling dark power. And the ones of us who can cast illusions are more adept at taking on the Foul Folk, for Black Magekind can winnow through such visions and sounds, whereas the Spawn cannot.”
Alamar nodded in agreement. “I and my like will meet them head-on, while all else support us.”
Cadir said, “Forget not that my school can do great damage as well, and we will join you in the direct battle.”
Aylis said, “We Seers will locate them for you.”
Arandor glanced at Bair and said, “I deem there should be a change in my plan.”
Bair frowned. “How so?”
“My forces are divided in seven companies, one for each of the nines. Instead of an immediate assault against the fort, we will stand back and defend Magekind from the Foul Folk until the nines are victorious, after which we will take the battle to the Rupt.”
“Yet what if the Spaunen bring the battle to us?” asked Tillaron.
“Then in spite of loosing fire for the Dark Mages to use,” said Arandor, “we must fight.”
Bair slowly nodded, and turned to the other captains and the leaders of each nine and asked, “Are we in agreement then?”
Silverleaf said, “Would that we could get right at the Spaunen, but that must wait until the greater threat is put down, unless, of course, the Rupt come to us.”
Other Elven captains murmured their accord with Silverleaf’s words, and they nodded their concurrence to the plan of attack.
None of Magekind voiced any opposition, and so Bair said, “That, then, as far as the Black Mages are concerned, is our strategy. Yet heed: I was once told by another, a plan is good only until the first arrow is loosed, after which we can only act and react to the needs at the time. In this case, I suspect the plan will be good only until the first spell is cast.” Then he turned to Aylis and said, “Now as the follow-on to dealing with the Mages, tell us of the kind and count of Foul Folk you did see.”
In the last marks before the Neddran dawn, the combined force of Elves and Mages had taken their positions on the shallow slope leading down toward the main gate of the outer wall.
And as the ruddy light of the oncoming dull red sun began to broach the dismal overcast, the seven companies drew closer downslope.
Seers went into trances, and after but moments reported that all twelve Black Mages were upon the walls and none were elsewhere within. Yet ere the Seers reported such, Bair as well as the Mages could see the glut of ‹fire› on the parapets.
“Adon,” asked Bair, “have we enough Mages to combat that much life force?”
“It will take everything we have,” replied Cadir.
“Lit up like the targets they are,” muttered Alamar, and he looked at the umber-clad sky and said a single word-“ Adfligere ”-and a huge bolt of lightning flashed down to blast among those on the battlements and to strike the midmost Mage among them. Body parts and fragments of stone flew outward, and a wild flare of released ‹fire› shuddered across the sky, and a great clap of thunder hammered throughout the vale to echo over and again among the peaks to the north and the crags to the south.
“Heh!” Alamar snorted. “That’s one; eleven to go.”
But then lightning jagged out from the dull brown above and toward the assembled army; yet even as death flashed down, a tendril of aethyr twisted up from the killing ground between the outer wall and the fortress to intercept the bolt and lead it to crash into the barren soil, where sallow snow and dirt geysered up in a great spew, most to fall back, some to drift away on the sulphurous air.
“Next time, Fedor, deflect it to the ramparts,” shouted Alamar to the nearby Mage. “Kill them by their own castings.”
“I barely had time to think,” shouted Fedor in return.
Great gouts of flame flew out from the crenels to blast among the assembled army, and Elves and Mages died. As more fire blasted outward, it was met by walls of water conjured up from the snow.
“Adon, but they have such great power at their beck,” shouted Cadir, even as he pointed his staff, and where he aimed one of the merlons directly before the Mages exploded, the blast hurling sharp fragments among screaming Foul Folk, but none of the dark Wizards was touched.
Lightning flew at both sides to be deflected by aethyric tendrils; the ground heaved below the army; stone exploded along the battlements; floods roared down from the steeps behind, to be deflected by earthen walls ripped up from the terrain; and rocks detonated within the arrayed ranks of the allies.
“Spread out!” commanded Arandor, and the army and Mages spread widely to reduce the concentration of Free Folk at any one place.
But even as they dispersed, as if the foe had been waiting for such movement, a great drum pounded out a heavy beat and the fortress gates swung wide. Ghuls on Helsteeds rode from the bastion and led ranks of Rupt out-Rucks and Hloks all armed and armored for battle. Massive Trolls, ten and twelve feet tall, trod ’mid the oncoming foray, and a pack of black Vulgs ranged to the fore. Yet when the Spawn reached the gates along the outer wall, they could not open them, for Sorcerers among the allies held the portals shut.
But then the Ogrus strode forward and smashed the gates wide, and, howling Slukish battle cries, Foul Folk poured through, Helsteeds and Vulgs leading the charge.
A darkness bloomed where Bair stood, from which Hunter emerged, and with a howl the Silver Wolf rushed down to meet the age-old dark enemy.
Elven archers flew sleets of arrows into the oncoming Spaunen ranks. Rucks and Hloks died screaming; some bolted back toward the safety of the fortress, yet most, yowling wordless cries, charged onward up the slope toward the Elven army while the great drum pounded out a frenzied beat.
Arrows pincushioned the Ghuls, but most were ineffective, for only a few wooden shafts lodged directly in the hearts of given corpse-foes, those Ghuls to fall dead.
“Silver points!” cried Aravan, and the special arrows then flew at the nearly unkillable Ghulka, and where these struck, corpse-folk shrieked in pain and black ichor flowed. Even so, still they hurtled onward, cruel barbed spears couched and aimed.
Of a sudden the Helsteeds began squealing and bucking, and throwing their Ghul riders, as the force of the Animists’ spells struck these snake-tailed, hairless, scaled, cloven-hoofed mounts, panic filling their bestial minds, and they fled away, some yet with clinging corpse-foe upon their backs.
And, in spite of the fact that agony and death released life essence for the Black Mages to use, still arrows flew, and Spaunen fell slain as up the slope they charged.
The silver form of Hunter slashed among the Vulgs, and the entire pack of the virulent black beasts veered toward the Draega and leapt upon him in a slashing, howling swarm. Elven archers flew arrows at the pony-sized dark creatures, killing some. Yet others were too close to Hunter to risk loosing a shaft at them. But then the spells of the Animists filled the Vulgs with dread, just as the Helsteeds had been, and they, too, fled away, even as Hunter, his jaws locked upon the nape of another of the beasts, broke the spine of the creature. And the Silver Wolf stood snarling amid slain Vulgs, their throats torn out and necks broken. But then the Draega sped back to the Elven ranks, where once again Bair emerged from a darkness and took his flanged mace in hand.
Leading the onrushing Rupt army, ponderous Trolls, swinging their massive warbars, with arrows simply shattering against their skin, thudded toward the now-closing ranks of the Free Folk.
Gildor stepped to the fore and drew his sword, Bale, and the weapon’s blade-jewel blazed with scarlet werelight as if to ignite the length of steel, for Foul Folk were nigh. Preternaturally sharp-edged, the sword had been forged long past in the House of Aurinor in the Duellin for use in the Great War. Yet Gildor’s wielding of Bale at the Iron Tower proved to be even more critical in the Winter War than in the War of the Ban, for the weapon was deadly to Trollkind in spite of their stonelike hides.
Others took up their weapons as well-swords, maces, spears, flails. And as the yowling Spaunen hurtled up
