He wanted every last one of them.
Taeauna turned to look at him, her hair swirling about her shoulders. Malraun gave her a smile, letting his growing fondness for her show through their linked minds, and her answering smile was dazzling. She gasped and shook in rapture, shuddering briefly and biting her lip ere she turned away to return to the careful climb up through the dead.
Malraun's smile went away. What did she think of him, really? If his hold over her mind was taken away?
He'd find fear, and hatred, and a desperate drive to murder him as swiftly as she could, no doubt. Falconaar all seemed to think of their Dooms the same way.
Yet she was a splendid creature, if he could ever trust her. He knew not if any Aumrarr could ever be trusted, or if there was something deep and innate within them that would goad them into striking out against all rulers and tyrant wizards when they saw a good chance to really do harm.
If he worked on her mind with his spells, not to control but to alter, a little here and a little there, could he avoid driving her mad? And truly change her, until she loved him? Or would she always remember what he'd done in her mind, and hate him for it, and wait for her chance to lash out in revenge?
And what was the love of one female worth, bought at such time and trouble, when he could mind-ride and coerce so many with such ease, and have a new and different one gasping willingly under him every night?
The torches were converging now, the small bare hilltop ringed closely by grimly-advancing warriors. Taeauna bore no torch, but her sword was raised and ready. Malraun admired her catlike grace as she stalked from one heap of bodies to another, using the last cover on this stretch of slope to full advantage. Then he reached into her mind and brought her to a shuddering halt, sending her his fondness to give her pleasure and quell her flare of resentment at being reined in as sharply as any snorting warhorse.
It had been a good plan, this army of his. Covertly aiding Amaxas Horgul in his first few victories and spreading word of it, subtly twisted so as to communicate a yearning for more under his banner that Horgul-who had no banner, nor thoughts of needing one-had no taste for. When the lawless and landless men came flocking, Malraun had set to work on the minds of many to see that the gathering warriors gained food and drink, and more victories, and captains whom he made staunchly loyal to Horgul.
Then he dived deep into the minds of Horgul's encamped warriors, plunging into a weight of minds that no Doom-and certainly no one lesser-had faced or weathered before, emerging drained but triumphant, having sown dreams wherein monsters aided and fought alongside Horgul's army, and were things too useful to be attacked on sight.
So when he then gathered in the monsters, in their slithering, flapping, or softly padding handfuls, no butchery erupted, and Amaxas Horgul found himself, without quite realizing how it had befallen, leading an army of monsters and mercenaries to attack one hold after another.
A host that had conquered hold after hold in a way never possible when three Dooms had worked in watchful, wary opposition to each other.
Now, Horgul's army had lost Horgul, but had almost conquered Darswords. There was just this last, savage little slaying to see to, first.
With a shout, some of his men gained the crest of the hill and charged the Stormar, hurling a stream of weapons they'd plucked from the dead, seeking to disrupt any spells the wizards were trying to cast until their own swords could reach Stormar throats, and it was too late.
It almost worked, but they were still two or three sprinting steps away when all the flung warsteel whirled back into their faces, in a slicing, darting storm of points and edges that visited on them the same lacerating deaths they'd sought to give the Stormar.
Malraun smiled grimly. Fools. That ploy might well have worked on hedge-wizards, but these Stormar were far beyond such feebleness.
He raised his hands, stretching his arms wide, and worked the spell. Not the one that would slay the Stormar, but the one that would unleash that deadly, already-risen spell-that even now was shuddering through him, prowling restlessly back and forth like a hungry caged cat-and let him put on a little show.
Armies, after all, need to be impressed.
A burst of power thrust Taeauna flat on her face in front of him, thrust aside a few of the battle dead, and lit him from ankles to the tips of his fingers with a bright white light, a radiance that drew all eyes and trailed an aura of curling ruby-red smoke out into the night.
"Hear me, doomed wizards, and all others who would dare to defy me!" he thundered, his magic making his voice roll thunderously out across Darswords and echo back from wooded hilltops all around.
"I am Malraun the Matchless, whose magic triumphs over all other spells, from one misty end of Falconfar to another! I avenge Horgul now, just as I assure all Falconfar that his army will fulfill its destiny, marching on to victory after victory, until every warrior who fought for Horgul gains gold enough to retire fat and happy, living in idle luxury all the rest of his days! No wizard can stand against my might, and all who seek to do so will be served thus!" He turned to face the wizards alone, and added, "Die!"
The light cloaking him rose around him, like a snake rearing up to strike, and then rushed away from him through the torchlit, moonlit night, to crash down on the Stormar on the hilltop in an inferno that blazed up fiercely. His power had pinned them there even before he'd spoken, and it held them there now, arms waving in futile attempts to weave spells that would whisk them elsewhere, as their bodies were consumed in a few breaths of roaring fury, and collapsed into ash.
A faint radiance flickered momentarily over a hilltop that had been scorched down to bare, blackened stone, then died away into darkness.
There was a long, stunned silence. Then the surviving warcaptains, up and down the hill on all sides, raised a ragged cheer.
Taeauna hurled herself at his ankles, kissing his boots and reaching up to caress him.
Malraun smiled down at her, at first out of mere fondness, but then more broadly as a thought struck him.
He would stay with the army long enough to enjoy their "taking" of Harlhoh. As it was under his rule, that would be mere feasting and reprovisioning, not fighting. Then he would leave Taeauna in charge of these ravening beasts and warriors, as they went on to conquer Darkriver.
So he could get back to his real work. Finding and destroying the real Narmarkoun, and watching this "Lord Archwizard" Everlar dolt to learn what he was really up to, and what hidden power he was seeking, before the right moment to destroy him came.
Not that destroying this Lord Archwizard would be anything more than childishly easy.
If it had been Lorontar, now… Malraun shivered inwardly, just for a moment, setting Taeauna to whimpering softly.
Then, reaching down to soothe her with a caress or two, he firmly put that unpleasant thought from his mind.
Chapter Fourteen
WIngs suddenly blotted out the moon, making Garfist swear in startlement and rear back from the window. A flapping moment later, there were two Aumrarr in the room.
Iskarra and Garfist could see that much, though in the wake of the flash that had split the sky, their eyesight was still blurry. Yet the two winged women were clear enough-as tall and slender black shapes, silhouetted against the cold brightness of the moon flooding the room.
"Who are ye?" Gar growled, settling into a menacing swordsman's crouch as he faced them, as if his hands bristled with warsteel rather than hanging empty.