The stone circle stood much as they had left it, the black altar waiting in the center of the ring, but around the stones a silvery light glittered dimly. It curved over the whole site in a shimmering hemisphere, looking like a great crystal dome that neatly covered the standing stones. Blue sparks rippled across its surface, arcing and spitting at odd intervals. A dozen Ghoeran guardsmen in the clearing were trying to calm their panicking horses. Four or five more men were scattered on the ground, victims of Seriene’s enchantments.
Erin tapped his shoulder and pointed. “There’s Bannier.”
Following her gaze, Gaelin spotted the wizard. Bannier stood about forty feet away, with his back to them, surveying Seriene’s barrier. He seemed completely unharmed; obviously, he hadn’t been the one to set off the spell trap, or he’d had some way of eluding the spell’s strike. The sorcerer muttered to himself and stalked back and forth, ignoring the wounded men around him.
“Well? What now? They still outnumber us two to one.”
“Can you do something to frighten the horses? Scare them off?” Gaelin asked. “We have the advantage of surprise, but it would be helpful if a few of those men weren’t in the fight.”
Erin smiled. “I think I can do that.” The bard closed her eyes in concentration, and began humming softly to herself, making soft passes with her hands.
Gaelin looked back at the soldiers who waited in the shadows.
“Fire at anyone who isn’t running away, and then follow me into the clearing,” he told them. “Wait for Erin’s spell before you shoot. Bull, stay by me and watch my back.” The Mhoriens acknowledged their orders with silent salutes and moved stealthily into the trees.
Erin’s vocalizations acquired a musical tone. She glanced at Gaelin, and then stepped forward and released her spell.
There was a sudden flood of white mist in the clearing, and with a great bound, the largest and most terrifying wolf Gaelin had ever seen leaped into the center of the Ghoeran soldiers, snarling and slashing its teeth left and right at the soldiers’ mounts. Despite himself, Gaelin recoiled at the sight of the beast. He could hear the monster growling and snapping, the throaty rasp of its bellows-like roar, the snap of twigs under its heavy paws. The air reeked of wolf scent.
The Ghoerans’ steeds went mad with panic. Rearing and plunging, several threw their riders. Others wheeled and bolted in terror, blindly galloping into the black woods and endless night, as the wolf slavered and slashed at their heels.
A handful of the Iron Guardsmen retained control of their mounts and turned on the wolf-thing in their midst, or managed to at least keep their animals from bolting or rearing, but at that moment Boeric and the other two guardsmen fired.
Two more of the Ghoerans fell from the saddle, clutching at bolts that appeared in their chests.
Bannier whirled in surprise and suspicion. Erin’s illusion didn’t fool him for a moment; he instantly perceived the nature of the attack. “Stop! Stop, you idiots, it is merely a phantasm!” he roared. “It isn’t real!” The horses, however, were far more terrified than the soldiers, and the panicking animals were causing most of the chaos among the Ghoeran ranks.
Nothing Bannier said was going to convince a bolting horse that the wolf wasn’t real.
Gaelin rushed the wizard, breaking cover and racing for- ward with a wild yell, Bull a step behind him. Bannier raised one hand and pointed at Gaelin, speaking a spell. Gaelin felt his steps become slow and clumsy, as Bannier’s dark eyes glittered and the wizard’s will sought to overcome his own.
Gaelin’s volition crumbled beneath the insidious assault.
Gaelin, stop. Lay down your sword. Stop. Hold where you are, and drop your weapon! Obey me!
Beside him, Bull skidded to a stop in a blank daze, his mattock falling heavily to the ground from nerveless fingers. The big fighter’s momentum carried him two more steps on failing legs, and then he stumbled and fell, groveling in terror.
Gaelin went to one knee, struggling to find his courage again.
Bannier grinned in triumph, stepping forward and raising his staff to strike a blow while Gaelin was held motionless. The staff’s ironbound head began to glow with angry purple light, a radiance of dire potency that burned with dark energy.
“I didn’t expect to find you still waiting for me here, Gaelin,” Bannier hissed. “But, since you’ve presented yourself to me, I’ll count it as an unlooked-for blessing. What did you do with Ilwyn?”
Gaelin screwed his eyes shut and looked away, willing himself not to answer. Bannier snorted in irritation. In Gaelin’s mind, the sorcerer’s will surged forward, dragging and tugging at his soul. Answer me! What have you done with Ilwyn?
“She’s somewhere far from here,” he spat, forcing the words through his lips and fighting to keep control over what he said. “She’s safe and out of your reach.”
“On the contrary, I think she must be very near,” Bannier said. He glanced around the clearing, ignoring the wolf and the attendant chaos it caused. The Mhoriens had felled several more of his guards, but a half-dozen men were brutally kicking and spurring their horses up the slope and into the trees. In moments they’d engage the hidden sharpshooters.
Bannier’s spell ripped an inarticulate gasp of resistance from Gaelin. The Mhor clamped his teeth together, holding his jaw shut by force of will. Scowling, Bannier gave up the effort. “Your will is admirable, but it matters little. In a moment, I’ll finish with you and your friends, and I’ll find your sister again. And now, your reign is at an end, Mhor Gaelin.”
Gaelin struggled to escape the paralysis that gripped his limbs. Bannier reached forward to bring the deadly staff in contact with Gaelin’s head. Along its length Gaelin could see hateful runes crackling with power, the weapon filled with destructive potential. He knew that its touch would end his life. Distantly, he heard Erin scream in fear.
And somewhere, in a still place in the depths of his soul, a voice spoke out in protest. You are the Mhor. Asmall but bright flame ignited in his heart, a white point of light that suddenly blazed forward like a bonfire, racing through his limbs and overwhelming the wizard’s malignant dolor. The shadows that imprisoned Gaelin’s mind fled into the night, dissipating into ash as the power contained in his blood ignited in a blaze of glory.
As the staff came near his face, the purple radiance searing his eyes, he roared in protest and brought up his sword to block the killing blow. The clean highland blade met the sorcerer’s dire assault, and turned it aside with an angry clang of iron on steel. “No!” Gaelin shouted, surging up from his knees. He recovered from his parry and lashed out in a low, wicked cut that Bannier just barely managed to sidestep. The wizard’s face was openmouthed in astonishment, but he maintained enough presence of mind to jab the venomous staff at Gaelin again, forcing the prince to parry in turn.
Bannier attempted to back away, to find room to attempt another spell, but Gaelin was not to be stopped. His white wrath carried him forward, slashing with powerful blows that Bannier was hard-pressed to avoid. Wielding his staff with surprising skill and agility, Bannier gave ground. “Iron Guard! To me!” he shouted. “To me!”
Gaelin didn’t look around. He trusted Erin and his soldiers had handled the rest of the guardsmen. He pressed his attack recklessly, his vision suffused with a glorious brilliance and the roaring of his blood in his ears nothing more than a sweet whisper of encouragement. Reversing his attack, he struck Bannier with a long cut that gashed the wizard’s side, and followed it with a high, backhanded slash that glanced from the wizard’s skull, spinning him half around and opening a bloody wound across Bannier’s scalp.