“Yellow?” I said incredulously. “You didn’t mention anything about odd color changes before. That hardly seems realistic.”
“Not bright yellow,” Walter corrected, “I think it’s more like the color some old drunks turn before they get really sick.”
“Jaundiced?” I asked.
“I couldn’t think of the word, but that’s it,” agreed the older wizard.
I was beginning to wish I had paid more attention to some of the things I had read in the past, regarding illnesses and the physician’s art. No I don’t, I thought suddenly, as it stands now, any knowledge I might have learned, would probably just have frightened me more. “Let’s talk about something else for a while,” I suggested. “Like our impending struggle… how is the evacuation progressing?”
Walter’s eyes unfocused for a moment, as he concentrated on things beyond our physical sight. After a few seconds he answered me, “They’re getting close to finishing. Most of the people have been moved. I think soon they’ll be able to start on the soldiers.” He cocked his head to the side a bit, as though he were listening to something before continuing, “The barrier feels different now. The ‘pitch’ of the vibration seems higher when it’s struck.”
“That’s not good,” I told him. “It’s getting close to breaking.”
“What do we do now?”
“Can you project an image where Harold is? He’s supposed to be in charge of the evacuation at the circle building,” I asked.
“Easily,” said Walter. “I am a Prathion after all.”
The Prathions were known for their facility with illusions, as well as their ability to become invisible. I could sense things almost two miles distant… well, I had been able to, but projecting an image was much more difficult, because of the level of control and finesse required. Before my poisoning, I could have sent an image that far, but I had never tested Walter to see his own limit. I had just assumed it would be a shorter distance than my own range.
“Good, place it close to Harold and tell him that the barrier is coming down in one minute. Your son should take his last group and remain in Albamarl,” I instructed.
“Dorian is there. Should I direct the message to him instead?”
“Sure, just make sure he knows they only have a minute to get those who are left inside the keep,” I said.
A long moment passed before Walter responded again, “Alright, I think they understood. They seem to be moving everyone left toward the keep now. What’s next?”
“Shhh,” I said abruptly, as I counted under my breath.
“Huh?”
I waved my hands at him, “I’m counting.”
“Oh!” he said in sudden understanding.
I tried to keep my pace slow, as I mentally worked my way up to a count of one hundred. I’d have just counted to sixty, but I was afraid that nervousness and adrenaline might have affected my sense of time already. Once I reached my mark, I asked the question, “Where are they?”
“It’s a mess,” replied Walter, “Most of them are in the courtyard trying to get into the castle. They don’t have enough time. There are probably three hundred people or more out there, between the soldiers and what’s left of the townsfolk.”
“And the Knights?”
“Cyhan and the others have the main entry doors open, as they try to usher everyone inside. Dorian and Harold are out in the yard, trying to keep the soldiers from pushing past the few remaining citizens,” answered the other wizard; his face was drawn with anxiety.
“Can you cover them with an illusion?” I was desperate to find a way to protect them.
Walter shook his head, “Not from here, not that many people.”
An idea struck me then, “Can you project an image of me on the wall, near the gate? I may be able to delay them.” I had never tried to project an image of someone besides myself over such a distance, so I was unsure if Walter would be able to make the illusion believable. I had disguised myself as other people before, and I had projected images of myself on occasion, to deliver messages, but I had never tried to do something quite that complex before.
To my surprise, Walter responded positively, “I can project your appearance and voice there, but I won’t be able to imitate your aythar at this distance, nor do I have any way of hearing their responses from here.”
“Really?” I said with all the wit I could manage. “You could imitate my aythar?” That was an aspect of illusion that I hadn’t really considered before. In times past, Walter had shown that he was able to make himself invisible to magic, just as he could to visible light, but it had never occurred to me that one might make an illusion that encompassed magesight to create such an effect.
“I am a Prathion after all,” he said somewhat proudly, “but even I have limits when it comes to illusions.”
I stared at him mutely for a moment. “Could you project an image of me that would fool even them?” I asked.
He nodded, “I think so, but not at this range and I wouldn’t be able to duplicate the strength of your aythar.”
“As far as the present situation, I don’t think it matters. They won’t be able to sense it through the barrier… but if they were here now, you could create an illusion that would seem as though I hadn’t lost my magic?” I said, hoping for clarification.
“It wouldn’t have the same apparent strength or brightness that you usually possess,” he reiterated.
That might not matter, I thought silently, to one of them, even my normal strength is feeble in comparison. They might not notice the difference. “Let’s focus on the present,” I announced. “If you can, have an image of me walk out onto the top of the wall and stare down at them. Once we have their attention, tell them this…”
Atop the wall, between the two towers that guarded the castle gate, a man appeared. Dressed in fine clothes of grey velvet and soft furs, there could be little doubt as to his identity. Mordecai Illeniel, the Count di’Cameron, stood looking down upon those who had come to assault his home. He did not look pleased.
“Would you mind explaining to me what you think you are doing?!” he shouted down in an imperious tone.
Karenth, known as the Just, paused in his efforts to break the magical barrier that protected the castle. “The time for discussion has passed, mortal. You well know the reason I am here. Lower this shield and I will make your passing swift, though I cannot promise it will be gentle,” answered the shining god, showing perfect teeth in a feral grin as he spoke.
Mordecai leaned forward, cupping one hand behind his ear, as though he were having trouble hearing. “You aren’t supposed to be here for another week!” he shouted, as though the distance between them was too great for a normal tone of voice to carry. “I haven’t finished making my decision yet!”
“Do not play coy with me, human. I was not taken in by your ruse, and you only insult your dignity, by pretending that you actually believed your own lie,” said the shining god calmly, though his voice held hints of a great anger barely held in check. “Soon I will be inside, and you and your people will pay in blood and suffering for imprisoning my brother Celior.”
The Count di’Cameron’s face held a look of confusion while he turned his head from side to side, as though trying each ear in an effort to hear better. Finally he gave up and shouted down, “What?!”
Karenth’s anger skyrocketed, as he realized his foe had not heard him at all. Shouting in a thunderous voice, he repeated himself, “Once I am inside, you and your people shall pay in pain and unimaginable torment! You will beg for death, before I see fit to allow you to die! All this will be your punishment for imprisoning my brother!” The sound of the god’s voice was so loud that it sent vibrations through the ground and even those within the castle could hear him, though his words weren’t intelligible at that distance.