forms that he used to see at Oracle, which were always at odds. One had told him to listen to Dasslerond, to accept the wisdom of the elves as a gift, while the other had denied that course.
That latter voice, the voice that was now talking to him, had brought him so far from Andur'Blough Inninness, and at all but these crucial and painful moments, it seemed to hold Aydrian heart and soul.
But in light of the scene before him, against the assault of gruesome and horrific images, against the cries of pain, Aydrian's other voice could not help but question his course and his desires.
That confusion held him in place for many seconds, and showed no sign of resolution. And then a third voice, a physical voice, entered the conversation suddenly and with surprising clarity and certainty.
"You outshine them," Sadye said to Aydrian, moving her mount right up beside Symphony and putting her hand on his arm. "You are the path to glory and greatness! Let not the cries of the flock deter your course!"
Aydrian looked at her, surprised.
"The people, of Palmaris and of your own army, are already dead!" the woman insisted. "They have been dead for most of their lives, though they simply haven't realized it!"
She held Aydrian's gaze a few moments longer, then nodded toward the city walls and the continuing battle.
Aydrian spurred Symphony to leap ahead. He took up his sword, Tempest, with its set gemstones.
A blue-white glow surrounded rider and horse, and then it, and they, were lost in the sudden, explosive burst of fire. That fiery ball dissipated almost immediately, but the flames did not, and on charged Aydrian and Symphony, rider and horse aflame! Bishop Braumin, along with everyone else, defender and attacker alike, could not ignore the spectacle of the charging Aydrian Boudabras. Braumin wanted to call out for a general focus of the defense against Aydrian, wanted all of his archers and all of the brothers to concentrate their attacks on that single target. If Aydrian fell, would not all of this become moot, after all? Before the bishop could begin that call, and with many arrows already reaching out toward Aydrian, he felt something, a buzzing in his head, something he could only describe as a white noise.
Confused, the bishop took up his graphite, holding it forth and reaching for its powers to loose a lightning blast at Aydrian.
But he couldn't quite get there, couldn't quite find his focus in the stone, against that buzzing white noise.
Braumin opened his eyes to see Aydrian, no longer aflame, astride Symphony behind the main tumult at the gates. The young pretender king held Tempest aloft and seemed deep in concentration.
Braumin understood. In Tempest's hilt was set a sunstone, the stone of antimagic, and Aydrian was using it now to send out the white noise, the antimagic. Braumin had seen such things before, but what stunned him was the realization that Aydrian's antimagic wave had not been targeted at him, but rather, at the length of Palmaris' wall! The young man was denying all magic use by the defenders and was stealing the strongest advantage that he and his brethren held against the armored soldiers of the crown.
"It cannot be," Braumin muttered. He glanced down the line, to note the confusion on the faces of his brethren as they stared at their gemstones as if they had been deceived.
Without the supporting magic, the tide soon turned against the defenders.
The Kingsmen abandoned their tactics of trying to break through the gates, and turned into defensive squares, protecting their archers with their armored bodied and great shields, while those archers increased the barrage against the walls.
The more skilled soldiers, with their stronger bows, began to turn the tide.
And still the antimagic wave held strong. Another brother, apparently misunderstanding, leaped over the wall, ruby in hand, apparently with plans similar to his charred brother. He hit the ground hard, but no fireball erupted from his hand.
He was still working at the gemstone, still trying to bring forth its magic, when the soldiers fell over him and hacked him down.
"It is not possible," Braumin muttered, and he looked from his gem-stones to Aydrian, to the son of Jilseponie. The woman's warning about his strength echoed in Braumin's ears at that desperate moment. Jilseponie had told him that Aydrian's power was beyond him, was beyond them all.
As if recognizing the amazement mounting within Braumin, Aydrian opened his eyes and looked up at the bishop, and even flashed a