The plans progressed quickly—at least from here, more power could be breathed than inside that damned tower of peace. The creation of the Blackcaps had been slightly less than successful within the terms I had for a society like this. As leader and former Whitecap secretary, I achieved the goals as they presented themselves:
First: I used my son's death to split our group from the rest. By doing so during the emergency meeting of all the mages, we ensured the backing of the Redcaps. Otherwise, we would have had to renounce many of our own. Just remembering the face of the useless leader we had—young, idealistic about tomorrow without seeing that the future was mine—made me smile.
Second: I convinced the most impulsive mages, the most destructive among the Redcaps and Whitecaps. It was within my right to recruit them. That was not counting some of the most destructive books the Whitecaps possessed. I assumed that having the people and the power, a city would be assigned to my care.
Just when I went to claim my place in the tower, I found the two leaders chatting amicably. They both sounded content. When I entered giving orders for them to vacate my new headquarters, I was met with laughter. They told me it was fine that I wanted to be a farmer, but neither of them had asked for nor lived at the expense of the rest. All mages built their cities—I would have to do the same. That was a huge setback! Filled with fury, I asked with all the sarcasm I could muster if there was any city they did not protect where we could offer the vengeful magic that only we Blackcaps possessed. I knew the Whitecap could cede any of the lesser cities—Sky City, Groveton, Tourmaline—even. With their inhabitants and mines, any of them would mean a little more than a consolation prize. Giving up Stormhammer was not in my plans, but I had no voice or vote... yet.
"We assign you a city whose character suits your style of magic very well. It is called Midnight Raven. An exotic name, don't you think? We give you a scroll of invitation and arrival. The other cities you seek to protect must accept under mutual agreement. If any of ours choose to do so, we will not object."
How many illusions I made! Even though I did not fully recognize the city, I knew it was at the southern end of the continent. My attention always focused on the great human sites, so I paid it no importance. But upon asking some questions, they told me it was at the foot of one of the important dwarven mountains. There were many magical creatures—enough to set up a selective breeding laboratory. Just thinking about it made me rub my hands together. So I accepted. I packed all my books and a few that no one noticed from both headquarters—only titles like Offensive Magic, Research on Immediate Damage to Creatures, and the most important, Words of Death, written by one of the elves' slaves, with specific spells I heard their masters recite when they were bored with their subjects.
The journey was epic. At every city we stopped to resupply, they saw us as the parade of their lives. Some novice mages left their classes and joined us just by seeing our robes. Everything tailored with enchanted thread, capable of absorbing light, so it seemed as if from absolute darkness emerged young, determined faces—the bearers of the strength capable of destroying the Dark Lord. The minstrels listened, as did the troubadours, all seeking to understand the message, to make a ballad of our movement, of the power we brought.
The city itself was a disappointment—a clump of poorly built houses, piled stones without mortar, no wood, only lifeless rocks. The mayor of the place received us without ceremony. We were not needed there. It was a site for quarrelsome mercenaries rejected from their guilds—people who not only killed when they had to but when they were bored or simply sought to keep their blades from dulling. Yet the letters we brought gave us access to a couple of acres of a ruined church. Since we could not afford to work on its renovation, I paid from my own pocket to have it done. Some idiots—the first three groups, at least—tried to rob us. They were armed with minor enchantments, and some even brought elemental weapons from their looting of dwarven carts. But they fell before waves of pure magic. I began all the attacks—something I must correct, as I needed people capable of killing, not just of continuing to kill. Finally, the third group understood the futility of their actions and began to work. I paid them with the weapons of those who did not.
Supplies were another matter. There were no farmlands. Food had to be brought from distant villages. Most of them did not want to sell, given that these mercenaries obtained what they sought by killing and beating everyone until one of them remembered they had to say what they were looking for... more than mercenaries, they were bandits. We had been assigned to a city with no law where everyone was thieves. They thought that would stop us. How little they knew me—they did not know the Blackcap order!
I was establishing a very reasonable document indicating to the farmers that we would buy their supply carts and protect them from bandits, adding that if they did not accept the offer, there were other towns that would, and they would lose the protection that the attack mages could offer them. But I had just perceived something magical that penetrated my magic field. It was a simple one—protecting against physical attacks from magical creatures. I also managed not to energize any of the rebel weapons' runes. Only those who served the order would have their weapons charged. The entry was weak—a couple of enchanted birds, ephemeral. They had no attack potential; they were only summoned by people who liked beautiful things. The spell to send them all the way here was very complex and useless. My shield would tear them apart before they reached my office.
Indeed, I could see them coming, disintegrating. Their blue color was beautiful even as red zones indicated the damage they suffered. For a moment, I wanted to remove the field, save their existence. But I was sure it could be exploited by those who created them to attack this headquarters. So, helpless, I watched them disappear a few meters from my window. Gems contained within them entered, shattering the glass.
For a moment, I did not know how to react. They were soul stones—capable of containing, generating, and even executing minor magics. Before the rest arrived, I had to find out what they were. Annoyed at having to use white magic, I extended a containment field. My staff was of magical iron—very heavy, but I did not use it often. Today was an exception. Feeling its runes gave me confidence. I had about twenty magical stones embedded in it and only two soul stone fragments. The two that were there would suffice to give it +10 arcane power. But I still had to activate their magic. Once done, the stone would become smooth, and I could use it.
With a flash of light, an image materialized in the air. I did not know him, but he was undoubtedly an elf. He looked into nothingness as he introduced himself:
"I am Silverleaf, lord of the true elves. I greet the leader of the Blackcaps. We deeply regret the distance of your city from our arrival. We understand your desire for vengeance and share it. These stones are a gift. We seek an alliance with you. We have a common enemy. Yet I regret to tell you that with your current power, the Dark Lord is beyond your limits. Do not be angry—with training—which I offer freely—your students will be as deadly as any level ten mage, not counting all the amulets and weapons they will have at their disposal. But the Dark Lord is not a common mage. If I could classify him in your human terms, he reaches level fifty."
That revelation fell on me like a bucket of cold water. No one knew this mage's power better than I. Through much effort, I managed to invoke the last actions of my son. He fulfilled the Lich King—they only had to kill a mage, and he was very strong. Yet it was not enough, and he died without pain or glory. The magic that killed him did not harm that Dark Lord in the least. But thinking he had so much power was sickening. I sat down to think. Indeed, with level ten mages, I could attack him. But my son's people were more powerful than level ten—they were the elite of the elite, and they were swept away. I was about to call the others to inform them that we could not attack with some medium-damage magics and that we had to rethink the entire enterprise. But it was not the end of the message.
"Bravo, mage. I understand your consternation. I share it, but do not worry. You must leave the confrontation with that renegade sorcerer to us. All the preparation we give you—including equipment for a party of twenty people—is to weaken the Dark Lord's forces. In the elven keep is his second-in-command, a renegade witch who eliminated the city of Phaladine. She is very powerful but has no preparation. That is the key. Learn, improve, and you will be able to capture her. The Blood Elves will take care of the human aberration. You capture her, and the power to rule over the other magic circles will be given to you without cost.
Good day."
I still did not believe any of what was said. Despite that, I bent down and picked up one of the two stones, which I embedded in my staff. I felt the power expand. I would have to study a little more about those elves. We would take the assignment—it was less dangerous. Yet I had to be sure that would not be counterproductive. I would speak with my trusted men. The elven keep had much magic—it would be good prey. But it would be prey we would go after when we were ready.