Chapter 60

Strike Above the battleground, high atop the hillside’s peak, unnoticed by the soldiers below, a vortex of purple light appeared. Gusts of wind blew leaves over the side of the crest as Opal stepped through the magical portal. Not far from where the portal opened stood Malek, Dusk, and the same unfamiliar student Opal had chased across Illyia the other day.

Are these the last remaining archmages of the High Council?

Opal wore a new cloak that neither matched the High Council’s markings nor those of the upstarts. She had made a statement she hoped was clear: This was her time; she was in charge.

Before she said anything, she bowed to all three men, and gazed down the hill at the army below.

“I-we were concerned. You never returned to us the other day. We thought you had changed your mind,” Dusk said.

“No, I changed the rules, which I will be doing often from now on,” Opal answered.

“Changed the rules?” the nameless mage asked. “How—”

“As your new leader.”

Malek’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Words can be saved for later; this is a time for action,” Dusk answered her boasts.

A hushed moment passed as all four stared at Mustaffa’s vast army and the approach of Kel Tora’s forces. For all her bravado, Opal felt small in comparison. But it was not those thousands she had to deal with first; it was these three.

“Opal, look at them.” Malek pointed. “So many men will die today, and do any of them even have a clue as to why?”

“Kel Tora is no match for an army this large,” Opal said in a tone of voice that was as callous as Malek’s.

“There. Look—an opening in the warlord’s formations! Eye above… eye below. Eye above… eye below… Eye that sees… eye that knows…”

Dusk chanted a small rhyme that created a floating eye. The eye, which appeared above his hand on a small cloud of thick smoke, was almost twice the size of a human eye. After he instructed the floating eye, Dusk released it, and the cloud of smoke rose from his hand.

Opal watched the eye float toward the field, right where the forest opened.

“Where’s Karn? I need to know. Is he leading Kel Tora’s forces? Is he in the fight yet?”

“There. The Rook is there, at the opening between this hill and the forest. He’s found Naraboo!” Dusk shouted.

“Then he’s surrounded by the enemy,” the nameless mage added.

“Did the fool think he could take them on all alone?” Malek’s old voice crackled with disgust.

As Opal concentrated on a spell, wind raced through the gully, and the storm clouds darkened. Moments later, the heavens opened, and rain poured onto the poised armies.

“Cover your eyes,” Opal said as her body pulsated with a bright yellow aura that grew stronger and stronger with each moment.

Hands above her head, Opal spread out her fingers, and then, suddenly, she cast them back at the enemy army with a blood-curdling scream.

From above, a massive lightning bolt, the width of ten oak trees, exploded from the murky clouds, and illuminated the battlefield as it hurtled downward.

***

Tala’s eyes widened as she stared at the sky; her skin tingled, and a chill ran down her spine. Without a thought, she dove to tackle Karn.

She watched Mustaffa gaze with indifference just as a thunderous roar rattled the field and the forest. A gigantic bolt of lightning sped toward him, the night sky transformed into day, but when it was within fifty feet of him, a magical barrier flickered into view. The dome encased Mustaffa and protected everyone within a fifty-foot radius.

BOOM.

The shield rattled and shimmered a beautiful translucent emerald green just before it flashed and reflected the thunderbolt back in several hundred smaller branches of crackling energy that blasted in all directions, many of which struck Mustaffa’s troops.

The lightning burned clean through the armored men, killing dozens instantly. Numerous smaller bolts struck the wet ground and sent electrical shocks through the grass from soldier to soldier, through the metal each man carried.

In an instant of total bedlam, hundreds of troops were thrown backward from the force, while others shook with violent convulsions before they fell to the ground, dead. When it was over, a thick acrid smoke filled the air.

As Tala stood, a strong gust of fresh air blew across the field and cleared the thick smoke. She could finally survey the damage; the lightning had taken an immeasurable toll.

Tala gasped. The once-green grass had been singed to blackened ash for several hundred feet. There was no way to count the dead; hundreds maybe thousands. All she saw was black and gray. Death and destruction.

This did not need to happen…

If asked, Tala would have said there was only one man who needed to die today—and that man stood unharmed. Mustaffa lived.