“Let them come,” the husky voice whispered in the dark confines of the cavern. “Send the brollachan after those who survived the first attack. Splinter them further.”
“Yes, my lord, as you wish,” the witch hissed.
The form on the other side of the mirror dissipated, leaving the glass clear, reflecting only the bent and withered outline of an old hag.
Leaving the underground cave, the witch crept up the hidden staircase in the lower level of the castle. With each step, her body changed, until she emerged from the panel door beside a large fireplace, no longer old but youthful. Stepping into the grand hallway, her eyes quickly studied the shadows, assuring none saw the secret door before she closed it.
Gracefully, her body glided the length of the long hall. She glanced briefly at her reflection in one of the towering mirrors which fitted the walls.
Smiling, she allowed herself a moment to gaze upon the pale beauty which stared back.
Black eyes, the lashes long, peered out as islands within a milk white face. Her blond hair fell in ringlets down her back, cascading like a frozen waterfall.
She liked this body. Being this way made her feel powerful. Too bad Uthal would not let her keep it. It was only useful to control the mass of thugs he assembled through the mirror portals from ApHar Mountains.
Sighing she turned from the reflection. Hopefully the Princess of Murias Donn would arrive soon from her task at Half Moon Lake. Innocence was needed to begin the spell. The small five souls they acquired from Earth would start the process of freeing her master from the mirror, but the horn would complete it. How long had he been there? It was thousands of years, long
enough for him to know revenge, and what they must do.
Chuckling, she envisioned the defeat of the Elf Kingdom at Ellyllon. Erulisse and Angus would be the first to pay for their treachery, and then the rest of Green Isle would feel the sting of the forgotten spell, as the essence of those who rebelled against their rule, would be taken from their bodies and fed to the growing power of the Black Warlock. Then, it would be time to re-conquer Earth and take back what belonged to them, ending the rule of the humans. Magic had taken hold again there, even if they could not see it.
A sound caught her ears, the dragging of a foot against the worn rock floor. “Show
yourself bodach,” she demanded, knowing in an instance what shuffled in the dark corner.
A still form hesitated in the shadows behind the massive hall door. An edge of a wool cloak hinted the figure assumed the likeness of a creature from Green Isle, its usual black form gone.
“Our plan must be readied. Master wants you to divide the group, separate them,” she instructed firmly.
“Yesssss, Missssstresssss. Payment?”
“How dare you ask me that? Finish the job, then you are paid, and change your speech, otherwise they will know what you are.”
The witch shook her head. Imbeciles, all of them, she fumed quietly. Mercenaries who
had no alliance except to the highest bidder, and she did not like any of them, they were unreliable. She watched the bodach melt back to the shadows disappearing from the hall.
“Make sure your do what master orders, or you will be dealt with,” she called after the creature.
“They must be broken further so he can lure the chosen one closer, and the power of the sword claimed.”