2 To Light A Candle.13 (45 page)

He wanted to share their joy—he truly did—but it was as if there were a veil between him and the glad celebration taking place in front of him. He knew that the presence of the Shadowed Elves was not yet general knowledge, but by now everyone in Sentarshadeen knew that the caravan taking the children to the Fortress of the Crowned Horns had been attacked. Why didn't they see that the war had already begun—a war of a different kind than any they had ever fought before?

"You're just tired," Shalkan told him.

"I don't have time to be tired," Kellen answered with a sigh. He dismounted and stood in the snow beside his friend. "We have to make plans—to get ready. And don't ask me for what, because I don't know."

"That does make it harder to plan," Shalkan agreed, leaning against him.

"Maybe that's the whole point," Kellen said glumly.

IN twos and threes, the others departed, but Kellen remained. Idalia was trans-ferred to a small sleigh, and taken off with Vestakia and the two Healers, but Jer-mayan did not go with her. Instead, he rode over to where Kellen and Shalkan waited, alone now in the snow.

"I have spoken to Andoreniel and Ashaniel," Jermayan said without preamble. "They have said that Ancaladar is welcome in Sentarshadeen." He glanced up at the sky, but at the moment the dragon wasn't visible. Even when they'd reached Sentarshadeen, Ancaladar hadn't landed. Kellen got the idea he wouldn't come down until he was invited.

"Good," Kellen said. "It would be nice to know how we can tell him."

"He's coming," Shalkan said, looking eastward.

Both Kellen and Jermayan looked in the direction Shalkan had indicated. A tiny black dot was visible on the horizon. It swiftly grew larger, taking on the by now familiar dragon shape.

For the first time, Kellen was actually able to watch Ancaladar land. For something so large, the dragon was surprisingly graceful. When he was directly above them, he simply spread his great wings as wide as they would go and floated to the ground.

Valdien backed up nervously a few steps, but Jermayan patted his neck soothingly, speaking to him in a low voice, and the stallion quieted. Jermayan dismounted, leading the Elven destrier a little farther away from the dragon.

Ancaladar settled neatly to the snow and folded his wings across his back.

"So," he said.

"So," Jermayan answered, gazing at the dragon.

And Kellen had the odd sense that something was happening.

IT was the Elf.

Ancaladar stared enraptured into dark eyes and felt the pull of long-dormant instincts rousing. Here was his match. Here was the one who would be the conduit for his magic; his heart's twin, his Bondmate, to whom his life and his heart would be linked.

Fly away! Fly away now! a small voice inside him screamed. There was still time to refuse the Bond. It could be done. If he left now—

If he never saw Jermayan again—

But he had lived so long already—seen his friends and comrades die in the Great War. And these children said that Shadow Mountain was rising against the Lightfolk again. He'd seen proof of that. He did not think he could bear to hide and cower and save his life while watching others die yet again. He had been a coward and a failure once, and on the journey here he'd had a great deal of time to think about his choices and where they had led him.

And Jermayan was young as the Elvenkind reckoned years. They would have centuries together…

NO.! Jermayan wrenched his gaze painfully away from the dragon's golden eyes. It was— It was—

It was impossible.

He knew what he was feeling. The Elves had long lives, and longer memories. The heart-tie that told them where true love lay was similar enough in kind, so the historians told them, to that Bond between a dragon and his Mage for Jermayan to know what was happening. He was not in love with Ancaladar.

But they could Bond.

An Elf and a dragon.

Impossible.

Elves had no part in the Greater Magic. There had not been an Elven Mage since the time of Great Queen Vielissiar Farcarinon. Dragons Bonded with Mages—human Mages—because only through a Mage could a dragon express its innate magic.

"GO away'." Jermayan shouted desperately, staggering backward.

"Jermayan…" Ancaladar said.

"I am useless to you!" Jermayan said. "How is it that you do not understand that I am an Elven Knight, you who are ancient and wise beyond the dreams of Elves? It would all be for nothing!"

"I am useless without you," Ancaladar said, very softly. "You can learn. I know you can. In the First War, we fought for you, jermayan. Your magic—Elven magic—woke us out of the bones of the earth. Do you remember?"

"No!" Jermayan said, sounding desperate.

Strange, so strange, that it would be he who was doing the urging now, and not the Elf-Knight. He, who had been a coward—

But he knew now that had been a choice, rather than what he truly was. As this was a choice. But this choice led away from failure, and toward bravery. He would not run anymore.

"War is coming," Ancaladar said. "A thousand years ago, while I cowered and hid, my brothers fought and died. I heard them weep as they went with their Bonded to serve the Demons. I felt the others die in the Light as their Bonded died. I cannot watch that again. This time I must fight. But I cannot fight alone."

KELLEN stood beside Shalkan, watching Ancaladar and Jermayan in amazement. "Do you know what's going on?" he whispered to the unicorn.

"Ancaladar and Jermayan can Bond," Shalkan answered in equally low tones. "If Jermayan accepts, he'll become the first Elven Mage since—oh, before the dawn of human civilization."

"Oh," Kellen said. "But he could refuse?"

"There's always a choice," Shalkan said. "You had one, when you decided to become a Knight-Mage."

JERMAYAN hesitated, clutching the hilt of his sword so tightly his gauntlet creaked. With all his heart, he yearned to look up, to meet Ancaladar's eyes, to let the Bond form.

But to become a Mage, a wielder of the Great Magics…

The golden eyes darkened, and Jermayan felt the sadness, the deep, inexpressible sadness. He had been the one feeling that sorrow not so long ago, when Idalia had refused the gift of his heart. Now it was, apparently, his turn to inflict that torture on another.

"I will go," Ancaladar said softly. "You will not see me again." The packed snow beneath his body groaned as he shifted his weight, preparing to take off again.

"No."

No. He could not do that to another living creature. Especially not this one, and not now.

Jermayan raised his head, and met the dragon's golden gaze. It was warmth and spring sunlight, it was the wind in the trees at high summer and the deep song of Life that underlay all things.

And he knew that even as he looked into Ancaladar's soul, Ancaladar was looking into his. Jermayan took a step forward, and then another. Ancaladar stretched out his long neck, and Jermayan laid his hand, very gently, against the side of Ancaladar's face.

He is mine, and I am his, and we shall be one, and together for the rest of our life.

THE following day, Kellen made his report to the Elven Council.

It was a frustrating experience, since he realized very quickly that nobody wished to hear his assessment of the situation, or what it might mean for the future. They only wished to know where he'd gone, what he'd done, and what he'd seen.

He wished Idalia were here, to help him figure out what to say, but she was still with the Healers, and they weren't letting anyone in to see her yet. He would have liked Jermayan to be here, too—but Jermayan was with Ancaladar, and would be meeting with the Council later, to explain—as well as the matter could be explained—what his becoming an Elven Mage meant to Sentarshadeen.

Kellen had never felt more like an errand boy in his life, and tried not to show his frustration. He knew the Elves were capable of quick and decisive action when they felt circumstances warranted it. He knew he had friends and allies on the Council. The Elves were not his enemies.

But the Elves did not hurry. Idalia had told him that, over and over. And Kellen was very much afraid that—this time—a lack of hurry was going to cost them in ways he couldn't yet put a name to.

THE next day, he was finally allowed to see Idalia.

The Healing House was within the House of Leaf and Star, though to enter it, one came and went by a different entrance than the one Kellen was used to using when he visited Sandalon or his parents.

It was the most peaceful place he had ever imagined. If something could be the utter opposite of the Black Cairn, this was it. Just walking into the entry hall made all of his everyday worries seem as if they were simple problems that could be easily dealt with.

An Elf in the simple leaf-green robes of a Healer appeared almost instantly and brought him to Idalia's room. He saw no one else—though he knew that all of the children were here.

He was not surprised to see that Jermayan was already here, sitting beside Idalia's bedside.

She was sitting up, propped among a welter of colorful pillows. A table with a half-finished xaqiue game stood at the bedside, and there was a pot with teacups nearby on another low table. Idalia's cheeks were flushed with color, and she no longer looked exhausted to the point of death.

"Oh, good, you're here," Idalia said as soon as she saw him. "Now you can tell them I'm fine and I'm ready to leave."

Kellen glanced at Jermayan, but the Elf's face remained studiously blank.

"I'm not arguing with Elves," Kellen said, sitting down in a chair at the opposite side of her bed from Jermayan. "If you're feeling well enough to leave, you can argue with them."

Idalia snorted rudely. "Have you ever tried arguing with the Healers?"

Kellen laughed. "Not with the Healers—but I spent yesterday morning arguing with the Council—at least I think that's what I was doing—and I didn't get very far."

"You did, however, make something of an impression," Jermayan said, pouring tea and handing a cup to Kellen across the bed. Thanks to the Elven "small magics," the tea was still hot, and Kellen sipped it gratefully.

"Well, I'd love to know what it was. You'd have thought I was discussing the weather, instead of the fact that Shadow Mountain's managed to stick a whole race of things smack in the middle of the Elven Lands, where they can pretty much do what they like."

"They're aware of that," Jermayan said broodingly. "And they understand it is a grave threat, especially since the… Shadowed Elves… can grant safe passage into the heart of our realm to creatures who are truly of the Shadow, as we have learned to our cost. Though the land-wards detect such as they once they walk upon the surface of the land, our borders are not secure. We must return to the enclave Vestakia discovered, and destroy it."

"You can't assume it's the only one, either," Kellen said. It was the first truth of war that Master Belesharon had taught him: never underestimate an enemy's strength and resources.

"No," Jermayan agreed. "With Vestakia's help, we must search out and destroy them all."

Time. That will take time. Time to find each enclave of the Shadowed Elves, time to fight the battles, time to search the whole of the Elven Lands… and we only have Vestakia to help us do it.

And what will the Demons be doing while we do that?

"And what then?" Kellen asked. "When it's all done?"

Both Idalia and Jermayan were looking at him as if they didn't understand, but to Kellen, it was as if a story were unfurling itself in his mind, almost as if he were remembering one of Master Belesharon's old Teaching Tales. But this wasn't something old. This was something new, something yet to happen.

"When all the Shadowed Elves are gone," Kellen repeated patiently. "What then?" He only realized then that he'd asked a question—bad manners here— and rephrased it: "Tell me what will happen next—and what the true Enemy will be doing while we destroy the Shadowed Elves."

Idalia smiled faintly. "Kellen, it will probably take a very long time to be sure we've gotten all of them. Maybe years."

"But we don't have years," Kellen said. He gestured at the xaqiue board. "The Council thinks we do. Shadow Mountain puts up a barrier to starve the Elven Lands of water. We knock it down. We expect them to attack, then—though maybe after a very long time. But they don't. They show us something we have to attack: the Shadowed Elves. I'm not saying we don't: they're a threat, and if we don't destroy them, they will be used against us. But can't you see it? We didn't find out about them by accident. They were shown to us. It's like a xaqiue game. We'll commit our forces, we'll go after them… we'll probably destroy them. And then there will be something else."

"Their main attack," Jermayan said. "But we will have already gathered our army together. We will defeat them once again, just as we did before, though I do not deny that the cost will be high."

"No," Kellen said. He wasn't sure where the sense of certainty came from, but he'd never been surer of anything in his life. "Don't you get it, Jermayan? They're never going to attack—not this time. That's what you expect, because that's what they did the last time. That's what Andoreniel and Ashaniel are going to wait for—a big massing of Enemy troops; a formal declaration of war. And it won't happen."

For a moment he almost thought he'd convinced Jermayan. More than anyone else in Sentarshadeen, Jermayan knew him as a Knight-Mage, and knew what he was capable of—this instinctive understanding of War and how it worked. The more he trained with Master Belesharon—the more actual fighting he saw—the more Kellen realized just how his particular Wild Magic gifts worked.

But then Jermayan shook his head.

"Kellen… I do not say that you are wrong. But no matter what They plan, we must eliminate the Shadowed Elves first. Even now, Andoreniel sends word— not only to the Nine Cities, but to our allies as well, invoking ancient treaties. As soon as the children are safe—once I have persuaded Ancaladar to take them to the Crowned Horns—we go to muster at Ondoladeshiron. To fight in winter is hard, but he thought it best not to wait for spring."