2 To Light A Candle.13 (91 page)

VANDELT and Merchan had been partners rather longer than the usual pairing among the Unicorn Knights; a little over a century now. Vandelt had never found the Elf to whom his soul could bond, and Merchan simply said that Vandelt was incapable of managing without him. Vandelt might have been Captain of the Unicorns if he'd chosen—he'd certainly been a Unicorn Knight longer than anyone else currently serving among them—but he was far more interested in his garden, and he was quite willing to admit that he had no interest in command. Let Petariel have that honor, with Vandelt's great goodwill.

But he had seen his fragile and delicate garden at Deskethomaynel turn to dust in the Great Drought, and he was as willing as anyone to strike out at the servants of those who had killed his beloved plants. And he was by no means stupid, merely unambitious.

So when Merchan warned that someone was approaching from the direction they had been set to watch, Vandelt blew a warning immediately, even before he rode out to investigate further.

It did not save them.

The arrow took Merchan squarely in the chest. It did not penetrate his armor, but it clung, and it burned. Vandelt could smell the stench of burning fur, see the shimmer of heat, and see wisps of smoke as the padding beneath Mer-chan's collet began to kindle.

But of their attackers, he saw nothing.

"Run, Merchan!"

The unicorn turned, heading back toward their own lines. Vandelt raised his horn to blow a second, more urgent warning, but it was too late. Merchan had only gone a few yards before a net fell over them from above, tangling them in its meshes and sending Merchan crashing to the forest floor.

Before Vandelt could cut them free, the Shadowed Elves dropped from the trees, long knives flashing in the weak sunlight. Merchan and his rider died within seconds of each other.

The Shadowed Elves cut the ring of burning metal carefully from the unicorn's body, handling it with tongs, and spiked it to the nearest tree.

Then they moved on.

"KELLEN says that something's wrong."

Idalia passed Vestakia into the hands of the waiting Healers, who would take her back to the temporary camp a mile away as quickly as possible—distance was truly the best remedy for what ailed her; that, and a great deal of rest—and turned back to the Elven general.

"He will have given you all the information he had, of course," Redhelwar said imperturbably.

"Well, his precise words were 'tell Redhelwar something's not the way it's supposed to be,' if that helps. He couldn't tell me more than that. He did try."

"I know Kellen. He will have—" Redhelwar broke off, looking past her. He'd looked grim a moment before. Now he looked appalled.

Idalia followed the direction of his gaze. A single Elven Knight was running toward them from the cavern mouth, running as if more than his life depended upon it.

He slid to his knees at the feet of Redhelwar's bay destrier.

"A feint," he gasped. "The females are not there. Kellen said—the females are not in the caverns."

"But the children were," Idalia said with sudden bleak understanding. "They left them behind, so Vestakia would have something to follow."

Redhelwar barely moved. His voice did not waver.

"Dionan, tell Jertnayan what Tildaril has said. Request him, if it is possible, to find where the females have gone."

Dionan rode away immediately to where Jermayan and Ancaladar waited on the cliff above the cavern entrance.

"Padredor, I leave this secondary camp in your keeping. Guard it—and Ves-takia—well. When the others return from the caverns, tell them we proceed as planned," Redhelwar continued.

"Yes, Redhelwar," Padredor said. Whatever might be happening elsewhere, the caverns must still be scoured.

"Tildaril, Idalia, I thank you both for your warnings. When you see Kellen next, tell him he did all that anyone could ask of him. I must return to camp. If the females are gone, we must look to the location of the next attack."

He turned and rode away.

Yes, Kelkn has done all that anyone could ask of him—not that he'll believe that, Idalia thought with a resigned sigh. She went to fetch Cella for the ride back to the nearer camp. Her tools were there, including her favorite scrying bowl. Perhaps she could see something useful.

VANDELT'S warning had not been in vain, for it was heard and relayed across the forest by a dozen horns even before he was struck down. But it had been a warning only: the Unicorn Knights were still not sure what they faced as they rode toward Vandelt's patrol area.

"I smell blood—and smoke," Gesade said, alarmed.

Suddenly she leaped forward. A net fell to the snow in the place where she'd been.

"Above!" Petariel cried.

Unicorn Knights fired into the trees as their mounts dodged madly, evading nets, spears, and deadly fragile bottles of acid. A few bodies fell, but not enough—and from their concealment in the trees, Shadowed Elf archers were returning fire, with the terrible poisoned arrows that the Elves had learned to fear.

In the rear of the vanguard, Menerchel blew the Call to Battle, loudly enough to wake the forest itself.

Leaf and Star, guard and guide us this day! Petariel thought. Their ambush having failed, the enemy revealed themselves plainly now: not the two-score refugees from the battle that Kellen had warned them of—hundreds of Shadowed Elves swarmed through the trees and over the forest floor. They attacked where the army was weakest: Ysterialpoerin.

And Gesade had been right. Now he smelled it too. The forest was burning.

ALMOST before Dionan had finished speaking, Ancaladar took to the air. The oncoming storm made the air currents turbulent and hard to predict; higher altitude would have made flight easier, but to seek greater height was the one thing they could not do. He and Jermayan must find the vanished Shadowed Elf females that Kellen had warned them of, and to do that they must fly low enough to see the ground.

Ancaladar saw nothing moving below, save for Redhelwar and his troops making their way back toward the main camp. He swept past the camp, in a long curve—east, then north. The ground was harder to see here—there were fewer patches of open land, and more forest—but Ancaladar had hunted his own food for over a millennium. He was an expert tracker, and his eyes were sharp. He studied the ground closely, searching for signs of their prey.

"Ancaladar—look."

His Bonded's voice was tight with fear.

Ancaladar raised his eyes to the horizon.

In the distance, near the Elven city—smoke.

Fire.

THERE was no thought of containment, no possibility of a careful battle plan. Even being near these creatures was utterly painful to the unicorns—a disastrous miscalculation that their enemy was quick to capitalize upon.

The Unicorn Knights fought on foot at Petariel's command. They'd ordered their mounts to run, but the unicorns couldn't—or wouldn't—leave their partners.

The cavalry units fought on foot as well, for they had all learned quickly that a mounted warrior was at a disadvantage against this foe. Even Kindolhinadetil's Guard had come at the sound of the warhorns to lend its strength to the fight.

The Shadowed Elves died—but taking far too many of the Elves with them.

And the forest was burning.

NOW Jermayan saw tracks where no tracks should be—looking down through the trees, he could see places where the snow had been trampled by the passing of hundreds of feet.

And ahead, curls of smoke rising from Ysterialpoerin's forest in a score of places. Smoldering still, but about to burst into true flame. And when they did…

The fire would take The Heart of the Forest with it.

Once before, Kellen had stopped the Shadowed Elves from bringing disks of ever-burning metal to the trees. This time they must have succeeded. He could call those pieces of metal forth from their hiding places, but it would take time— time to find them, time to bespell them—and meanwhile the forest would catch, and kindle…

And his comrades would die, while he spent himself on this, instead of coming to their aid.

"You know how to stop this," Ancaladar said quietly. "The snow is near. Bring it now."

Yes. Jermayan took a deep breath as Ancaladar made a wide sweep around the heart-forest. He forced himself to set aside his fury and uncertainty to become an untroubled vessel of magic. The snow would keep the fires from spreading, buy him time to come to the aid of the army.

He could feel the patterns of the weather through Ancaladar's senses. Now he reached out with his magic to the coming storm, bringing what would have been here by tomorrow's dawn immediately.

The sky darkened. Wind lashed the trees below, forced into the valley by storm clouds wrenched from their proper places. The air currents boiled like an icy broth, and Ancaladar battled to stay skyborne.

The blizzard came, as inexorable and deadly as a breaking wave. An updraft sucked dragon and rider suddenly high into the clouds; instantly Jermayan was blinded by wet icy mist; deafened by the crash of air colliding with air as solidly and loudly as boulders in a flood-tossed streambed. Jermayan felt his skin begin to prickle, and barely threw a shield around both of them in time. Lightning chained across the sky, striking against his shields again and again, as if the weather itself were angry about its mishandling.

It was needed, Jermayan thought, as he and Ancaladar were hurled across the clouds. Forgive me.

Ancaladar fought for altitude, his wings straining in their sockets, and after a desperate battle they were above the storm, soaring through calm winds and sunlight as sheets of ice crackled and fell from the dragon's great wings. Jermayan looked down at the roiling cauldron of black snow-heavy clouds that filled the Ysterialpoerin valley. It was snowing now, a blizzard that would not spend itself easily or quickly. And though snow would not quench the Shadowed Elves' burning metal, nothing else would burn. The damage to the forest would not spread.

"Not an elegant execution," Ancaladar said at last, sounding both amused and breathless. "But effective. Are you well, Bonded?"

"I shall be better when the enemy is vanquished," Jermayan said. "Though I wish it did not have to be. Are you ready to return?"

"I shall be quick," Ancaladar said. The great black dragon folded his wings and dove through the storm, falling to earth as swiftly as if he were a thunderbolt himself.

AT last the bitter work beneath the ground was done. Not without casualties—for even the Shadowed Elf young fought with desperate intensity—but it was done. All were dead, even the infants—and that, the Elves could tell themselves, was an act of mercy, for the youngest had obviously gone untended by their siblings.

They settled the bodies neatly, but left them behind to recover later, for Adaerion was uneasy about what might be happening above.

Kellen had led the host going in. This time he was last out, for the caverns were not yet safe, even if no Shadowed Elves or goblins remained here. There were still the duergar to hunt down; Adaerion could be certain Kellen could resist their lure, and could protect the others from giving in to it.

Figuring out how to hunt them down—so the caverns could be finally cleared—was a problem for another day.

And even when we clear this place out, who knows how many more lairs remain? Kellen thought wearily. And this isn't even the war. This is just another of Shadow Mountain's strategies to weaken us BEFORE the war.

He had never felt so close to despair.

BY the time he reached the surface, Kellen already knew—from talk passed back up the line—that the promised blizzard had come early—magically early. No one knew why, but everyone was agreed that the Wildmages would not have called it.

Fresher information came the closer Kellen got to the surface, but it was frustratingly incomplete. A battle at Ysterialpoerin. Their own orders remained the same: stay here and clear the caverns.

At last he reached the end-tunnel, and almost wished he hadn't.

Snow was blown along half its length. He could see nothing beyond the entrance but dim whiteness. Each pair of Knights who walked out through the entrance was visible for only a few seconds before vanishing into the dense all-concealing snow. Their heavy cloaks whipped around them as if they were made of thin silk.

Kellen hurried forward, all but shoving Isinwen ahead of him. They must have won at Ysterialpoerin. Redhelwar would surely have been able to get the reserves from the camp to the city in time to support them.

He was grateful that Jermayan had taken the time to reshape the ramp out of the caves. The wind was fierce, and the snow that covered it had been packed down to ice by the feet of those before him. If it had been any steeper, it would have been a slide, not a pathway.

He looked for Adaerion, but it was Jermayan who came toward him out of the snow.

"Shalkan is asking for you. Come quickly."

"Shalkan.?" Shalkan was at Ysterialpoerin!

"He is unhurt. But… hurry."

JERMAYAN had brought the storm. Kellen gathered that much from the Elven Knight's half-distracted explanation on the flight to Ysterialpoerin. That, and that the Elves had won the battle.

"I thought for the forest, and the city. It did not matter to the Shadowed Elves or to their masters if they all died, so long as they accomplished their task of destruction, and so I looked first to the trees. Snow would slow the burning, and its cause could be looked to later. So that is a great victory." Jermayan's voice was bitter, carried back to Kellen as they flew through the clear air and sunlight above the storm. "When poets unborn sing of this day in centuries to come, surely they will say that we won."

"Jermayan—" Kellen began. If he couldn't get some straight answers out of Jermayan soon, he was fairly sure he was going to start shouting.

"Not now," Ancaladar said.

The dragon tilted his wings, diving back into the storm, and speech became impossible in the maelstrom of their descent.

Kellen was working the saddle-straps before Ancaladar had quite settled. The dragon had landed in a clearing barely big enough to accommodate him—a neat piece of flying with the winds as strong as they were. Kellen slid down the dragon's ice-covered ribs into a drift of snow.