3 When Darkness Falls.8 (11 page)

In such a position, a prudent general called for retreat, and Jermayan was certain that Magarabeleniel had thought of that a thousand times over, but from the high plains of Lerkalpoldara, in winter, they could not retreat. The Gatekeeper was the only pass of any size out of the mountains, and Jermayan and Ancaladar had flown through it on the way in. Even if the Lerkalpoldarans were willing to abandon all of their livestock and everything they owned, they could not make it through that ice-choked pass on foot. They were trapped here in the northernmost east, with their numbers slowly dwindling day by day against the assaults of the Shadow.

"And now I would hear what message you bear from Andoreniel," Magarabeleniel said, when Jermayan had sat silent for a very long time.

"In autumn, you sent your children to the Fortress of the Crowned Horns, where, by the grace of Leaf and Star, all arrived safely. Now, as the Enemy grows bolder, Andoreniel has sent me to bring all women with child to the same safety upon Ancaladar's back. It is his decree."

"So badly as that… " Magarabeleniel whispered, bowing her head. "It goes so badly as that… "

After a moment she straightened, composed again. "Indeed, I am desolated to be forced to bear words of rebuke and refusal to Andoreniel in this time of his difficulty, and were matters otherwise, I would have found it a restful thing to have visited the Fortress of the Crowned Horns, for I have never seen it, and it would have been a pleasant thing to see my nephew Rierochan again. Yet I cannot leave my people, no matter what Andoreniel's decree, nor is any woman to be so ordered, as if she were herself a child, but given a choice to go or to stay. There are four here who must choose. I have chosen. Three have yet to choose."

She regarded him steadily, her black eyes unyielding.

"I thank you for your courtesy," Jermayan said, bowing his head. It had not occurred to him that the Lady of Lerkalpoldara might be among those affected by Andoreniel's decree; in the face of what she had just told him about Enemy forces drawing closer around the city, it made sense that she did not want to leave her people, whatever the cost.

"But come. I believe our cloaks are dry now. Let me show you the walls of Lerkalpoldara, though they are far from what they should be. And I can make you known to the rest of the folk, before they burst with curiosity," Magarabeleniel said.

* * * * *

THOUGH Lerkalpoldara's normal population was greatly diminished, those that remained were filled with lively curiosity about Jermayan and his errand — and about Ancaladar as well.

Jermayan's mind was in turmoil. It had never before occurred to him to disobey a decree of Andoreniel's, yet how could he rescue a handful — at most — of the people here and leave the rest to die?

What if none of the other three women wanted to come? How could he order them if Magarabeleniel refused to order them?

The city that had been so empty when he and Magarabeleniel had walked through it a few hours earlier was now bustling with life — paths being swept; snow being carried away, and the walls being repaired or added to. Magarabeleniel took Jermayan on a leisurely tour of the city, stopping to speak with everyone, and by the time they reached the Flower Forest — which Jermayan had slowly come to realize was their eventual destination — the inhabitants of Lerkalpoldara knew a great deal about dragons.

"Your dragon can come in here to spend the night. He will be warmer — and safer as well," Magarabeleniel said. "
They
mean to show us our fate by slaughtering everything that lives here upon the plains, everything wild and tame. It is how we have escaped death so far, for
They
will happily slaughter cows and talldeer instead of us — the bodies just lie there and freeze, now, for there is nothing left to eat them. The wolves are gone, and the foxes, and the weasels… the ice-tiger is gone, though we saw too many of them while they were being starved out. The owls are gone… everything that flies in the air but one."

She took a deep breath. "We have made a promise to one another, my people and I. In the spring the wind sets east and blows over the pass until summer. The grasslands bloom and flower — I think that even this year they will flower. The rivers roar with melt and all the springs are full. But in summer the wind shifts away from the passes. The grass turns from green to gold. The rivers wane to streams and no rain comes in any year. And when that time comes, whoever is still alive will take a torch and a string of fast horses and ride into the wind, and set the Plains alight so that the fires kindle like a chain of pearls. If he cannot ride he will run; if he cannot run, he will walk; if he cannot walk he will set the Plains alight where he stands. But we will burn it all this time — every leaf, every seed, every blade of grass, the Flower Forest itself, so that
They
gain no foothold here, nor anything
They
can use."

It was as if Jermayan had opened a door and stepped back a thousand years, to the time of the Great War. Such desperate bargains, such terrible battles, had been commonplace then, and the land still bore their scars.

There must, there must be another way!

"I hear your words, Lady, and will bear them to Andoreniel with all you have said. I thank you for your courtesy to Ancaladar; he tells me he does not feel the cold, but there are times when it makes my heart ache with cold to look upon him."

"The forest is warm," Magarabeleniel said, and indeed, it was warm enough that Jermayan had removed his heavy fur-lined mittens and thrown back the hood of his heavy fur cloak. "And he need not fear to fly over our walls in the storm, for the winds will drop soon, the better for him to see his way. Nor will we fire upon him, for we have had time to learn our Enemy by now."

Though Jermayan doubted that even the heavy shafts of the Elven hunting bow could penetrate Ancaladar's scales, the barbed quarrels could certainly tear the membrane of his great wings, and Jermayan was not yet certain of his power to repair such damage. Though he had Ancaladar's inexhaustible power to draw upon, he was the one who must do the drawing, and that part of him which was an Elven Mage had been taxed to the uttermost by the spell of Kindolhinadetil's Mirror. Like Kellen and the other Wildmages — and the High Mage Cilarnen — who had played their parts in that spell, the longer he could go without doing magic, the better it would be for him.

"And so I shall tell him," Jermayan said. "In truth, he is quite timid, and will welcome the reassurance."

Magarabeleniel made a faint noise that might, months ago, have been something as undignified as a laugh. "Perhaps you think I will believe any nursery-tale you care to sing, Jermayan, but I have been to Sentarshadeen, and am no child at her first Spring Foaling. If you can fight as well as you can dance, your dragon cannot be timid. But refresh yourself here in our forest, if you will, and perhaps you will rejoin me and my advisors for the evening meal."

"It will be my pleasure," Jermayan assured her, bowing as Magarabeleniel turned and walked away.

The shadows lengthened as he walked deeper into the forest, and over the sound of the wind he heard a wild deep-chested howling.

Coldwarg.

Tainted, creatures of the Shadow, created specifically to hunt and kill unicorns, but willing, even eager, to kill
anything;
they lusted for the pain and fear of their victims even more than for their deaths.

And they were only one of the monsters that plagued the High Plains, if what Magarabeleniel said was true.

Coldwarg could be slain. Deathwings could be slain. Even shadewalkers could be slain. But it had taken Ancaladar to kill the last ice-drake they had seen, and the ice-drake had very nearly killed
him
. If there were indeed an ice-drake here, lairing until the winter had deepened further, when it finally emerged and began to hunt, the Lerkalpoldarans would have no defense against it.

What was he to do? Jermayan knew he must not stay longer than needed to complete his mission — or acknowledge failure. He must press on to the other Eight Cities. And then he must return to the army, for the power he could lend to the battles it had yet to fight could be vital.

And what then, Son of Malkirinath? Were you to level the Golden City, slay everyone within it, guilty and innocent alike, you would not win this war. You would only deny
Them
a tool to
Their
using. The war would go on, as your friends die about you, until there is nothing left
…

Perhaps the destruction of Armethalieh by the Light would buy time, but at a price no one of the Light would be willing to pay. There was always the danger, in fighting the creatures of the Shadow, in being tempted to use
Their
methods in order to win, but all that was, was a sort of surrender to
Them
. No one thought it was better to lose cleanly than to win with the Shadow's tools: It was simply that it was impossible to win with the Shadow's tools. No victory for the Light could be gained by using the tools and the methods of the Shadow — once they were taken up, they began to twist the wielder, changing him or her bit by bit, moment by moment, until he or she no longer recognized the original purpose for which their side had once fought. They began to make changes, compromises, disastrous alliances — until soon they were the Shadow's pawn in all but name.

Was that what had happened to Anigrel, in Armethalieh?

Or was he one of the rare ones who stared the Darkness unblinkingly in Its eyes, and flung himself into Its embrace, knowing full well what it was that he chose to serve?

How could any creature, mad or sane, do such a thing?

Jermayan shook his head, a human gesture he had picked up from Idalia. He did not know, but as Master Belesharon was fond of saying, all answers are to be found in the Circle, or else you have asked the wrong question.

It did not matter how Anigrel had come to do such a thing.

What mattered was how what he had set in motion could be stopped.

* * * * *

THOUGH it had seemed unlikely that afternoon, when Jermayan had landed in the full strength of the snowstorm, as the shadows of evening fell, the temperature dropped sharply, and the snow stopped falling.

Earlier, Jermayan had passed Magarabeleniel's message on to Ancaladar through the Bond they shared, and now Ancaladar descended into a clearing at the forest's heart — though leaving the forest again might be a more difficult matter.

Snow, leaves, and loose branches cascaded to the forest floor as Ancaladar settled to the ground, folding his wings warily, for his flanks pressed against the trunks of the trees at the edges of the clearing. Jermayan wasn't at all sure of how the dragon could possibly move without knocking trees over.

"So this is a Flower Forest?" the dragon observed. "It is very nice."

"Yes," Jermayan agreed. "I think… I think we will be leaving here soon. And without what we came for."

"Indeed," said Ancaladar, sounding maddeningly calm. "I believe you must reconsider."

Jermayan stared at his friend in surprise. Of all the things he had expected to hear from Ancaladar, this had not been among them.

"While you spoke with the Lady of Lerkalpoldara, I flew over the valley, for I did not feel comfortable upon the ground," Ancaladar said. "And I saw many distressing things. Coldwarg packs — flights of Deathwings — creatures such as I have not seen" — the dragon shuddered — "in a thousand years. They have come over the northern border, I think; over the mountains, from the High Desert beyond the Elven Lands. I believe there is even another ice-drake such as the one I slew here. One does not forget that smell easily, I promise you.

"They will slay everyone here. And then, perhaps, they will seek fresh game, for I do not think that the closed passes will stop any of them, and they are all creatures of the cold and the dark."

The dragon regarded Jermayan steadily from its great golden eyes.

"It would interest me greatly, of course, to hear your thoughts on the matter of how to prevent this, should you choose to share them," Jermayan said.

"I have given it consideration," Ancaladar said, sounding faintly amused. "You must open the Gatekeeper. The people will go through and seek refuge in Windalorianan, with as much of the stock as will travel fast. The creatures will follow them, so you must fly ahead and warn Windalorianan as well. But Windalorianan would have suffered attack in any event, whether you unsealed the Gatekeeper or not, so you must not feel that by doing so you have exposed them to peril they would otherwise have escaped."

It took a moment for the full impact of Ancaladar's words to sink in.

"You cannot mean for me to bespell the ice and snow of the pass," Jermayan said, unable to believe what he was hearing. Even if he could clear the Gatekeeper — something that would not be a certain thing even if he were entirely rested — the Lerkalpoldarans must reach it and get through it, which the Enemy would not wish to see happen. Most of all, he was not completely certain that Magarabeleniel would not wish to remain behind and fight.

"Of course I mean nothing," Ancaladar answered, rather tartly. "After all, I cast no spells, wield no magic. I am no great Elven Mage, who calls storms and builds palaces out of ice! It is of course for you to decide what you must do."