3 When Darkness Falls.8 (21 page)

* * * * *

"SO was that a 'yes' or a 'no'?" Cilarnen asked once they'd left the city and were riding through the Heart-Forest in the direction of camp.

Kellen glanced sideways at Isinwen. His Second gave no indication that he had heard anything at all.

"I have absolutely no idea," Kellen said with a deep sigh. "It would be good to know how to find out — without, of course, offending anyone," he said, gazing pointedly at Isinwen.

The Elven Knight abandoned his pretense of polite deafness.

"The Lady Arquelle will have made clear to Kindolhinadetil, as a member of the Council, the most desirable way to phrase things to avoid misunderstandings when one is conversing with humans," Isinwen began. "Certainly since the attack on the Heart of the Forest, Kindolhinadetil as much as anyone knows that there is a need for decisiveness and speed in making decisions related to the conduct of the war. But this is not a decision he should be asked to make, and he knows it. He will certainly consult his Council before proceeding.

"I still have family here," Isinwen said. "Kindolhinadetil, of course, is aware of this. It is possible he will pass word of his decision to me privately, knowing I will pass it on to you. That way he may render a judgment without making it a matter for — too public — comment."

"If that's what he intends, he'll have to be quick about it," Kellen said. "We leave in four days."

* * * * *

BUT the days leading up to Kellen's departure passed without any word from Kindolhinadetil, through official or unofficial channels. Nor did word come from Sentarshadeen, or from Jermayan.

Kellen could not delay his departure, no matter how much he wanted to know what Kindolhinadetil's decision would be. No matter how important Cilarnen's work, the young High Mage was still only one
xaique
-piece on the board, and the winning play — if it could be made — involved many others. With the continuing silence from the south, Kellen's mission took on added importance. Once he had reached Halacira and established a presence there, Redhelwar told him he was to take a force on into Sentarshadeen to discover the reason for the continuing silence from Andoreniel.

For without word from Andoreniel, the army could not move.

The Stars and the Light

THE MORNING OF Kellen's departure was much like any other; light snow and bitter cold. The Wildmages traveling with his convoy predicted a sennight of calm weather, with snow no heavier than could be expected at this season, but there was a mountain range to cross between Ysterialpoerin and Ondoladeshiron, and they could be certain of heavy weather in the higher altitudes. If they were not unreasonably delayed by the weather, they should be at Ondoladeshiron within the moonturn, and from there, the rest of the journey should be somewhat easier. The trek between Sentarshadeen and Ondoladeshiron had only taken ten days when he'd come up from Sentarshadeen to the Gathering Plain with the army the first time — but Kellen suspected that there'd been a great deal less snow on the ground then. Not to mention the fact that he'd been traveling with a smaller — and more lightly-burdened — force.

They'd just have to do their best, though. Even if Redhelwar hadn't impressed upon him the need for haste — and an Elf counseling hurry was impressive enough — it didn't take a Knight-Mage's special senses to know that they had no time to spate. Anigrel wasn't going to be wasting any time in bringing Armethalieh's wards down — and once the Demons could actually get
into
the City… well, Kellen knew from bitter experience how persuasive the Endarkened could be. They'd be able to convince the High Council of anything they chose — and have the Mageborn to feed off of as an added bonus. The sooner he got to Sentarshadeen and found out why Andoreniel had fallen silent, the better.

Amid the last-minute bustle as troops, horses, mules, oxen, and sledges found their places in line, his friends had come to bid him a private farewell. Idalia was there, of course, and Vestakia had come down to the main camp from the caverns to be there at his departure as well.

Kellen had not seen her for nearly a moonturn, and only the self-discipline he had learned over the sennights of this long hard winter war kept him from showing how shocked he was to see her. She looked thin and worn, almost haggard, drained by the twin struggles to understand the Crystal Spiders' Otherworldly minds and to withstand the growing sense of Demontaint in the Elvenlands. Vestakia looked a little more than Otherworldly herself, despite the bright red and gold velvets she wore.

"Take care of yourself," Idalia said, giving Kellen a quick fierce hug. "Don't make me regret staying here instead of going with you."

"I'm sure I'll see you soon enough — just as soon as the Crystal Spiders manage to tell us where the last Enclave of the Shadowed Elves is. And besides, I'll feel much better knowing that you're here to keep an eye on Cilarnen," Kellen said.

He kept his eyes on his sister, not looking at Vestakia. He would give Vestakia a warrior's courtesy of ignoring her wounds — for they
were
wounds, as much as any sword-cut taken in battle — but it was hard to see her this way.

It was harder still to know that he could stop all her pain with a simple request to Redhelwar to remove her from the caverns, and that he wouldn't. Vestakia wouldn't thank him for saving her life when there was a chance her sacrifice could save others — in fact, she'd despise him for even suggesting it — but it was more than that. He knew, down in a part of himself he didn't like to look at too often, that even if she asked, no, even if she
begged
, to be sent away to safety, he'd do his very best to find some way to keep her here where her talents could be used. Because winning this war was more important than preserving any single life, and he knew it. He'd learned that about himself, and the knowledge wasn't a very pleasant thing.

It wasn't that he didn't love his friends. Kellen hadn't had many friends —
any
friends, he corrected himself — until he'd been Banished from Armethalieh. Somehow the war — knowing when you got up in the morning that they — or you — might not be there by nightfall — made friendships forge faster and burn brighter. Leaf and Star, he was willing to call
Cilarnen
a friend, something he would once have sworn would never happen!

But he would use them all ruthlessly when the opportunity came, if it would grant the Allies a chance of victory. He, and the Wild Magic that worked through him.

He only hoped he could live with himself afterward if it worked. If it didn't work, living with himself wasn't something he'd have to worry about.

"I'm far too old for nursemaids," Cilarnen said firmly, startling Kellen out of his grim thoughts. What had they just been talking about? Oh, yes — he'd said Idalia should keep an eye on Cilarnen. As if any of the Mageborn would tolerate that for an instant! Kellen smiled to himself. Cilarnen had Centaurs for friends and had made great strides in learning to deal suitably with the Elves, but compared to the brainwashing the Mageborn received about women, what they were told about the Other Races and the Wild Magic was just a mild suggestion, really. Kellen was a little surprised Idalia hadn't poisoned Cilarnen by now for his unconscious attitude toward her.

"But I wish I were going with you," Cilarnen added with a touch of wistfulness.

"Leaf and Star — why?" Kellen demanded, honestly surprised. "There won't be time to open a book — or wave a wand — between here and Sentarshadeen. And I'm sure you'd freeze, besides. I know I'm going to."

"I don't know," Cilarnen said pensively. "I just wish I were."

Idalia shot Cilarnen an odd look. "Well, you can at least ride a little way with him. Anganil will enjoy the exercise."

"And you'd meant to do that anyway," Vestakia pointed out, with a small smile.

It was inarguably true, as Anganil stood tacked-out and ready beside Firareth, his breath steaming in the cold shadows of morning.

"If you're going, go," Idalia said. "The day isn't getting any younger."

"I'll see you all soon," Kellen said, swinging up into Firareth's saddle.
Whenever that will be. If we're all still alive.

He waved, and Isinwen lifted a horn to his lips and blew a complicated series of notes. It echoed up and down the line as the horses and the baggage-train began slowly to move.

* * * * *

CILARNEN turned Anganil back an hour later — even though they had seen no sign of Tainted predators anywhere near camp since the Battle for the Heart of the Forest, there was no sense in exposing a lone rider to danger. Cilarnen was in high spirits, looking forward to the prospect of a good fast gallop over the cleared and trampled trail that Kellen's people had left.

When he was gone, Kellen felt oddly alone, although he was precisely as
un
alone as he had been the moment before. Isinwen and the rest of his troop rode behind him; to his left Keirasti's people did the same.

Because of the heavy wagons, they were taking a course that would circle around the forest as much as possible, keeping them on the open plain. But for that same reason, their path lay where the snow was heaviest.

Like the others, Kellen wore a thin veil of gauze over the eye-slits of his visor to provide protection against snow-glare. It was not especially needed today, when the sky was overcast, but he already knew from experience that bright sun on a brilliant snowfield could give you a memorable headache.

This particular snowfield looked as if it might be especially brilliant if the sun ever came out from behind the clouds. It stretched as far as Kellen could see, snow that was as flat as still water, though here and there it had been shaped and sculpted by the wind into odd dunes and ridges, a surface of powdered ice that chilled the cold wind even further as it blew across it, freezing exposed skin instantly and slowly numbing even the best protected flesh as the hours passed. Occasional animal tracks were preserved in the surface, though the wind had scrubbed at them until they were hard to read: Kellen recognized hare, bird — hawk? owl? — and something that was neither one, weathered away to an anonymous line of dots in the snow. Probably a fox after that hare.

The snow was also exceptionally deep: certainly up to the shoulder of an Elven destrier, and out here, sun and wind had turned its top layer to a crust of ice thick enough to cut flesh. If the cavalry had to make its own way through the snow, they'd be lucky to manage five miles a day, and the army wouldn't reach Sentarshadeen until Midsummer, if that.

But if the Elves preferred not to fight in winter, that certainly didn't mean they didn't know how. At the head of the column ran a large sledge drawn by twelve patient oxen. The oxen were hitched in single file, so that except for the first beast, its chest well protected by a shield of studded leather, none of the animals actually had to break through the icy crust of the snow, and only the lead animal had to struggle against an unbroken trail. All their enormous brawn could be concentrated on pulling the prow-shaped sledge behind them, and its only purpose was to turn the snow out of a wide enough path for a sumpter-wagon — or four destriers riding abreast — to pass.

Kellen had never seen anything like it before. The snow had not been deep enough when the army got to Ysterialpoerin to require it, he supposed, or else there hadn't been time to build one along the way. But it was very much like an odd Elven sculpture; as the oxen dragged it forward, the snow slid over its curves and angles, pressed into two high mounds several feet apart with a flat firm packed-down area between. If he had not seen it himself, Kellen would have been willing to swear that the trail it left could only be accomplished by magic — and a very powerful spell besides — but it was nothing more than Elven ingenuity. Though every few hours they had to back the team up and change out to fresh animals — and though the whole army could only move at the oxen's walking pace — they were still making far better speed than they would have been did they have to break their own trail through this snow, and without overtiring the horses, or taking any injuries.

And we have absolutely no room to maneuver. If something hits the column, and we have to leave the path, we might as well be riding through shoulder-deep mud. And no Ancaladar to look down and tell us what's coming from miles away.

Was that why the Scouts had never reported back? Because they'd never reached Sentarshadeen in the first place? But they'd been riding unicorns. The snow would have presented no difficulty for them.

Coldwargs would. Or Deathwings. And if either of those come after us
…

It was something he'd rather not think about, but now he had no choice. He was the leader of his own small army. He had to think about everything.

A bright dazzle on the snow ahead — as if the sun had broken through, even though Kellen knew it hadn't — caught his attention. Kellen relaxed fractionally. Shalkan. If there were anything really bad out there, Shalkan wouldn't be cavorting around. He'd be crying
havoc
at the top of his lungs, and Kellen knew from experience just how loud a unicorn could yell.

So they'd have that warning, at least. And the horns could pass messages up and down the line faster than speech — complicated ones, too.

What then?