To Light A Candle ou(tom-2 Read online

  Idalia rode in Jermayan’s arms, wrapped in a blanket. As they went on, Kellen told Jermayan everything of what he’d seen in the caverns, particularly about the Shadowed Elves. The more people who knew about them, the better.

  “Idalia mentioned an underground village, but I didn’t see it. They were carrying weapons stolen from the caravan, so they’re definitely the hooded figures I saw in my vision.”

  “Which means they are Their allies. Here—in Elven Lands. Living undetected,” Jermayan said darkly. “Able to pass the land-wards at will. Andoreniel must hear of this without delay.”

  —«♦»—

  THEY rode through the rest of the day, but though they saw traces of the other party’s passage, it had almost a full day’s lead, and they had not caught up to it by the time Jermayan signaled a halt for the night.

  “You are nearly falling from your saddle with exhaustion, Kellen, and Idalia could use better rest as well,” the Elven Knight said, in tones that brooked no argument. “We will certainly catch up to them tomorrow—and travel all the faster for a night’s rest.”

  Kellen reluctantly agreed. Even without Vestakia traveling with them to detect any hint of Demonic presence, Ancaladar’s presence overhead ensured that they were nearly as safe as if they were within Sentarshadeen itself.

  Although now that he knew that creatures such as the Shadowed Elves could roam the Elven Lands at will, Kellen was no longer sure how safe that was.

  Jermayan took most of the work of making camp upon himself, leaving Kellen to sit at Idalia’s side beside the warmth of the brazier. She was awake now, but still very weak.

  “Where’s Ancaladar?” she asked.

  “Flying around overhead, I guess,” Kellen answered. “Unless he’s asleep somewhere. I’m not sure where he’d sleep, though. He’s much too big to perch in a tree, and there aren’t any more caves around here.” At least I hope there aren’t. “Maybe he can sleep on the wing.”

  “I don’t think dragons sleep at all, except when they’re bored,” Idalia said seriously. She shivered, but Kellen could tell it wasn’t from cold. “Thanks for getting me out of there. I mean it.” She sipped her tea.

  “You’d do the same for me. And Ancaladar did all the real work. All I had to do was follow him.” He thought about asking Idalia about the odd way the healing had gone, and decided to wait. It didn’t seem to be an urgent problem that needed to be dealt with right now. “He wants to come and live in Sentarshadeen with us.”

  “Well, that should give the gossips something new to talk about,” Idalia said. “Though if every time you leave, you bring back another odd stray, they might decide to confine you to the valley from now on.” She yawned, her eyelids drooping, and Kellen plucked the teacup from her hand as her fingers relaxed.

  Jermayan arrived, having settled the horses for the night, and stirred the pot of soup that was cooking over the fire. Kellen had already eaten several trail-bars, but was looking forward to hot soup.

  “It will be ready soon,” Jermayan pronounced. “Then you will both eat, and you will sleep.”

  “I think we can all sleep,” Kellen said. “Idalia said that dragons don’t sleep. Ancaladar can keep watch.”

  Jermayan glanced up at the sky. Ancaladar was invisible, save as an enormous shadow that blotted out the stars as he passed between them and the ground.

  “Two sets of eyes are better than one,” the Elven Knight said simply.

  There was no point in arguing with Jermayan, even if Kellen had possessed the energy right now. If there was one thing he had learned during the time he had spent in Sentarshadeen, it was that it was not an easy thing to change an Elf’s mind, once he had made it up.

  Well, if Jermayan wanted to keep watch, let him. No harm could come of it, after all.

  They had to awaken Idalia so that she could eat. Jermayan cradled her in his arms while Kellen helped her hold the bowl. The sight of the two of them together made him faintly uncomfortable, but he put it down to exhaustion. She was asleep again almost before she’d finished, and Jermayan wrapped her tenderly in her blankets again, adding more fuel to the brazier.

  “She must have been badly injured,” he suggested, handing Kellen his own bowl of soup.

  “She was,” Kellen said briefly, bending his head over the bowl to inhale the steam. Jermayan seemed to be waiting for more. “She’d fallen off a cliff.”

  “Ah.” Jermayan was silent for a moment. “I well remember my own weakness after you healed me.”

  “This…” Kellen hesitated for a moment, wondering how much to tell— and how much Jermayan would understand. Jermayan was no Wildmage: uncounted years ago the Elves had sacrificed their part in the Greater Magics for peace and length of years, so their legends told. There were no Elven Mages.

  “This was a much more extensive healing,” he finally said. “And it went differently. She’s going to be fine,” he added quickly, seeing the look of alarm in Jermayan’s dark eyes, “but she’s going to need a lot more rest and recovery time than you did.” He thought of the days after he’d first come to live with Idalia in the Wildwoods, when she’d healed him of injuries sustained fighting the Outlaw Hunt. “Maybe as much as a moonturn.”

  “Then there are two reasons to return to Sentarshadeen as quickly as we may,” Jermayan said consideringly. “Now I think it is best that you sleep as well.”

  —«♦»—

  WHEN he awoke the following morning, Kellen felt fully recovered—whatever gift had been bestowed upon him in the cavern to allow him to heal without Mageprice, it had granted him a quick recovery as well.

  The morning had dawned damp and foggy; clouds had rolled in, shrouding the sun, and the trees were veiled in mist. The temperature had risen slightly, with a bite in the heavy air that promised snow before midday.

  The horses were restless, sensing the coming snowfall, and even Idalia’s placid bay mare, Cella, frisked and played up when it came time to saddle her.

  Idalia was still too weak to ride, so once more Jermayan took her up before him on Valdien and tied Cella’s lead-rein to his saddle.

  They caught up to the rest of the party near midday. As Kellen had expected, it had begun to snow, and visibility was poor, but unicorn senses were keen.

  “They know we’re here,” Shalkan reported, and a few moments later a unicorn-mounted knight came plunging back through the snowdrifts to greet them.

  “Kellen—Shalkan—Jermayan—and Idalia as well!” Bendirean said. “Thank Leaf and Star! We had thought…”

  “That misfortune had befallen us,” Jermayan agreed. “And so it did, but as you see, we have all slipped free from the Shadow’s grasp. We are fortunate to have reached you before you turned off in the direction of the Fortress of the Crowned Horns.”

  “We do not go there,” Bendirean said reluctantly, as if to impart the news pained him. He and Zanaleth turned and began walking along beside Jermayan and the others, at a distance that was comfortable for Zanaleth. “Vestakia says it is too dangerous. We return directly to Sentarshadeen.”

  Too dangerous? That doesn’t sound good, Kellen thought.

  “That is our destination as well, with all possible speed,” Jermayan agreed, as calmly as if he were discussing a new fashion, or the best way to prepare roast par-tridge. “We bring news that Andoreniel must have at once—but we also bring a welcome ally.” He pointed skyward.

  Bendirean looked up.

  As if he could hear them—and for all Kellen knew, he could—Ancaladar chose that moment to make a low pass over them. For a few moments he was plainly visible, even through the veils of snow, then he tilted the end of one vast wing and rose through the clouds again.

  “That was a dragon,” Bendirean said, with what Kellen thought was commendable calm under the circumstances.

  Zanaleth and Shalkan exchanged eloquent—though silent—looks.

  “Yes, Bendirean, that was a dragon,” Jermayan said, his voice faintly unsteady. “His name is Ancaladar,
and he wishes to be our ally.”

  —«♦»—

  THE reunion with the larger party was one marked by great relief on both sides. Sandalon was overjoyed to see Kellen again, bursting into unexpected tears and clinging to him tightly. When Lairamo saw that Idalia was alive—though far from well—Kellen thought she might actually lose her iron composure. As it was, the haggard lines of fear and despair in her face eased markedly.

  Kellen was glad to see that all the children were well—at least in body. The scars of their captivity at the hands of the Shadowed Elves would be long in healing, and Kellen hoped that the Elven Healers would be able to do something to ease them. To his surprise, he found himself thinking with favor about Armethalieh, something he would have been willing to swear would never happen. But the High Mages were skilled in manipulating the mind: wouldn’t it be a good thing if none of the children remembered any of the horrible things that had happened at all?

  Or was this a case of good intentions leading to bad results? Armethalieh as it was now was certainly no paradise, but Morusil, Iletel, and even Idalia had said that the Mages had begun with the best of intentions. And it was wanting to do good that had allowed the Mages bonded to dragons to be corrupted by the Endarkened.

  Fortunately this problem’s solution wasn’t up to him.

  The stop was necessarily brief. While Vestakia did not sense pursuers, she had the sense that there were more of the Shadowed Elves in the area—and if they came in force, or with the same allies who had proved so disastrous to the first party, there might be little Kellen’s people could do to stop them, even though they now had Ancaladar’s help. With Shalkan’s permission, Kellen took Sandalon up before him on his saddle, and they rode on.

  The snow continued to worsen throughout the day, and they finally had to stop a few hours later to make camp. Kellen still felt restless, even though Vestakia didn’t sense any trouble nearby, and decided to ride up the trail a ways to scout ahead for the next day’s travel.

  He unlimbered his bow and kept it ready to hand, shielded by his cloak. His archery wasn’t as strong as his sword-work, but he might get lucky and surprise a rabbit or two. Elven trail-food was both nourishing and palatable, but after more than a sennight of eating nothing else, some fresh meat would be welcome.

  —«♦»—

  KELLEN was a bit surprised at the relief he felt to ride away from the rest of the party. The winter silence seemed to envelop him like a soothing cloak, and the only sound was the hiss of falling snow.

  “I, uh, didn’t ask you if you wanted to come along,” Kellen said after a while.

  “You could hardly go without me,” Shalkan said. “Besides, I thought you’d like to be alone for a while.”

  Kellen was grateful for his friend’s understanding. Since the moment he’d realized that the convoy heading for the Fortress of the Crowned Horns had been attacked, he’d been drawn as tight as a bowstring with tension—first to reach the spot, then to find the missing children, then to rescue Idalia, then to get away safely. And while he knew they hadn’t quite accomplished that yet, they were close. He could relax, at least a little.

  “It’s a real mess, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Having colonies of Shadowed Elves living within the Elven lands, ready to strike at the Nine Cities without warning? I suppose it depends on your definition of ‘mess,’” Shalkan observed.

  “I guess we’re going to have to—Wait. What’s that?”

  There was a sound up ahead. But when he listened for it, it disappeared into the wind and the hiss of falling snow.

  “I don’t hear anything,” Shalkan said, flicking his delicate ears back and forth.

  That wasn’t right. Shalkan’s hearing was much more acute than Kellen’s.

  “Something’s coming. I think something’s coming. I thought I heard it.”

  “You probably sensed it. Knight-Mages know what they need to know. Shall we go see?”

  “Yes,” Kellen said. Shalkan broke into a quick trot. Kellen hoped that whatever it was, it wasn’t more trouble than he could handle.

  But when they reached the source of the disturbance Kellen had sensed, he discovered it wasn’t trouble at all.

  “Kenderk! Tyban! Dervasin!” he greeted the Elves he knew best by name. “I See you. And Calmeren—I am glad to see you so well recovered.”

  “I would not let them come without me,” the unicorn said simply, inclining her head.

  When he’d left Sentarshadeen, it had been with only those he could gather in less than a day, but Andoreniel and Ashaniel had not been sitting idle in his absence. From what Kellen could see here, they had gathered all the rest of the Knights they could call up in haste and sent them after Kellen as soon as possible—and not only warriors, but light supply wagons as well, to carry the extra supplies needed to engage in winter travel.

  “I See you, Kellen Knight-Mage,” Dervasin answered. “One hopes, of course, that the news you have to tell will make good hearing.”

  “The children are safe,” Kellen said, since that was the extent of the good news. “We’ve made camp a way up the trail. I’ll ride back with you. There’s a lot to tell.” And not much of it good news.

  As he led Dervasin’s party back to the others, Kellen provided an abbreviated version of recent events, including the details he now knew of the massacre of the party sent to conduct them to the Elven fortress.

  “The fortress itself is safe, but Vestakia doesn’t think it’s safe to try to approach it. And we need to get Idalia and the children back to Sentarshadeen as soon as possible.”

  “As you say,” Dervasin agreed.

  Even with the snow and the gathering darkness, they were within sight of the camp by now. Kellen and Shalkan rode on ahead to let the others know that the relief party had arrived.

  He wasn’t quite sure Dervasin believed him about the dragon.

  Yet.

  —«♦»—

  THE arrival of supply wagons meant they could make a proper camp, with better shelter for Idalia, Lairamo, and the children. The relief party included several Healers as well, who quickly went off to consult with Evanor, to see if there was more they could do for the children and Idalia before they reached the city.

  And more people meant they were less likely to be attacked… though there had been a substantial guard of Sentarshadeen’s best warriors on the original convoy, and it hadn’t saved them.

  “Why so gloomy?” Shalkan asked a few hours later. “You’ve done what you set out to do. If no one attacked Dervasin’s force on his way to us, we shouldn’t have much trouble getting back to Sentarshadeen. So… we’ve won.”

  Kellen looked at his friend. He was fairly sure the unicorn was just being provoking—though he suspected he was right that they wouldn’t be attacked on the way back to the city. From what Vestakia had said, the enemy forces were only interested in keeping them away from the Crowned Horns.

  “No,” he said slowly. “We haven’t won. This is just the beginning.”

  —«♦»—

  ONE did not prosper in the World Without Sun without knowing the pattern of events almost before they were formed. And Prince Zyperis yearned to prosper. Though he had not known his mother’s plans before she had at last unveiled them to him, once he knew the direction in which her interests lay, it was a simple enough matter to set his own spies—both magical and mundane—to follow the undertaking.

  And so Zyperis knew almost as soon as it happened that Sentarshadeen rode out to rescue what Queen Savilla had taken. He waited, baffled, for her to order the captives removed from the hands of the Goblin Elves, but the cycles of rest and Rising passed, and she did nothing.

  Almost—almost—he seized them himself, and carried them away to a place of greater safety, but he knew that his dearest Mama would see that as a direct challenge to her power, and Zyperis was not ready to attempt that. Nor did he ask her openly about her plans, for to do so would be to reveal his own sources of information. />
  And so he waited, frustrated and confused, as the accursed Elves, the Wild-mages, and—worst of all—his wayward daughter Vestakia forged deep into the Mystral Range, discovering the lair of the Goblin Elves and carrying away the prize.

  And adding unspeakable insult to unthinkable injury, carrying away the dragon as well.

  Zyperis had known a dragon laired and hunted somewhere in the Mystrals. The Endarkened knew the spells to force a Bond between a human Mage and the greatest of the Otherfolk, and could he only have traced the creature to its lair, Zyperis could have sent one of his cringing Mage-men to it and claimed the prize for the Endarkened.

  But now—thanks to Queen Savilla’s maddening inaction—they had lost both Elves and dragon, and it would be long cycles of searching before he could locate another of the rare beasts.