To Light A Candle ou(tom-2 Page 38

  It only proved, Cilarnen supposed, that the Other Races simply didn’t have the same advantages as the inhabitants of the Golden City, though they did all seem to be enjoying themselves. He felt something that wasn’t exactly homesickness—as this was entirely outside his experience—but he still felt as if he’d lost something that he didn’t have any words for and was only now discovering it. The sensation frightened him.

  But the food was hot and plentiful, and Grander kept encouraging him to eat more, and for the first time since that dreadful night in the cellar when the Stone Golems had come for him and his friends, Cilarnen discovered that he actually had an appetite.

  After what Sarlin had said back in the room, he’d expected to be interrogated about the City and its plans, but to his relief, nobody asked him anything. And tomorrow he and Hyandur would be gone from this disturbing place.

  After the meal was eaten, Hyandur suggested he go off to bed, and Cilarnen was glad enough to get away from the Centaurs to accept the Elf’s suggestion readily, even though it still bothered him when the Elf gave him orders. When he returned to the room, he found that the bath-things had been cleared away, and two large piles of furs and blankets had been carefully laid out on the floor. Not proper beds, but after having slept for so long on the frozen ground, a soft pallet out of the wind and the snow seemed like paradise. Cilarnen chose the one nearest the window, rolled himself up in a couple of blankets, and was instantly asleep.

  He awoke to the sunlight streaming through the slats of the shuttered windows and sat up groggily. He looked around, expecting to find Hyandur still asleep on the other furs.

  But Hyandur was gone—as were his packs and everything he had brought with him.

  Cilarnen’s own City clothes were there—clean and neatly folded. He dressed quickly and ran from the room.

  The first person he encountered was Sarlin. She was working on a piece of embroidery at a large standing frame.

  “Good morrow, Cilarnen,” she greeted him cheerfully, just as if nothing were wrong.

  “I— He— The Elf— Hyandur— Where is he?” Cilarnen gasped out.

  Sarlin looked faintly puzzled. “Why, he left at first light. Grander urged him to stay, of course, but he said he had news to carry that would not wait.” She regarded him for a moment. “Surely you did not expect to go with him?”

  Cilarnen stared at her in shock, realizing that, somewhere deep inside, he’d expected exactly that. “He left me here,” he said flatly.

  “Well, you couldn’t expect him to take you into the Elven Lands, now, could you?” Sarlin said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “But he made sure that you would have a place in Grander’s house. He says you are good with horses. You can work in the stables. He said you won’t know much, but don’t worry, we can teach you. Come spring, you can help with the plowing—and at Spring Fair, if you want to go to another village, why, no one will stop you. What could be fairer? Marlen is even making you a chair. Hyandur said you like chairs.” She smiled encouragingly.

  Cilarnen took a deep breath as his world crumbled around him once more. I can work in the stables. In the spring, I can help with the plowing. He felt like screaming.

  But he was a Volpiril. Even here, even now. His father had taught him that it was important not to make enemies without cause, and to be courteous to one’s inferiors, because they could not help being inferior.

  Of course, Lord Volpiril had not meant those teachings to apply to Lesser Races. But Sarlin could not help being a Centaur.

  “Thank you,” he said, though those were the hardest words he’d ever had to say. His headache was back full force, making it hard to see. He rubbed at his eyes, wishing everything weren’t so bright.

  “Come into the kitchen. I’ll get you a bowl of porridge—I’m sure there’s some left over from breakfast. Then I’ll take you to the Healer—Hyandur said we should do that, too. Then you can go to the stables, and Marlen can get you started on your work.”

  Cilarnen nodded, barely hearing her words. It hardly mattered what these creatures did to him.

  Hyandur had left him here alone. And now he truly knew what that word meant.

  —«♦»—

  AS far as Vestakia could sense, they were no longer even being followed, and that made no sense to Kellen. Why would Shadow Mountain go to so much trouble to kidnap Sandalon and the other children, and then not even try to recapture them? It made no sense at all—and that made Kellen feel as if he was missing something important.

  The storm blew over after a day or two, and the weather cleared again, and after that, everyone could see Ancaladar flying overhead.

  The dragon was an awe-inspiring sight. Kellen never grew tired of watching him as he dipped and swirled through the open sky. He wondered what it would be like to ride upon Ancaladar’s back, to see the world from that great height.

  He also wondered how much a dragon ate. Something that size certainly wouldn’t be satisfied with a goat or two.

  Cows, probably. Lots of cows.

  —«♦»—

  ONCE they were within a few hours of the city, Kellen decided it was safe enough to send messengers ahead to let the city know they were coming, and that the children were safe.

  And that they’d brought a dragon with them. He hoped Andoreniel and Ashaniel would be willing to have him come and live in Sentarshadeen. They’d welcomed Vestakia, after all.

  The caravan was met at the edge of the unicorn meadow by Andoreniel, Ashaniel, and many others, including the parents of the rescued children. The unicorn riders—including Kellen and also Vestakia—waited a little distance away from the main group, watching the joyful reunions of parents and children.

  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 transferred to a small sleigh, and taken off with Vestakia and the two Healers, but Jermayan 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.”