To Light a Candle

by Mercedes Lackey

  The vision faded, and Kellen blinked, seeing only the battlefield once more.

  “What did you see?” Shalkan asked quietly.

  “The battle,” Kellen said simply. “Calmeren was right. Those bat-things—Deathwings—carried the children off … somewhere.”

  “But where?” Jermayan’s voice was tight with frustration.

  “I don’t know,” Kellen said, feeling a moment of utter despair. To come so far, and to fall just short of success …

  “I can find them,” Vestakia said.

  She’d come up behind him while Kellen was watching the past unfold. She’d pushed the hood of her cloak back, and Kellen could see that her face was set with a mixture of horror and determination. If her skin hadn’t been the color of ripe cherries, Kellen would have bet she would have been pale. As it was, she looked as if she might be sick at any moment, and not just from the ugliness of the sight before her. Shalkan said the killing ground reeked of Taint as much as the stench Kellen’s physical senses could perceive, and Vestakia’s gift and curse was that she was peculiarly able to perceive Demonic Taint. And more than any other creature of the Light, she found it debilitating, sickening, perhaps even painful. Kellen didn’t know for certain; she had never elaborated, and he could only guess.

  Shalkan took a step sideways to press his shoulder against her hip.

  “They were taken by Demons—or for Demons,” Vestakia said in a small, determined voice. “They were taken by things like that.” She indicated the Deathwing with a shudder. “I think I can track them.”

  Jermayan regarded Vestakia with warm approval.

  By now the others had gathered around as well.

  “There’s something more you need to know,” Kellen said. “When I saw the battle”—he shrugged, not sure how else to say it—“there were others, helping the coldwarg and the Deathwings. Not giants, and not Endarkened. Figures in cloaks, man-sized. I don’t think I could have seen them clearly even if I’d been there in the flesh. But that means we have another enemy to worry about.”

  “Not Elves!” Trotaliath exclaimed. “Elves would never betray their own to the Enemy!”

  “Men. Yet it would be desirable to know how Men could come so far into our lands without our knowing,” Debamiekel said, eyeing Kellen with disfavor.

  “As well wonder how came the frost-giants, or the ice-trolls, or any of our misfortunes,” Jermayan said grimly. “And we do not know yet that they were Men, Debarniekel.”

  “I guess we’ll find out when we catch them,” Kellen said. He knew from what Vestakia had told him that Demons could change their shape, and appear in almost any form, but he couldn’t imagine why they’d bother to disguise themselves to come here. They couldn’t have expected to be seen, after all.

  And hadn’t the whole point been to have the caravan disappear without a trace? A few more sennights—another big blizzard or two—and there wouldn’t have been any traces at all left for them to find. Only the charred remains of the wagons, if that. The Deathwing would have been completely rotted away.

  “Come on,” he said, turning and walking back toward the waiting mounts. “Vestakia, what do you need us to do?”

  It felt odd to be taking charge and giving orders like this—especially since he was pretty sure he was the youngest one here, Vestakia included—but Idalia had been right. This was his rescue party. He was the leader, and even while it felt odd, it felt right.

  The wind rose while they walked, and the air cleared. All of them breathed easier.

  Vestakia had obviously been thinking as they moved.

  “I think we need to get away from here, to where I can’t feel that … thing. Kellen, you said you ‘saw’ the battle. Which way did the creatures fly?”

  Kellen thought for a moment, then pointed into the sky. “But you know that doesn’t mean anything,” he added conscientiously. “Once they were in the air, they might have circled around, gone in any direction.”

  “I know,” Vestakia said. “But it gives us a place to start, doesn’t it? We’ll get out of range of this, and then I’ll see what I can sense, and we’ll follow it. I know I’ll be able to pick up the trail when we’re clear of that dead thing,” she said, determination in her voice. “They thought going by air would leave no traces to track, but they were wrong. I even think I feel it now, but I want to be sure.”

  They mounted up again and rode away from the battlefield.

  A few minutes later they stopped. The destriers were calm again, and even Kellen felt better, as if an annoying sound just below the threshold of audibility had stopped.

  Vestakia dismounted and walked away from the animals. She paced back and forth for a few minutes. Kellen could see the steam of her breath being whipped away by the wind, and hear the crunch her boots made as they broke through the crust of the hard-frozen snow.

  It all depended on her, and on her using her gifts in a way she’d never used them before. Jermayan was a fine tracker, but there was no physical trail to follow. Idalia might cast a Finding Spell with the Wild Magic, or Kellen might, but for either of them to do that would be to incur Magedebt, and there would be no guarantee that it would work. The Endarkened were powerful magicians, easily able to cast greater spells than any either he or Idalia could summon. They could certainly shield their stronghold, just as they must have shielded the presence of the attackers within the Elven Borders. The one thing they could not conceal was the presence of their magic, and that was what Vestakia could follow.

  After a nerve-wracking interval, Vestakia returned.

  “That way,” she said with certainty. “I’m sorry … I don’t know if it’s the children. But it’s Taint …”

  “And it’s within Elven Borders,” Jermayan finished grimly. “So we must investigate it, and pray that it leads to what we hope to find.”

  SEVERAL times Vestakia stopped to reassure herself they were continuing in the right direction. Kellen was relieved to see that though she seemed to be uncomfortable at sensing the presence of Demon-taint, it was not draining her as badly as it had when she had approached the Black Cairn.

  The trail led them deeper into the mountains, back below the edge of the tree line, where there was more shelter from the wind. Soon, as Vestakia became more assured in following the trail, they became able to move at the fastest prudent speed over the snow, with the unicorns breaking the trail for the heavier destriers.

  It had been noon when they had left the battlefield. The short winter day was drawing to a close by the time they reached their destination.

  And their destination looked exactly like everywhere they had already been; the granite mountain rising up out of the pine forest, cold and silent and forbidding. It was silent here; it had been silent in most of the forest as they had backtracked the trail of the mysterious flyers. Evidently it wasn’t only Vestakia who could sense the Taint; the birds, at least, did not want to be anywhere near where the Deathwings had passed. There should at least be crows, sparrows, something—and there was nothing. Not a sign, not a call. Empty sky, empty trees.

  The snow—waist-deep in some places—had impeded every step. It would have shown the signs of any life, and there were none.

  “There,” Vestakia said, pointing to a cave opening in the rock. “The trail leads in there.”

  It was impossible to tell in the reddish sunset light whether the opening was natural or man-made. The riders had stopped down the slope, near the edge of the trees, and watched it warily, alert for sentries, though there didn’t seem to be any. There were no tracks in the smooth mantle of snow that led up to the narrow dark opening in the stone wall, but it had been snowing heavily and almost steadily in these mountains for the past sennight, and even the meanest outlaws knew enough to use brooms on the snow to conceal their tracks.

  Vestakia looked tired—far wearier than even a day’s hard riding could account for—and pressed her hand to her forehead as if trying to rub away a pounding headache. This close to the source of
the Taint, it was obvious she was feeling its draining effects.

  “We’ll set up camp here,” Kellen decided, gesturing toward the pines. It was closer to the cavern mouth than he liked—and too close for Vestakia’s comfort, he knew—but they were losing the light, and to travel through snow this deep by night would be a bad idea. Besides, they were all cold and tired. They needed hot tea, hot food, and a breathing space to plan their next move.

  The Elves moved beneath the trees, found a clearing, and began setting up camp with quiet efficiency, clearing a space for the braziers and setting snow to melt for tea and soup. Kellen unsaddled Shalkan and gave him a quick rubdown—sweat would quickly turn to ice at this temperature—and then saw to Vestakia’s mount as well. She’d already done more than her share of work today.

  By the time he was finished, the tea was ready. He collected two cups and brought one over to her. She was leaning against a tree at the edge of the clearing, staring broodingly back the way they’d come.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  “Not too,” Vestakia said bravely. “More like a sore tooth than anything else. So it isn’t Demons in there. Just something they’ve touched.” She shuddered. “As if that isn’t bad enough.”

  Kellen held out the steaming cup of tea. Vestakia took it, and sipped.

  “Do you want some of that stuff? I know Idalia brought some. You know, the thing that shuts down your magical senses? That way you wouldn’t be able to feel it,” Kellen offered.

  Vestakia opened her eyes very wide. “Oh, Good Goddess, no!” she exclaimed, almost sputtering. “Kellen, I’d rather feel something a thousand times worse than this than have Them be able to sneak up on me and not know!” She reached out and patted his arm awkwardly. “I’ll be fine. Well, not fine, exactly, but I’ll be all right. It’s those children you should be worrying about. What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m not—” Kellen began.

  “And by Leaf and Star, I say you will not!” Jermayan declared.

  He had not shouted—not quite—but he had certainly spoken loudly enough to catch Kellen’s attention. Kellen’s head whipped around.

  Jermayan and Idalia were facing each other in the center of the clearing. Idalia held a small bundle in her arms.

  “I will,” Idalia said quietly. “It’s the best chance they have. And you know it, Jermayan.”

  Kellen hurried over.

  “Um … what’s going on?” he asked.

  “Your sister has this foolish notion—” Jermayan began.

  “Jermayan thinks—” Idalia shot back.

  “No.” Kellen held up his hand. Both of them stopped, looking at him in surprise. “You’re arguing. I can see that. Arguing wastes time and energy. Let’s find another way.” It was one of Master Belesharon’s favorite sayings. “Idalia, what are you holding?”

  “A … a tarnkappa,” she said reluctantly.

  “And what were you going to do with it?” He had a sinking feeling he already knew, but Master Belesharon always said it was better to know than to guess.

  “I’m going to put it on and go in after the children. I’ll be safe,” she said, sounding defiant.

  “Madness!” Jermayan protested vehemently.

  “It will work! Nothing in there will be able to sense me while I’m wearing it—and I’ve added a spell to this one to give me darksight. I’ll be able to see even if there’s no light. We can’t just go rushing in there—it might be a trap—”

  “Of course it’s a trap!” Jermayan and Kellen said, almost in chorus.

  “Then you see why I have to be the one to spring it,” Idalia said inexorably. “And—with luck and skill—come away with the bait—or at the very least, find out that it isn’t there, so Vestakia can cast about for a fresh trail.”

  “No!” Jermayan said again, a note of desperation in his voice.

  “It’s my tarnkappa,” Idalia said. “I am not only the most expendable member of the party, I’m the logical one to go. If there are any traps of Dark Magic down there, I can sense them and avoid them—can you, Jermayan? And I’m a much better tracker than you are, Kellen. If there’s a trail to be found, I’ll find it.”

  She was right. Kellen realized it even as he hated the fact. It was a trap, so the safest, the most logical thing to do was to send one person to spring it. And the person in the party with the best combination of skills to get into—and out of—the trap alive was Idalia.

  Both Idalia and Jermayan were looking at him. She might go no matter what he said. But they were waiting for his decision.

  “So you can find your way in,” he said. “But how are you going to find your way back?”

  Idalia opened one hand to reveal a thick stick of chalk. “Why, I’ll blazon my way, brother dear, just as I would in an unfamiliar forest. And I’ll use the marks to lead me home again.”

  She’d answered every objection.

  “All right,” he said, feeling suddenly old and weary. “But—” What was he going to say? Be careful? “Don’t take too many chances. If it’s a trap, they might not be there at all.”

  Idalia laughed. “Don’t worry, brother dear. I’m in no hurry to die.” She hugged him quickly, the tarnkappa a bulky softness between them, then turned back to Jermayan.

  Kellen moved quickly away to give the two of them a little privacy.

  “You did well,” Shalkan said, moving up to stand beside him. Even through his armor, Kellen could feel the heat of the unicorn’s body, as if Shalkan carried his own private summer with him.

  Kellen grinned without mirth. “I just pretended I was Master Belesharon. Besides, I knew she’d go anyway, and there was no point to wasting the time that would be spent as she and Jermayan shouted at each other.”

  “Ah,” Shalkan said dryly. “The beginning of wisdom.”

  IDALIA moved over the snow in the direction of the cavern mouth, the tarnkappa wrapped tightly around her. Only the footprints she left in the snow betrayed any hint that someone moved here; while wearing the magical cloak she could not be seen, or heard, or scented.

  She hoped it would be enough to keep her safe once she entered the darkness—both figurative and literal—ahead.

  She was not quite as confident as she had let on to Jermayan and Kellen. Everything that she’d told them was true—she was the logical candidate to explore the trap—but she wasn’t sure that getting in and out again would be as simple as she’d made it sound, especially if that was a natural cave. Idalia had a little bit of experience with natural caves, and knew that they could stretch on for leagues, twisting and turning more elaborately than any Elven-crafted labyrinth. Despite her tracking skills, she might well get lost, and if she needed to cast a spell of the Wild Magic to find her way out …

  It might very well bring the enemy right down on top of her.

  Idalia shrugged beneath the tarnkappa. There was no use borrowing trouble before it came to call. Her life was already forfeit to the Greater Powers. When They chose to claim Their price was Their business.

  Hers was getting the children out of danger. If they were even there.

  When she reached the mouth of the cavern, Idalia pulled the hood of the tarnkappa well forward. She could see through the fabric as if it wasn’t there at all, and through the magic’s aid, everything became sharp and clear, the dim twilight vanishing to be replaced by a bright, clear—though monochromatic—landscape.

  She took a deep breath, touching the long knife at her belt, and stepped inside.

  She walked a few feet down the passage—it was narrow, and except for the levelness of the floor, looked very much like a natural cave—moving carefully and listening intently for sounds from within. Except for the sound of the wind whistling over the cavern opening, she heard nothing, and as she moved deeper into the mountain, even that sound stopped.

  At first the path was simple to follow, for there was only one possible way to go. But soon the passageway opened out. She quickly took the chalk and made a sma
ll arrow, low on the stone, pointing back the way she’d come.

  She stood for a long moment, gazing out into the daybright darkness. Passages opened out to the left and the right, both bearing recent marks of use. The one to the right seemed to have been more heavily trafficked, though, and taking a few steps along it, Idalia could see traces of scrapemarks along the walls, as if something large and heavy had been brought this way fairly recently.

  Good enough. She went to the right, making another mark on the wall to indicate her choice.

  At one point she stopped and lifted her hood. Utter blackness enveloped her, and she could smell no trace of lamp-oil torch-smoke in the air of the cave. Whatever lived here did not need light to move through the darkness. She lowered her hood, relieved to be able to see once more.

  At intervals she paused to mark her way, for if the signs were too far apart there was a danger of missing one. As she moved deeper into the caves, she saw signs that Nature’s work had been improved upon—stone had been crudely cut away, paths had been widened and leveled. All these things were signs, not of a temporary hiding place, or even a carefully-constructed trap, but of a place where something made its home.

  And that should not be—not if what lived here was Dark-tainted enough for Vestakia to be able to track it.

  By now she had penetrated quite far into the cave system, and though she was on the trail of whatever lived here, she wasn’t sure she was any closer to finding the children.

  Suddenly she became aware that there were faint sounds, coming from somewhere ahead—though the direction of sounds could be misleading underground. They were barely louder than her own breathing, but she wasn’t making them.

  Idalia moved faster.

  The path led to the edge of a cliff. Here the cave opened out into the largest space Idalia had yet encountered. Crude stairs were cut into the cliff face, leading down to the space below.

  Below lay a sort of village, and Idalia got her first good look at what must be the mysterious hooded figures that Kellen had described.