When he’d healed Jermayan, the Healing Power had hit him like a hammer-blow, leaving him in no doubt of when the healing began and ended. This time it had snuck up on him; apparently he’d been healing Idalia while he thought he’d just been checking the extent of her injuries.
He wondered why the two healings had been so different. Perhaps because Idalia was such an expert Wildmage, and had been able to direct the healing in some fashion? Or was it for some other reason? Did the Wild Magic itself want her healed?
Slowly the green fire faded away, and Kellen waited to hear the price he would have to pay for this healing.
But to his surprise—and faint alarm—there was nothing. No inner voice setting his Mageprice. Only a certainty that somehow the price—even for this—had been paid in advance.
Kellen shook his head. He wasn’t going to argue, and he wasn’t going to complain.
The dome of protection vanished—Kellen was always surprised there wasn’t an audible “pop” when it vanished—its work done. He felt a sudden rush of dizziness and exhaustion, as the price of the Casting caught up with him. He wasn’t going to be good for much for a while—though he could fight if he absolutely had to—and Idalia would be utterly exhausted.
And they still had to get out of here.
He put his gauntlets back on, picked up the burning charcoal, and crushed it quickly into dust. Brushing the mess from his hands, he got to his feet. Idalia was still unconscious, but it was a natural sleep now, not a deathly coma. He’d like to wait here for her to wake—he didn’t relish carrying her out, especially if they ran into more of those creatures on the way—but he didn’t want to stay here one moment more than he had to.
He got to his feet, staggering a little with weakness. He stood for a moment, breathing carefully until his head cleared.
Ancaladar approached carefully.
“Is it over?” the dragon asked cautiously.
“She’s going to be all right,” Kellen said. He wondered if the odd way the healing had gone had anything to do with the dragon’s nearness, and decided not to ask. Ancaladar seemed to be a little touchy about being a living storage battery for Mages, and Kellen didn’t want to suggest he’d tapped the dragon’s power, even accidentally. “Now all we have to do is get out of here.”
“Do you think …” the dragon seemed almost hesitant “ … do you think I could come back with you? I’m tired of living in a cave and chasing deer. And they’ll never stop looking for me now.”
“You’ll have to ask Andoreniel and Ashaniel if you can live in Sentarshadeen,” Kellen said. “I can’t promise that. But I don’t see why you shouldn’t come south with us and see; they’ve added some … unusual citizens to Sentarshadeen lately.”
And if we’re going to have to beware of Deathwings, it would be a good idea to have someone else around who flies.
“Fair enough,” Ancaladar agreed.
The dragon headed off across the cavern, its enormous sable body moving over the boulders like a pool of midnight.
Kellen bent down, scooped up Idalia, and followed.
Halfway across the cavern, she began to rouse.
She reached up and felt his face—or rather, the hood of the tarnkappa—just as if she couldn’t see. Kellen realized with a shock that she couldn’t. He could see, but everything must be pitch-dark to her. He’d gotten so used to Ancaladar being able to see and hear him through the tarnkappa that he’d forgotten he was wearing it. But Idalia wouldn’t be able to either hear or see him—not while he wore the tarnkappa—not that she could see anything down here, at any rate.
“Kellen?” she whispered. He nodded, knowing she could feel the movement.
She relaxed with a sigh, and Kellen knew she was figuring everything out—that he’d found her somehow and healed her with the Wild Magic.
“Put me down,” she said a minute later. “I can walk—and you might need to fight.”
She was right. It was only common sense, even though Kellen knew how tired she must be after such a major healing.
He set her carefully on her feet and led her the rest of the way to where Ancaladar was waiting for them. Their progress was a little slower, now that he had to lead Idalia, but Kellen was tired himself, and didn’t want to risk a fall.
At the foot of the cliff that led to the tunnels, he stopped and pushed back the tarnkappa’s cowl so that he could speak to Idalia.
Instantly the darkness of the cave rushed in. It was like no darkness Kellen had ever experienced in his life: thick and absolute. There was no possibility of seeing anything, no matter how hard you strained your eyes.
For a moment he felt a bolt of panic, then he realized it didn’t matter.
He didn’t need to see.
He knew.
At the House of Sword and Shield, the Knights practiced blind-fighting, for it was always possible that you would be forced to defend or attack at night, in fog, or under other adverse conditions. You learned to have an awareness of where your targets were, to memorize the positions of your own people and keep them in mind. Kellen had learned then that he could not only remember where all the people on his own side were in a fight, but know where they were going to be. In practice sessions, he’d never hit any of his own side. Master Belesharon had said this was a manifestation of the Knight-Mage gift.
So was this, it seemed.
It wasn’t that he could see in the dark. But he’d come this way once, and apparently part of the Knight-Mage gift was to remember terrain perfectly. He wasn’t going to need the tarnkappa to get out of here.
That was going to make things a little easier.
“There’s an, um, dragon here,” he whispered to Idalia. “He’s going to lift both of us up to a tunnel a few yards up the cliff face.”
“I remember the dragon,” Idalia said dryly.
Before Kellen could raise the hood again, he felt Ancaladar’s talons close around his middle, and heard Idalia give a startled squeak. He felt himself swept into the air and deposited, very gently, just inside the cave. He could see Ancaladar’s eyes glowing like dim Elven lanterns, and could tell from their size that the dragon’s head must be very close. He could even feel the dragon’s warm breath. But he could see absolutely nothing.
“Hello,” Idalia said to Ancaladar. “I guess I have you to thank for my rescue.”
“It was my pleasure, Wildmage Idalia,” Ancaladar said gravely.
“Oh,” Kellen said, realizing he’d forgotten to introduce them. “Idalia, this is Ancaladar. Ancaladar, this is my sister Idalia.” It felt very odd making polite introductions in the pitch-darkness when only one of the parties could see the other.
He swept the hood up for just a moment, to see where Idalia was, and led her a little farther into the cave. Then he took off the tarnkappa.
“Why don’t you wear the tarnkappa?” he suggested. “I can get by without it. Oh, and Ancaladar can see you and hear you even while you’re wearing it. I won’t be able to hear you, though.”
“Don’t tell me you can see down here,” Idalia said disbelievingly. Kellen sensed her reaching for the tarnkappa, and pushed it into her hands.
“No, but I don’t need to. I can remember where we’ve been, and I’m pretty sure we’re going back the same way.”
“Yes,” Ancaladar said softly. “It is not the fastest, but it will be sure.”
Idalia put on the cloak. It was a very odd sensation for Kellen. One moment he could sense she was there. The next moment he couldn’t.
There were a few moments of scraping and slithering while Ancaladar turned himself around in the cramped confines of the tunnel, and then they continued. They moved much faster now that Idalia could see, though she still leaned against Kellen from time to time for support. That was probably the strangest part of the whole adventure, because the occasional contacts seemed to come out of nowhere; Kellen had no sense of her presence until he felt her lean against him.
The absolute darkness wore on his nerves,
though his internal map of the cave system was still as reliable as when he’d first discovered it. Now that he couldn’t see, hearing and scent seemed to be magnified to compensate: he could hear a faint dripping of water; something that sounded like a distant river, the constant “breathing” sound of the cave; the faint sound of Ancaladar’s passage over the stone and the louder sounds of his own movements. He could smell wet stone, blood and damp wool, leather and Elven steel and armor-oil, unicorn and horse, and a spicy indefinable scent that he eventually decided must be dragon.
And eventually, he could see light.
It was the faintest hint of light at first—nothing like enough to navigate by. But they were in the last long passage that led to the outside world, and Kellen could smell cold fresh air.
By now Idalia was staggering with exhaustion. Kellen wasn’t feeling much better. All he wanted to do was throw himself down in the nearest snowdrift and sleep for a year or two.
“We’re not going to be able to climb down that cliff,” Kellen said in sudden realization.
“I know,” Ancaladar said gently. “Humans are very fragile.”
Whatever that meant. At the moment, Kellen was too tired to care.
By the time they reached the cave mouth his eyes were watering at the intensity of the light after so long in utter darkness, and he’d pulled up the hood of his travel cloak to try to shield himself a little. He. was faintly surprised to note that from the position of the sun it was only early afternoon. It seemed as if he’d been down in the caves for sennights.
As soon as they’d neared the opening, Idalia had taken off the tarnkappa and bundled it across her shoulders like an over-large towel. She looked pale and exhausted, and there were deep shadows under her eyes. She was filthy with cave dust and dried blood, and her clothes were ragged and torn.
Ancaladar had hurried ahead once he saw the two of them could make it as far as the cave mouth under their own power. He was already outside, only his enormous head poking back into the cave, watching them anxiously as they staggered forward.
Finally they reached the cave mouth. Kellen shivered. He’d managed to forget how cold it was out here.
Once more the dragon reached out and lifted each of them out of the cave and—very gently—deposited them on the snow at the foot of the cliff. Then before either of them could say anything, it launched itself into the sky with a bound.
“Well, I—” Idalia began. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees buckled. She fell forward into the snow.
Kellen lunged for her, feeling for her pulse, but both her breathing and her pulse were steady. She’d simply fainted from exhaustion—and no wonder, after walking who knew how far through the caves right after a major healing? At least he was in better shape than she was.
He looked around warily, but he saw no signs of enemies, and Ancaladar, soaring overhead, gave no sign that he saw anything amiss. Kellen picked up Idalia again—making sure his cloak was wrapped warmly around both of them—and began the long walk back toward the camp.
JERMAYAN and Shalkan met him halfway, and Kellen might have been in for a bad time if he hadn’t had Idalia in his arms. Jermayan immediately took her up before him on Valdien, cradling her tenderly in his arms.
“Is she all right?” the Elven Knight asked, sounding closer to terrified than Kellen had ever heard him before. “Why does she not wake?”
It was a good thing they were operating under War Manners, which allowed Jermayan to ask direct questions. If he’d had to use the normal forms of Elven polite speech, Kellen thought he might have exploded.
“She’s just had a major healing, and had to walk out of the caves on top of it,” Kellen said soothingly, putting his arm over Shalkan’s withers. “She’ll sleep for at least a day, if she can.” And I wish I could. “She’s fine.”
Jermayan held her close, looking unconvinced.
“You were fortunate to have found her,” he said.
Just then, Ancaladar’s shadow swept over them. Jermayan looked up.
Kellen had never seen Jermayan look quite so utterly and completely taken by surprise. It was rather gratifying. “What’s that?” Jermayan sputtered, staring.
“It’s a dragon,” Kellen said, trying to hide a grin. “He’s the one who showed me where Idalia was. His name is Ancaladar. He wants to come home with us.”
He followed me home. Can I keep him?
Jermayan continued to stare in a stunned fashion as Ancaladar swept on over the end of the valley, wheeled, and headed back, soaring higher this time.
“Then … by all means … the dragon must be welcome … in our homes and at our hearths,” he said at last.
“I don’t know about that part,” Kellen said doubtfully. “He isn’t going to fit in my home, anyway, unless he can shrink.”
THEY stopped to collect Idalia’s horse, and then rode out of the valley following the route the rest of the party had taken the night before. Despite Kellen’s tiredness and Idalia’s need for rest, this was not a place any of them wanted to linger. Soon enough the Shadowed Elves would stop searching the caves and nerve themselves to face the punishing daylight. And Kellen didn’t know how many more of them there might be.
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 arri
ved, 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.
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