To Light a Candle

by Mercedes Lackey

  “I hope Jermayan didn’t eat too much breakfast,” Vestakia said, sounding faintly worried as she stared into the sky.

  Idalia laughed. “Oh, he wouldn’t make that mistake twice! This is hardly the first time they’ve done this. It’s really quite enjoyable”.

  “I don’t think I’d care for it,” Vestakia said firmly.

  Kellen glanced at Idalia curiously. She’d ridden Ancaladar? While he and Jermayan were doing something like that?

  No, he didn’t want to know. There were some things a man was better off not knowing about his sister. About women in general, probably. Geas or no geas.

  “I’m going to go out in the open and see if I can get them to land so I can talk to Jermayan,” Kellen said. “Wish me luck.”

  HE suspected that Ancaladar had seen and recognized him, because the dragon landed before Kellen had gotten very far away from the edge of the encampment.

  Here there was nothing at all to break the force of the wind, and it cut like a knife of pure ice. Kellen was getting pretty tired of winter already, and Idalia said that there was more to come. Moonturns of it, in fact. No wonder it wasn’t allowed to really penetrate Armethalieh’s defenses against weather!

  He bowed to Jermayan as Jermayan vaulted—with the ease of long practice—down from Ancaladar’s back.

  “It would be interesting to know when you learned to fly like that,” Kellen said. “The display was most instructive. And I don’t think you’ll get Vestakia anywhere near Ancaladar, after that.”

  “I would promise to be good,” the dragon said, sounding faintly hurt.

  “I have been practicing,” Jermayan said, obviously pleased. “And it may someday be needful that she ride with us. She is the only one who can tell where the Shadowed Elves lair. If she can do it from the air …”

  Then she could cover the ground very fast—faster than on horseback. And a lot more safely.

  “You’re the one who’s going to have to convince her, not me,” Kellen said, grinning. “Or maybe you can talk Idalia into helping you. She seems to like flying.”

  “Never will she forget that she once had wings of her own,” Jermayan said. “It is a hard loss to bear. I admit I had not thought our display might alarm Vestakia, but Ancaladar thought it best to present himself to everyone at once, so all might know him for what he is immediately. And it is a fine day for flying. The skies are clear, and the winds are relatively calm and steady.”

  “And the sky is blue, and the ground is white, and it’s winter, and sooner or later it’s going to snow again,” Kellen agreed. “And as you know perfectly well, I didn’t come out here to talk about the weather, but to tell you how I spent my morning.”

  Quickly and concisely, Kellen told Jermayan and Ancaladar about Wildmage Atroist, and the increasing frequency of the Demon raids in the Lost Lands.

  “We knew they never stopped raiding there, but lately it’s been getting worse. Atroist says that if they send us any help, they risk stripping themselves of all protection. But we need all the help they can give us.”

  “You have a plan,” Jermayan said, studying Kellen’s face. “Leaf and Star deliver us.”

  Kellen shrugged. It had seemed like a simple plan when he’d come up with it back in Idalia’s tent, and frankly, he couldn’t see any other way of getting the Lost Lands Wildmages on their side. He took a deep breath.

  “Atroist says that he can get them all to come—all the Herdsfolk, with their flocks and herds. If Andoreniel will grant them safe passage through the Elven Lands, they can settle on the other side—in human lands—where They don’t come. Then their Wildmages and fighters will be willing to leave them, knowing they’ll be safe.”

  Jermayan took a deep breath, his whole body rigid with something beyond astonishment.

  Ancaladar began to laugh.

  Jermayan whirled and glared at his friend—Kellen could tell that much from his body language—but Ancaladar simply wouldn’t—or couldn’t—stop laughing. He shook his enormous head from side to side, scraping his chin in the snow, eyes tightly closed in mirth.

  At last Jermayan’s shoulders relaxed. He walked over to the twitching dragon and kicked it—gently—in the ankle.

  “Very well, my friend. I stand rebuked,” he said to Ancaladar. “Who am I, an Elven Mage, to bridle at the thought of humans within our lands when there are Shadowed Elves beneath them? If it will gain us help in an evil hour, it is foolish to cling to outmoded thoughts and old ways.”

  He turned back to Kellen.

  “You did not simply come to tell me this, of course,” he said.

  “I need someone to go back to Sentarshadeen and ask Andoreniel for the safe conduct,” Kellen said. “You and Ancaladar would be fastest, and I think Andoreniel will listen to you. So I thought I’d come and see if you were willing to go.”

  Ancaladar gave a last faint wail of mirth and raised his head from the snow. “Oh, yes. I am willing to go. I want to hear what he says.”

  “I see it is settled, then,” Jermayan said. He sighed. “Kellen … I agree that we need their Wildmages. And no one could expect them to abandon their own people to Them. And it is equally true that the most direct route from the Lost Lands into human realms lies through Elven Lands. But I do wish you had found another way.”

  With that Jermayan turned back to Ancaladar, stepped up into the saddle, and took off into the sky.

  Kellen shook his head. There was something else he was missing here. Probably another ancient Elven tradition that he hadn’t had time to learn.

  But Jermayan was right They couldn’t cling to those now. They had to change.

  Or die.

  JERMAYAN did not return that day, nor was he back by the following morning, when the full army was mustered together on the Gathering Plain, and Kellen saw General Redhelwar, and Rochinuviel, Viceroy of Ondoladeshiron, for the first time. Petariel had told him over morning tea that Redhelwar would be wanting to see both him and Idalia in his tent afterward, as the only ones who had actually seen the enemy up close, in order to plan the actual tactics of the campaign. But this was a purely ceremonial occasion.

  Kellen had to admit that the army was an impressive sight. But the Elven destriers—and probably even the unicorns— would be of no use in the caves, and against a Demon attack in force, even this much of an army wouldn’t survive more than minutes. It would take more than physical might to defeat the Demons. And Kellen was coming to think—after what Atroist had told him—that it would take more than magic, too.

  Some combination of both that he hadn’t figured out yet, he supposed. Or maybe it was just as simple—and as difficult—as keeping the Demons from getting their hands on whatever objective it was that they thought would guarantee them victory.

  Whatever that might be.

  REDHELWAR was a grave and imposing figure in scarlet armor, mounted on a destrier whose coat was nearly the same color. Kellen saw him only from a distance, of course, since he stood with the Unicorn Knights. Kellen tried not to think about the fact that Redhelwar’s experience with real war was as theoretical as his own: the Elves had been at peace since the end of the Great War, and certainly for all of Redhelwar’s lifetime. But despite their heritage of peace, Kellen was coming to realize that the Elves were a warrior race, and he already knew they were master strategists. If they could only be weaned from so much love of Tradition!

  But if Redhelwar did not approach the Unicorn Knights closely, to Kellen’s great surprise, Rochinuviel did.

  The Viceroy of Ondoladeshiron did not wear armor, having instead chosen to don the elaborate jeweled robes of state that Kellen had seen worn in the Council chambers in the House of Leaf and Star. The Viceroy rode a palfrey of dazzling whiteness—not as white as a unicorn, of course, but nearly. When he spoke—a short speech welcoming them to Ondoladeshiron in Andoreniel’s and Ashaniel’s names—Kellen realized that though he’d been automatically thinking of the Viceroy as “he,” Rochinuviel was actually “she,”
not “he.” It had been harder than usual to tell, between courtly jewels, winter furs, and the fact that Rochinuviel was not young and—so Kellen was beginning to find—Elves tended to become more androgynous with age.

  The Vicereign finished her speech of welcome. Petariel’s mount, a white unicorn named Gesade (white seemed to be the most common color among unicorns), thanked her for her kindness to them. Rochinuviel rode away.

  It was all very sedate, and very little like what Kellen had imagined it would be, from the hints he’d gathered around the edges of Master Belesharon’s tales at the House of Sword and Shield. Not that he expected everyone to be enjoying themselves, no, but this was the Mustering of the Army. He’d expected things to be noisier.

  “I’ve heard you’re in trouble,” Shalkan said when Rochinuviel was out of earshot.

  “I am?” Kellen said, startled. His partner had picked a fine time to mention it.

  “You are,” Petariel said, without turning from his position ahead of Kellen. “One hopes you will return from your audience with Redhelwar alive, as your presence is entertaining. One hears, however, that the absence of Jermayan and Ancaladar is because they have gone to Sentarshadeen to negotiate a safe passage through the Elven Lands for the Herdsfolk—all of the Herdsfolk, and their beasts—at your urging.”

  “That’s true,” Kellen said. He saw no reason to deny it.

  “One observes,” Petariel said, and there was a note of amusement in his voice now, “that no word of this reached your Captain—or the General of the Armies—before the event. Now I forgive a Knight-Mage all,” he went on, holding up a hand, “knowing as I do that you are not truly one of us, Kellen, nor precisely under my command. But one wishes to observe that Redhelwar is from Windalorianan, and has not lately been a part of the great events in Sentarshadeen. He will not yet have had the opportunity to become used to the ways of Knight-Mages.”

  Great. In trouble again because I haven’t gone through proper channels.

  “Can we watch?” Gesade asked archly.

  “No, rude one, we may not watch,” Petariel told his mount firmly. “Kellen will explain his reasoning, and his feeling that speed was of vital necessity in making this information known to Andoreniel. He and Jermayan both acted properly, as Wildmages. It is merely that we are not yet reaccustomed to the ways of Wildmages.”

  “I told you that you were in trouble,” Shalkan said.

  “Maybe,” Kellen said. He supposed he was in trouble if Redhelwar wanted to make it trouble, and not if not. And Petariel, in the indirect fashion of Elves, had given him all the clues he needed to smooth matters over, assuming he needed them.

  BUT when he reached Redhelwar’s tent almost an hour later, after the parade was dismissed and he’d unharnessed Shalkan and located where he was supposed to go, he found that Idalia was there before him, and seemed to have taken care of any feather-smoothing that needed doing.

  “I See you, Kellen Knight-Mage.”

  “I See you, Redhelwar, Army’s General.” Titles were rarely used among the Elves, and in the most formal usage, they were placed last. Shalkan had coached him.

  “Be welcome at my hearth. Now come, and tell me everything you know of the enemy we face.”

  Kellen stepped into the tent. It was the same shade of red. as Redhelwar’s armor and surcoat—which would have been unsettling without the bright golden light of the lanterns hung throughout—and large enough to hold a great many people. At the center of the tent was a large table, and pinned to it was a detailed map of the Elven Lands and much of the territory beyond. There was the Eastern Ocean. There was Armethalieh, the Wildwoods, the High Reaches …

  Kellen looked down at it in delight. He’d learned to read maps at the House of Sword and Shield, but this was the largest and most complete map he’d yet seen. This was the world.

  Or at least, if not the world, then a great deal more of it than he had ever seen before.

  There was a small red dot in one place on the map.

  “This is the location of the one enclave of the Shadowed Elves that we know of,” Redhelwar said. “I have asked Idalia to draw as complete a map of the caverns as she can recall, and I will ask the same of you, so that we know all we can of the terrain before we attack. But she tells me you have actually faced the creatures in battle”.

  “Yes,” Kellen said. He concentrated, thinking back. “I got the impression that they were physically not as hardy as we are; but if they have Goblin blood, their fangs or claws might carry poison …”

  For the next two hours, Redhelwar questioned Kellen and Idalia closely about their experiences in the caves. Then the noonday meal arrived, and with it Vestakia, escorted by members of Redhelwar’s personal staff.

  Kellen still had trouble reading the expressions of Elves when they didn’t want them read. But he thought these two looked … confused.

  “Ah,” Redhelwar said, getting to his feet—the three of them had been sitting around the map table—and going over to Vestakia. “Here is the savior of the children of Sentarshadeen, the woman who helped Kellen Wildmage destroy the Barrier that had plunged the Elven Lands into drought. Be welcome, Vestakia, at my hearth.” He took her arm and ushered her into the tent.

  Kellen glanced at Idalia. Idalia smirked. It was pretty obvious that that little show hadn’t been for Vestakia’s benefit, but for her escort’s, and it would be all over the camp within minutes, to good effect. If Vestakia had been having any trouble up until now, it had just been thoroughly and effectively quashed. Out here, you couldn’t get patronage with more clout than that of the Commander of the Army.

  Vestakia’s escort left, and the service staff set out lunch—bread, soup, and roast fowl—on a second table.

  “Thank you,” Vestakia said, looking up at him shyly. “I hope my presence hasn’t caused any—trouble.”

  “I will not have trouble in my army,” Redhelwar said firmly. “And you are our greatest asset in this war. Besides,” he added with a faint smile, “no one could doubt one for whom the unicorns have vouched. I was once a Unicorn Knight myself. They would not thank me for doubting them now, and their tongues are as sharp as their horns when they are annoyed. Now come. Eat. I have many questions for you.”

  Redhelwar said questions, and he meant exactly that, for this was an army in the field. After the meal was cleared away, he questioned Vestakia until he knew as well as she did the extent and range of her abilities and how they worked.

  “It is a pity there is only one of you,” he said when he was satisfied, “for we could surely use more. Idalia does not think her magics will be of use in detecting the lairs of the Shadowed Elves.”

  “I can try, of course,” Idalia said. “I’ll ask Atroist to try, too. His powers may have more of an affinity for this sort of work, since the Lostlanders defend against Dark Magic all the time.”

  “It will take four days to prepare the army to march. See what you can do in that time,” Redhelwar said. “Meanwhile, take my thanks for all the help you have given me; it is invaluable, for foreknowledge of the enemy is as important as any weapon.”

  It was a dismissal, and they took it as such.

  OUTSIDE, Kellen began walking Idalia and Vestakia back to their pavilion.

  “Shalkan told me I might be in trouble,” he said to Idalia, “but I didn’t see any sign of it. I guess I’ve got you to thank for that?”

  “You certainly do,” Idalia said roundly. “If Redhelwar weren’t reasonable—and you weren’t a Knight-Mage—you would have been in real deep trouble.” She shook her head with chagrin. “It’s as much my fault as yours. I was so concerned about the safety of the Herdingfolk that I didn’t even think of that at the time.”

  “Military chain of command. You and I were both thinking like civilians. Petariel says that Wildmages are outside it, technically, which means Jermayan won’t be in for any trouble either”—he sighed—“but he and I both have to fight as part of the army, so we’ve got to figure out a way to fit
in, and I guess that starts with not stepping on any more toes than necessary. Which means I should have told Redhelwar what I was going to do.”

  “If not exactly asked him for permission,” Idalia agreed. “Just so you know, while he’s not thrilled with the Herdingfolk coming through Elven Lands, he agrees that if that’s the only way to gain the help of the Lost Lands Wildmages, it’s the best of our available choices.”

  BUT when Jermayan and Ancaladar finally returned, a little before dusk, it was apparent that not everyone shared Redhelwar’s pragmatic outlook on matters.

  “The Council … debates,” Jermayan said wearily.

  The four friends were seated around the table in Idalia’s pavilion, sharing tea and the contents of a hamper of delicacies that Jermayan had brought from Sentarshadeen. Idalia had already set aside some of the sweet cakes for Kellen to share with Shalkan later.

  Kellen took a deep breath. Jermayan raised a minatory hand.

  “This time they will not be hurried. You have pushed them a great deal in recent sennights, and preparing for war has taxed their sensibilities to the utmost. This newest matter is the gust of wind that lays bare the tree, and if there is to be any hope of matters going as you would wish it, they must go slowly.”

  “But Andoreniel—” Kellen said.

  “Sees the wisdom in your plan,” Jermayan said soothingly. “As does Ashaniel. As does Morusil, and even Belesharon, and believe me, his word carries great weight these and others speak as your advocates. But the matter must be thoroughly discussed to be sure that all aspects of the situation are seen.”

  Which means that there will probably be Demons walking the streets of Armethalieh before they come to a decision! Kellen thought uncharitably.

  “I am sure that Atroist is anxious for word,” Idalia suggested.

  “I do not expect it will take more than a moonturn for the Council to provide Andoreniel with the fruits of its deliberations in full, and to provide its own solutions for the problems that it raises. Morusil has made the argument that in leaving the Lostlanders available for Them to prey upon, we are allowing the Enemy a source of strength and provision which it would be well to deny to Them. I believe that line of reasoning will influence the Council in the end. Meanwhile, we have battles of our own to fight.”