When Darkness Falls

by Mercedes Lackey

  Kellen shook his head slowly. “I made too many mistakes. I can’t think of anything I could have done differently, but…” He stopped. “I sent Keirasti back over the Mystrals with a message for Redhelwar. Jermayan—”

  “I have already brought her and her message before the Army’s General, and returned her to her command. She asks me to tell you she will be with you soon.”

  Kellen smiled at that. “I just bet she will.”

  “It would please me greatly to know what news she carried that was of such urgency,” Jermayan said.

  Kellen looked around. “I don’t see Ancaladar.”

  “He is there.” Jermayan pointed in the direction of the clearing where he had left the dragon.

  “Let’s go.”

  Kellen paused to give last orders to a few of his commanders, then mounted Firareth, and the two of them rode off toward Ancaladar’s clearing. When the two of them were out of sight of the cavernmouth, Kellen spoke again.

  “When we were at Ondoladeshiron, I had an audience with Rochinuviel. She’d had a private message from Sentarshadeen just after you left. There’s plague in Sentarshadeen, and Andoreniel is very ill. Too ill to give orders. She didn’t think a messenger had been sent to Redhelwar, and even if one had, nothing was getting through the pass. There was a Shadewalker.”

  Jermayan barely heard the rest of Kellen’s words.

  “The King is ill?” he asked, with blunt rudeness.

  “I don’t know what will happen to the army if Andoreniel can’t give it orders,” Kellen said, sounding as close to despair as Jermayan had ever heard him. “I asked Redhelwar to move the army to Ondoladeshiron, but … I don’t know if he will.”

  “He is doing it now,” Jermayan said. “Though to move an army across the mountains in the depths of winter is no quick matter.”

  “DON’T I know it,” Kellen said.

  A combination of uneasiness and relief filled him. He knew it was the right thing to do, but having Redhelwar take his advice … well, that only meant that he’d have to figure out what to do once the army had reached Ondoladeshiron, that was all.

  “This speaks to why you moved in such haste to reach Halacira,” Jermayan went on. “Sentarshadeen was your true destination.”

  “I wanted to see for myself what was going on there—and help Andoreniel, if I could. And I thought I might be able to send back Unicorn Scouts to the army. Even with Keirasti’s head-start, they’d still get there faster than she would.”

  “But now that need not be done,” Jermayan observed. “And there is news from Ysterialpoerin that you do not know, for much has changed since you left.”

  By now they had reached the clearing where Ancaladar waited.

  The dragon’s radiant heat—though Ancaladar swore he had no control over the magic for which he was such a mighty reservoir of power, he did seem to be able to control the amount of heat he radiated—had melted the snow around him in a wide circle, and steam rose from the bare ground in plumes. Kellen dismounted and moved forward gratefully into Ancaladar’s pocket-summer.

  “Kellen,” the black dragon greeted him. “I am glad to see you safe. We were worried about you.”

  “Not as worried as I was about me,” Kellen said fervently.

  “There is bad news, Bonded,” Jermayan said. Quickly he related what Kellen had told him.

  “Bad news indeed,” Ancaladar said, stretching out his long neck so that Jermayan could rub the sensitive skin beneath the hinge of his jaw. “Perhaps you can Heal him. But there is good news as well. The people of the Northern Cities are safe among the trees of Ysterialpoerin. Further, Cilarnen has discovered a source of power, and masters the spells of the High Magick.”

  “It worked?” Kellen asked.

  “It did indeed,” the dragon agreed. “Without Cilarnen’s spells, we would not have found Keirasti. He recognized her horses, you see.”

  It was the first remotely funny thing Kellen had heard in far too long, and he laughed. Cilarnen could honestly not tell one Elf from another, but oh, horses were an entirely different matter… .

  “But why were you looking for Keirasti?”

  “In truth, we were looking for you,” Jermayan said, “because Vestakia had received visions of a cavern of xaique-pieces, and when she told me what the Crystal Spiders had shown her, I thought to warn you against the Caverns of Halacira. But the High Magick and the Wild Magic do not marry well together, and Cilarnen could not see you. His Far-Seeing spells can only seek out what he knows, and so they showed him Keirasti’s horses. When I went to her, she demanded to be taken to Redhelwar at once. Both she and I thought you still some days from the caverns. I thought there was time.”

  Kellen put a hand gently on his friend’s shoulder. “Jermayan, it wouldn’t have made any difference. In fact, if I’d had warning, it might have made matters worse. I went down into Halacira expecting, well, some kind of trouble, because we’d seen Taint there before, when you and I rode in search of the Black Cairn. If I’d known that the Shadowed Elves had an Enclave there, I might have chosen different tactics. And … I think the tactics I chose were the best ones for the situation.”

  Even as he said it, and hard as it was to say, Kellen knew it was true. He’d fought a battle in the Caverns of Halacira, and in every battle there were deaths. If he was too cautious, refusing to fight in case some of his troops might die, he would never be able to win a battle.

  It was another lesson, and a hard one.

  “The Wild Magic goes as it wills,” Jermayan said. “It would be good to know what you propose to do now.”

  “I need to be sure the caverns are clear. For that I need Vestakia. I need to get to Sentarshadeen and see if anything can be done for Andoreniel, and Idalia is the best Healer I know. And Cilarnen … maybe the High Magick can do something where we can’t.”

  “Then tomorrow I will bring them to you,” Ancaladar said. “Along with the many things that Cilarnen will swear that he needs to be of help. I have become quite resigned to being a pack animal in the last few moonturns, I promise you.” The dragon snorted gustily. “But I am hungry.”

  “That I can take care of,” Kellen said. “We were going to slaughter one of the teams of oxen tonight. We need the fresh meat, and we’re running low on fodder anyway.”

  THE next morning, as Kellen’s encampment began the sadly-familiar process of recovering from a battle, Ancaladar took wing northward again.

  Along the way they sighted Keirasti’s troop far below. Ancaladar soared above them as Jermayan used a spell to cast his voice down to her, telling her that Kellen had already met his enemy at the Caverns of Halacira, and that he had prevailed.

  He saw her brandish her sword at him in salute and acknowledgment, standing high in her stirrups, and they flew on.

  AS they flew over the camp at Ysterialpoerin, it was already obvious that it would be moving very soon. Rows of wagon, still without teams, stood in lines of array, slowly taking on loads. Several streets of tents were already gone. The outlying herds were being brought into a semblance of order.

  “I shall miss this.” Ancaladar sighed, as he settled into his ice-pavilion once more and rested his jaw on his forelegs.

  “I believe that within a day or two at most, you will be back in your canyon in the meadows beyond the House of Sword and Shield,” Jermayan said. “I am certain Kellen intends to go there as soon as he feels he may leave Halacira safely.”

  “No one may know what the future holds,” Ancaladar said somberly. “Not even Mages.”

  IDALIA had left Valdien at his accustomed stabling with food and water for several days—though it was unlikely in the extreme, Jermayan thought, that she did not intend to visit every night to make certain of the destrier’s comfort. Having unsaddled Ancaladar, he immediately saddled Valdien and rode down toward the camp.

  The weather was starting to turn for the worse. In less than a sennight it would be Midwinter, and after that, if the weather ran at all true to pr
evious years, the really hard part of the winter would begin, the weather getting bleaker and more foul until Kindling, the point that marked the halfway point between winter and spring. In some years, Kindling had marked when the very first snow-flowers appeared in the Unicorn Meadow. Jermayan did not think that would be the case this year.

  JERMAYAN went first to Redhelwar to report on what he had learned at Halacira. Despite everything, the news he brought was good, and Redhelwar agreed that Vestakia, Cilarnen, and Idalia should accompany Jermayan back to the Caverns, and then on to Sentarshadeen to provide what assistance they could to Andoreniel.

  Having Redhelwar’s blessing, Jermayan had next gone to the Artificers, for if Ancaladar must carry three in addition to his rider, plus the working equipment of a High Mage, the carrying-baskets and harness that Jermayan had used so many times before would be needed. Mirqualirel, who had ascended to the post of Chief Armorer for the army now that Artenel had departed with Kellen, promised Jermayan that the items he required would be but the work of a few hours, and that Ancaladar would certainly be ready to fly again before nightfall.

  Jermayan vowed that this would be the last time his patient friend would be called upon to do something he disliked so very much, but at the moment he could see no other way to get the others there as quickly as Kellen needed.

  With the rest of his preparations made, he went to seek out Idalia.

  Healer’s Row had become a scene of controlled chaos. Though the Healers knew their duty lay with the army, it could not be denied that there was work aplenty for them in Ysterialpoerin and the Forest City that had grown up around it, and in the sennights that had passed, many of the Healers had become very attached to those people in the tent-city whom they had labored to save from the ravages of cold-sickness and plague.

  Now, on the eve of their departure, the Healers struggled to be everywhere at once, and to pack for the journey as well. The complicated mechanisms of brewing and distilling that had been set up to take advantage of the long sennights of a permanent camp must be taken down and carefully packed away against the day when they could be set up once more.

  Remedies must be decocted into unbreakable containers and carefully labeled, as the next person who reached for them might not have a full Healer’s training. Field aid kits must be prepared, and those that had been used must be restocked against need. There were a thousand tasks to perform before the moment Redhelwar gave the order to march.

  Jermayan moved carefully among the hurrying bodies until he spotted the flash of Vestakia’s scarlet skin. She was helping to take down one of the large Healing pavilions—with their double walls for added warmth, and many inner partitions, this was a complicated process, and must be overseen carefully, so that the pavilion could be erected quickly—either at a new campsite, or—Leaf and Star avert—in the middle of some disaster so that the injured could be quickly and safely seen to.

  Once the great mass of cloth lay flat upon the ground, and the others moved in to begin folding it into a tiny parcel so that it could be placed upon one of the wagon, he moved in to touch her arm. She spun around, obviously having had no idea he was near.

  “Jermayan!” she gasped. Her whole face was a question.

  Even after another day’s rest and care, the marks of strain and exhaustion were still clear on her fine-boned features. This was something more than the effect of days and nights of trying to talk to the Crystal Spiders, Jermayan sensed.

  “I rejoice to tell you that Kellen is alive and well,” he said quickly. “The casualties at Halacira were light, for the Wild Magic guided his hand.”

  She frowned as the sense of his words reached her.

  “Then … he has already reached Halacira.”

  “And the battle has been fought, and we have been victorious. Do not think that your warning has been in vain, for without it we would not have attempted to search him out, and would not have brought Keirasti back to deliver her message to Redhelwar—nor would I have gone on to speak to Kellen. It has all worked out for the best, even though the results have not been … quite as we expected.”

  Vestakia grimaced, but her worried gaze did not leave his face.

  “And as the Crystal Spiders showed you, the Shadowed Elves were indeed there. Though Kellen believes the Shadowed Elves are no more, to be certain, he wishes you to come to him.”

  “But of course I will! Did he think I wouldn’t?” she demanded indignantly. “I just have to tell Idalia that I’m going.”

  “Indeed you do not,” Jermayan said. “He has asked for Idalia as well—and Cilarnen, too. I am to bring all three of you as fast as I can.”

  Vestakia’s lips formed a silent “o,” beginning a question that she steeled herself not to ask.

  “Well!” she said instead. “I am not certain that Ancaladar will ever forgive you for making him carry such a heavy load—for I do not think you will get Cilarnen to accompany you if you ask him to leave even one book or brazier behind.”

  “I must ask him if they are all entirely necessary,” Jermayan said, “or if some of his supplies may be sent with the army. But first, I must find Idalia and see if she will consent to accompany us.”

  “But of course she will!” Vestakia said. “Oh, Jermayan, I am so glad I said my goodbyes to the Crystal Spiders this morning! I would hate to simply have left them without thanking them for all their hard work. And I am certain they are glad that they have their caves back at last.”

  Jermayan only hoped that the Crystal Spiders that had been at Halacira had survived the deluge that had nearly drowned the army there, but saw no reason to tell Vestakia about that now. She would discover the full details of that battle soon enough.

  “Then we will find Idalia,” Jermayan said, taking her arm. “And hope she does not slay both of us for our presumption in hoping to remove her when there is so much work to be done here.”

  IDALIA instantly guessed from their faces that the news was good.

  “Oh, Idalia—Kellen has already fought the Shadowed Elves—and he has won!” Vestakia cried in relief. She ran across the tent to Idalia and flung her arms around the taller woman’s neck.

  Idalia was standing in the tent where the Healers kept their stores. Trunks and baskets of supplies stood everywhere, with half-empty shelves a mute testimony to what she had been doing when Vestakia interrupted her.

  She hugged Vestakia in return, then placed her hands on her hips and regarded Jermayan.

  “He must have had some excellent reason for shaving half a sennight off the time between Ondoladeshiron to Halacira—and in this season,” she said.

  “And he looks forward to telling you what it is,” Jermayan agreed. He had no intention of spreading the news about Andoreniel about the camp here, even if it had been his secret to tell. “He has asked me to bring you—and Vestakia, and Cilarnen—to the camp at Halacira as soon as I can. Mirqualirel is having carrying-baskets made, so you will be able to bring more than your clothes, though not a great deal, apparently. Vestakia tells me that the High Magick requires many … objects.”

  IDALIA shook her head, torn between the vast burden of work she would have to leave undone here, and the certain knowledge that Kellen would not have asked her to come if his need of her were not great. It was plain that Jermayan now knew the full content of whatever message Keirasti had brought—but Elves’ ears were sharp, and he certainly wouldn’t blurt it out in the middle of the camp. Not when Keirasti had gone to such agonizing lengths to keep it secret.

  “He has not yet told Cilarnen that he must leave his precious library and all his toys and fly over the mountain, has he?” she said to Vestakia, nodding toward Jermayan.

  She saw Vestakia’s face light with a flash of inner mischief, and rejoiced inwardly. Since Kellen had left, and Vestakia had taken on the burden of trying to discover the location of the Shadowed Elves, Vestakia had been wearing herself down to nothing but a haggard shadow of her normal self. Now, at least, that was over.

&nb
sp; Though apparently they now faced an even more appalling problem.

  “He has not,” Vestakia agreed. “I think he hoped you would help.”

  “I suppose I must,” Idalia said, with an exaggerated and very theatrical sigh, the behavior assumed for Vestakia’s benefit. “Elves are very timid creatures, you know. Timid, and … shy.”

  CILARNEN stared at the three of them as if they’d all gone mad.

  The ice-golem had not appeared this time as they rode up to the mirror-pavilion, and Idalia could only assume that he’d already disenchanted it. If he’d had more than one, disenchanting all of them might take a lot of work, nor could he leave his protective wards standing in place. Those without any trace of magic might never notice them, but for Elementals and the many Brightfolk races that made their homes in the Elvenlands, Cilarnen’s wards might as well have been stone walls. Depending on how they were constructed, innocent creatures of magic might become trapped within them and die. So he must remove them all, and Idalia suspected it might be a long process.

  It certainly explained why he was not farther along in his packing.

  An entire half-wagon had been reserved for Cilarnen’s use. He would need all of it, between his pavilion itself and all of the equipment he had collected. So far it stood completely empty, though with Kardus and the driver’s help he’d gotten as far as removing all of the trunks from its bed.

  “Leave?” he said. “Now? With Ancaladar? But… Ancaladar can’t carry all this!”

  “Kellen wouldn’t have asked for you if it wasn’t important,” Idalia said gently. Vestakia had gotten another good night’s rest, but it was clear that Cilarnen hadn’t. He’d told her he’d rest better behind his own wards and shields, but it was plain that the moment he’d heard that the army was to move, he’d begin dismantling his temple, working through the night.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “How much can I take?”