The Obsidian Mountain Trilogy

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Oh yes, very simple,” Kellen agreed ironically. “I hope to speak with Rochinuviel while I’m here, if that can be arranged.”

  “I can ask if she is willing. Artenel already has a long list of items that he wishes to acquire, so you would need to send someone to the message-cairn in any event.”

  Redhelwar had been unable to spare Rulorwen to send with Kellen, since the Master Engineer’s skills would certainly be needed to get the bulk of the army over the Mystrals. But the Chief Artificer possessed many of the same skills, and in company with several of Rulorwen’s most promising apprentices, should be able to do everything necessary at Halacira.

  “I’ll go myself,” Kellen decided. “If it’s between here and the city, it isn’t far, and if I take Shalkan, we can outrun anything we can’t outfight. And I should be able to sense trouble, which would be a good thing to know about anyway. Naturally, I expect you to let me know if you don’t think this is a good idea.”

  Isinwen bowed. “If I did not, Kellen, Shalkan certainly would. But as you say, we are near the city, and Rochinuviel says it has been quiet here. I shall see what else we need to replace, and I should have the tally for you sometime tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Kellen said, bowing in return. “That’s certainly soon enough. And now, I believe there was a gan board included among the fresh supplies, and I believe Nironoshan has challenged you to a match. For myself, I shall merely watch, and learn.”

  COMPARED to the weather on the other side of the Mystrals—and in them—the temperatures here on the Gathering Plain were almost what Kellen was prepared to consider balmy, though he was also sure he’d quickly get tired of the wind that never seemed to stop blowing. He supposed if you had wings, though, you’d like a lot of wind; he remembered that Ondoladeshiron was where Idalia had come to when she’d transformed from a Silver Eagle back into a human. He glanced up at the mountain peaks, wondering if there were any Silver Eagles left.

  Catching the direction of his thoughts, he firmly banished the speculation. He was going to enjoy the day as much as he could—the weather was clear, the sky was actually blue, and it was a grand day for a ride.

  Despite the fact that he’d gone off to bed long before Isinwen and Nironoshan had finished their game of gan—games could take hours, even days, to play out, and both Knights were master players—by the time he’d awakened in the morning, the list he’d asked for was nearly complete. In addition to Artenel’s mysterious list of requirements, the Wildmages and the other Healers were running low on supplies as well. Nothing absolutely vital, as he understood it, but it would all be nice to have.

  The morning had been spent in meeting with his subcommanders—Artenel, who had assured him cheerfully that in a day or so, he could have bathing facilities set up, as well as a sheltered cooking area—Anindetiel the horsemaster and Thinelel the wagonmaster, who reported on the health of their respective charges—Wirance, who promised him detailed information about the weather as soon as possible—and several others. When Isinwen had presented him with the supply list, Kellen had told him that they would stay at Ondoladeshiron for a full sennight.

  He didn’t want to lose the time, but the horses and oxen had been pushed hard over the mountains, and deserved a full rest before they went on. Wagons and gear needed mending. And from here, Kellen could send scouts to cover a good distance of the trail ahead, which would save time later. South of the Ondoladeshiron plain, they descended into forest, and while there was a broad high road through it—which should make moving the wagons a simple matter—the storms of winter might have felled trees or created other obstacles which they’d have to move.

  It was best to be prepared.

  And for now, having spent his morning making decisions and giving orders, he had nothing to do with his afternoon beyond riding over to the rendezvous point at Ondoladeshiron with Shalkan and leaving the scroll with the list of the army’s needs. Fortunately, the unicorn’s armor hadn’t been in one of the wagons they’d lost. He was sure he’d never have heard the end of it.

  “YOU should add honey-cakes to that list,” Shalkan said musingly, as Kellen swung into the saddle. “People like honey-cakes.”

  Kellen laughed. “It was the first thing I wrote down,” he assured the unicorn. “I’m sure Rochinuviel will be able to find some for you.”

  “Firareth likes them too,” Shalkan said piously. “I’m not just thinking of myself, you know.”

  “Certainly not,” Kellen agreed, as the unicorn trotted off. “I hadn’t thought so for a minute.”

  Honey-cakes would be nice, he thought. And pancakes with jam, and fresh butter. Milk. And proper tea, brewed strong and hot. “We’ll see what they have.”

  In only a few moments, they were well beyond the perimeter of the camp. It was quiet out here, Kellen realized with a sense of peaceful discovery. Shalkan’s hooves made no sound at all as the unicorn trotted over the surface of the snow, and the bustle and constant noise of the army was far behind him. For the first time in sennights nobody needed anything from him. There were no decisions to make. He could just be.

  “You needed a rest,” Shalkan observed, after they’d ridden along in silence for several minutes. “You were worrying too much.”

  “I hope it didn’t show.” Redhelwar never seemed to worry—the only time Kellen had seen the Elven General truly off-balance was when Kellen had brought him the news that the Shadowed Elves had turned their caverns into a death-trap for the army.

  “Not much. I suppose people would rather have their commander worrying about things than taking everything too calmly. But they trust you. You’re Kellen Knight-Mage, you know,” Shalkan said.

  As if I need reminding. Kellen made a rude noise. “I’m seventeen, and half a year ago I’d never held a sword in my hand in my entire life. And when I think about it that way, it seems like any moment I’m going to wake up in Idalia’s cabin back in the Wildwood, and all of this is just going to have been a crazy dream.”

  “If you’d known this was where you’d end up, doing this, would you have left the City?” Shalkan asked, his tone idle.

  “That’s a dumb question!” Kellen burst out, stung. “I mean, yes, of course I would. Hell, I’d probably have left earlier. This is what I’m good at. It’s what I’m supposed to be doing. And … it needs to be done. And there’s nobody else.”

  “Good,” the unicorn said, sounding satisfied. “Just remember that when you worry about not being good enough, or getting things wrong.”

  “Everybody gets things wrong sometimes,” Kellen protested automatically. But his heart wasn’t in it. He’d known before he started that it didn’t matter if he was seventeen and had barely discovered his life’s purpose, that to get done what the Wild Magic needed him to do he had to be good enough. And to get the Elves to see that, he had to be right—not some of the time, but all of the time. He couldn’t afford mistakes. The people depending on him couldn’t afford his mistakes.

  It was a heavy burden to carry, all the more because most of the time he didn’t think about it at all. He just did what he had to do.

  And I’ll keep doing it for as long as it takes. I just have to remember that I’m not alone. I have the Wild Magic to rely on. It made me a Knight-Mage. It won’t let me fail.

  “Come on,” Kellen said aloud. “Is this as fast as you can go? I could walk to Ondoladeshiron faster.”

  “Well,” Shalkan drawled, flicking his ears back, “since you ask so nicely …”

  Kellen barely had a moment to gather himself before the unicorn was off, bounding at top speed across the snow.

  UNICORNS didn’t gallop like horses, they bounded like deer, and a unicorn’s top speed was very fast indeed. The wind whipped through every slit in Kellen’s helmet, blasting his skin like liquid ice, and his Coldwarg-fur cloak streamed out behind him as if it were made of nothing more substantial than thin silk. He laughed aloud for the sheer joy of it.

  But too soon the run was over. Ahea
d he saw what looked like nothing more than a natural outcropping of stone and scattered boulders—the city of Ondoladeshiron, hidden in plain sight by Elven artifice that was, to Kellen, far more wonderful than simple magic. Beyond the stones—even knowing that they were really houses, he could not make himself see them as such—Kellen could see the dark green of Ondoladeshiron’s Flower Forest. The trees at its outer edge were snow-crusted, but still flourishing.

  Shalkan slowed to a trot, then a walk, but didn’t stop.

  “Aren’t we almost at the city?” Kellen asked. “I thought Rochinuviel said we weren’t supposed to go into the city.”

  “The city has become appreciably smaller,” Shalkan said, stretching out his long neck and sniffing the air. “The Elves that are still here have moved closer to the Flower Forest. These houses are deserted now.”

  Kellen wondered how he knew; Keirasti hadn’t mentioned that, and she would have told him if she’d known. But he’d long since resigned himself to the fact that Shalkan—all the unicorns, in fact—simply had sources of information of their own.

  “And we have company,” Shalkan said. “Someone is waiting at the rendezvous for us.”

  When they came closer, Kellen could see a banner on a pole set outside of one of the houses—that must be what marked it as the rendezvous, but it was obviously much more than that. A design flashed on its surface, silver on white—the same design as on one of the banners that hung in Andoreniel’s Council Chamber.

  “Huh,” Kellen said. “The Vicereign came herself? How did she know I’d be the one to come?”

  “Maybe it was a lucky guess,” Shalkan said. “Maybe when you get to be as old as Rochinuviel some things aren’t hard to predict.”

  WHEN Kellen reached the place where the banner stood, a door opened in the side of what looked like a tumble of snow-covered stone. Suddenly Kellen’s perceptions shifted, and what had seemed to be only a pile of rock a moment before was now—obviously—a house.

  And Rochinuviel herself was standing in the doorway. The Vicereign of Ondoladeshiron looked very much as she had the last time Kellen had seen her—a graceful, androgynous figure dressed in white, her furs and jewels as elaborate as if she sat in her own Council Chamber. But unlike Ashaniel, whose Elven beauty had dazzled him from the first moment he’d seen her, there was something so remote and unyielding about Rochinuviel that she made him think of a piece of sculpture crafted by some unknown race that had absolutely nothing in common with humans.

  “I See you, Kellen Knight-Mage. Be welcome at this hearth. We will drink tea,” Rochinuviel said.

  “I See you, Rochinuviel, Voice of Andoreniel,” Kellen said, dismounting. “I am welcomed.”

  To Kellen’s faint surprise, Shalkan followed him inside, as if it were expected. He remembered that at the Mustering of the Armies, Rochinuviel had greeted the Unicorn Knights personally, so obviously her presence didn’t cause Shalkan any discomfort.

  The house looked very much like the one he and Idalia had shared in Sen-tarshadeen, except for the fact that not only was this one empty, it hadn’t even been prepared for occupancy. A carpet had been spread on the floor of the Common Room, with cushions for seating, and several braziers gave the room a pleasant warmth, but except for the stone walls and glass windows, it might have been Kellen’s own tent.

  As before, Rochinuviel had a companion with her, already seated upon one of the cushions, another Elf garbed almost identically to the Vicereign, but in shades of palest gray. Kellen wondered what the woman’s function was. Adjutant? Chaperone? It was impossible to imagine Rochinuviel needing one, any more than it was possible to imagine being rude or boisterous in her presence.

  The traditional Elven teaservice was set out in the center of the carpet. Rochinuviel seated herself gracefully upon one of the cushions and began to prepare tea.

  Kellen removed his cloak and gauntlets and bundled them neatly, setting them aside before selecting a cushion opposite her and sitting down—passably, but with quite a bit less grace. Shalkan folded himself neatly beside him, still in his saddle and armor.

  The silence unfolded. Once it would have bothered him, but now he was content to let matters proceed in their own good time. There was no reason just now to rush things, after all.

  When the water had boiled and the tea was steeping, Rochinuviel spoke.

  “My heart rejoices to see your company arrived in such good order. When Keirasti came to us a fortnight ago she was most vigorous in her requirements and in her need for haste,” Rochinuviel said.

  Well, that could mean nearly anything. And it certainly sounded as if Rochinuviel wanted to get right down to business. “I trust all went as you would have it go,” Kellen said, after a moment’s thought. “Our passage over the Mys-trals was not without… moments of unusual interest… and unfortunately we lost several wagons of supplies in the crossing.”

  “So I was given to understand,” Rochinuviel said, with a faint enigmatic smile. “I am not unaware of the needs of an army in the field, nor the disadvantages that come with a winter campaign. You may give your current list of requirements to Sherediel.”

  The woman in gray held out a slender gloved hand. After a moment’s fumbling in his tunic, Kellen produced the scroll. Sherediel tucked it neatly away into a fold in her robe and folded her hands again, apparently content to take no part in the conversation at all.

  “I wished to see you so that I might give you news from the south, as Keirasti tells me that you will go to Sentarshadeen,” Rochinuviel continued. “But first we will drink tea, and perhaps you will oblige me in telling me the current news of the war, for Jermayan’s news was many sennights old when he came here.”

  Kellen must have looked more confused than he intended, for she explained.

  “He was here and gone before Keirasti arrived, to take the women with child to the Crowned Horns, as Andoreniel commanded. I do not say I agree or disagree with his decision. It is what it is. But had any of us been able to see the future, it might have been a different one.”

  Now this was odd speaking indeed from the Vicereign, and all of Kellen’s senses strained to understand what it meant. Rochinuviel seemed to be attempting to tell him something without actually saying it outright, but while her implicit meaning might have been plain as day to another Elf, he was baffled. Maybe she’d speak more plainly soon. Or maybe Shalkan knew what she was talking about and he could ask him on the ride back.

  “Not much has changed for us with the army between the time he left and the time I did,” Kellen said, both responding to her desire for information and playing for time. “The Allies of the Enemy push against the land-wards to the north. Redhelwar believes they will break through the land-wards, but our forces are not great enough to defend the north and also meet the greater threat the Enemy poses in the south and west. We were able to cast a spell to see into Armethalieh, as perhaps Jermayan will have told you, and we now know that the Enemy has an agent there who is working to open the city to Them.”

  Rochinuviel pursed her lips. “Indeed, Jermayan said as much. He said you believed Their work in the Mage City to be the greater threat to us—and so we must abandon our northern cities to the Shadow.”

  “If—” Kellen began, but Rochinuviel held up her hand.

  “The tea is ready.”

  It was a tea he had never tasted before—Rochinuviel told him the name was Ironwind—and with the first sip, Kellen wasn’t sure he cared for it at all. Unlike most of the Elven teas he’d tasted, its flavor was intensely bitter. But it was also warming, seeming to burn all the way down his throat and into the pit of his stomach.

  Cilarnen, he knew, would be able to go on for at least half an hour about its qualities. Kellen thought it was about as close to drinking a sword blade as he’d like to get.

  “And with the bitter, the sweet, for balance,” Rochinuviel said. She opened a diminutive box containing small round objects in pastel colors.

  Following her lead, Kellen took
one and put it in his mouth. The candy was creamy and grainy at the same time; it was also intensely sweet—without the tea, it would have been much too sweet—and tasted of honey, flowers, and, he suspected, some of the same spices that were in the tea. He took another sip of the tea—he found that mingled with the aftertaste of the candy, its flavor was much improved—and then selected one of the candies and offered it to Shalkan. The unicorn crunched it greedily, looking pleased.

  “I haven’t had these in far too long,” Shalkan said. “Thank you.”

  “If they please you, I shall be certain to send a package of them to you,” Rochinuviel said, smiling with genuine warmth this time. “But I have interrupted the guest, and for that, I beg pardon.”

  Kellen wracked his brain to remember what they’d been talking about before the tea had been poured. Oh yes, nothing important. Merely matters of life and death.

  “It was nothing. I only wished to remark that if They should gain control of Armethalieh, They will have a great store of … food … at Their disposal, as well as access to wielders of the High Magick. Control of the City will provide Them with an advantage that we dare not let Them have. Further, I believe that Their tactics up until this point have all been misdirection, to keep us from seeing that this was Their ultimate goal, and to keep us and the Armethaliehans from uniting against Them, our common enemy.”

  Rochinuviel bowed her head, acknowledging the argument, and poured more tea into the tiny Elvenware cups.

  “And here we come to the matter that I wished to speak to you of—a matter that I judge is best held closely and not scattered to the winds of gossip.”

  Kellen sat up straighter. This was important—important enough that the Vicereign of Ondoladeshiron had made a shrewd guess that he’d be here today and come to meet him, so that they could talk in what amounted to total secrecy.