To Light A Candle ou(tom-2

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Headache?” Idalia asked.

  “Not really. Everything just feels… tight. I’ll feel better with a little fresh air and exercise.”

  But the feeling didn’t go away on the walk down to the stables, and by the time Kellen reached them, he felt definitely unsettled. It wasn’t anything like the feeling he’d had when he’d faced the Endarkened Barrier—nothing in the world could compare to that!—but it was almost like remembering that feeling. He felt touchy and out-of-sorts, and was glad there was no one around to see him but the horses. The stable was fuller than he’d ever seen it, with a number of the animals having come in to seek shelter from the snow. An equal number, of course, were reveling in it, romping and rolling in the icy stuff, kicking up great plumes of white. All of them were in full winter coat by now, their heavy coats making them look round and shaggy, not at all the sleek gleaming creatures they were at high summer.

  Deyishene was glad to see him, of course, but the Elven mare seemed to catch some of his mood as soon as Kellen put his hands on her. Though she’d let him groom her, and was happy to eat both his breakfast pastries, every time he tried to put a saddle on her back she made it clear in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t having any, and at last he gave up. Not only the weather, but his lady was playing him false today.

  When he finally put the tack away, she followed him to the tack room, nuzzling at his neck and shoulder as if to try to apologize for something she couldn’t explain. Kellen patted her shoulder resignedly.

  “Never mind, Deyishene. I guess I’m just not having any luck today. I’d better go find some place quiet to drown myself,” he said with a halfhearted grin. “That is, if I don’t have to break the ice to do it!” Someplace where I won’t make trouble for myself that I just have to clean up later when I’m feeling better.

  The unicorn meadow and the Flower Forest beyond was the obvious destination. If he was lucky, he might run into Shalkan, who might be able to talk him out of this peculiar mood, or at least provide a counter-irritant—since Shalkan could be very irritating when he tried. And the Flower Forest was beautiful enough to make anyone feel better, and it was always warm in there.

  Maybe he just missed Sandalon more than he thought he would. Even though sending the Elven children to the Crowned Horns had been a sensible decision, their leaving had cast a pall over all of Sentarshadeen.

  Yes, the unicorn meadow was a good choice. But he needed to stop at home first—for a dry cloak and boots, a cup of tea, and to see if there was anything in the pantry that might serve as unicorn-bribes. If he was lucky, Idalia might be out (honoring the snow herself, he had no doubt) and he wouldn’t inflict his sour mood on her.

  But when he got home, not only was Idalia there, Vestakia was with her.

  —«♦»—

  IDALIA had been relieved to see Kellen leave that morning. He was radiating distress like a beacon—finally strong enough to notice it himself, though Idalia had known there was something not-quite-right for a sennight.

  But that wasn’t really it. It wasn’t that something was not-quite-right. It was that Kellen felt there was something not-quite-right, and that even he didn’t feel it strongly enough to notice it consciously. She only sensed him sensing it because she knew him so well. And finally it was starting to come toward the surface of his conscious attention.

  She didn’t want to say anything, lest she disrupt the fragile process of his magic—assuming it was Knight-Magery at work, and not just growing pains— and cause him to lose the intuition completely. So she kept quiet, although if there were going to be many more days like today, she might just settle for burying him in the nearest snowbank and see if he’d figured the matter out by spring thaw.

  She’d spent a soothing and solitary morning preparing a batch of Drawing Salve—a similar sort to the one Jermayan had used on Kellen’s hands, and a delicate process because many of the herbs and oils involved were poisonous in the wrong quantities—and was just preparing to charge it when there was a knock at the door.

  She opened the door to find Vestakia standing there, bundled in a violet and mulberry cloak crusted with snow, looking as bedraggled and woebegone as a half-drowned kitten.

  “Vestakia!” Idalia said, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Vestakia burst out, sounding frustrated, irritable, and apologetic all at the same time. “I just… I… there’s just something not right, is all, I didn’t want to be alone, and I wasn’t quite sure where else to go.”

  “Well, come in and have some tea. You look half-frozen. And tell me what seems to be the problem,” Idalia said, resigning herself to the fact that no more work would get done today. But friends came first, and the poor child looked half out of her mind with worry.

  “It isn’t—the Enemy,” Vestakia said immediately, stepping inside and hanging up her cloak to dry. “You know I would have warned everyone if I’d felt anything like that. I just woke up with the worst headache, and nothing I can do will make it go away! I even tried snowpacks, the way I did in the mountains. I was hoping there was something you could do to help?”

  “Perhaps a little willowbark syrup?” Idalia suggested.

  “But I tried that!” Vestakia cried pettishly. “Nothing works. I just feel as if I’m about to fly into a thousand pieces.”

  “Well come and sit down and have a cup of tea. I’ll see if I can make something up that will help,” Idalia said soothingly.

  Now this was puzzling. First Kellen, now Vestakia—and Vestakia was normally the most well grounded of people, with no particular magical Gift, other than her ability to sense the nearness of Demons or strong Demonic Taint. Yet Idalia felt nothing at all.

  Vestakia said that her headache had nothing to do with Demonic activity, and she should know if anyone did, yet if willowbark syrup hadn’t had any effect on it, Idalia hesitated to offer her anything stronger. Still, a little something to calm her nerves wouldn’t come amiss, and do no harm. While the tea was brewing, she went to her shelf of tinctures and syrups—it was much easier to work with a number of medicinal herbs when they had been refined this way—took down an Elvenware cup from the shelf, and prepared a quick mixture, including a healthy dose of strong syrup of chamomile. She diluted it with a measure of white brandy, and stirred it thoroughly, then brought it over to Vestakia.

  “Here. Drink this. It should help.”

  Vestakia took a deep breath and gulped it down quickly—herbal medicines were not noted for tasting good. She choked only slightly, and took a deep breath afterward. “Thank you. I hate to be so much trouble—”

  Idalia smiled. “Oh, don’t be silly! It’s a positive relief to have someone come in and ask me straight out for what they want, for a change, you know. I do love the Elves, but even when they think they’re being direct, every conversation always starts with half an hour’s prattle about clothing and the weather—the weather is obvious, and I’m not that interested in clothes, you know!”

  She was relieved to see that she’d won a faint smile from Vestakia. Though it was impossible to tell whether Vestakia was looking pale—since her skin was always a deep cherry-red—Idalia could tell that the lines of tension were starting to fade from around her eyes and mouth, though the girl was still very keyed-up. “And now, I think the tea is ready.”

  They were just finishing their first cup—Idalia had had little success in getting any more information out of Vestakia about her unsettled condition—when Kellen showed up again.

  If anything, he looked even more rattled than when he’d left several hours before. He’d obviously been out in the snow for most of that time, because his cloak and boots were crusted heavily with snow in the process of turning to ice. He looked sheepish and disgruntled, and not very pleased to find people there.

  “Oh… hi,” he said ungraciously.

  “Hi yourself,” Idalia said. “You look like a soggy, half-frozen snow-rat. Go change into some dry things, then come say hello to Vestakia. She
’s got the same headache you have.”

  Kellen looked rather thunderstruck by the idea that he had a headache at all, but meekly went and did as he was bidden. He went off to his room, coming back a few minutes later in fresh clothes, his other cloak bundled under his arm. He managed to smile at both of them, though Idalia could see he was making a real effort to do so.

  “I’m not really fit company for anyone today—human or otherwise, so Deyishene tells me—so I thought I’d take a walk up to the unicorn meadow and let Shalkan tell me off. I thought I’d stop back here and see if I could find any suitable bribes, first, though.”

  “As luck would have it, I have a few things,” Idalia said, smiling, “though with the drought, the sugaring certainly isn’t what it ought to be this year. Have some tea while I make you up a package. Have you eaten?”

  Kellen winced, shaking his head. “I’ll eat later.” He poured himself a large mug of tea, though, and dropped in several of the crystallized honey-disks that were the usual form of sweetening.

  “Why don’t you take Vestakia with you/” Idalia said suddenly. “I’m sure she’d like to see Shalkan again.” And if the source of Vestakia’s unease was the same as Kellen’s, maybe throwing the two of them together would bring it to light more quickly.

  She saw Kellen frown, then his face abruptly cleared as if the notion suddenly struck him as a good one as well.

  “Oh, no,” Vestakia said quickly. “You said you wanted to be alone—”

  “I said I was horrible company,” Kellen corrected her. “If you don’t mind that, you’re more than welcome to come along—if you don’t mind a hike through a blizzard. And maybe Shalkan won’t beat me up as much if he has an audience, though I doubt it.”

  “Blizzard!” Vestakia scoffed. “This little bit of snow? In the Lost Lands, we call this autumn! I’d love to go with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Idalia said quickly. “Only you’d better take my cloak, Vestakia. I don’t think yours is dry yet. I’ll spread it out in front of the stove while you’re gone, and it should be dry by the time you get back.”

  —«♦»—

  KELLEN found he was actually glad of Vestakia’s company as they walked through Sentarshadeen in the direction of the unicorn meadow.

  Everyone seemed to be taking a holiday from their regular tasks today. Kellen saw a number of Elves with brooms out in front of their houses, sweeping the paths clear of snow—a fruitless task, it seemed to him, as the stuff was still falling. Larger, horse-drawn brooms were going through the streets, making sure that only an inch or two of snow stayed atop the ice. Everyone worked to clear the snow away, but— this being Sentarshadeen—it was not simply being left in piles at the edges of the road. Certainly not. Everywhere there was space and raw material, fantastic shapes were rising—half sculpture, half structure—so that a second city, marmoreal and evanescent, seemed to be rising in the interstices of the true Sentarshadeen. Kellen and Vestakia moved slowly through the streets, admiring the display. It was strange and beautiful, and it made him feel better than he had all morning.

  “I just hate all this waiting,” he said to Vestakia, as they reached the edge of the city and left the snow sculptures behind. “I know that it isn’t really waiting—I’m training to be a Knight, and learning so much I need to know—but at the same time, we’re all just waiting to see what They’re going to do next, and that just doesn’t feel right. When I think about it too much, it starts to drive me crazy. But it’s not that I want there to be a war…”

  “I know,” Vestakia said mournfully. “It’s stupid, but I keep having this horrible feeling that something’s happening—or has happened—that I ought to know about, that I just can’t sense. But I wouldn’t be able to sense it, would I, unless it was Them, or Their magic, and that can’t happen anywhere near here, can it?”

  “So Andoreniel and Ashaniel say,” Kellen said broodingly, his dark mood returning full force. “But they didn’t know about the Barrier, either, until Idalia found it. So I just don’t know. You didn’t always have the ability to sense Them. Maybe you’re developing new abilities now.”

  “Oh, I hope not!” Vestakia burst out feelingly. “Not if it means I’m going to be sick all the time and not know why!” She rubbed her head and heaved a deep sigh.

  “Well, maybe Shalkan will be able to give you some good advice. Look, there’s Songmairie. He should be around here somewhere. We’ll just—”

  But suddenly Vestakia sank to her knees, groaning. She pointed wordlessly off in the direction of the hills, shaking her head in pain.

  Kellen didn’t stop to question. He drew his sword—he wore it everywhere these days as a matter of habit—and took off running in the direction she’d pointed.

  The snow gave him good traction. It was deep, but not so deep that it slowed him down very much—not a Knight who had survived the worst Master Belesharon had managed to throw at him so far. As he ran, he summoned up his spell-sight. The world shifted subtly. He could see exactly where he must go, though he couldn’t see his destination yet. His magic lent strength and speed to his muscles, and Kellen fled over the snow with the speed of a running hare.

  He topped the rise that led to the road out of Sentarshadeen and stopped, his battle-trance broken by the sight he saw before him.

  The snow was dappled with blood. Lying in the snow was a unicorn mare. Her fur had been white once. Now it was streaked with blood, some old and brown, some red and fresh. All hers. Kneeling beside her were an Elven border guard and his unicorn mount. The fallen unicorn’s ribs heaved as she gasped for breath.

  Kellen ran down to join them.

  “Get Idalia. Now!” he ordered.

  The Elf stared at him for a moment in shock, as if he could not imagine where Kellen had sprung from, then swayed to his feet—almost ungracefully— and mounted his unicorn. The two of them sprang off in the direction of Sentarshadeen.

  Kellen knelt down beside the fallen unicorn, set his sword within easy reach, and gently eased her head into his lap. “Easy, girl, easy,” he said soothingly. “Help is coming.”

  He only hoped she could hear him. He wished he could heal her himself, but healing didn’t come easily to him—not like it did to Idalia. He needed herbs and tools that he didn’t have with him to summon that particular aspect of the Wild Magic.

  Her body was painfully thin and wasted, as if she hadn’t eaten for days, and there were deep claw marks covering her shoulders and haunches. Kellen wasn’t sure what kind of animal could leave those marks. Maybe a bear? But bears should all be asleep at this season, and most animals in Nature wouldn’t attack a unicorn to begin with. At least her horn was intact.

  Shalkan arrived, leaning down to nuzzle gently at her face. The unicorn whimpered painfully, but did not open her eyes.

  “Hush, darling, hush,” Shalkan said, in a voice unlike any Kellen had ever heard him use before. “It will be better soon. I promise.”

  “I sent for Idalia,” Kellen said.

  “Yes,” Shalkan said. “I passed Sharmet on the way into the city.” He seemed to gather himself to impart bad news, and gazed steadily into Kellen’s eyes. “Her name is Calmeren. She was with the party sent to the Crowned Horns with Sandalon.”

  Kellen had the sense, all at once, of a pattern. No, more than a pattern, a picture, or perhaps a diagram, or—well, whatever it was, he knew, he knew what this meant, and why he’d been feeling ready to kill something and why Vestakia was feeling the same way! It formed like a crystal exploding into place around him, all of its lattice forming a whole he could, at long last, read.

  “They were attacked by the Enemy,” Kellen said. “Vestakia sensed it somehow. She was feeling awful today, and when Calmeren got close enough, she got sick.”

  “Taint,” Shalkan said calmly. “It will be gone once Calmeren’s been healed.”

  The two of them stayed with the wounded unicorn, Kellen gently brushing snow from her head. Others of the h
erd arrived, forming a protective circle around them, all gazing down at Calmeren in worried silence. It seemed a very long time until Idalia arrived, though Kellen knew she would have come as fast as she could.

  She arrived on horseback, Sharmet and his rider running ahead. Idalia rode one of the horses that Kellen had seen plowing the city streets—obviously the quickest form of transportation she could grab. The unicorns scattered as she approached, bunching up into a small herd several yards distant.

  “See if you can get her to drink this,” Idalia said, handing Kellen a water-skin. “And you,” she said to Sharmet’s rider, “go and see if Vestakia’s all right. She’s back by the spring.”

  Kellen gently eased Calmeren’s mouth open and squeezed some of the contents of the waterskin onto her tongue as Idalia began to unpack her equipment. Even in the cold, he could smell a green minty scent. It wasn’t just water, then.

  Calmeren swallowed convulsively as the liquid trickled over her tongue, and then began to suck greedily at the waterskin. Her eyelids flickered, but she still didn’t rouse.