Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

by Mercedes Lackey

  Raynor nickered in question.

  Elvida glanced around frantically, knowing every moment wasted meant one less in flight. She knew Sharylle and Tabnar were dead; Anthea would never have abandoned her partner if any hope remained. Now, Elvida searched for some radiating emotion that would assure her the remaining Herald still lived. Nothing came to Elvida’s mental senses, but her wildly leaping gaze did eventually land on Anthea. The woman lay among the stones, blood trickling from one ear. Though clearly unconscious, her chest still rose and fell in obvious, living breaths.

  Leahleh whinnied in agony.

  “She’s alive!” Elvida jerked Raynor’s left rein. “We have to save her.”

  Raynor did not hesitate, speeding back toward the fray while Elvida wrestled her own decision. Magically Giftless, she had honed her weapons and Empathy skills, but she had little hope of standing against even two armed men, let alone several dozen. Nevertheless, while a Herald lived, she had no choice but to attempt a rescue.

  “Move! Move! Move!” Elvida encouraged Raynor, leaning over his neck as if to add her speed to his own. Already the men had swarmed over Anthea’s only other hope. Leahleh collapsed, her brilliant white fur indelibly stained, her mortal agony an unignorable screech in Elvida’s mind. Even immersed in terrible pain, the Companion tossed her head toward Anthea’s still form, as if to direct Elvida and Raynor to save her Herald.

  Besieged by the physical and mental suffering of Herald and Companion, Elvida felt as if her head might explode. She wished she could comfort the animal, to rescue Leahleh or at least allow her to leave the world in peace. Her death, Elvida wanted to promise, would not be in vain. Instead, she waded through the morass of anguish to bolster the Companion, to entreat her not to give up no matter how awful the pain. If Leahleh died, they would lose Anthea also.

  Elvida forced the thought from her already overtaxed brain, focusing solely on her own desperate duty. As Raynor skidded to a stop, Elvida leaped from the saddle and ran to the Herald. Aided by an anxiety beyond extreme, she managed to heft Anthea’s larger still form and lug her toward the saddle. The impatient Companion barely waited until Anthea’s body reached his side before shoving his nose under her and jerking his head upward. The Herald flew toward his saddle. Elvida scrambled to her seat, barely quickly enough to keep Anthea from flying over his opposite side. She steadied the older woman, still noting the shallow breathing, the stream of sticky scarlet trickling from one ear, the total lack of response to any of this frantic movement. She, too, is nearly dead.

  Raynor lurched into a run. Still trying to position Anthea on his withers, Elvida slid halfway from the saddle. Panicked, she caught a death grip on Raynor’s mane. A sword cut the left stirrup where her leg should have been, slicing a short gash in Raynor’s side. Another blade slammed against his left hind leg, jolting Raynor with an abruptness that nearly sent both women tumbling to the ground again.

  Strings of mane cut painfully into the Elvida’s fingers, but she barely noticed beneath the all-encompassing waves of agony issuing from Raynor. Unable to run, he stumbled forward as Elvida clawed her way back into the saddle and steadied Anthea. She dared not look, trying her hardest to send encouragement to her mount. Raynor needed her to help him continue despite the extra weight on his back, the heavy burden of two lives relying on hooves that were no longer capable. Limping heavily, he rocked toward the cave, step after excruciating step, his pace barely faster than that of a running man. The enemy bayed at his heels, only one misstep from victory.

  “You can do it,” Elvida whispered fervently. “I have faith in you, my Beloved.” She kept her attention on the warriors who, miraculously, looked to be losing ground. Raynor seemed all but motionless compared to her wildly racing thoughts and his usual speed, though he obviously moved quickly enough to stay ahead of the howling army, at least for the moment. With each step, the ache radiating from him became more intense, more excruciating, until it usurped all other thought. “You can do it, Heartsib. I know you can.”

  And Raynor responded, dragging his left hind leg in a blind haze of pain.

  Elvida wished she could do something, anything, to ease his burden. Her instincts screamed at her to dismount, but she conquered them with logic. Doing so assured all three of their deaths. Raynor would not go on without her, and she would never find the strength to carry a full-grown Companion. It felt like an eternity before the cave came clearly into focus, drawing slowly and inexorably toward them. “There it is, Beloved! Only a few more steps.”

  Those last few seemed more like a thousand, then Raynor managed a last heave into the darkness before collapsing at the mouth. Anthea’s still form rolled gracelessly from his withers and into the darkness.

  We’re safe! The thought was madness, Elvida realized with a sudden jolt of fresh terror. She alone could keep the warriors from simply running into the cave after them.

  Seizing Raynor’s bridle, Elvida closed her eyes to a grim focus and pulled. His weight strained every muscle in her arms and back, but she managed to drag him away from the opening and deeper into the cave. She stood poised directly in front of him, sword readied, stance balanced, hoping no more than two men could face her simultaneously through the crack. At least she might manage to hold them off for several hours. Gripping her sword in hands gone numb, she stood bravely at the mouth, waiting for the army to arrive.

  The sun sank toward the horizon, leaving the sky awash in broad stripes of vivid, rainbow hues. Though still at the cave opening, Elvida gradually lost her demeanor of crouched expectation. Gripped in arms aching with fatigue, her sword wilted to dangle at her side. The army remained a respectful distance from the cave, their campfires springing up like gloating wraiths dancing in the gathering darkness.

  For nearly an hour, Elvida watched the men butcher some large animal for their evening meal, hauling hunks of glistening meat toward the scattered fires. Her own empty stomach rumbled with a desire she could not contain. She imagined the sweet, fatty aroma that would soon drift toward her on the night breeze, and her mouth watered. Then, a group of men in the center triumphantly hefted the skin of the hapless creature: huge and long-legged, white as new-fallen snow. Tabnar. Revulsion struck Elvida in a wave so strong and vile her own saliva soured to poison. Once again, she found herself vomiting, this time with an agonizing savagery. Long after she lost everything inside, she continued to heave dryly until every muscle ached and tears fully stole her vision.

  It’s over. The sight of a Companion defiled in this manner destroyed Elvida’s remaining will. Staggering mindlessly deeper into the cave, she dropped her sword and crumpled to the ground. Stone bruised her knees and scraped her palms, but these superficial pains went unacknowledged. She curled into a hopeless ball, weeping so violently she could scarcely breathe. All her shortcomings paraded through her mind: her magical weakness, her gross incompetence at mental communication, her total lack of any Gift. Sharylle and Anthea had clearly picked her as their travel companion from pity alone. And choosing her for his rider would soon prove Raynor’s fatal mistake as well.

  Two Heralds and three Companions. Elvida had always known her inability would get herself killed. She had never imagined she would cause the deaths of so many truly special, epically important others with her incompetence. I deserve to die. She did not seem worthy even of the same fate that would surely befall Raynor and Anthea. I deserve to die horribly.

  :Stop it!: The words entered Elvida’s head like a whip crack. Shocked senseless, she sat bolt upright, the tears dribbling from her sodden, hazel eyes.

  “Who—who said that?”

  :I did. Raynor. You quit wallowing in self-pity or, so help me, I’ll struggle over there and stomp you to death.:

  Dumbfounded, Elvida could only attempt the Mind-speech that had previously eluded her throughout her years of training. :Can you hear me, too?:

  Raynor snorted loudly. :What am I, mind-deaf? Of course I can hear you.:

  Elvida gathered her legs b
eneath her, the flow of tears ending and her vision returning in a blur. :But this is the first time . . . I mean I never . . . how come I . . . ?: She found herself incapable of completing a thought. Clearly, her newfound ability had something to do with the intensity of her current emotions. She had always believed she tried her hardest to communicate. Now, she knew, she had allowed self-doubt to hold her from truly giving it the effort it deserved. :I can Mindspeak?:

  No answer followed, only her own bitter disappointment. Apparently, the ability had left as swiftly as it had appeared. Elvida wondered if she had to hit the depths of despair in order to awaken it again.

  :Oh, I’m sorry. Was that an actual question?:

  Relief flooded Elvida, and she managed a choking laugh. :A damn silly one, obviously. I’m sorry, Raynor.: The apology went far deeper than the ludicrousness of turning the self-evident into a serious inquiry. :I’m sorry I’m worthless. I’m sorry I’m going to get the three of us killed. I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry . . . for being the world’s most useless Herald-in-training.:

  :I told you to stop it!: Anger accompanied the sending, louder than the words themselves. :Wallowing in self-pity isn’t going to save anyone’s life. And I resent the suggestion that I’m inept:

  The very idea sent Elvida reeling in horror. :But I never said—:

  :You did! You said I couldn’t pick a capable Chosen.:

  :But I didn’t mean . . .: Elvida paused, finally turning toward her Companion, who clearly had a point. Only then she realized she had been deliberately avoiding looking at him. His pain had faded to dim background in her mind, but it haunted every thought, every action, and every decision. He lay on his side where she had dragged him, his fur clotted with dirt and speckled burgundy with the blood of foe and friend alike. His breaths came in pants, and his left hind leg lay at an awkward, swollen angle. Clearly, it was broken.

  Elvida cried out, despising herself for not tending to him and Anthea immediately. Trapped in a web of her own grief and loathing, she had worried more for increasing her own burdens than for helping her friends. The realization only intensified her self-hatred; but, this time, she cast aside the morass of deprecation that held her inert at a time of necessary action.

  Clearly riding with her on this journey of internal discovery, Raynor sent a quieter message. :Little Sister, there’s nothing you can do for me. A horse without a leg can accomplish nothing. Anthea is gravely injured.:

  :I wish I were a Healer. I wish my Gift—: Realizing she was still stalling, Elvida rose and walked to Anthea. The Herald sprawled in the dirt, her Whites smeared with grime. Dark blood matted her hair, but nothing bright red to indicate a current site of bleeding. Her breaths stirred slowly, oddly peaceful, as she lay in a state beyond sleep. A more thorough examination revealed no other injuries. All the damage remained inside Anthea’s head, where no one other than a Healer could reach them. Injuries to the brain, Elvida knew, were always serious; and every moment that passed significantly decreased the Herald’s chance for survival. Leahleh must still live . . . barely.

  :Your Gift is not Healing, Elvida. Do not mourn what was never meant to be.:

  Gingerly, Elvida stroked Anthea’s hair. She doubted the Herald could survive the night. She asked hopefully, :But I do have a Gift?:

  :You do,: Raynor confirmed, as so many of her teachers had before him. Yet, like them, he refused to elaborate.

  Elvida repeated the familiar line, :I have to find it myself.:

  :Yes.:

  It seemed unfair in so many ways. Others were told as they trained and most had more than one. Now, it seemed, Elvida would die without ever knowing because her Companion was a stickler for rules at a time when such things no longer mattered.

  Apparently reading her emotions, Raynor relented. :I will tell you this much. It has something to do with communication.:

  Under less extreme circumstances, only that very morning, Elvida would have found the suggestion laughable. She who could not even Mindspeak had little education or talent for communication, magical or otherwise. Yet, now that the suggestion had come from the very one she had waited so long to talk to, it did not seem so absurd. :This is no time for riddles, Beloved. Our lives may depend upon this nameless Gift.:

  :I gave you a hint. I won’t say anymore.:

  :Why not?:

  Raynor turned his head with a snort and a toss of his filthy mane.

  Elvida sat back from Anthea, heaving a deep sigh. She knew better than to fight a futile battle long. Repeatedly punching a stone wall accomplished nothing more than broken fists.

  :Look.: Raynor spoke with clear caution. :As I’ve mentioned, it’s customary to put a horse without a leg out of its misery, and Anthea can’t make another day without a Healer. Chosen, leave us. Do what you can to save yours—:

  Elvida refused to allow the stallion to finish. :People kill horses because the animals don’t understand the necessary treatment and usually wind up hurting themselves worse. You’re not a horse. You’re a sentient being, capable of deep thought and understanding.: She dropped the senseless argument, dismissing Raynor’s words as an attempt at heroism. Though only trying to save her, the Companion’s words were nonsense. Elvida could never leave him to suffer alone; and, if he died, she surely would also. Besides, his value to the Queen far exceeded hers—and he knew it. :I’m going to look for another way out of here. You let me know if anyone—:

  :Don’t waste your time.:

  Elvida rose, scarcely daring to believe she had heard correctly. :What?:

  :It’s the job of Heralds to detail every part of the world. I know of this cave—a Waystation once. It has a stream and a back exit . . .:

  Elvida’s hopes soared, only to be dashed by the rest of Raynor’s description.

  :Both cut off to anything larger than a mouse by a massive cave-in. Ahead lies our only escape and, unfortunately, our only water.:

  Elvida’s lips went suddenly dry, and she licked them thoughtfully. Her crazed bout of crying would only see to it that dehydration overcame her sooner. She swallowed hard, steeling herself against the same fog of hopelessness that had earlier consumed her. Even if she never earned her Whites, she would at least learn to die bravely. She strode away from Anthea to look out over the camp of the waiting army. :So why haven’t our enemies come after us? What are they waiting for?:

  Elvida did not expect a reply to her mostly rhetorical question, so Raynor’s surprised her.

  :Morning. Daylight. They’re a superstitious lot and worry about monsters or spirits in the darkness.:

  Elvida shook her head. :Too bad we’re not monsters.: She shivered, not bothering to add “. . . or spirits.” Soon enough, they might become exactly that. She tried to understand their enemy, as the strategists had taught. If she could get into their minds, perhaps she could find a way to outwit them. Enter the depraved world of men who attack Heralds at peace, who slaughter and cannibalize Companions. The thought stirred an anger Elvida could not quell. She would rather die than see the reason behind heinous and barbarous actions. I don’t ever want to know what stirs inside those creatures in the guise of men.

  Elvida sank to her knees. She had never followed a religion, but now she bowed her head, fingers laced tightly against her chest. Gods, Lords and Ladies who sanction goodness, I beg of you now to come to our aid. I will do anything, suffer any trial if you will only rescue my friends, these humble servants of the Queen. She could feel her heart thumping against her fists. Please, anyone who’s listening. I will do whatever bidding you ask, you need only make it clear. Save Raynor and Anthea. And, if it is your will, save me as well.

  For several moments Elvida remained in this position, waiting for an answer, some sign to indicate any deity had heard her prayer. Insects hummed a steady chorus. The dull rumble of conversation, occasionally pierced by laughter and shouts, came from the enemies’ camp. No other sounds reached her, not even the light breathing of herself and her injured friends. It seemed the gods took no interest
in their plight.

  Not that Elvida expected otherwise. She had known many people who extolled some god or goddess in every other sentence. These faithful believed that everything that went right in the lives of humanity was the work of whichever deity they personally worshipped. Any tragedy or mistake, they blamed on human infallibility. This, they felt, justified their beliefs in a mindless circle that defied Elvida’s understanding. It had always seemed to her a certain path to self-deprecation and loathing; yet, she realized, she had felt equally low only moments earlier, without the help of any religious teaching or faith.

  It’s up to me and me alone to get us out of this situation. Elvida took a deep breath, unfolding her hands, her determination set. :Raynor, I don’t know much about Mind-speech, but I’m going to try to shout with all the power I can muster. With you being so close and all, I hope it doesn’t hurt you?: It was a question as much as information. Dismissed as incapable, she had never learned the conventions or details of the art.

  :It won’t hurt me,: Raynor assured with a mental smile. :And I think it’s a great idea.:

  Encouraged, Elvida clambered off her knees to sit firmly on her bottom. She lowered her head and breathed slowly and deeply, eyes closed, mind open and focused. She put every bit of mustered strength into her call, physical as well as thought, sending a message of need to anyone who might hear. It was, at once, a communication of desperation, filled with begging and demand, with need and hope. She called to anyone capable of listening: be they Heralds or Bards, Mages or Healers, apprentice or not-yet-discovered. With every fiber of her being, she prepared them for an army of brutal enemies and drew them toward the cave.

  Elvida had no idea how long she sat in her chosen position, her eyes tightly closed and her mind outreaching. It seemed like hours before Raynor intruded with a thought that, in comparison, seemed a breathless whisper, :Little Sister, look.: