Perhaps he was.
IT was only after they’d started off that Kellen realized he’d just assumed without asking that the girl was going to come along with them. It had been obvious he couldn’t leave her where she was. Even though he and Jermayan were riding into danger, she’d been in danger when he’d found her.
“Um … I know this is a little late to ask, but … is there somewhere safe we could take you? Do you have any family?” Kellen asked.
“Safe? Me?” The girl laughed bitterly. “I have no family, or none that would not hate me on sight. You’ve seen my face, gentle Knight. Is there anyone in all the world who wouldn’t slay me the moment they saw it?”
“Well,” Kellen said after a moment’s thought, “I didn’t.”
There was a moment of surprised silence from behind him.
“No,” she agreed. “You didn’t. And your companion does not love you for that, I think. But … tell me … if you don’t mind, that is … what are two knights—one of them an Elven Knight—doing here in the mountains? Elves don’t usually come here.”
Kellen hesitated—not because he thought the girl was Tainted—he was certain she wasn’t—but because he wasn’t sure he ought to tell anyone what they were doing here. But Shalkan settled the matter in his usual pragmatic fashion.
“I don’t suppose I need to tell you what Demons are, do I?” the unicorn said.
Kellen felt the girl shudder, even through his armor.
“I thought not,” Shalkan said. “And as you probably also know, Demons hate Elves more than they hate any of the other races of the Bright World, and so they’ve set a nasty spell to destroy the Elven lands, by making sure no rain falls there. Ever.”
“Ever?” the girl said. “They—would make a desert of it? All of the Elven lands?”
“At least,” Shalkan replied.
“Goddess bless—” she said, sounding shaken.
Kellen flicked a glance sideways at Jermayan, who was riding at Shalkan’s flank. The Elven Knight’s face was set in what was threatening to become a perpetual glower, but there was little Jermayan could do to stop Shalkan from saying whatever he wanted. Even among the Elves, Kellen was coming to realize, unicorns were a law unto themselves.
“So Kellen here, who’s a Wildmage, like his sister Idalia, is taking the spell she made to the Barrier that Shadow Mountain has set up to keep the rain from falling. Once Kellen sets Idalia’s spell against theirs, the Barrier will fall and the rains will come to Elven lands again. The only trouble is, nobody’s quite sure where Shadow Mountain hid their spell. So that’s what we’re out here looking for. And hoping we find it before they find us, milady.”
“But—if you’re looking for Demon magic—I think I know where you want to go!” the girl exclaimed in surprise.
“I told you it was a trap,” growled Jermayan, breaking his long silence.
Kellen clutched at the front of the saddle as Shalkan whirled, fleet as a cat, to block Valdien’s path. Behind him, he felt the girl clutch at his belt.
“One—more—word—” the unicorn said through gritted teeth, “and I promise you, Child of Leaf and Star, that your sweet soprano voice will be the admiration of everyone you meet for the rest of your very long life.”
Kellen stared at the unicorn’s horn. It had taken on an odd pink flush he’d never seen before. He looked up at Jermayan. The Elf was staring at the horn as well, face pale and eyes wide.
There was a moment’s tense silence, as the wind whistled among the rocks all around them, and at last Jermayan looked away, bowing his head in submission.
Still nobody said anything, and Shalkan didn’t move.
“You can tell where we want to go? How?” Kellen said at last, to break the silence. He hated seeing Jermayan being put in such a humiliating position, even if it was almost entirely of Jermayan’s making, and probably the politest thing to do, under the circumstances, was to pretend he hadn’t noticed anything.
“You know—you can see—I have Demon blood,” the girl said painfully.
Kellen waited for another outburst from Jermayan, but the Elven Knight had been thoroughly cowed by Shalkan. Shalkan stayed where he was, and Jermayan didn’t even seem willing to move Valdien around the unicorn and continue on their way. It was clear he did not intend to move until Shalkan gave him permission.
“I will tell you the whole story soon, I promise, but I have been hiding from the Demons all my life, and the only way I was able to do it was because I can feel the presence of Demons as a kind of sickness that gets stronger the closer they come. As you can well believe, I’ve worked hard to hone this gift so that it will give me a sense of the direction from which the danger comes as well. I—if they ever find me”—her voice was shaking—“they will do worse to me than any human or Elf ever could.”
Kellen heard the terror there, and he wanted to offer comfort, but couldn’t imagine how. Surely Jermayan heard it too! How could he hear it and not be moved?
Because maybe he isn’t thinking?
“For the past few days—and now, in the direction we’re riding—I have been feeling that same unease,” she continued. “Or—would sickness be the right word? That something is wrong, Tainted—no, not Tainted, merely, but polluted. Not a Demon, but something that tells me that Demonic magic is near, and growing stronger. If we ride toward that, surely you’ll find what you’re seeking?” she finished in a rush.
It was up to him, Kellen realized in dismay. Jermayan was too caught up in his own anger and fear to think clearly, and Shalkan couldn’t—or wouldn’t—make these kind of decisions. Like it or not, Kellen was the leader.
He’d always known that, but somehow it had never been quite so important before. For the first time, Kellen realized how much was riding on the decisions he had to make, and that only he could make them. It was up to him not only to decide to trust this chance-met stranger, but to trust her instincts and judgment as well. To guess, and guess rightly (he hoped), that she was not only a good person, but had the wisdom to use her gifts in the best way they could be used in this situation.
That was what made this a hard choice. It wasn’t as simple as deciding whether or not she was good. She was good—both he and Shalkan knew that much, even if Jermayan was still unconvinced. What Kellen had to decide now was whether she was smart, and clever, and levelheaded enough to lead them close to trouble but not into it.
The Wild Magic led me to her. But had that been for her sake only, or for all of them? Was she a key to this, or only incidental?
“What’s your name?” Kellen asked almost irrelevantly, still sitting on Shalkan’s back in the middle of the trail as if they had all the time in the world to figure things out.
“Vestakia,” she said, sounding surprised.
“Vestakia,” he said. He was playing for time, he knew, hoping the Powers behind the Wild Magic would send him certainty, knowing all the while that the decision was going to be his alone, without any outside help. “Have you lived up here all your life?”
“All eighteen years of it,” she said. She sounded puzzled now, probably wondering why they hadn’t started down the trail again. “I’ve been alone since my aunt died, and that was four years ago.”
“Can you … can you tell how far away the Demon-magic is, as well as what direction?” he asked, thinking hard.
“I can tell how far away one of Them is, right enough,” she answered promptly. “But what you’re looking for … I don’t know. All I know is that it must be bad, if I can feel it at all. As bad as the Demons themselves.”
His last hope was gone. If she was able to tell them how far away from the Barrier she was at any given time, that would make following her gift less of a danger. But since she couldn’t, Vestakia might, even with the best of intentions, lead them right into it without warning.
But the Wild Magic sent you to her for a reason. She has the power to take you to the Barrier. Use it.
“Show us the way,” Kellen said, ma
king his decision.
As if his words had been a signal, Shalkan turned back along the trail.
FOR the rest of the day they followed Vestakia’s halting directions as she led them deeper into the Lost Lands. Even the sparse wiry mountain grass was gone from the rocky hillsides now, and the only vegetation was a thick, dry, mosslike growth, or tough lichens. Vestakia said that no one, even outlaws, came this far into the mountains, and those that did never came back.
Kellen could tell that though Jermayan said nothing (his silent frustration and anger were nearly palpable), he ached to accuse her of leading them in circles, but Kellen didn’t think she was. She’d said that the presence of Demons—or Demon-magic—made her ill, and she seemed to grow weaker and more uncomfortable as the day wore on and the sun sank westward. Soon they’d have to find a place to stop, even though there didn’t seem to be any good ones.
The thought of stopping—of sleeping—anywhere in these mountains made Kellen profoundly uncomfortable, but what choice did they have? He had no idea how close they were to the Barrier, and Vestakia didn’t seem to be sure either.
What he did know was that he’d been right to trust her to show them the way. There’d been no further signs to indicate their path—not very surprising, as there was nothing living to be warped out of its natural pattern. Kellen knew he could never have found this route without spells, and he was more and more unwilling to cast another spell for any reason.
“Vestakia?” he said when she hadn’t spoken for a while.
There was no answer, and suddenly he realized that all her weight was leaning against his back, and that she was starting to slide sideways.
Shalkan stopped as Kellen wriggled free of the saddle, just in time to catch the girl as she slumped to the ground. He lowered her gently and turned back the hood of her cloak. She was gasping for air, and her eyes were half-closed.
“Vestakia? Vestakia, can you hear me?”
“I … oh, it hurts so much!” She rolled to her knees and retched weakly.
Kellen hated to badger her, but he had no choice. “Vestakia, is it near? Which way?”
“There.” Still on her hands and knees, she pointed up between two boulders, at a nearly sheer half-dome of rock. “Near. It must be.”
“We can do it,” Shalkan said, looking the way she had pointed. “But not in the dark. And the animals can’t do it at all. We’d have to leave them here.”
“Stay here tonight?” Kellen said incredulously, gazing down at Vestakia. “She can’t!”
“There are some medicines in your packs that will help her. So I suggest you get them,” the unicorn said impassively.
Kellen got to his feet and gazed up at Jermayan, who was still sitting astride Valdien, gazing down at Vestakia’s misery as if it had nothing to do with him.
“Well? Are you going to just sit there? Do what you came here to do and be of some use,” Kellen snapped harshly, in a voice he hardly recognized as his. “Or I’ll tell Idalia you failed in your task to help me. And how. And why. And she can make up her own mind whether or not you were worthy of her.”
Jermayan flinched back as if Kellen had slapped him, and turned wordlessly away to dismount and unpack the mule.
A heavy weight of oppression seemed to press down on Kellen’s spirit. It wasn’t just the deadness of this place, the gloomy sky, the unforgiving stone, though all of those contributed to the feeling. Something bad lived here. Something inimical to the human spirit. Vestakia was right, or if not right, very close.
He had to fight himself to keep from crouching down, from looking over his shoulder, from peering at every shadow in search of an enemy. Vestakia was already miserable enough; he didn’t want to terrify her.
Kellen turned back to Vestakia, helping her to sit. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise,” he said, hoping it was true. “Shalkan says we have medicines with us, and you’ll have them soon.”
Vestakia smiled wanly at him, blinking back tears. “Please don’t let them get me, Kellen. I’d rather die than that. Promise me.”
Apparently his attempt to put on a cheerful face wasn’t distracting her. Well, if this place seemed oppressive to him, how bad must it be for her?
“I won’t let the Demons have you,” Kellen promised, realizing with a sinking feeling just what it was he was promising. And Jermayan would probably be happy to kill you whether there was a Demon around or not.
He looked up at the sky, trying to decide how much light they had left. By the position of the sun, it was a few hours before sunset, but darkness came quickly here in the mountains. Even if Shalkan’s remedies worked, and Vestakia was well enough to go on today, there was no guarantee that darkness wouldn’t find them halfway along the path, trapped somewhere in the mountains far too near the Barrier.
But Kellen knew he’d been right, too. The thought of camping for the night here on the enemy’s doorstep was not only unthinkable, he suspected it would be impossible. He thought of the dreams he’d had back on the haunted battlefield and shuddered. He wasn’t willing to risk more of the same—or worse. There might not be any sign of opposition yet, but the longer they stayed here, the more likely discovery became. No, they’d go on as soon as possible.
Shalkan had wandered off, and was talking to Jermayan. Kellen would have given a lot to know what that conversation consisted of, but the unicorn’s voice was pitched too low for him to hear. Jermayan was unloading the mule, and unpacking the brazier. Shalkan collected one of the bags in his teeth and sauntered back, depositing it at Kellen’s feet.
“There’s a cup, a black bottle, and a wineskin in there. Put an ounce of the contents of the black bottle into the cup, then fill it up with the wineskin. Then have Vestakia drink it. Jermayan’s brewing tea.” Shalkan’s voice was neutral, conveying nothing of what he might be thinking.
Kellen ought to have expected that. Well, if whatever was in the bottle had allheal in it, the stuff might do Vestakia some good. “Listen, just tell me if Jermayan ever neglects to brew tea when we stop, will you?” he asked Shalkan, trying for a little humor to at least cheer up Vestakia. “If that happens, I’ll know there’s either something seriously wrong with him, or it’s an imposter.”
Shalkan sniggered. Unfortunately, Vestakia didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t realize he was trying to lighten her mood.
Kellen followed the directions meticulously. The contents of the black bottle smelled strongly of herbs, like fresh-cut hay, and the liquid was the bright green of spring leaves, as thick as berry-syrup. The cup was a small one, obviously not meant for ordinary use. It was made of Elven silver, a silver as bright and soft as pure gold. Kellen handled it carefully.
The wineskin contained nothing more exotic than white brandy. It was clear as water, and turned pale green as it mixed with the herbal draught.
“Here,” Kellen said, holding out the cup to Vestakia.
“Oh. I don’t want—”
“Please. Shalkan says it will help.”
“Drink it quickly,” the unicorn advised. “Really quickly.”
Uncertainly, she took the silver cup, and gulped its contents down as fast as she could. A stricken expression crossed her face, and she exploded into a paroxysm of coughing as soon as she’d swallowed.
“It doesn’t taste very good,” Shalkan finished mildly. “Unless you happen to be a horse or some other grass-eater. Now you, Kellen.”
“What does it do?” Kellen asked, suspicious now that he’d seen its effect on Vestakia.
“Among other things, it closes down the magical senses, though not for very long. You’ll need the breathing space. You may not think you can sense the Barrier from here, but you can. Drink it.”
Vestakia stopped coughing and sputtering. “That was horrible!” she said. “But … I feel better now. Thank you.” She took a deep breath that turned into a sigh of relief.
Kellen looked at the cup and the bottle and winced. But Shalkan had never given him bad advice yet, and if his mo
unting despair was due to sensing the Barrier—well, he needed the help. Much worse, and he’d start weeping over trifles. Or he’d sit down in the middle of the path and refuse to go on. Quickly, he mixed his own dose, and drank.
The brandy seared his mouth and throat with choking fire, and did nothing to mask the incredible gagging bitterness of the herbal liquor. Even braced for it, Kellen choked and sputtered nearly as much as Vestakia had, swallowing over and over to try to get the taste out of his mouth. But once the burning and bitterness subsided, he did feel better. Some of the despair lifted. Now, he was merely depressed.
And who wouldn’t be, around here?
Kellen investigated the bag further, discovering it was the first-aid kit. He pulled out the jar of allheal salve and a roll of bandages.
“You were limping earlier. Which ankle is it? If I use some of this on it and strap it up tightly, you should be able to walk.” I hope, he added to himself. “I wish I could Heal you, but I … don’t dare,” he finished, feeling ashamed.
“You couldn’t do it right now, anyway,” Shalkan said helpfully. “Not after drinking that.”
“It’s because it would call Them, isn’t it?” Vestakia said, shuddering. “Never mind. I’d rather bleed to death horribly than do anything to summon one of Them, and this close …” She shivered again, wrapping her cloak tightly around herself.
“Even without magic, I should take a look at it,” Kellen said. “Some allheal will do a lot to make the bruising heal faster.” Assuming that matters, and we aren’t all dead before morning.
Vestakia seemed to see the sense of that.
“This one,” she said, thrusting out her right foot. “I twisted it when I fell. He’d never have caught me otherwise,” she added proudly.
Kellen removed his gauntlets and eased the boot off. Vestakia was wearing much the same thing the farmers working the fields in Merryvale had been—long tunic, wide calf-length trousers, and heavy boots of rough leather lined in sheepskin. It was the boot that had kept the sprain from being any worse: her ankle was a little swollen, and warm to the touch, but it didn’t seem too painful when Kellen prodded it experimentally, asking her how it felt. With the color of her skin, he wasn’t sure whether he’d be able to tell if it was bruised or not, otherwise.
The Obsidian Mountain Trilogy Page 69