“Hello,” Idalia said to Ancaladar. “I guess I have you to thank for my rescue.”
“It was my pleasure, Wildmage Idalia,” Ancaladar said gravely.
“Oh,” Kellen said, realizing he’d forgotten to introduce them. “Idalia, this is Ancaladar. Ancaladar, this is my sister Idalia.” It felt very odd making polite introductions in the pitch-darkness when only one of the parties could see the other.
He swept the hood up for just a moment, to see where Idalia was, and led her a little farther into the cave. Then he took off the tarnkappa.
“Why don’t you wear the tarnkappa?” he suggested. “I can get by without it. Oh, and Ancaladar can see you and hear you even while you’re wearing it. I won’t be able to hear you, though.”
“Don’t tell me you can see down here,” Idalia said disbelievingly. Kellen sensed her reaching for the tarnkappa, and pushed it into her hands.
“No, but I don’t need to. I can remember where we’ve been, and I’m pretty sure we’re going back the same way.”
“Yes,” Ancaladar said softly. “It is not the fastest, but it will be sure.”
Idalia put on the cloak. It was a very odd sensation for Kellen. One moment he could sense she was there. The next moment he couldn’t.
There were a few moments of scraping and slithering while Ancaladar turned himself around in the cramped confines of the tunnel, and then they continued. They moved much faster now that Idalia could see, though she still leaned against Kellen from time to time for support. That was probably the strangest part of the whole adventure, because the occasional contacts seemed to come out of nowhere; Kellen had no sense of her presence until he felt her lean against him.
The absolute darkness wore on his nerves, though his internal map of the cave system was still as reliable as when he’d first discovered it. Now that he couldn’t see, hearing and scent seemed to be magnified to compensate: he could hear a faint dripping of water; something that sounded like a distant river, the constant “breathing” sound of the cave; the faint sound of Ancaladar’s passage over the stone and the louder sounds of his own movements. He could smell wet stone, blood and damp wool, leather and Elven steel and armor-oil, unicorn and horse, and a spicy indefinable scent that he eventually decided must be dragon.
And eventually, he could see light.
It was the faintest hint of light at first—nothing like enough to navigate by. But they were in the last long passage that led to the outside world, and Kellen could smell cold fresh air.
By now Idalia was staggering with exhaustion. Kellen wasn’t feeling much better. All he wanted to do was throw himself down in the nearest snowdrift and sleep for a year or two.
“We’re not going to be able to climb down that cliff,” Kellen said in sudden realization.
“I know,” Ancaladar said gently. “Humans are very fragile.”
Whatever that meant. At the moment, Kellen was too tired to care.
By the time they reached the cave mouth his eyes were watering at the intensity of the light after so long in utter darkness, and he’d pulled up the hood of his travel cloak to try to shield himself a little. He. was faintly surprised to note that from the position of the sun it was only early afternoon. It seemed as if he’d been down in the caves for sennights.
As soon as they’d neared the opening, Idalia had taken off the tarnkappa and bundled it across her shoulders like an over-large towel. She looked pale and exhausted, and there were deep shadows under her eyes. She was filthy with cave dust and dried blood, and her clothes were ragged and torn.
Ancaladar had hurried ahead once he saw the two of them could make it as far as the cave mouth under their own power. He was already outside, only his enormous head poking back into the cave, watching them anxiously as they staggered forward.
Finally they reached the cave mouth. Kellen shivered. He’d managed to forget how cold it was out here.
Once more the dragon reached out and lifted each of them out of the cave and—very gently—deposited them on the snow at the foot of the cliff. Then before either of them could say anything, it launched itself into the sky with a bound.
“Well, I—” Idalia began. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and her knees buckled. She fell forward into the snow.
Kellen lunged for her, feeling for her pulse, but both her breathing and her pulse were steady. She’d simply fainted from exhaustion—and no wonder, after walking who knew how far through the caves right after a major healing? At least he was in better shape than she was.
He looked around warily, but he saw no signs of enemies, and Ancaladar, soaring overhead, gave no sign that he saw anything amiss. Kellen picked up Idalia again—making sure his cloak was wrapped warmly around both of them—and began the long walk back toward the camp.
JERMAYAN and Shalkan met him halfway, and Kellen might have been in for a bad time if he hadn’t had Idalia in his arms. Jermayan immediately took her up before him on Valdien, cradling her tenderly in his arms.
“Is she all right?” the Elven Knight asked, sounding closer to terrified than Kellen had ever heard him before. “Why does she not wake?”
It was a good thing they were operating under War Manners, which allowed Jermayan to ask direct questions. If he’d had to use the normal forms of Elven polite speech, Kellen thought he might have exploded.
“She’s just had a major healing, and had to walk out of the caves on top of it,” Kellen said soothingly, putting his arm over Shalkan’s withers. “She’ll sleep for at least a day, if she can.” And I wish I could. “She’s fine.”
Jermayan held her close, looking unconvinced.
“You were fortunate to have found her,” he said.
Just then, Ancaladar’s shadow swept over them. Jermayan looked up.
Kellen had never seen Jermayan look quite so utterly and completely taken by surprise. It was rather gratifying. “What’s that?” Jermayan sputtered, staring.
“It’s a dragon,” Kellen said, trying to hide a grin. “He’s the one who showed me where Idalia was. His name is Ancaladar. He wants to come home with us.”
He followed me home. Can I keep him?
Jermayan continued to stare in a stunned fashion as Ancaladar swept on over the end of the valley, wheeled, and headed back, soaring higher this time.
“Then … by all means … the dragon must be welcome … in our homes and at our hearths,” he said at last.
“I don’t know about that part,” Kellen said doubtfully. “He isn’t going to fit in my home, anyway, unless he can shrink.”
THEY stopped to collect Idalia’s horse, and then rode out of the valley following the route the rest of the party had taken the night before. Despite Kellen’s tiredness and Idalia’s need for rest, this was not a place any of them wanted to linger. Soon enough the Shadowed Elves would stop searching the caves and nerve themselves to face the punishing daylight. And Kellen didn’t know how many more of them there might be.
Idalia rode in Jermayan’s arms, wrapped in a blanket. As they went on, Kellen told Jermayan everything of what he’d seen in the caverns, particularly about the Shadowed Elves. The more people who knew about them, the better.
“Idalia mentioned an underground village, but I didn’t see it. They were carrying weapons stolen from the caravan, so they’re definitely the hooded figures I saw in my vision.”
“Which means they are Their allies. Here—in Elven Lands. Living undetected,” Jermayan said darkly. “Able to pass the land-wards at will. Andoreniel must hear of this without delay.”
THEY rode through the rest of the day, but though they saw traces of the other party’s passage, it had almost a full day’s lead, and they had not caught up to it by the time Jermayan signaled a halt for the night.
“You are nearly falling from your saddle with exhaustion, Kellen, and Idalia could use better rest as well,” the Elven Knight said, in tones that brooked no argument. “We will certainly catch up to them tomorrow—and travel all the faster f
or a night’s rest.”
Kellen reluctantly agreed. Even without Vestakia traveling with them to detect any hint of Demonic presence, Ancaladar’s presence overhead ensured that they were nearly as safe as if they were within Sentarshadeen itself.
Although now that he knew that creatures such as the Shadowed Elves could roam the Elven Lands at will, Kellen was no longer sure how safe that was.
Jermayan took most of the work of making camp upon himself, leaving Kellen to sit at Idalia’s side beside the warmth of the brazier. She was awake now, but still very weak.
“Where’s Ancaladar?” she asked.
“Flying around overhead, I guess,” Kellen answered. “Unless he’s asleep somewhere. I’m not sure where he’d sleep, though. He’s much too big to perch in a tree, and there aren’t any more caves around here.” At least I hope there aren’t. “Maybe he can sleep on the wing.”
“I don’t think dragons sleep at all, except when they’re bored,” Idalia said seriously. She shivered, but Kellen could tell it wasn’t from cold. “Thanks for getting me out of there. I mean it.” She sipped her tea.
“You’d do the same for me. And Ancaladar did all the real work. All I had to do was follow him.” He thought about asking Idalia about the odd way the healing had gone, and decided to wait. It didn’t seem to be an urgent problem that needed to be dealt with right now. “He wants to come and live in Sentarshadeen with us.”
“Well, that should give the gossips something new to talk about,” Idalia said. “Though if every time you leave, you bring back another odd stray, they might decide to confine you to the valley from now on.” She yawned, her eyelids drooping, and Kellen plucked the teacup from her hand as her fingers relaxed.
Jermayan arrived, having settled the horses for the night, and stirred the pot of soup that was cooking over the fire. Kellen had already eaten several trail-bars, but was looking forward to hot soup.
“It will be ready soon,” Jermayan pronounced. “Then you will both eat, and you will sleep.”
“I think we can all sleep,” Kellen said. “Idalia said that dragons don’t sleep. Ancaladar can keep watch.”
Jermayan glanced up at the sky. Ancaladar was invisible, save as an enormous shadow that blotted out the stars as he passed between them and the ground.
“Two sets of eyes are better than one,” the Elven Knight said simply.
There was no point in arguing with Jermayan, even if Kellen had possessed the energy right now. If there was one thing he had learned during the time he had spent in Sentarshadeen, it was that it was not an easy thing to change an Elf’s mind, once he had made it up.
Well, if Jermayan wanted to keep watch, let him. No harm could come of it, after all.
They had to awaken Idalia so that she could eat. Jermayan cradled her in his arms while Kellen helped her hold the bowl. The sight of the two of them together made him faintly uncomfortable, but he put it down to exhaustion. She was asleep again almost before she’d finished, and Jermayan wrapped her tenderly in her blankets again, adding more fuel to the brazier.
“She must have been badly injured,” he suggested, handing Kellen his own bowl of soup.
“She was,” Kellen said briefly, bending his head over the bowl to inhale the steam. Jermayan seemed to be waiting for more. “She’d fallen off a cliff.”
“Ah.” Jermayan was silent for a moment. “I well remember my own weakness after you healed me.”
“This …” Kellen hesitated for a moment, wondering how much to tell—and how much Jermayan would understand. Jermayan was no Wildmage: uncounted years ago the Elves had sacrificed their part in the Greater Magics for peace and length of years, so their legends told. There were no Elven Mages.
“This was a much more extensive healing,” he finally said. “And it went differently. She’s going to be fine,” he added quickly, seeing the look of alarm in Jermayan’s dark eyes, “but she’s going to need a lot more rest and recovery time than you did.” He thought of the days after he’d first come to live with Idalia in the Wildwoods, when she’d healed him of injuries sustained fighting the Outlaw Hunt. “Maybe as much as a moonturn.”
“Then there are two reasons to return to Sentarshadeen as quickly as we may,” Jermayan said consideringly. “Now I think it is best that you sleep as well.”
WHEN he awoke the following morning, Kellen felt fully recovered—whatever gift had been bestowed upon him in the cavern to allow him to heal without Mageprice, it had granted him a quick recovery as well.
The morning had dawned damp and foggy; clouds had rolled in, shrouding the sun, and the trees were veiled in mist. The temperature had risen slightly, with a bite in the heavy air that promised snow before midday.
The horses were restless, sensing the coming snowfall, and even Idalia’s placid bay mare, Cella, frisked and played up when it came time to saddle her.
Idalia was still too weak to ride, so once more Jermayan took her up before him on Valdien and tied Cella’s lead-rein to his saddle.
They caught up to the rest of the party near midday. As Kellen had expected, it had begun to snow, and visibility was poor, but unicorn senses were keen.
“They know we’re here,” Shalkan reported, and a few moments later a unicorn-mounted knight came plunging back through the snowdrifts to greet them.
“Kellen—Shalkan—Jermayan—and Idalia as well!” Bendirean said. “Thank Leaf and Star! We had thought …”
“That misfortune had befallen us,” Jermayan agreed. “And so it did, but as you see, we have all slipped free from the Shadow’s grasp. We are fortunate to have reached you before you turned off in the direction of the Fortress of the Crowned Horns.”
“We do not go there,” Bendirean said reluctantly, as if to impart the news pained him. He and Zanaleth turned and began walking along beside Jermayan and the others, at a distance that was comfortable for Zanaleth. “Vestakia says it is too dangerous. We return directly to Sentarshadeen.”
Too dangerous? That doesn’t sound good, Kellen thought.
“That is our destination as well, with all possible speed,” Jermayan agreed, as calmly as if he were discussing a new fashion, or the best way to prepare roast partridge. “We bring news that Andoreniel must have at once—but we also bring a welcome ally.” He pointed skyward.
Bendirean looked up.
As if he could hear them—and for all Kellen knew, he could—Ancaladar chose that moment to make a low pass over them. For a few moments he was plainly visible, even through the veils of snow, then he tilted the end of one vast wing and rose through the clouds again.
“That was a dragon,” Bendirean said, with what Kellen thought was commendable calm under the circumstances.
Zanaleth and Shalkan exchanged eloquent—though silent—looks.
“Yes, Bendirean, that was a dragon,” Jermayan said, his voice faintly unsteady. “His name is Ancaladar, and he wishes to be our ally.”
THE reunion with the larger party was one marked by great relief on both sides. Sandalon was overjoyed to see Kellen again, bursting into unexpected tears and clinging to him tightly. When Lairamo saw that Idalia was alive—though far from well—Kellen thought she might actually lose her iron composure. As it was, the haggard lines of fear and despair in her face eased markedly.
Kellen was glad to see that all the children were well—at least in body. The scars of their captivity at the hands of the Shadowed Elves would be long in healing, and Kellen hoped that the Elven Healers would be able to do something to ease them. To his surprise, he found himself thinking with favor about Armethalieh, something he would have been willing to swear would never happen. But the High Mages were skilled in manipulating the mind: wouldn’t it be a good thing if none of the children remembered any of the horrible things that had happened at all?
Or was this a case of good intentions leading to bad results? Armethalieh as it was now was certainly no paradise, but Morusil, Iletel, and even Idalia had said that the Mages had begun with the
best of intentions. And it was wanting to do good that had allowed the Mages bonded to dragons to be corrupted by the Endarkened.
Fortunately this problem’s solution wasn’t up to him.
The stop was necessarily brief. While Vestakia did not sense pursuers, she had the sense that there were more of the Shadowed Elves in the area—and if they came in force, or with the same allies who had proved so disastrous to the first party, there might be little Kellen’s people could do to stop them, even though they now had Ancaladar’s help. With Shalkan’s permission, Kellen took Sandalon up before him on his saddle, and they rode on.
The snow continued to worsen throughout the day, and they finally had to stop a few hours later to make camp. Kellen still felt restless, even though Vestakia didn’t sense any trouble nearby, and decided to ride up the trail a ways to scout ahead for the next day’s travel.
He unlimbered his bow and kept it ready to hand, shielded by his cloak. His archery wasn’t as strong as his sword-work, but he might get lucky and surprise a rabbit or two. Elven trail-food was both nourishing and palatable, but after more than a sennight of eating nothing else, some fresh meat would be welcome.
KELLEN was a bit surprised at the relief he felt to ride away from the rest of the party. The winter silence seemed to envelop him like a soothing cloak, and the only sound was the hiss of falling snow.
“I, uh, didn’t ask you if you wanted to come along,” Kellen said after a while.
“You could hardly go without me,” Shalkan said. “Besides, I thought you’d like to be alone for a while.”
Kellen was grateful for his friend’s understanding. Since the moment he’d realized that the convoy heading for the Fortress of the Crowned Horns had been attacked, he’d been drawn as tight as a bowstring with tension—first to reach the spot, then to find the missing children, then to rescue Idalia, then to get away safely. And while he knew they hadn’t quite accomplished that yet, they were close. He could relax, at least a little.
The Obsidian Mountain Trilogy Page 108