The Obsidian Mountain Trilogy

by Mercedes Lackey

  Despite the sadness of the news he’d received this morning, Kellen did have to smile to himself. This was hardly the image of serene and perfect all-knowingness that the High Mages of Armethalieh would like to project, but it was a much more human one. When he thought of the High Magick, which had managed to free itself from Balances and Mageprices to become a weapon with nothing to hold it in check, Kellen would much rather think of Cilarnen hopping barefoot over the snow because he’d forgotten his boots in the excitement of working out a spell than of his last sight of the High Council on the day they had Banished him—bloated with smug arrogance, drunk with power, and certain that killing a seventeen-year-old boy would have absolutely no consequences.

  There were always consequences.

  A few moments later, Cilarnen came back, having added boots and a cloak to his robe.

  “Thanks for catching that,” he said to Shalkan and Kellen. “I think I need to put the spells on in a different order, really, and that one got out of the box. I really think it’s better if they know who they’re supposed to serve, and how, before I wake them up.”

  “Why are you having a problem?” Kellen asked. “You’ve made dozens of golems before.”

  Cilarnen shrugged. “According to theory, the Enlivening Spell makes the statue take on the essential nature of its form. So hounds act like hounds; birds, birds; and so on. I was making servants. Maybe that made a difference. But a ferret’s essential nature is to … ferret. Which means I had better put any compulsions on its nature in place first, I think.”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Kellen agreed.

  “But you didn’t come to talk to me about the ferrets. I told Artenel he couldn’t have any of them—or the snakes either—until the end of the sennight.”

  “No,” said Kellen. “I need something else. And I have bad news.”

  “It’s about that thing that came a few days ago, isn’t it?” Cilarnen said.

  “Tea,” he said next, regarding Kellen’s blank expression.

  “YOU were raised in the City. You know we work at night,” Cilarnen said, handing Kellen a mug. He knew Shalkan’s tastes by now, and tipped several honey-disks onto a plate and held them out to the unicorn. Shalkan took them delicately, one by one.

  “In fact, I was just finishing up with the latest batch of stone ferrets before going to bed now, as it’s simple work and doesn’t require much concentration, really. But Midwinter was a time of—oh, say it was as if everything was very clear and quiet, so that I could see a long way. So I wasn’t going to waste it on stone ferrets. I wanted to check as much of the Borders as I could, then see what was going on in Armethalieh.

  “Well, as I’ve told you before, those big cities the Elves have up there are pretty well gone. I’ve only been as far north as Ysterialpoerin, and I’ve only been there once, but I tried looking for other things in the north that looked like that big house I was in—and felt like it, too—and I found two that were empty, and one looked like it had been burned. Since it had been looted, I could follow objects that had been taken from it, and a lot of them kept leading me back to Ysterialpoerin, but enough of them didn’t that I could start to trace the Frost Giants; figure out where they are, and where they’re going. I was in the middle of doing that—it’s very boring, so I don’t bother you with it unless there’s actually something interesting going on—when all of a sudden there was this … it was as if there were a fire, and somebody had thrown an enormous load of coals and oil onto it.”

  “I don’t get it,” Kellen said, shaking his head.

  “You really weren’t paying attention at College, were you?” Cilarnen said. “Well, they didn’t really want to teach us this stuff. We might have learned to think. Okay. Think of the world—everything you know—as a pond of fish. All the fish in the pond are Powers—what the College teaches us are Illusory Creatures and Imaginary Constructs, but are actually real, just like Shalkan.”

  “Okay,” Kellen said. Shalkan snorted in amusement.

  Cilarnen seemed so surprised by things that Kellen took for granted—that the Shining Folk were real, for example—but then, Kellen and Cilarnen had learned about magic and the world in two entirely different ways.

  He supposed that meant that they saw the world in two entirely different ways, too.

  “Now imagine I’m looking into that pond on Midwinter night, talking to some of the Powers—fish—and doing my best not to be seen by others, when suddenly, from nowhere I can see, a giant fish, bigger than all the other fish, appears in the pond.”

  “Is it a good fish?” Kellen asked dubiously.

  Cilarnen snorted. “A very good fish, I think, as it immediately started eating some of the fish I’d been trying to hide from. But still a very scary fish.”

  Midwinter would have been when Idalia had done her spell.

  “So where did this, er, ‘fish’ come from?” Kellen asked.

  “I don’t know!” Cilarnen said in exasperation. “Somewhere that isn’t here. Where that is, and why it’s showed up just now, the Light only knows.”

  “What else can you tell me about it?” Kellen asked.

  “Is that what you came to ask me?” Cilarnen asked, sounding incredulous. “Do you want me to summon it up and ask it? Kellen, I’d rather summon up one of Them, believe me! It’s destroying our enemies, but that doesn’t mean … look. A candle is a good thing to have inside your house, right? A forest fire isn’t. But they’re both flame.”

  “I guess,” Kellen said doubtfully. Any time Cilarnen tried to explain something to him about magic—or magick—he only confused Kellen further.

  “You’re saying it’s one of the Old Powers,” Shalkan said helpfully.

  “I have no idea,” Cilarnen answered fervently. “I don’t even know what an ‘Old Power’ is.”

  “You know I went to Sentarshadeen a few days ago,” Kellen said. “Jermayan, well, needed help with a spell. We needed to figure out a way to keep He Who Is out of the world.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Cilarnen said sarcastically.

  “Well, Idalia—and Jermayan, and Ancaladar—figured out among them that Great Queen Vielassar Farcarinon had done it once before, so it ought to be possible to do it again. And apparently it involved something called a Greater Summoning.”

  Cilarnen went very still.

  “And she … did this… Greater Summoning. At Midwinter.”

  It was not a question.

  “She was supposed to. If she could gain the consent of all the land. I haven’t heard from her since I left Sentarshadeen, but since you say this ‘Big Fish’ has appeared, I suppose she managed to gain what she needed and did the spell. Redhelwar says it was something that threw Them into confusion.”

  Cilarnen laughed shakily. “A Greater Power of the Light! Kellen, there are times when it’s a good thing that you have no idea of what you’re talking about! And to think I worried about calling up a mere Elemental! Yes, I would say that Idalia’s Summoning worked. But as for telling you precisely what it was she called … that I cannot do, save that it is old, and powerful, and on our side. But how could you have heard from Redhelwar so quickly?” Cilarnen asked. “Some new spell?”

  Cilarnen’s innocent question reminded Kellen that despite their cause for rejoicing, there was also new cause for grief.

  “Riasen was at Ancaladar’s Grove this morning. The army is at Ondoladesh-iron. Jermayan … brought them south through some kind of portal. He and Ancaladar died doing it.”

  “Dear Light,” Cilarnen said quietly. “Kellen, I am so sorry. I know he was your friend. And Idalia’s.”

  “We needed the army here,” Kellen said simply.

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  “Kellen,” Cilarnen said. “Your Wild Magic—it’s all about balancing things, isn’t it? So everything has an opposite?”

  “I suppose so,” Kellen said. He’d never really thought about it. The Wild Magic was about doing, not about thinking about doing. />
  “So He Who Is has an opposite too?”

  “I guess so.”

  “So this Greater Power that Idalia has summoned must be that opposite. Or at least a part of it. Because if everything were really back in balance, we’d already have won.”

  Kellen thought about it. It seemed right. If there was one thing he knew for sure about the Wild Magic, it was that it didn’t solve your problems for you. It helped, but you had to help yourself as well.

  “Then Redhelwar’s right,” Kellen said at last. “They’re as weak now as They’re going to be. And if the Greater Power can keep He Who Is from getting through for at least a while, this is our best chance.”

  “To do what?” Cilarnen asked.

  “To deny Them Armethalieh,” Kellen said. “And—if possible—to convince the High Mages to fight on our side.”

  Cilarnen laughed bitterly.

  “Well, so long as you’re not planning to do that today, I’m going to bed. Unless there’s something else you need right now?”

  “Not today,” Kellen assured him.

  THAT had been almost a sennight ago.

  Today…

  Today he’d discovered that Jermayan was alive after all.

  “I just thought you’d like to know,” Shalkan said casually, when Kellen came to the Grove that morning, “that when I was out for my morning canter, I saw a dragon in the sky.”

  Kellen simply stared at him.

  “A dragon,” Shalkan repeated patiently. “A black dragon. In the sky. Flying.”

  “An-Ancaladar?” Kellen stammered.

  “Do you know of any other dragons?” the unicorn answered. “They’re flying with the army. It should be here in a sennight or so.”

  “I—But—How—? I mean … Jermayan couldn’t have been wrong about his spell. Could he?”

  “No,” Shalkan said. “I think, when you talk to him, you may find him just as surprised by this turn of events as you are. But it’s just possible—with one of the Great Powers afoot in the world again after so long—that we should not expect everything to go as we have been used to. Just a thought.”

  “Huh,” Kellen said. “Well, if they aren’t going to, we could use a few more of them going this way. I’m going to go find Keirasti. We’ll tell Vestakia.”

  “And I suppose you’ll want me to tell Cilarnen,” Shalkan said, trying to sound cross, and failing.

  “You know he’ll feed you honey-disks.”

  “Honey-cakes,” Shalkan corrected eagerly, turning and trotting off.

  KEIRASTI’S troop had made their way to the encampment a few days before. Kellen walked back down into the camp to share the good news with her.

  She did not answer at her tent, and the flap was pinned back, indicating that she was not there. Maredhiel told him that Keirasti had gone down to the An-garussa, as she frequently did on her early morning rides. He saddled Firareth and found the Elven Knight, as he so often did, standing in the snow gazing out at the new bridge, Orata’s reins in her hand.

  “I See you, Keirasti,” he said.

  “I See you, Kellen,” she said, without turning around. “I promise you, if I see another four centuries, and spend all of them standing here, I shall never get used to this bridge, useful though it is.”

  Was that how old she was? He’d never asked, of course. He didn’t know whether it was rude or not to ask Elves their ages. It had simply never come up.

  Well, Idalia had once said that Keirasti was old enough to be his grandmother… .

  And apparently more, by several hundred years.

  “I have good news,” he said. “I’ve just spoken to Shalkan. He tells me that Jermayan is alive.”

  “Alive!” She turned around. “Leaf and Star! This news comes in a good hour! It… would be good to know how such a thing can be, of course.”

  “I’m not really sure, and neither is Shalkan. But he and Ancaladar are with the army, and they’ll be here soon. We can ask them then. I was hoping that you’d accompany me to let Vestakia know.”

  “Now this is a duty I shall be happy to discharge,” Keirasti said, grinning broadly. She swung up into Orata’s saddle and the two of them turned back toward the camp.

  VESTAKIA simply burst into tears when she heard, flinging herself into Keirasti’s arms.

  It was one of the reasons Kellen hadn’t wanted to be alone with her when he gave her the news.

  He knew that every night now, when she slept, Vestakia’s dreams took her to Shadow Mountain, into the mind of the Prince of Shadow Mountain. Closer, each night, to his innermost thoughts and plans.

  It was a place nothing of the Light should have to go.

  But the images—the impressions—Vestakia was able to relay to him were important than even Vestakia’s life.

  They were changing Their tactics.

  Vestakia wasn’t completely sure, but she had the idea that Shadow Mountain was calling its Allies back to it, out of the Elven Lands and the High Reaches. The Ice Trolls and the Frost Giants. Something They called Dwerro. Others she wasn’t quite sure of.

  Every creature that owed fealty to Them, and could withstand sunlight, was being massed together.

  I think They’re finally going to meet us on the battlefield, Kellen thought.

  But by now Kellen was wise enough to know that the traditional battle the Elves had always hoped for could only end in disaster for the Allies. Even if their numbers were evenly matched—something he had no way of knowing—the En-darkened would have more powerful Mages at their beck, and far more of them, than the Allies could possibly hope to put into the field. Even with this new Ally that Idalia had summoned.

  Unless they could take Armethalieh before the battle and turn it to their side.

  He made up his mind.

  When he left Vestakia in her tent, he sought out Isinwen.

  EVEN in a camp with no prospect of imminent battle, there was much to do. Those who were not on patrol were hunting, or felling trees to feed Artenel’s seemingly-endless need of lumber. And anyone who was not doing that had armor and tack and weapons to care for, sword-drill to perform—for the army could not be allowed to grow slack in its temporary leisure—or the thousand small housekeeping tasks of an army in the field. In addition to all this, everything must be kept organized and running smoothly, and as Kellen’s Second, much of the work of seeing that everyone knew where they should be and what tasks fell to them in the particular hours of each particular day fell to Isinwen.

  He rose to his feet as Kellen stepped into the large tent—made from three others—that had been designated the command center. It would be nice to have a more permanent structure, Kellen supposed—even six braziers were not enough to truly warm it—but it was only temporary. Most of the army would be moving onward soon, and with it the need for such a place would end. Only Artenel’s artificers, and a few hundred Knights left to guard them, would remain to continue the work on Fortress Halacira. It was one of the reasons Artenel was doing his best to get so much of the work done now, while he still had so many hands to aid him.

  “I See you, Kellen. There is fresh tea made.”

  “I See you, Isinwen. I come to begin the day with good news, lately received. The army marches south from Ondoladeshiron, and should join us in a sennight or so. And better: Jermayan and Ancaladar march—or rather, fly—with them.”

  “I do not ask how such a miracle occurred,” Isinwen said firmly. “It is magic, and this is something I have never understood. But I am grateful for it.”

  “So am I,” Kellen said. “And since this is so, I find I must go to Sentarshadeen after all, and that immediately. I shall leave Halacira in your charge, unless you counsel me against it.”

  Isinwen paused to consider.

  “I believe we are secure here. Vestakia can warn us of Their approach, and the caverns make a more secure fortress by the day. The forest—what there is left of it—is free both of any Tainted enemy and any merely mortal foe. The camp runs smoothly, and
riding Shalkan, your journey will be a swift one. Besides, should there be grave need, I believe Cilarnen will be able to send word to Shalkan over a distance, if not to you.”

  “You’re probably right.” While it was true that the Wild Magic seemed to be incompatible with the High Magick in some mysterious way—and so Cilarnen could not reach Kellen directly—no such difficulty existed between Cilarnen and Shalkan. Not only would Cilarnen be able to locate Shalkan by magick, he should also be able to talk to him.

  “I’ll be back in a day, then. Two, perhaps.”

  “And all will be just as you have left it. Leaf and Star go with you, Kellen.”

  “And abide with you, Isinwen.”

  SOON Kellen was riding over the snow on Shalkan’s back. Except for the snow, and the fact that he was riding to Sentarshadeen instead of away from it, the previous several moonturns could almost not have happened. He and Shalkan were off on their own, upon an adventure.

  And what would happen when he reached his goal was as much a mystery as it had been on that other occasion.

  Very soon they reached the edge of the area where his army had been logging, and the forest once more resumed its serene beauty. There had been several snows since the last time the supply sledges had traversed the road between Halacira and Sentarshadeen, and the road was only discernible as a wide space where the trees were not. But that didn’t matter to Shalkan. The unicorn ran across the top of the snow, not even leaving footprints behind.

  “And may your humble steed ask what you’re going to do in Sentarshadeen?” Shalkan asked, as he covered the distance to the city in a ground-eating lope.

  “If Firareth were here, I’m sure he wouldn’t be interested,” Kellen answered.

  Shalkan bucked warningly.

  “All right! I’m going to ask Morusil for the army. He’s the one who’s been signing the dispatches in Andoreniel’s name,” Kellen said quickly. He had no desire to end up on his back in the snow, and no doubt of Shalkan’s ability to put him there, Knight-Mage or not.