1 The Outstretched Shadow.3 (92 page)

 "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 mounting 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.

 "I'm afraid this will hurt a little," he said, as he began to work the salve into her skin. "But it will feel better afterward."

 Vestakia winced as Kellen's fingers found a particularly sensitive spot. Kellen cast about for something to distract her.

 "You said you'd tell us how you came to be here?" he asked. "This would be a good time." He glanced over his shoulder. Jermayan was taking an awfully long time getting the tea to boil.

 "I suppose I owe you the tale," Vestakia said, hanging her head. "I warn you, Wildmage, it isn't a pretty one."

 "Well," Kellen said lightly, "it's bound to be interesting."

 She managed a wan smile. "My father, as you know already, was a Demon. My mother told us that he called himself the Prince of Shadow Mountain, and though all Demons lie, I have no reason to think that this one time he wasn't telling the truth."

 Interesting. He wondered why she was so sure, but decided to let Vestakia tell the story in her own way. He could always ask questions later. Beside him, Shalkan was listening with rapt attention.

 "My mother was a Wildmage, who lived with her sister in a little village far to the east of here. My father seduced her in human form and got her with child, intending to leave her on some pretext and come back after I was born and claim me for his own. It is a common practice among Demonkind and well known among the Mountain-folk—perhaps you have heard the songs we sing about it?"

 Kellen hadn't. Vestakia shrugged.

 "It doesn't matter, because this time his plan failed. One night my mother wore a Talisman of the Good Goddess made from braided unicorn hair to their bed. He did not recognize it for what it was, and he touched it. It burned him, and he vanished."

 Kellen blinked at that; he'd known that the living unicorns were inimical to Demons, but unicorn hair!. He filed the information away for future reference. It could be very useful.

 "She knew him for what he was then, of course, but by then it was too late." Vestakia sighed. "She was with child, of course, and—and that doomed her to lose the life she had always known, and it would be only that, only if she was very fortunate indeed."

 "Why?" he asked, because Vestakia had stopped talking.

 "If the villagers found out that she had been Tainted by a Demon's embrace, even accidentally, they would put her to death," Vestakia told him flatly. "If they found out she was pregnant by a Demon, they would put her to death even more swiftly—and there was no point in trying to abort in secret what she carried: Demon-children cannot be gotten rid of except by killing the mother. So she faced death twice over for her error— but my mother was a powerful Wildmage, and she was very clever as well, and she was not going to lie down and wait for death."

 If she was anything like you, and I expect she must have been, I can certainly believe that, Kellen thought.

 "She took stock of her options and resources, and made plans. No one but she knew that she had taken a lover at all, much less that her lover had been a Demon: she would be disgraced in the eyes of the village elders when she was found to be carrying a bastard, but not murdered—not until the child was born and showed unquestionable signs of Demonic Taint. And—she didn't intend to give birth to a child that would grow up to destroy and corrupt all that it touched."

 "Well, I can see where that would be a problem," Kellen replied, keeping his eyes on her ankle, and his tone light, but not too light. He didn't want her to think he was making fun of her, or not taking her story as seriously as it deserved to be. "I assume she must have had an idea of what to do about it."

 "She did," Vestakia said solemnly. "She called upon the Wild Magic to help her."

 He blinked. "Oh. My." It was a completely logical solution, given that the woman in question was a Wildmage, but how many would have had the courage to take it, knowing that the price asked was likely to be very high, and there was no one to bear it but herself? Idalia would, Kellen thought with a flash of pride. But how many others?

 "And so according to the ancient ways, because she had asked only for help, and not what kind of help, my mother was offered a choice, and a price."

 He looked up, then, into those solemn, yellow eyes, and thought that he could guess the choice. But he didn't interrupt Vestakia. Jermayan was eavesdropping, although he pretended otherwise, and he needed to hear this from Vestakia's lips.

 "Her choice was that the child to be could be completely hers in spirit, and its father's in body; or its father's in spirit, yet hers in body. So I could look like him, yet be human inside, or look like her, yet be his in every way that mattered—a Demon. No matter which choice she made, she would sacrifice twenty years of her allotted span of years."