3 When Darkness Falls.8 (61 page)

"Then we owe you a debt greater than we shall ever be able to repay, Idalia." Redhelwar said, after a long pause.

* * * * *

"'WHAT harms one harms all, beneath the canopy of Leaf and Star,'" Idalia quoted simply. She poured tea for Jermayan, and refilled her own mug and Redhelwar's as well. Several pastries, and a couple of mugs of strong Elven Allheal tea had gone a long way to rebuilding her strength, though a nice long nap wouldn't hurt.

"Now, in the time of
Their
weakness and confusion, would be the time to strike," Redhelwar said, his voice even. "Perhaps even, as Kellen wishes, to deny
Them
Armethalieh. But it cannot be. Kellen's force is too few to stand against what legions
They
might bring into the field. And mine is here. It will be spring by the time I have brought the army to Halacira, and our losses crossing the Mystrals may be… not what I would choose."

"Perhaps that need not be," Jermayan said.

Idalia set down her mug and looked at him.

"You know that in ancient days, the Elven Mages could do many things that seem not like simple magic as we know it, but beyond the dreams of the possible," Jermayan said. "1 have been speaking to Ancaladar. He tells me that what I imagine can be done. It is not without cost," he added quietly. "But the cost will be ours alone to bear. If it works, you need but take your army through a… door… we shall make, of four rods' width. You will ride out the other side upon the Gathering Plain, having traveled but a few yards in seeming. You need not cross the Mystrals at all."

"This must be a very great spell indeed," Redhelwar said.

"It will take all the magic we have to cast it," Jermayan said. "You must go as quickly as you can, for to hold the door open will take great effort."

All
the magic?
Idalia thought, with a sudden sharp pang of suspicion. But Ancaladar was a creature of magic. If Jermayan poured all of Ancaladar's magic into this one spell, Ancaladar would die. And if Ancaladar died, Jermayan would die as well. They were Bonded, linked by the strongest of ties.

Suddenly she realized what Jermayan intended, and what it would cost.

"Then we shall do so," Redhelwar said. He was no Mage, but he knew as well as Idalia did what Jermayan intended. "I shall go now and give orders to the army. We must re-form, to take best advantage of your spell." He paused. "You understand, Jermayan, that I can leave no one behind."

"I understand," Jermayan said. "I shall hold the door for as long as you need."

Redhelwar left the shelter. A few moments later Idalia heard the horns begin to sound again, mixed with the babble of voices, as new orders were given.

"Jermayan!" she said.

"You must go with them, of course, Idalia," he said calmly. They will need Healers. And you will not wish to be alone here, when the spell is run." She nodded.

Somehow she'd always thought they'd have more time, even if not much more. That she'd be the first to die. Something.

She took his hand, imagining the feel of flesh against flesh through the heavy gauntlets they both wore against the cold.

"I would not do this, were it not vital," he said, answering words she could not bring herself to speak. "The army is useless here. Through luck and chance,
They
have accomplished what
They
have always wished to do — divided our forces while
They
work
Their
evils elsewhere. I can undo this foul mischance, and I will. Kellen would do as much, had he the power. So would you, or Cilarnen, or any of us."

"I know," she answered steadily.

She had already given up as much. That she had not yet been called to pay her Mageprice was luck, nothing more.

They sat together, quietly, drinking tea, until Redhelwar came to tell them that the army was in position.

* * * * *

INSTEAD of a narrow column of march, the army was now assembled into a broad — and much shorter — series of ranks. The Unicorn Knights were at the fore, as always, while behind them was the remount herd and the loose livestock with their handlers. Behind them stood the Centaurs. But behind the Centaurs were the supply wagons.

Redhelwar was right. Without his supply train — the Healers and their medicines, the tents, the fodder for the animals, the food for the Men, Elves, and Centaurs, the equipment to repair tack and armor, the army was all-but-crippled. There were some things here that could not be replaced at all, and others that could not be replaced quickly. Redhelwar must have them all in order to fight.

But the supply train was the slowest-moving part of the army. For Jermayan to hold the door long enough for it to pass through might be a magic beyond his strength.

Behind the supply train stood the ranks of Elven Knights. Once the huge, slow-moving, ox-drawn sledges were through, the Knights would move fast enough. And if, by some terrible mischance, they were cut off, and marooned upon this side of the Mystrals, they, of all the elements of Redhelwar's army, were best equipped to make their own way across the mountains alone and rejoin it.

"I have brought Cella for you, Idalia," Ninolion said, leading Idalia's cream palfrey up to the shelter. "I know you will wish to ride her."

He had also brought Valdien, Jermayan's warhorse, for Jermayan would need a mount that he could ride back to Ancaladar's side — and one that he could command to return to the army without him.

"My thanks," Idalia said briefly. She took the mare's reins.

The shelter had not been packed. Redhelwar had done all that he could to make Jermayan's task easier. He had lightened the sledges of everything that could possibly be left behind. It was not much, but the snow around the army's stopping-place was starred with neat cairns of discarded material.

"Be well, Idalia," Jermayan said.

Idalia took a deep breath. "Be sure I shall tell Kellen all you have done," she said.

"Then I hold myself satisfied," Jermayan answered simply.

He turned away, and mounted Valdien, and rode out to Ancaladar. Idalia mounted Cella, and rode to take her place in the line. The Healers and the Mountainfolk rode just ahead of the wagons, for they must be certain to reach the other side, of all the elements of the army.

A few moments later Valdien, riderless now, came galloping back.

That was the signal.

The army began to move forward.

Several hundred yards in advance of the army's line, Idalia saw a faint sparkle on the snow. No, in the air above the snow. It danced and shimmered on the air like Pelashia's Veils, until a curtain of light formed, strengthened.

The air was filled with magic. It prickled on her skin, lifted the loose tendrils of her hair. It was as if she could swim in it.

In the distance, she could see Jermayan, sitting on Ancaladar's back.

The unicorns went from a trot, to a gallop, to a leaping, bounding run.

Passed through the veil of light.

Vanished.

Behind her she could hear the cries and the whip-cracks of the drovers, as they goaded their stolid charges into something faster than their normal ground-eating plod.

The ground shook as the remount herd thundered forward at a dead tun, kicking up waves of snow that sparkled in the sun, clearing a path for those who followed after. Some of the animals tried to dodge aside at the last moment, and were expertly forced back into the herd by their mounted handlers. Behind the herd of horses came the slower-moving ox-herd, goaded to frenzy by a mob of howling Centaurs, waving hats and blankets. The oxen did not try to dodge the doorway. They simply put their heads down and ran, and woe betide anything that got in their way.

They, too, passed through the shimmering doorway of light and vanished.

The Centaurs that had not been with the ox-herd were the next to reach the door, their long ranks galloping in close formation. Sunlight sparkled off their armored flanks, and their long tails floated behind them as they galloped forward, arms pumping, heads down. As if they passed into a waterfall they vanished, tank by rank.

Behind them the Healers and the Mountainfolk galloped, too — the Elven Healers and Idalia on their palfreys, the Mountainfolk on their sturdy shaggy ponies. How long now had Jermayan held the spell? Less than half the army had passed through, and the fastest half had already gone.

With all her heart, she wanted to stop, to turn aside, and knew she could not. She passed through the door.

There was a sudden sensation of darkness and falling. Not cold, but a shocking and entire absence of warmth. The transition seemed to take forever, and no time at all.

Then there was light again, and instead of brightness, the day was dark and gray, the air chill with a denseness that spoke of heavy snow to come — soon.

"Keep moving!" she heard. "Keep moving! There are others right behind you!"

Cella was normally the mildest and most easygoing of mounts, but the gentle mare had never in all her days experienced anything like the passage through the door. Idalia had no difficulty in obeying the unknown person's orders, because Cella laid her ears flat back and bolted forward at a dead run.

When Idalia finally regained control of her mount several minutes later and was able to pay attention to something other than Cella, the scene that met her eyes was barely-controlled chaos.

In the distance — at least a mile behind her — she could see the shimmer of Jermayan's door. Leading away from it, there was a wide swath of trampled snow. The herds had simply… fled. Their handlers had not tried to stop them, for the most vital thing at the moment was to clear the area around the door itself. And many of the handlers had been thrown from wildly shying mounts as they came through. The Centaurs had carried them to safety, but Idalia could see blood on the snow. There were injured.

The Centaur army was scattered in clumps over a great distance, in two wide arcs to each side of the doorway, a ragged line of warriors almost a mile in length. Some of the Centaurs were sprawled in the snow, others had Elves mounted on their backs — the injured horse-handlers, Idalia guessed.

Riderless horses — those that had not simply followed the herd — were running everywhere.

It looked like the aftermath of a battle.

Few of the other riders that had come through the door at the same time she had fared much better than she and Cella, though most of the Mountainborn had at least stayed in the saddle. The important thing, now, was to keep the doorway clear.

She rode up to the nearest Centaur she saw.

"That stand of trees! It should be far enough from the door! We must move the injured there and reorganize!"

He nodded. The Unicorn Knights were already regrouped in good order, but they could not approach the main army. The Centaurs were scattered.

The Centaur Captain raised his horn to his lips. Compared to the sound of the Elven horns, it was harsh and strident, but it performed its task just as well.

The Centaurs began reforming into units, converging on the thicket of trees in the distance, and the Mountainfolk and the Healers followed.

In the distance, three sledges came through the door, side-by-side.

The oxen bawled in terror. They had been moving at what passed for a swift trot among their kind before, but now they shifted into an all-out panicked gallop, lunging forward across the well-beaten snow as fast as they could go.

If they run into each other — if the traces break — if one of them breaks a leg —

Then there would be a barrier in front of the door that no one could shift.

And the rest of the Elven Army would ride right into it, with no way of knowing what they were about to encounter.

But the others had seen the danger as well as she had. The Mountainborn Wildmages turned and rode back.

"I will Speak to them as they come," a Wildmage named Ardir said, as the first three sledges thundered past, miraculously unscathed. "You all must help me."

"Consent freely given, as is our aid," Hudirg answered.

"Of course," Idalia said. Behind her, she heard murmurs as the other Mountainborn each offered up his or her own consent.

The next team was already coming through. Behind the Wildmages, some Centaurs rushed to the heads of the lead yokes of the other ox-teams, grabbing their headstalls and turning them away from each other and slowing their headlong flight.

She had no time to think of Jermayan now, only to offer up a quick prayer to the Gods of the Wild Magic that Ardir's spell — and Jermayan's — would hold for as long as they needed it to.

Ardir took a handful of herbs from a pouch on his belt, quickly pulling off his glove and slashing his hand, moistening them with his blood.

He raised both hands, bare and gloved together, stretching them out toward the oxen coming through the doorway. Idalia could see his lips move, but heard no words.

Suddenly her senses seemed both sharpened and dimmed — sight was nearly gone; the world was a dim place of dull confusing shadows, but scent was now keen: she could smell snow, and wind, and an oncoming storm; the bright verdant scent of distant trees, withered grass beneath the snow, the possibility of a buried stream, horses, Centaurs, Men, other things for which she had no name.