3 When Darkness Falls.8 (68 page)

"Then we'd just better hope that Cilarnen's a good teacher," Shalkan said. "And that he has enough time before we get there."

* * * * *

THE following day they crossed over into the Wild Lands.

Almost instantly Kellen could sense a change in the landscape.

Everything seemed… diminished… as if the life had been sucked out of it. Though the countryside was winter-barren, it managed to look as if nothing ever
had
grown there, not only since the Great Drought, but in living memory.

Around midday, they saw the first refugees.

From his previous trip to the Elven Lands, Kellen knew that there were no villages, Centaur or human, within a fortnight's travel of the Border. They were traveling through open country now, and would be for some time; Redhelwar's maps weren't as detailed here, but they showed only one range of high hills (Kellen recalled them vividly; it was where he and Shalkan had fought off the Outlaw Hunt) and a forest beyond it which marked the far edge of the Delfier Valley. Those should be the only real impediments to the army's march.

Aside from whatever the Enemy chose to do.

The unicorns, as always, were the far-forward scouts. Riding between them and the rest of the army was another troop of knights led by Nithariel. She and her Knights could receive their reports and bring them back to Redhelwar without causing distress to the unicorns.

The army forged forward steadily, covering the leagues that separated them from Armethalieh at a steady, ground-eating pace. Overhead, Ancaladar soared and wheeled through the clear empty sky. Since Jermayan could no longer communicate with the forces on the ground by magic, he now carried one of the Elven warhorns. The various calls would provide nearly as much advance information as magical speech.

Kellen's troop had been made up to full strength once again, and as a skirmishing unit, his Twelve was riding on the flank of the army, ready to break away immediately to deal with any danger that might present itself. The position gave him a good view of the road ahead, and so he was able to see when Riasen rode back to Nithariel, and Nithariel in turn rode back to Redhelwar.

"Something's up," he said to Isinwen.

"I do not doubt we shall soon discover what it is," Isinwen said placidly. "As always, I await any order you choose to give."

"If I ordered you to go and ask Redhelwar what was going on, he'd have both our heads, and send us off to horse-duty for the rest of the campaign," Kellen said.

"Why so I had believed. But I did not like to put my own opinions before those of so worthy a Knight-Mage and battle-commander," Isinwen said blandly.

"You know, I really think you're wasted here," Kellen said. "You should be off amusing the unicorns."

"Alas," Isinwen said. "My wife would hardly approve. Nor, I think, would the unicorns take pleasure in my company. Ah, here is news."

Dionan rode back down the line.

"Nithariel and Riasen report a band of travelers on the road ahead. Refugees from Greenpoint, Riasen believes, and without Taint, Elariagor says. Ride up to them and discover their condition. They may take sanctuary beyond the Border."

Kellen raised a hand in salute and pulled his troop out of line. In moments they were cantering up past the head of the column.

* * * * *

THE band of travelers were a ragged collection. Kellen counted a dozen humans and six Centaurs. Four of the humans were women. One was carrying a baby, well muffled-up against the cold. All of the Centaurs were carrying heavy packs, and one of the men was leading a shaggy pack-pony as well. The beast looked exhausted, as did the people.

"We mean you no harm," Kellen said, dismounting from Firareth's saddle. "I'm Kellen. We've come to offer the sanctuary of the Elven Lands. The Border is just a few miles up the road, and the Elven city of Sentarshadeen is just beyond it. They'll take care of you there."

"Huntsman be praised!" one of the Centaurs said. "Is it true… the Elves will open their borders to any who come?"

"Any who are of the Light," Kellen said firmly. "But what are you doing here? Riasen — the unicorn rider — said you were from Greenpoint."

"Greenpoint isn't there anymore." It was one of the men who spoke. "My name is Jasson. I was a blacksmith at Greenpoint. We have heard that the Shadowkin rise again, but thought they would not come to us here in the west. When the hunting began to fail just after Second Harvest, we thought it was simple misfortune, but…"

To Kellen's dismay and horror, Jasson began to weep, covering his face with his hands.

"We were in the woods, searching for wildgather," one of the women said. "Something… came."

"We are all that is left," another of the Centaurs said. "We have been on the road this past moonturn. My brother Sarick and I fish for Greenpoint. We were out on the ice when we saw the smoke. By the time we returned, the village was gone. No one was left. Only those who were away, like Sietta, or whose shops are far from the village, like Jasson. The village had burned. Even the stone had burned. There were not even bodies."

Demons. It must be Demons.

Demons had raided Greenpoint a moonturn ago, and taken everyone there as slaves… or food.

"I am sorry for your loss," Kellen said quietly. "But the Shadowkin have not yet crossed the Borders of the Elven Lands. Beyond Sentarshadeen we are building a place for you to live, where you can be safe. In Sentarshadeen they will show you how to get there."

"But what of you?" Sietta asked. "Can you not take us there yourselves? Won't you protect us?"

"I'm sorry," Kellen said. "We're going the other way. We have to go to fight the ones who destroyed your village."

Quickly he emptied his saddlebags of all the food he was carrying, and the rest of his troop did the same. A few trail-bars, some dried fruit — it wasn't much, but it would be enough to get them over the Border, and Halacira was being provisioned from Sentarshadeen. They'd be safe at Halacira.

But how many more victims of
Their
cruelty would the army encounter on the road to Armethalieh?

The refugees moved wearily up the road. Kellen rode back to make his report to Redhelwar.

* * * * *

"WE will not be able to feed them all, Kellen," the Army's General said. "If we encounter more, you must think of the army first."

"I know," Kellen said.

It was a bitter truth. But there would be no chance to reprovision the army between here and Armethalieh — and probably not even then, unless they raided some of the Delfier Valley farms and took what they needed by force. The army would need everything it had to feed itself.

* * * * *

LATER that day, they fought off their first Demon attack.

They saw no more refugees, but the unicorns ranged farther from the column now, and brought back reports of the tracks of both Coldwarg and serpentmarae. The monsters that were Their most efficient tools ranged freely here in the Wild Lands, and Redhelwar ordered the army to be especially alert.

Suddenly he heard an outcry from farther back in the column. Vestakia.

There was an urgent cascade of hornsong from the sky.

Something coming from the sky.

The column stopped. The skirmishers deployed. The Unicorn Knights came riding back toward the main body of the army, stopping less than half a mile away. Shalkan was with them. Nithariel's troop passed Kellen's as she rode down the line toward her place in the formation, her Knights galloping all-out through the snow.

Kellen heard Ancaladar shriek with anger — a sound he could not ever remember hearing the dragon make before.

There were Demons in the sky.

Only two, but from all Cilarnen had told them, one could destroy a village. Two might well be able to slay half the army.

For a moment, the two-bat-winged forms swooped and danced around Ancaladar as the dragon lashed out at
Them
with claws and tail. But without Jermayan's magic, he and Ancaladar were powerless to affect the creatures, and the Demons knew it. With one powerful blow — not even a spell — one of the Demons knocked Ancaladar out of the sky, but the dragon and his rider were not their main target.

The army was.

Suddenly Cilarnen and Anganil came bolting out of the column past Kellen. The destrier's reins were looped around the saddlehorn; Cilarnen had both hands raised to the sky.

Lightning.

By now Kellen had seen more wild weather than he actually cared to. He'd seen storms, and he'd seen lightning. But only lightning up in the sky — great flashes of light that turned the night to day, or jagged bolts of light crossing the sky, as if the night were cracking to let the morning in.

Not like this.

This was lightning coming out of a clear blue sky. Coming without warning. A jagged column of blinding white fire lanced down out of the sky with an ear-numbing crack — once, twice — and when it was done, the Demons in the sky had been slammed to earth in the center of a huge lake of charred grass and mud, their bodies nothing more than twisted, still-smoking embers. Though the bolts had struck almost half a mile away, a ripple of unease moved through the army, as startled animals reacted to the sudden blast of light and noise.

And, horribly, the Demons were still moving. "
They
aren't dead!" Cilarnen cried.

Shalkan was the first to reach them, slipping and skidding in the ice and mud, followed by the rest of the Unicorn Knights. By the time he had, the Demons were already beginning to heal. But they were still weak enough that the unicorns, trampling and goring, reduced them quickly to inanimate ash.

It was all over very quickly.

Kellen rode up to Cilarnen as the Unicorn Knights retreated. Cilarnen swung down awkwardly from Anganil's back, dropped to his knees, and plunged his hands into the snow.

"Aaah — ! By the Light, that hurts," Cilarnen gasped. He raised his hands out of the snow after a moment, and Kellen could see that they were red. Burned. Blisters had formed and already broken, and thin trickles of blood, mixed with melted snow, were running down his wrists. Cilarnen inspected the damage and plunged his hands back into the snow again.

"What did you do?" Kellen demanded, swinging down out of his saddle.

"Lightning," Cilarnen said succinctly. "It's a complicated spell, but I have it as a cantrip. I've only prepared a few more, though, so I hope there won't be many more visitors. It won't kill
Them
, of course. But it slows
Them
down."

Despite the cold — Kellen felt it even through layers of armor and padding, and Cilarnen was only wearing a robe — Cilarnen was sweating heavily. Drops of perspiration fell from his forehead to the snow, melting small pockmarks in it.

"I'm going to need leather armor," Cilarnen said meditatively. "Something made without any metal at all. I think I would have fried myself if I'd been wearing my chain shirt."

"Cilarnen," Kellen said again. "What did you do? You burned your hands. And you're outside the Elven Lands. You can't be drawing on the Land-wards now."

"Always asking useless questions," Cilarnen said with a shaky laugh. He scooped up a handful of snow and held it to his face. "You might actually have made a decent High Mage, Kellen, if you'd had decent teachers. Not that — I suspect — there are many left in Armethalieh. Or maybe the High Magick and the Wild Magic really have more in common than I think, if you go back to their roots. Yes, we're outside the Elven Lands. That's blindingly obvious. I'm using wild elemental energy now. The same thing my ancestors used. It's… stronger. I didn't compensate for that. But I talked to the Fair Ones while I was still back in Halacira, and they agreed to lend me their strength. Because if
They
win, the Fair Ones will all be gone, too. It just hurts, a little. You're supposed to start when you're a child, with the simplest Forces, and I can't."

Cilarnen's teeth were chattering with cold now.

"Well, you've done enough for one day," Kellen said. He heard no further horn-calls. The two Demons must have been acting alone.

He bent down and scooped Cilarnen up into his arms. Cilarnen was heavy, but proper Mageborn were slightly-built, and Kellen had the muscles that came from wearing armor day in and day out, and swinging a heavy sword on top of it. He wouldn't want to do this as a regular thing, but it was certainly possible for him to lift the smaller man. With Cilarnen in his arms, he stepped up into Firareth's stirrup, swinging his leg over into the saddle. The buckskin destrier stood rock-steady as he mounted.

"Hey!" Cilarnen protested.

"
You
are going off to see Idalia," Kellen told him, turning Firareth back toward the column. "Burned hands are no joke, and you'll need to change into something warm and dry. We can't afford to lose you."

* * * * *

THE Golden City of Armethalieh, City of a Thousand Bells, had once held spell-bound beneath its rule all the land from the edge of the Western Sea to the farthest reaches of the Delfier Hills.

Now it did not even rule itself.