Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar (41 page)

No answer followed, only her own bitter disappointment. Apparently, the ability had left as swiftly as it had appeared. Elvida wondered if she had to hit the depths of despair in order to awaken it again.

Relief flooded Elvida, and she managed a choking laugh.
:A damn silly one, obviously. I’m sorry, Raynor.:
The apology went far deeper than the ludicrousness of turning the self-evident into a serious inquiry.
:I’m sorry I’m worthless. I’m sorry I’m going to get the three of us killed. I’m sorry . . . I’m sorry . . . for being the world’s most useless Herald-in-training.:

:I told you to stop it!:
Anger accompanied the sending, louder than the words themselves.
:Wallowing in self-pity isn’t going to save anyone’s life. And I resent the suggestion that I’m inept:

The very idea sent Elvida reeling in horror.
:But I never said—:

:But I didn’t mean . . .:
Elvida paused, finally turning toward her Companion, who clearly had a point. Only then she realized she had been deliberately avoiding looking at him. His pain had faded to dim background in her mind, but it haunted every thought, every action, and every decision. He lay on his side where she had dragged him, his fur clotted with dirt and speckled burgundy with the blood of foe and friend alike. His breaths came in pants, and his left hind leg lay at an awkward, swollen angle. Clearly, it was broken.

Elvida cried out, despising herself for not tending to him and Anthea immediately. Trapped in a web of her own grief and loathing, she had worried more for increasing her own burdens than for helping her friends. The realization only intensified her self-hatred; but, this time, she cast aside the morass of deprecation that held her inert at a time of necessary action.

Clearly riding with her on this journey of internal discovery, Raynor sent a quieter message.
:Little Sister, there’s nothing you can do for me. A horse without a leg can accomplish nothing. Anthea is gravely injured.:

:I wish I were a Healer. I wish my Gift—:
Realizing she was still stalling, Elvida rose and walked to Anthea. The Herald sprawled in the dirt, her Whites smeared with grime. Dark blood matted her hair, but nothing bright red to indicate a current site of bleeding. Her breaths stirred slowly, oddly peaceful, as she lay in a state beyond sleep. A more thorough examination revealed no other injuries. All the damage remained inside Anthea’s head, where no one other than a Healer could reach them. Injuries to the brain, Elvida knew, were always serious; and every moment that passed significantly decreased the Herald’s chance for survival.
Leahleh must still live . . . barely.

Gingerly, Elvida stroked Anthea’s hair. She doubted the Herald could survive the night. She asked hopefully,
:But I do have a Gift?:

:You do,:
Raynor confirmed, as so many of her teachers had before him. Yet, like them, he refused to elaborate.

Elvida repeated the familiar line,
:I have to find it myself.:

It seemed unfair in so many ways. Others were told as they trained and most had more than one. Now, it seemed, Elvida would die without ever knowing because her Companion was a stickler for rules at a time when such things no longer mattered.

Apparently reading her emotions, Raynor relented.
:I will tell you this much. It has something to do with communication.:

Under less extreme circumstances, only that very morning, Elvida would have found the suggestion laughable. She who could not even Mindspeak had little education or talent for communication, magical or otherwise. Yet, now that the suggestion had come from the very one she had waited so long to talk to, it did not seem so absurd.
:This is no time for riddles, Beloved. Our lives may depend upon this nameless Gift.:

Raynor turned his head with a snort and a toss of his filthy mane.

Elvida sat back from Anthea, heaving a deep sigh. She knew better than to fight a futile battle long. Repeatedly punching a stone wall accomplished nothing more than broken fists.

:Look.:
Raynor spoke with clear caution.
:As I’ve mentioned, it’s customary to put a horse without a leg out of its misery, and Anthea can’t make another day without a Healer. Chosen, leave us. Do what you can to save yours—:

Elvida refused to allow the stallion to finish.
:People kill horses because the animals don’t understand the necessary treatment and usually wind up hurting themselves worse. You’re not a horse. You’re a sentient being, capable of deep thought and understanding.:
She dropped the senseless argument, dismissing Raynor’s words as an attempt at heroism. Though only trying to save her, the Companion’s words were nonsense. Elvida could never leave him to suffer alone; and, if he died, she surely would also. Besides, his value to the Queen far exceeded hers—and he knew it.
:I’m going to look for another way out of here. You let me know if anyone—:

Elvida rose, scarcely daring to believe she had heard correctly.
:What?:

Elvida’s hopes soared, only to be dashed by the rest of Raynor’s description.

Elvida’s lips went suddenly dry, and she licked them thoughtfully. Her crazed bout of crying would only see to it that dehydration overcame her sooner. She swallowed hard, steeling herself against the same fog of hopelessness that had earlier consumed her. Even if she never earned her Whites, she would at least learn to die bravely. She strode away from Anthea to look out over the camp of the waiting army.
:So why haven’t our enemies come after us? What are they waiting for?:

Elvida did not expect a reply to her mostly rhetorical question, so Raynor’s surprised her.

Elvida shook her head.
:Too bad we’re
not
monsters.:
She shivered, not bothering to add “. . . or spirits.” Soon enough, they might become exactly that. She tried to understand their enemy, as the strategists had taught. If she could get into their minds, perhaps she could find a way to outwit them.
Enter the depraved world of men who attack Heralds at peace, who slaughter and cannibalize Companions.
The thought stirred an anger Elvida could not quell. She would rather die than see the reason behind heinous and barbarous actions.
I don’t ever want to know what stirs inside those creatures in the guise of men.

Elvida sank to her knees. She had never followed a religion, but now she bowed her head, fingers laced tightly against her chest.
Gods, Lords and Ladies who sanction goodness, I beg of you now to come to our aid. I will do anything, suffer any trial if you will only rescue my friends, these humble servants of the Queen.
She could feel her heart thumping against her fists.
Please, anyone who’s listening. I will do whatever bidding you ask, you need only make it clear. Save Raynor and Anthea. And, if it is your will, save me as well.

For several moments Elvida remained in this position, waiting for an answer, some sign to indicate any deity had heard her prayer. Insects hummed a steady chorus. The dull rumble of conversation, occasionally pierced by laughter and shouts, came from the enemies’ camp. No other sounds reached her, not even the light breathing of herself and her injured friends. It seemed the gods took no interest in their plight.

Not that Elvida expected otherwise. She had known many people who extolled some god or goddess in every other sentence. These faithful believed that everything that went right in the lives of humanity was the work of whichever deity they personally worshipped. Any tragedy or mistake, they blamed on human infallibility. This, they felt, justified their beliefs in a mindless circle that defied Elvida’s understanding. It had always seemed to her a certain path to self-deprecation and loathing; yet, she realized, she had felt equally low only moments earlier, without the help of any religious teaching or faith.

It’s up to me and me alone to get us out of this situation.
Elvida took a deep breath, unfolding her hands, her determination set.
:Raynor, I don’t know much about Mind-speech, but I’m going to try to shout with all the power I can muster. With you being so close and all, I hope it doesn’t hurt you?:
It was a question as much as information. Dismissed as incapable, she had never learned the conventions or details of the art.

:It won’t hurt me,:
Raynor assured with a mental smile.
:And I think it’s a great idea.:

Encouraged, Elvida clambered off her knees to sit firmly on her bottom. She lowered her head and breathed slowly and deeply, eyes closed, mind open and focused. She put every bit of mustered strength into her call, physical as well as thought, sending a message of need to anyone who might hear. It was, at once, a communication of desperation, filled with begging and demand, with need and hope. She called to anyone capable of listening: be they Heralds or Bards, Mages or Healers, apprentice or not-yet-discovered. With every fiber of her being, she prepared them for an army of brutal enemies and drew them toward the cave.

Elvida had no idea how long she sat in her chosen position, her eyes tightly closed and her mind outreaching. It seemed like hours before Raynor intruded with a thought that, in comparison, seemed a breathless whisper,
:Little Sister, look.:

Elvida opened her eyes. Moonlight trickled through the cave mouth, and stars studded the sky. Then, from the depths of the gloom, she saw a vast sea of brilliant white horses, Companions, their eyes burning like angry sapphires, their hooves churning the brush into flying bits of torn stems. Astride sat Heralds of every description, their Whites as spectacular as their steeds, their weapons drawn and gleaming. Elvida gasped, staring in wonder as this massive force of Heralds descended upon the suddenly hushed camp of their enemy. She scrambled to her feet to watch in quiet awe.

:I did it?:
Elvida had not known so many Heralds existed in the world, even throughout the entire history of Valdemar. Yet, they marched in formation before her very eyes, in a grim silence, prepared for a confrontation with an enemy no longer dealing only with three girls and their mounts, most already dead or badly hurt.

Screams rose from the enemy camp, filled with unholy terror. She watched them flee like frightened children, not bothering to grab their belongings, some half-naked in the growing chill. They left their fires blazing and their packs unclaimed, even the supply cart they had captured from the Heralds. They abandoned meals partially eaten in the dirt, their tents lopsided and incompletely pitched, racing without clear destination or reason in all-encompassing terror.

Raynor’s mind-voice cut through Elvida’s doubt.
:Steady, Chosen One. Steady.:

Elvida did not know what her Companion meant, but his interference knocked her thoughts askew. She continued to stare at the mass of Heralds as they streaked doggedly through the camp and chased their enemies far beyond her sight.
They did it. We’re saved.
Only then, she addressed Raynor directly.
:What exactly am I steadying?:

Elvida received no answer. Afraid unconsciousness had claimed Raynor, she whirled toward the Companion to find him staring back at her, his pale eyes moist with a mixture of pain and joy.
:You did it!:

:I did it,:
Elvida agreed, finally allowing herself to feel a tinge of relief and happiness, despite the trials that still awaited her.
:I reached—:
Reality finally intruded.
:I reached what? How can this be? How could I draw in more Heralds than actually exist? How could they all have arrived so quickly, all at the precise same time. How . . . ?:
Elvida shook off the haze of doubts and questions.
:It’s impossible.:

:Impossible,:
Raynor echoed.
:Is precisely what it is.:
Elvida jerked her attention back outside the cave. The camp remained as she had last seen it: abandoned in clear haste and wild disarray. She saw no sign of the Herald army, not even a hoof print to prove they had ever existed.
:What . . . what happened? I don’t understand.:

:Your Gift.:
Raynor raised his head, looking better than he had at any time since their arrival in the cave. Though battered and broken, he radiated hope.

“Illusion?” The word was startled from Elvida. She returned to Mindspeech.
:You mean that band of Heralds, that massive army was nothing but—:

Elvida continued to survey the ruined camp, knowing exactly what she must do next. She would have to reclaim the cart and drag her friends into it. She would then have to haul it to civilization. A lot of hard work remained, yet it all seemed so simple after the tragic events of that evening.
:But why wouldn’t anyone tell me? Why did you risk our dying without my ever knowing?: