The battle-trance faded, and the world was utterly black once more. Kellen stood in the darkness, feeling a faint regret.
But nothing more. When he’d drawn his sword, they could have run. When he’d begun to kill the others, they could have run. They chose not to. If he had not fought, he and Ancaladar would have been killed or taken prisoner, and Idalia would die. Because he had refused to accept that, he had chosen to kill. That was the way of the Knight-Mage, the agent of the active principle of the Wild Magic.
He forgave them for attacking him, and he forgave himself for killing them, just as Jermayan had taught him.
Absently he wiped his sword blade dry on his cloak—there’d be time to give the blade a thorough cleaning later—and worked his way back up to Ancaladar’s.
“Any more of them?” Kellen asked, stooping to grope for the discarded
“No. You eliminated all of them… Knight-Mage.” The dragon moved forward, stepping fastidiously over the corpses. They moved faster now. There didn’t seem to be any need to try to conceal their presence any longer. Not only had the Shadowed Elves found them, but Kellen seemed to have killed most of the ones searching for them.
“They must want you really badly,” Kellen said after a few moments.
“Has your world wholly forgotten my kind? I’m a
“Dragons Bond with Mages,” Kellen said, half-remembered scraps of what Jermayan had told him about the Great War coming back to his mind.
“Almost correct. Each dragon is fated to Bond with one Mage—his Bond-mate. After which that Mage becomes incredibly powerful—having an endless supply of spell-energy to draw on—and the dragon’s life becomes incredibly short, for when his Bondmate dies, he dies as well.”
“Oh.” It didn’t seem fair. All the advantage seemed to go to the Mage. All the dragon got out of the deal was dead. “What about Mageprices?”
“Bonded Mages don’t pay them. Not with our power to draw on,” Ancaladar said simply.
“Why would a dragon… ?”
“I don’t know,” Ancaladar said curtly, ending the discussion firmly. “We’re nearly there, thank Sky and Fair Wind.”
Up ahead, the tunnel opened out. Ancaladar stretched his neck out, extending it through the opening. Kellen followed along until he reached the edge of the tunnel.
He’d moved cautiously, and was glad he had. There was only a narrow ledge at the cave mouth, and it extended for only a few feet in either direction before vanishing entirely. The tunnel had opened out into another of the huge caverns Kellen was growing used to, but this one was different from any of the previous ones. Its floor was criss-crossed with other deep fissures—as though something very hot had cooled here—and littered with enormous boulders, as though there had been an explosion as well. He could hear a distinct sighing sound, as if something even bigger than Ancaladar was breathing, but it seemed to come from the cave itself.
He moved quickly to one side as Ancaladar flowed past him and down to the floor of the cave, then looked around in frustration. He couldn’t climb down, it was much too far to jump, and as far as he knew, his Knight-Mage abilities didn’t include the power of flight.
After a few seconds Ancaladar noticed his plight. The dragon turned back and plucked him from the ledge, depositing him on the cave floor.
“Not far now,” Ancaladar said.
Was it Kellen’s imagination, or was there a note of worry in the dragon’s voice?
—«♦»—
IDALIA was lying at the foot of a cliff at the far side of the cavern.
Kellen’s heart twisted in his chest when he saw her. He knew the look of broken bones. He could see—and smell—the blood.
How long had she been lying here? Was she dead?
