To Light A Candle

thought he’d just been checking the extent of her injuries.

He wondered why the two healings had been so different. Perhaps because Idalia was such an expert Wildmage, and had been able to direct the healing in some fashion? Or was it for some other reason? Did the Wild Magic itself want her healed?

Slowly the green fire faded away, and Kellen waited to hear the price he would have to pay for this healing.

But to his surprise—and faint alarm—there was nothing. No inner voice setting his Mageprice. Only a certainty that somehow the price—even for this— had been paid in advance.

Kellen shook his head. He wasn’t going to argue, and he wasn’t going to complain.

The dome of protection vanished—Kellen was always surprised there wasn’t an audible “pop” when it vanished—its work done. He felt a sudden rush of dizziness and exhaustion, as the price of the Casting caught up with him. He wasn’t going to be good for much for a while—though he could fight if he absolutely had to—and Idalia would be utterly exhausted.

And they still had to get out of here.

He put his gauntlets back on, picked up the burning charcoal, and crushed it quickly into dust. Brushing the mess from his hands, he got to his feet. Idalia was still unconscious, but it was a natural sleep now, not a deathly coma. He’d like to wait here for her to wake—he didn’t relish carrying her out, especially if they ran into more of those creatures on the way—but he didn’t want to stay here one moment more than he had to.

He got to his feet, staggering a little with weakness. He stood for a moment, breathing carefully until his head cleared.

Ancaladar approached carefully.

“Is it over?” the dragon asked cautiously.

“She’s going to be all right,” Kellen said. He wondered if the odd way the healing had gone had anything to do with the dragon’s nearness, and decided not to ask. Ancaladar seemed to be a little touchy about being a living storage battery for Mages, and Kellen didn’t want to suggest he’d tapped the dragon’s power, even accidentally. “Now all we have to do is get out of here.”

“Do you think…” the dragon seemed almost hesitant “… do you think I could come back with you? I’m tired of living in a cave and chasing deer. And they’ll never stop looking for me now.”

“You’ll have to ask Andoreniel and Ashaniel if you can live in Sentarshadeen,” Kellen said. “I can’t promise that. But I don’t see why you shouldn’t come south with us and see; they’ve added some… unusual citizens to Sentarshadeen lately.”

And if we’re going to have to beware of Deathwings, it would be a good idea to have someone else around who flies.

“Fair enough,” Ancaladar agreed.

The dragon headed off across the cavern, its enormous sable body moving over the boulders like a pool of midnight.

Kellen bent down, scooped up Idalia, and followed.

Halfway across the cavern, she began to rouse.

She reached up and felt his face—or rather, the hood of the tarnkappa—just as if she couldn’t see. Kellen realized with a shock that she couldn’t. He could see, but everything must be pitch-dark to her. He’d gotten so used to Ancaladar being able to see and hear him through the tarnkappa that he’d forgotten he was wearing it. But Idalia wouldn’t be able to either hear or see him—not while he wore the tarnkappa—not that she could see anything down here, at any rate.

“Kellen?” she whispered. He nodded, knowing she could feel the movement.

She relaxed with a sigh, and Kellen knew she was figuring everything out— that he’d found her somehow and healed her with the Wild Magic.

“Put me down,” she said a minute later. “I can walk—and you might need to fight.”

She was right. It was only common sense, even though Kellen knew how tired she must be after such a major healing.

He set her carefully on her feet and led her the rest of the way to where Ancaladar was waiting for them.