To Light A Candle

IT was the Elf.

Ancaladar stared enraptured into dark eyes and felt the pull of long-dormant instincts rousing. Here was his match. Here was the one who would be the conduit for his magic; his heart’s twin, his Bondmate, to whom his life and his heart would be linked.

Fly away! Fly away now! a small voice inside him screamed. There was still time to refuse the Bond. It could be done. If he left now—

If he never saw Jermayan again—

But he had lived so long already—seen his friends and comrades die in the Great War. And these children said that Shadow Mountain was rising against the Lightfolk again. He’d seen proof of that. He did not think he could bear to hide and cower and save his life while watching others die yet again. He had been a coward and a failure once, and on the journey here he’d had a great deal of time to think about his choices and where they had led him.

And Jermayan was young as the Elvenkind reckoned years. They would have centuries together…

—«♦»—

NO.! Jermayan wrenched his gaze painfully away from the dragon’s golden eyes. It was— It was—

It was impossible.

He knew what he was feeling. The Elves had long lives, and longer memories. The heart-tie that told them where true love lay was similar enough in kind, so the historians told them, to that Bond between a dragon and his Mage for Jermayan to know what was happening. He was not in love with Ancaladar.

But they could Bond.

An Elf and a dragon.

Impossible.

Elves had no part in the Greater Magic. There had not been an Elven Mage since the time of Great Queen Vielissiar Farcarinon. Dragons Bonded with Mages—human Mages—because only through a Mage could a dragon express its innate magic.

“GO away!” Jermayan shouted desperately, staggering backward.

“Jermayan…” Ancaladar said.

“I am useless to you!” Jermayan said. “How is it that you do not understand that I am an Elven Knight, you who are ancient and wise beyond the dreams of Elves? It would all be for nothing!”

“I am useless without you,” Ancaladar said, very softly. “You can learn. I know you can. In the First War, we fought for you, Jermayan. Your magic—Elven magic—woke us out of the bones of the earth. Do you remember?”

“No!” Jermayan said, sounding desperate.

Strange, so strange, that it would be he who was doing the urging now, and not the Elf-Knight. He, who had been a coward—

But he knew now that had been a choice, rather than what he truly was. As this was a choice. But this choice led away from failure, and toward bravery. He would not run anymore.

“War is coming,” Ancaladar said. “A thousand years ago, while I cowered and hid, my brothers fought and died. I heard them weep as they went with their Bonded to serve the Demons. I felt the others die in the Light as their Bonded died. I cannot watch that again. This time I must fight. But I cannot fight alone.”

—«♦»—

KELLEN stood beside Shalkan, watching Ancaladar and Jermayan in amazement. “Do you know what’s going on?” he whispered to the unicorn.

“Ancaladar and Jermayan can Bond,” Shalkan answered in equally low tones. “If Jermayan accepts, he’ll become the first Elven Mage since—oh, before the dawn of human civilization.”

“Oh,” Kellen said. “But he could refuse?”

“There’s always a choice,” Shalkan said. “You had one, when you decided to become a Knight-Mage.”