“Good girl,” Atroist said with a smile. “I had to learn that lesson as well, and it’s a hard one. Just because you have a connection to a thing, you are not necessarily responsible for its actions.
“But to finish my grim tale quickly, this was nearly five turns of the seasons past. Since then, we have found that the Dark Folk raid more often, and will sometimes attack two or more villages on the same day, or within a day of each other. And so I come not only to bring my aid, but to speak for my people. They, more than any, do not wish to see the Shadow triumph. But if our Wildmages and warriors leave the people and the flocks, who will defend them against the Dark Folk? How can we fight, knowing that all we love will be gone when we return?”
Idalia cast a despairing glance at Kellen.
This was a heavy blow, but neither of them could blame Atroist. If things were as bad in the Lost Lands as he said, then asking the Herdsfolk to give up all their defenses was asking them to commit suicide. But most of the Wildmages left were in the Lost Lands and the High Reaches, and they were going to need them all.
“Would they come here?” Kellen asked. “Men, women, children—and goats?”
“Kellen!” Idalia burst out. “You can’t offer the whole Lost Lands sanctuary in the Elven Lands! You don’t have the power!”
“No,” Kellen agreed. “But I think Andoreniel will agree to offer them safe passage
“Cold!” Vestakia scoffed. “This isn’t cold.”
“They would come,” Atroist said with certainty. “To be safe from the Dark Folk—never more to fear the sobbing outside their shutters in the night, nor the sound of wings overhead in the darkness—not to live in terror that any stranger may be one of
—«♦»—
ALL that was needed to put Kellen’s plan into operation was to get the request to Andoreniel and receive his permission in return.
Fortunately, he had a fast messenger available, assuming he could talk Jermayan and Ancaladar into it.
The arrival of the dragon at Ondoladeshiron had not caused panic, since Andoreniel had sent messages ahead of time, but Ancaladar’s presence was an occasion of more curiosity than Kellen and Vestakia combined. When Kellen left Idalia’s tent, he realized that Jermayan wasn’t going to be that hard to find.
Jermayan and Ancaladar, making a virtue of the inevitable, had decided to put on a sort of aerial display for the encampment. Ancaladar was circling the Gathering Plain, flying low and slow enough for everyone to get a good look at him. Kellen could see the sunlight glint off the dragon’s black scales, and see the blue flash of Jermayan’s armor.
“Idalia—Vestakia—come look! Jermayan’s brought Ancaladar down low enough for everyone to watch!” Kellen called, and the others crowded out of Idalia’s tent to watch.
After a few minutes of circling, dragon and rider soared high into the sky— and there, to Kellen’s astonished delight, Ancaladar performed a series of acrobatics that reminded Kellen of nothing so much as a selkie after a particularly choice fish.
It came to Kellen that what he was watching, however entertaining it looked now, had a grim and entirely serious purpose. These were the battle moves for sky fighting, the forms that Ancaladar would have to use against flying enemies. Jermayan would have to not only remain in the saddle, but be able to cast spells while Ancaladar was performing these maneuvers.
“I hope Jermayan didn’t eat too much breakfast,” Vestakia said, sounding faintly worried as she stared into the sky.
Idalia laughed. “Oh, he wouldn’t make that mistake twice! This is hardly the first time they’ve done this. It’s really quite enjoyable.”
“I don’t think I’d care for it,” Vestakia said firmly.
Kellen glanced at Idalia curiously. She’d ridden Ancaladar? While he and Jermayan were doing something like that?
No, he didn’t want to know. There were some things a man was better off not knowing about his sister. About women in general, probably.
