To Light A Candle

Andoreniel has sent to conduct the Wildlanders to the eastern border. If these creatures follow the Wildlanders toward the Elven Lands, it may be that our ancient land-wards will not stop them all, nor do I wish to witness a slaughter just outside our protection. But perhaps you will favor me now with your views on why these creatures should have so suddenly appeared in the Wild Lands, where they were not before.”

This is a test. Kellen knew it, with a sudden cold shock of intuition. A test, as—in its way—Kellen’s opinion of the tea had been. Redhelwar was testing him. But for what? After the Battle of the Cavern, Redhelwar already knew how well he fought.

He chose his next words with great care.

“Drothi hasn’t given us much information to go on, but it seems clear to me, from what she said last night and from what Atroist has said before, that They have long considered the Wild Lands their special private hunting preserve. I think that now They’re using it as a place to breed up and collect these creatures in great numbers. Jermayan said most of them hadn’t been seen since the Great War, and that he’d thought most of them were extinct. Drothi said the Wildlanders only knew them from ancient story-songs.

“It seems to me, from the tactics we’ve seen Them using so far, that They are not anxious to meet us on a battlefield. They did that in the Great War, and They lost. If They intend to try it again at all, I think They want to make sure we’re very weak before They do. So They’re using tactics of attrition. First They struck at your water supply, and that failed, but if They can strike at crops and flocks— and game, in the case of the Mountainfolk of the High Reaches—They don’t need to meet us on the battlefield. They can starve us to death.”

There was a long pause after Kellen had finished. Both Redhelwar’s and Dionan’s faces were expressionless, in the way that Elven faces often were. At last Redhelwar spoke.

“And all of these are creatures of cold. If they are stopped by the landward barriers, they will simply follow the mountains until they come to a place where they may pass, and enter into human lands,” the Elven general said grimly. “The coldwarg and the icedrake must stay in the realms of cold unless they are spell-guarded, but the serpentmarae and the shadewalker may roam where they will.”

“Unless those who have created them are keeping them back to use later,” Kellen said. “We won’t know until it happens.”

“As with all things in war,” Redhelwar agreed. “A reasonable analysis, given the scant information that we have… and I admit, I have found Their continued reluctance to take the field against us somewhat puzzling. Nevertheless. There is another matter that it is in my mind to speak to you of today.

“As a Knight-Mage, you fight for the Elves, and your valor is unquestioned, but you are not truly of my command. I would change that, were you willing. It is in my mind that you might be one of my alakomentaiia. You would lead a troop under my orders, and work as one with the other alakomentaiia.

“Of course, you would need to take a destrier as your mount, and for this I am truly sorry. If Shalkan consents, it is also in my mind that Mindaerel is without a rider, and grieves at her loss. You might take her, did you find favor in one another’s eyes.”

Kellen sipped his tea without answering, glad that the rules of Elven formality allowed him time to gather his thoughts before he answered. The alakomentaiia were sub-commanders. The Elves didn’t use a lot of ranks; there were generals, commanders, and sub-commanders, and everything else was just “understood” by people who had known each other and worked and trained together for centuries. As far as he could figure out, he’d have equivalent rank to Petariel, but below Adaerion.

And the root word komen—which was Old Elven—didn’t really mean “commander” or anything like it. It meant—as close as you could come to it in non-Elvish—“brotherhood.” Try to translate the whole thing, and what you got—besides a headache—was “the servant of the brotherhood.” What Redhelwar was proposing was as much an adoption as it was a military promotion.

But… give up Shalkan? Kellen wasn’t stupid or dense enough to think this was nothing more than a polite suggestion on Redhelwar’s part that he could lightly decline. He wouldn’t be with the Unicorn Knights anymore, and he wouldn’t have the protections against the Demons that riding Shalkan undoubtedly gave him. But it would give him a visible and acknowledged place—not only in the army, but in the War Councils as well.

“Nothing would please me more than to accept your generous offer,” Kellen said, thinking hard. “And I believe it would be for the good of all. But as you know, Shalkan and I are bound together by an unfulfilled Mageprice. It would not be wise or appropriate for me to answer without consulting him.”

“A proper answer. Do so,” Redhelwar said, rising to his feet to indicate that the interview was finished. “Then make matters known to Dionan. And Leaf and Star guide and counsel you.”

Kellen rose to his feet and bowed.

—«♦»—

ELSEWHERE in the vast camp—it was as large as the larger Elven cities, by now—Jermayan sought out Vestakia on an errand that would, he knew, require all his arts of tact and persuasion.