To Light A Candle

If they were to find the rest of the enclaves of the Shadowed Elves quickly— or determine with reasonable certainty that there weren’t any, something Jermayan doubted was likely—the only efficient method was for Vestakia to search for them from dragonback. It would certainly be the safest method as well, for in that way he and Ancaladar would be able to protect her from nearly anything that might seek to harm her.

All he had to do was manage to obtain Vestakia’s agreement to the plan— and he knew the child was terrified of flying.

There were only a limited number of places she might be; having tried the more obvious places to no avail, Jermayan tracked her down at last in the Flower Forest. Vestakia would have been shy of crowds even without the added handicap of her Demonic appearance; having spent the first seventeen years of her life with little more company than a herd of goats, she sought solitude whenever she could.

Before the First War, the Flower Forests had covered all the world, and before the Great War they had still been thick upon all of the Elven Lands and much of that terrain that was now bleak and sterile wasteland. Now all that remained of the great Elven forests and their vast diversity of species existed only in the lesser woodlands that adorned the Elven cities. It was said that one day, when the Endarkened were utterly defeated, the Flower Forests would begin to spread once more, but Jermayan wondered if perhaps that day was not meant to come.

It was winter, but at every season the Flower Forest was lush. Jermayan followed the faint tracks in scattered snow and blown leaves deeper into the forest until he found Vestakia moving carefully through the wood. Her gathering basket was already half-filled—Idalia or one of the other Healers must have sent her here for supplies and some much-needed solitude.

She stooped to gather a handful of winter mushrooms from the base of a tree, then rose to her feet, turning to face him.

“Jermayan,” she said. She sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “I know why you have come,” she said forlornly.

“I suppose you must,” Jermayan said. “Yet I would not even ask, were the need not so grave. And I shall do no more than that.”

“But the others—they would think I was such a dreadful coward, if—if I did not do it!” Vestakia burst out. “And it’s true, of course—if I were just to fly over the Elven Lands, and see if I could sense the Shadowed Elves, everything would be much faster. It might be the only way! But it is so very high—and I could fall, and—”

She was speaking very fast, and her voice had gone thin and high with fear. Jermayan stepped over to her, took the basket from her arm and set it on the ground, and gripped her shoulders gently.

“Vestakia. It is very high. But you will not fall. Neither Ancaladar nor I will permit it. Nor is it the only way. Ancaladar and I believe it to be the safest, but that matters not if it will not work. You must be calm and easy in your mind to be able to sense the Shadowed Elves, and I do not believe that will be so if you are in fear of falling from my Bonded’s back.”

Vestakia managed a weak giggle. “No. I guess not. But…” She hesitated for a long moment. “Maybe we should just go look at him?”

“Indeed,” Jermayan agreed, picking up her basket. “We shall go and look at Ancaladar.”

—«♦»—

THE dragon was waiting beside the ice-pavilion that Jermayan had created two nights before, his great body dwarfing the structure completely. For a few moments Vestakia’s attention was distracted by the glittering structure of ice, but she knew why she was here, and her attention quickly returned to Ancaladar.

She’d seen him before, of course, but that was before she’d actually considered getting on his back.

“He’s very tall,” she said faintly.

“I am not so tall when I am airborne,” Ancaladar assured her gravely. “And once I am in the sky, my flight is as steady and level as you might wish, my lady, though I cannot control the winds. Jermayan will be sure to pick only the calmest days for flying, though, I am sure.”

“That I should,” Jermayan said. “And Ancaladar can sense the weather and how it will run from a great distance, you know. There is very little possibility that we might fly into a storm unexpectedly. And there are all manner of ways in which we can secure you to his back.”

“Would we have to fly… very high?” Vestakia asked in a very small voice.

“The higher the flight, the more serene the winds,” Ancaladar replied. “But we would fly at your direction, Lady Vestakia. No one else’s.”

“I don’t know from how far away…” Vestakia whispered, almost to herself. She looked pleadingly at Jermayan.