Kardus stepped forward and bowed. “I See you, Nemermet. May Leaf and Star grant us all a safe journey, by the Herdsman’s grace.”
The Elf on the back of the pale stallion bowed slightly. “I See you, Kardus Wildmage. May the Herdsman watch over your people, by the grace of Leaf and Star. Take what you need from what is here. More will be provided along the way.”
“Get to work,” Comild ordered his men.
With a wrench, Cilarnen forced himself to stop staring at the Elves and the Elven horses. He quickly saddled Tinsin and packed his gear upon her back, then went to aid the others in emptying the cart under the watchful eyes of the Elves.
Soon the entire contents of the cart—food, blankets, even a couple of braziers and a store of charcoal—had been transferred to the Centaurs’ packs. There was even grain for the horse and the mule. Cilarnen hoped that Nemermet was telling the truth about there being places to restock along the way, because there certainly didn’t seem to be any grazing to be had—or any hunting either. It would be hard enough finding running water, though he could always melt snow.
“It is good that Luermai made known to us Nemermet’s name,” Kardus said to Cilarnen, as he helped him fill Tinsin’s packs. One of the few advantages of riding a draft horse was that she could carry a great deal in addition to her rider.
“Luermai? You know him?” Cilarnen asked.
“We have met before,” Kardus said. “But if he wished to be known to all, he would have given his name. To give us Nemermet’s name is kindness enough, as the Elves reckon things.”
Cilarnen puzzled that out for a moment. “But aren’t
Kardus looked at him. “If the Dark Folk strike first in the Elven Lands, is it a favor to the Elves to fight them there? Or is it better to wait until they come
Cilarnen blushed. “I guess you’re right. But it just seems as if they ought to be more… welcoming.”
“No one save Wildmages has crossed the Elven Borders in a thousand years. That there is need for anyone to do so now”—Kardus switched his tail—“upsets them.”
When Kardus put it that way, it made more sense to Cilarnen. He supposed it was just like, well, Elves and Centaurs in Armethalieh.
Only not quite.
Because the Elves
When everything was ready, Nemermet turned his stallion’s head and began to ride off through the trees. The Centaurs, Wirance, and Cilarnen followed.
—«♦»—
ADAERION had been right about this journey being different from the last. For one thing, there was someplace Kellen was supposed to be every single minute of the day, from before dawn until well after dark. For another, this time he didn’t ride among the Unicorn Knights, and he found he missed their free-and-easy companionship more than he’d expected to.
And he missed Shalkan most of all, for now that he was riding Mindaerel in the middle of the army, he only saw Shalkan for a few hours each day, when he could steal time from his other duties—and there were many of them.
Now that the army was on the move, watches and patrols were added to the drills and planning meetings— not that there was much time for drilling, since they were heading toward Ysterialpoerin as fast as the full army could travel.
The weather worsened the more they traveled north. Almost every day now brought snow, and in the deep night Kellen could sometimes hear the howling of wolves. He didn’t envy Jermayan and Ancaladar their post, flying above the army—and back and forth through the clouds—all day, keeping an eye on the territory ahead.
They were a sennight out of Ondoladeshiron when the first attack came.
That day began like any other. Up in the greyness of false dawn. Into his armor, pack his gear, and off to the cook-fire assigned to his group for a quick breakfast of tea and pastries—the cooking tents weren’t unpacked at every stop—then to the horse-lines to collect and saddle Mindaerel and gather his troop and find their place in line. By then it was dawn, and the army had begun to move.
