He knew Redhelwar’s plan of attack. Redhelwar wasn’t going to change it. If Redhelwar followed it, there would be disaster.
Kellen knew it. The Wild Magic had told him so.
Do what Redhelwar had ordered him to do? Or do what was right?
They won’t be ready to attack for at least a day and a half. Dionan said so. A full day at least to make ready, and Redhelwar will want to go at midday, when he judges the Shadowed Elves to be weakest, so he might even hold off another full day rather than attack late in the day.
Time enough for me to reach the nearer cavern and see what’s there—and get back again. Even if I have to go on foot.
The realization of what he was contemplating shook Kellen. He was a member of the Elven army now—an alakomentai. If he disobeyed orders—if he just left—it would be a serious thing. He had no idea how serious—he suspected he’d lose his command at the very least. He would have betrayed everyone who’d trusted him—Adaerion, Ciltesse, Isinwen… he could sit here until dawn naming names and not be done with the list. And everything he’d done toward convincing everyone that they should listen to him as a Knight-Mage and not just tolerate him as Idalia’s younger brother who happened to be good with a sword would be gone.
It isn’t worth it, Kellen thought wildly. I can’t throw all that away! If he lost his position in the army, if the Elves went on doing things as they always had—fighting the last war and expecting their enemy to do the same—they’d lose. Shadow Mountain would win. Wouldn’t the greater good—the long-term good—be just to sit here and let Redhelwar do as he pleased, no matter what consequences Kellen foresaw?
But suddenly Belepheriel’s words came back to him.
“Yet it would be good to know how the Knight-Mage knew to ride after these Shadowed Elves. Or how it is that he so often gives warning—and never soon enough to prevent losses”
This time Kellen had a warning that had come in plenty of time to prevent all losses. How could he even think of disregarding it for what—when you came right down to it—would be personal gain?
“A Wildmage’s honor is not what honor may seem in the eyes of the world…”
Always pay the price. Because to refuse to pay it, as he’d learned when Jermayan had begun to teach him about the Great War, would ultimately lead a Wildmage into the service of the Demons.
He’d been given a gift by the Wild Magic: a warning that would save hundreds—thousands—of lives. The price of that gift was personal disgrace.
He would pay it.
Kellen bowed his head over The Book of Stars, trembling as he thought of how close he’d just come to doing something horrible. Better his friends should be alive to hate him than that they should be dead still thinking well of him. He would know he’d done the right thing, no matter what they thought.
For the first time tonight he felt light and free. He saw his path clearly. Get to the caverns. See what the Wild Magic wanted him to see. Get back and tell someone—Shalkan, Ancaladar, and Jermayan, if no one else would listen to him. Then let Redhelwar do with him as he chose.
All that remained was “how”—a simple enough problem for a Knight-Mage trained by Master Belesharon.
Kellen packed his Books away, quenched his lantern, and lay down, feigning sleep.
—«♦»—
IN the darkest part of the night, when the camp was as quiet as it ever got, Kellen slipped out of his tent.
Within the camp itself, he simply had to not be seen, for it would be best for all when Redhelwar asked after him if no one could say they had seen him go. That was a comparatively easy matter, with his battle-sight to guide him. But eventually he reached the point where he needed to pass the sentry-ring and leave the camp entirely.
If he’d had a tarnkappa, evading the mounted sentries riding post would have been as simple as covering his tracks in the snow, but he hadn’t dared risk lingering in camp long enough to steal one. Without one, it took him over an hour to work his way past the rings of guards, and it was the most agonizing hour of Kellen’s life.
