He quickly slipped to one side, keeping the rock at his back. His battle-sight showed no threat. There was utter silence in the cavern, save for the faint sound of water dripping steadily somewhere far away.
The Elves followed him quickly, each crowned with Coldfire. The more that came through, the brighter the cavern became. They spread out along the terraces—five shallow broad steps, Kellen now saw, something the cave itself had created, smoothed and evened by the passing of countless generations of Shadowed Elf footsteps.
The cavern itself was a beautiful thing. The stone ceiling dripped with eternal icicles of stone, some of which, at the edges of the cavern, had grown long enough to touch the floor. The cavern had obviously once been filled with them, and—just as obviously—those in the center had been cut away and used to build the village huts, giving many of them an odd resemblance to the log house Kellen had shared with Idalia in the Wildwood.
This village was larger than the last one they’d seen, the structures more elaborate, indicating longer habitation. But all the life Kellen sensed here was concealed within those huts—though this cavern had many exits, Kellen could not perceive a single Shadowed Elf lurking in ambush.
Soon the attack force had moved into position. And still there was no sound, no movement, from the Shadowed Elves everyone knew were there.
Adaerion indicated the nearest hut, and pointed to Keirasti, communicating solely by gesture. She pointed to five of her command, and moved toward it.
Then everything began to happen at once.
As if their screams had been a signal—or perhaps because they could not bear to lie concealed a moment longer—the door of every hut burst open, and barking, yelping Shadowed Elf young burst forth, running at the Elves. They were every size from those barely able to walk on their own to those half-grown, and they attacked the Elves in the manner of starving rats.
There was not one full-grown Shadowed Elf among them.
“Children,” Kellen whispered in horror. “Nothing but children.”
He ran into the first hut, the one Keirasti had approached. Lying on the floor, pushed into a corner, he saw half-a-dozen Shadowed Elf infants. A couple were still moving feebly. The others were already dead.
Because their mothers were elsewhere…
He ran back outside and grabbed the nearest Elf he could pull from the fighting. “Go—run—tell Redhelwar.
He saw the Elven Knight turn away to carry his message, and raised his sword, covering the warrior’s retreat.
—«♦»—
THE Winged Gods had warned them centuries ago that this day would come, and so, against the Time of Testing, they had prepared, digging their long tunnels deep into the rock, preparing weapons, making all ready.
When the day came that the Hated Ones summoned the Brothers into the night to die, the Sisters were ready. They gave their last orders to their young.
They went to the tunnels. And there they waited, knowing they must not dig their own way to the surface until they knew all was lost.
But all was not lost.
The last of the Brothers came for them, just as the Winged Gods had promised that they would. They brought them into the terrible cold bright world of the upper air, promising them blood and meat enough to atone for the death of every cub. With weapons in hand and death in their hearts, the Sisters and the Brothers hurried toward the place where the Hated Ones made their home.
—«♦»—
THE Unicorn Knights were working a wide circle through the heart-forest, carefully searching for anything out of place, while the regular cavalry patrolled the city just outside its boundaries. Despite the fact that there had been no attack— nor was likely to be one—neither group was less than alert. Elves were a patient people.
