The Unicorn Knights fought on foot at Petariel’s command. They’d ordered their mounts to run, but the unicorns couldn’t—or wouldn’t—leave their partners.
The cavalry units fought on foot as well, for they had all learned quickly that a mounted warrior was at a disadvantage against this foe. Even Kindolhinadetil’s Guard had come at the sound of the warhorns to lend its strength to the fight.
The Shadowed Elves died—but taking far too many of the Elves with them.
And the forest was burning.
—«♦»—
NOW Jermayan saw tracks where no tracks should be—looking down through the trees, he could see places where the snow had been trampled by the passing of hundreds of feet.
And ahead, curls of smoke rising from Ysterialpoerin’s forest in a score of places. Smoldering still, but about to burst into true flame. And when they did…
The fire would take The Heart of the Forest with it.
Once before, Kellen had stopped the Shadowed Elves from bringing disks of ever-burning metal to the trees. This time they must have succeeded. He could call those pieces of metal forth from their hiding places, but it would take time— time to find them, time to bespell them—and meanwhile the forest would catch, and kindle…
And his comrades would die, while he spent himself on this, instead of coming to their aid.
“You know how to stop this,” Ancaladar said quietly. “The snow is near. Bring it now.”
He could feel the patterns of the weather through Ancaladar’s senses. Now he reached out with his magic to the coming storm, bringing what would have been here by tomorrow’s dawn
The sky darkened. Wind lashed the trees below, forced into the valley by storm clouds wrenched from their proper places. The air currents boiled like an icy broth, and Ancaladar battled to stay skyborne.
The blizzard came, as inexorable and deadly as a breaking wave. An updraft sucked dragon and rider suddenly high into the clouds; instantly Jermayan was blinded by wet icy mist; deafened by the crash of air colliding with air as solidly and loudly as boulders in a flood-tossed streambed. Jermayan felt his skin begin to prickle, and barely threw a shield around both of them in time. Lightning chained across the sky, striking against his shields again and again, as if the weather itself were angry about its mishandling.
Ancaladar fought for altitude, his wings straining in their sockets, and after a desperate battle they were above the storm, soaring through calm winds and sunlight as sheets of ice crackled and fell from the dragon’s great wings. Jermayan looked down at the roiling cauldron of black snow-heavy clouds that filled the Ysterialpoerin valley. It was snowing now, a blizzard that would not spend itself easily or quickly. And though snow would not quench the Shadowed Elves’ burning metal, nothing else would burn. The damage to the forest would not spread.
“Not an elegant execution,” Ancaladar said at last, sounding both amused and breathless. “But effective. Are you well, Bonded?”
“I shall be better when the enemy is vanquished,” Jermayan said. “Though I wish it did not have to be. Are you ready to return?”
“I shall be quick,” Ancaladar said. The great black dragon folded his wings and dove through the storm, falling to earth as swiftly as if he were a thunderbolt himself.
—«♦»—
AT last the bitter work beneath the ground was done. Not without casualties—for even the Shadowed Elf young fought with desperate intensity—but it was done. All were dead, even the infants—and that, the Elves could tell themselves, was an act of mercy, for the youngest had obviously gone untended by their siblings.
They settled the bodies neatly, but left them behind to recover later, for Adaerion was uneasy about what might be happening above.
Kellen had led the host going in. This time he was last out, for the caverns were not yet safe, even if no
