back.
“Stay with me. This will be no pleasant journey—but far better than remaining here in the open.”
—«♦»—
SEVERAL bells later, Cilarnen decided that Kardus had a great gift for understatement. The sun set, but they did not stop. All through the night they traveled, at a plodding pace little better than a walk. He had thought the journey thus far had been near-unendurable. It had been a mild spring jaunt compared to this.
Cilarnen hated to think of how long Oakleaf had gone without proper care. At least he understood why this was happening; the poor mule didn’t.
At dawn they stopped, but only long enough to give the animals a little water and some broken cakes of journey-food. It was simple enough to melt a hole in the snow; the edges turned instantly to ice and formed a natural watering trough—as long as you could keep the water from freezing. Once Cilarnen saw what the Wildmages were doing, he did it as well, and allowed Oakleaf and the mules that were being led along behind him to drink. Though he could usually summon Fire without difficulty, this time the effort left him giddy and breathless, as though he’d run for a long time without stopping. He did his best to conceal his difficulty from Kardus, but he suspected the Centaur Wildmage noticed, all the same.
But the rest was all-too-brief, and soon they were on their way again.
They traveled faster with light to see by. Soon they were among the trees, where the snow was not as deep, and the wind did not cut so sharply. The only drawback to that was that at intervals the overburdened boughs would bend and dump a load of thick wet snow on whoever was unfortunate enough to be beneath them at the time.
He supposed it would be a breathtaking sight, assuming he could actually see it through the veils of snow. He’d read Perulan’s pastoral tales—along with everyone else in the City—with their detailed descriptions of woodland groves and shady glens. But Perulan had been describing the tame forests of the Delfier Valley, not something this… wild. The trees were taller than the masts of the Selken ships, larger than the pillars that lined the Great Temple of the Light. And those were just the ones he could see.
But even the forest could not distract him from his cold and exhaustion for long. He had never been so tired, and all he really wanted was to lie down in the snow to sleep forever. But of course, even he knew that was the last thing he could possibly do.
—«♦»—
THE sound of horns roused him, and Cilarnen realized he’d been asleep in the saddle—or near to it. He jerked upright, every frozen muscle protesting, and looked around wildly, certain they were being attacked. The light was the dark blue of twilight, and they had moved out of the shelter of the great trees.
“We’re within sight of the camp,” Kardus told him. “It’s nearly over.”
Cilarnen didn’t remember the rest of the ride at all. All he knew was that eventually someone lifted him down from Oakleaf’s saddle and carried him into a place filled with light and warmth. He roused enough to drink when a cup was held to his lips.
“Oakleaf—” he said.
And that was the last he knew for quite some time.
—«♦»—
IT was day when Kellen and the others reached the surface again—and snowing only lightly, which was a pleasant change. The air was drier and colder here than down in the caverns, but fresh, and Kellen breathed deeply as he walked down the ramp.
Kharren and a half-dozen Knights were standing guard outside the cavern. Kellen greeted her with a careless wave.
“I See you, Kharren. The Crystal Spiders tell us the caverns are now free of
“That makes good hearing, Kellen Knight-Mage,” Kharren responded. “I will send Elatar for your horses. Adaerion has news for you, but he will wish to give it himself.”
—«♦»—
SOON Kellen was following Kharren into Adaerion’s pavilion. He wondered what the news was, but if it had been anything truly urgent—and bad—Kharren would surely have delivered it herself.
“I See you, Kellen,” Adaerion said, motioning for Kellen to sit.
