“I have heard the counsel of my komentaiia, Kellen Knight-Mage, now here is my word to you,” Redhelwar said. “I will not risk your life and that of Idalia Wildmage for so little gain. But neither will I risk Vestakia’s, when experience has shown us that our Tainted cousins will attack in force the moment we advance into their lairs. She will remain here, safe, while they expend their strength against us. Now go to your rest. There is much to do on the morrow to prepare for our assault.”
Kellen stood for a moment, stunned, as Redhelwar’s words sank in. He’d told Redhelwar that a simple assault on the cavern without advance scouting would be a complete disaster.
And Redhelwar hadn’t listened.
At last he managed to bow. “I thank the General for his wisdom. I go,” Kellen said.
He made his way through the camp by instinct alone, still feeling as if he’d been struck. Redhelwar hadn’t listened.
This was his fault. When Belepheriel had provoked him, he should have ignored it. But no. His Knight-Mage instincts told him he had been right to do what he had done; to remind them all of what he was. Belepheriel’s would have been the loudest voice in favor of a direct assault; he was certain of that.
But Belepheriel hadn’t been there. And the plan was going forward anyway.
I saved Ysterialpoerin for them tonight. They know that. And this is how they reward me? Kellen thought bitterly.
But that wasn’t the right way to think either. He’d saved Ysterialpoerin, yes. But not in order to be paid for it, as if—as if he were a High Mage of Armethalieh!
Kellen took a deep breath, willing anger and hurt pride away. What mattered was the problem at hand, and he needed time to consider how best to deal with it. There would be answers in his Books, of that he was certain.
His steps had taken him back to his home tents. It was still early enough that several of his people were gathered around the communal brazier. With a pang of relief, he saw that Ciltesse was there, and Isinwen had returned from the forest. They got to their feet as he approached.
“I share your sorrow at Mindaerel’s death,” Ciltesse said, bowing. “Many destriers in the horse-lines go without riders now. By your leave and Adaerion’s, I shall select another to share your life.”
“That… makes good hearing,” Kellen said slowly, forcing himself to concentrate on more homely and immediate problems. “You will know what I need better than I do myself, Ciltesse. Mindaerel… I don’t…”
“We will handle matters at first light, alakomentai,” Isinwen said. “There is a way such things are done in Ysterialpoerin.” He smiled slightly, at the small jest they both shared.
For a moment Kellen had a wild vision of the Elves hoisting Mindaerel into a tree, and shook his head sharply, banishing the freakish fancy. However they handled things in Ysterialpoerin, he was sure it wasn’t that. He nodded.
“That makes good hearing. She died a warrior. And I would know now, Ciltesse, if it pleases you to say, how fare those who did not ride with me tonight.” Blunt words, and a flat-out demand by Elven terms, but he hoped Ciltesse would forgive him.
“All live, by the grace of Leaf and Star,” Ciltesse said, looking pleased. “And there were only the most minor of injuries, and none from the Blight-cursed arrows of the Shadowed Elves. All have been seen by the Healers, and are at their rest.”
“And so I will go to mine, and encourage you to go to yours. Tomorrow Redhelwar disposes the army for the attack upon the nearer cavern, and there will be much to do.”
Chapter Nineteen
The Wisdom of Betrayal
KELLEN ENTERED HIS tent, buttoned the flap closed, and called fire into the brazier and the lantern. He opened the small pack he kept always with him—it was the same pack he’d been given in Armethalieh on the day of his Banishing—and drew out his three Books. Perhaps they would grant him wisdom. He still wasn’t quite sure why Redhelwar had refused to allow the second scouting expedition—surely he knew that Kellen’s life wasn’t at risk, and he could have agreed to let Kellen go without Idalia if he were really worried about her safety. Perhaps it was because it just “wasn’t the way things have always been done,” or perhaps Redhelwar saw the consequences of the cusp-point that Kellen had only sensed, and feared them.
He didn’t know. And it didn’t matter now.
He ran his hands over the worn leather covers. Which one would serve him best tonight? Without hesitation, he opened The Book of Stars at random and began to read.
“A Wildmage’s honor is not what honor may seem in the eyes of the world. The honor of a Wildmage lies in always paying the price of the Wild Magic, no matter what that price may be, and no matter what path the price may unfold. The world’s honor takes many paths and many forms, but to the Wildmage, there is only one path and one form, and so it must ever be.”
Kellen closed The Book of Stars and stared unseeingly into the lantern’s flame. He couldn’t remember seeing that passage there before, but in a way he’d suspected its existence ever since he’d begun to be a Knight-Mage.
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.