Elves were ageless and beautiful. Even the tales told of them in Armethalieh said so. And though Kellen had seen that they did age, the marks of age came slowly and at the end of a very long life, and even in age they were still beautiful.
But in that moment Redhelwar’s Elven beauty drained away like water poured into drought-parched earth. For a moment, Kellen saw the Elven general not only surprised, but terrified.
He lowered his eyes quickly, not wishing to see more.
“If I had done what I wished to do, followed the plans I had made…” Redhelwar said. His voice sounded hollow, as if he bore a burden of unendurable pain.
“I would ask a boon, Army’s General,” Kellen said, keeping his teeth from chattering with an effort. The wind seemed to find every gap in his cloak, and the snow burned against his skin. He couldn’t feel his feet at all.
“Name your boon, Kellen Knight-Mage,” Redhelwar said. His voice was stronger now, and Kellen dared to look up again. Redhelwar’s face was still haggard, but it no longer looked quite so… naked.
“We escaped the cavern alive through the help of allies. The caverns are far too dangerous to leave with their traps intact, but we have promised our allies time to escape before we destroy the traps. They ask for a day.”
“All shall be as you wish,” Redhelwar said hollowly.
He raised his hand and gestured. Dionan rode forward.
“Sound the retreat,” Redhelwar said, his voice steady now, but without expression. “We return to camp.”
Dionan raised his horn to his lips and blew a complicated series of notes. Instantly the army was in motion, its elements turning in place and beginning to move away from the cavern.
“Bring Ninolion to me, and fetch Idalia’s mount. My compliments to Belepheriel, and let him know it would please me greatly if he and his people would continue to watch over this cavern for untoward events. Under no circumstances are they to enter it.”
“And could someone find something for Kellen to wear?” Idalia demanded irritably, forging through the snow to stand at Kellen’s side. “He hasn’t got a thing on under that cloak.”
“The, uh, Goblins poisoned my armor. I had to take it off,” Kellen explained, blushing furiously. He thought he’d actually rather freeze than have Idalia explain things.
“See to it,” Redhelwar ordered, still in that terrible, flat voice. Dionan rode off.
“Shalkan will assist you,” Redhelwar said to Kellen. “Go to him. Dionan will see what may be done. And… my thanks to you. You have saved me from a great error.”
Kellen bowed. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Idalia grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back toward Shalkan.
Shalkan’s horn was back to its normal pearly-white color now. “Get on,” he said, seeing Kellen.
It took Kellen several tries to mount—by now he couldn’t feel either his hands or his feet—but once he was on Shalkan’s back, he felt better. Even through the armor, the unicorn was radiating heat like a furnace, and soon Kellen’s teeth stopped wanting to chatter, and he stopped shivering.
Was everything going to be all right now? Or as all right as things got these days? At least Redhelwar had believed him.
It hadn’t occurred to him until just now that the Elven general might not have. What could he possibly have done then?
“Where am I going to get another set of armor?” he said aloud, turning his mind with relief to things that didn’t matter quite so much. “And another sword?” He was beginning to feel a bit of that muzziness return; he wasn’t quite sure where the broken one had gotten to—or his dagger. He thought he’d left them both back inside the cavern just after the last trip-wire.
The majority of the Elven army had withdrawn to beyond the river now. Only Redhelwar and his adjutants remained, and Belepheriel and his command.
“Both of those things are Artenel’s problem, and I’m sure he’ll rise to the challenge,” Idalia said. “How are you planning to trigger the traps in the cave?”
“That’s Jermayan’s problem,” Kellen said, with a certain amount of relief. “I’m sure he and Ancaladar will rise to the challenge. Tomorrow.”
“I take it Redhelwar didn’t have a problem with that?” Idalia said.
“I think he’d have given me the whole damned army if I’d asked for it just now,” Kellen said.
“Ah,” Idalia said. “There’s Cella.”
Ninolion had led the palfrey up to Redhelwar’s side. Idalia went out to the mare and led her back to Kellen and Shalkan. She was carrying something else in her other hand, but by now it was too dark—and, once again, snowing too hard—for Kellen to see it clearly.
“Here,” she said. “Put these on.”
Kellen reluctantly untucked his hands from his cloak to take what Idalia was holding out to him. It was a pair of the long heavy sheepskin boots that were worn over armor as a further protection against the cold. They were an Elven pair, of course, so even without armor, Kellen could barely cram his feet into them.
Idalia rooted around in her packs and came up with several blocks of journey-food. She gave one to Shalkan, handed one to Kellen, and unwrapped the third for herself. Kellen wolfed it down as quickly as he could, then wrapped himself tightly in his cloak again.
“Let’s go,” she said, mounting Cella. “I want to get you back to camp and into the hands of the Healers before you fall over.”
“You go ahead,” Kellen said. “Shalkan and I will follow as closely as we can. I promise.”
Idalia nodded, and trotted after the retreating army.
Kellen glanced once more at Redhelwar and the others. Without Shalkan, he might have been tempted to join them—or at least think it was his duty—but with Shalkan, it was impossible. Shalkan made an exception for Idalia—at need—but for a whole troop of Elves?
Impossible.
Fortunately. No doubt now; he was beginning to feel unpleasantly drunk.
“Let’s go home.”
—«♦»—
“YOU’LL have to make your own way from here,” Shalkan said, trotting into the circle of pavilions that made up the camp of the Unicorn Knights. “I’d suggest stealing some clothes, but nothing will fit.”
“Where is everyone?” Kellen asked, looking around. None of the lanterns in front of the pavilions were lit, and even the communal brazier was cold and dark.
“Probably off at Ysterialpoerin,” Shalkan said. “Where I’m going, to get this armor off and get a good meal, as well as to catch up on the gossip, so don’t worry about me. Now, go—straight to the Healers, if you please. I can smell that potion Idalia gave you, that and the goblin poison both. You need to get them both taken care of. Now.”
“I’m going,” Kellen said meekly.
He’d forgotten what a long cold walk it could be from the Unicorn Camp back to the main camp—of course, he’d never done it wearing nothing more than a cloak and a pair of too-tight boots before. At least there was a string of lanterns to mark his way, though the snow—the everlasting snow—had drifted so high that they seemed to rest directly on its surface, and some of them had melted small craters in it, so their light gleamed against walls of ice.
And he had the awful feeling that Idalia’s potion was wearing off very quickly now, because he didn’t seem to be able to keep the cloak closed. It seemed to take too much effort, somehow, and he had the strongest desire just to lie down right here in the snow and sleep.
“Halt and declare yourself.” A sentry’s voice came out of the darkness.
Stopping was the best idea Kellen had heard in hours. He opened his mouth to explain who he was.
And that was the last thing he remembered.