The snow was dappled with blood. Lying in the snow was a unicorn mare. Her fur had been white once. Now it was streaked with blood, some old and brown, some red and fresh. All hers. Kneeling beside her were an Elven border guard and his unicorn mount. The fallen unicorn’s ribs heaved as she gasped for breath.
Kellen ran down to join them.
“Get Idalia. Now!” he ordered.
The Elf stared at him for a moment in shock, as if he could not imagine where Kellen had sprung from, then swayed to his feet—almost ungracefully— and mounted his unicorn. The two of them sprang off in the direction of Sentarshadeen.
Kellen knelt down beside the fallen unicorn, set his sword within easy reach, and gently eased her head into his lap. “Easy, girl, easy,” he said soothingly. “Help is coming.”
He only hoped she could hear him. He wished he could heal her himself, but healing didn’t come easily to him—not like it did to Idalia. He needed herbs and tools that he didn’t have with him to summon that particular aspect of the Wild Magic.
Her body was painfully thin and wasted, as if she hadn’t eaten for days, and there were deep claw marks covering her shoulders and haunches. Kellen wasn’t sure what kind of animal could leave those marks. Maybe a bear? But bears should all be asleep at this season, and most animals in Nature wouldn’t attack a unicorn to begin with. At least her horn was intact.
Shalkan arrived, leaning down to nuzzle gently at her face. The unicorn whimpered painfully, but did not open her eyes.
“Hush, darling, hush,” Shalkan said, in a voice unlike any Kellen had ever heard him use before. “It will be better soon. I promise.”
“I sent for Idalia,” Kellen said.
“Yes,” Shalkan said. “I passed Sharmet on the way into the city.” He seemed to gather himself to impart bad news, and gazed steadily into Kellen’s eyes. “Her name is Calmeren. She was with the party sent to the Crowned Horns with Sandalon.”
Kellen had the sense, all at once, of a pattern. No, more than a pattern, a picture, or perhaps a diagram, or—well, whatever it was, he knew, he knew what this meant, and why he’d been feeling ready to kill something and why Vestakia was feeling the same way! It formed like a crystal exploding into place around him, all of its lattice forming a whole he could, at long last, read.
“They were attacked by the Enemy,” Kellen said. “Vestakia sensed it somehow. She was feeling awful today, and when Calmeren got close enough, she got sick.”
“Taint,” Shalkan said calmly. “It will be gone once Calmeren’s been healed.”
The two of them stayed with the wounded unicorn, Kellen gently brushing snow from her head. Others of the herd arrived, forming a protective circle around them, all gazing down at Calmeren in worried silence. It seemed a very long time until Idalia arrived, though Kellen knew she would have come as fast as she could.
She arrived on horseback, Sharmet and his rider running ahead. Idalia rode one of the horses that Kellen had seen plowing the city streets—obviously the quickest form of transportation she could grab. The unicorns scattered as she approached, bunching up into a small herd several yards distant.
“See if you can get her to drink this,” Idalia said, handing Kellen a water-skin. “And you,” she said to Sharmet’s rider, “go and see if Vestakia’s all right. She’s back by the spring.”
Kellen gently eased Calmeren’s mouth open and squeezed some of the contents of the waterskin onto her tongue as Idalia began to unpack her equipment. Even in the cold, he could smell a green minty scent. It wasn’t just water, then.
Calmeren swallowed convulsively as the liquid trickled over her tongue, and then began to suck greedily at the waterskin. Her eyelids flickered, but she still didn’t rouse.
Kellen smelled a whiff of burning as Idalia called the charcoal to light. She handed Kellen a large pot of salve.
“Put this on her injuries, but don’t try to turn her. Just slop it on. It’s sovereign for Taint, and will make it easier to heal her.”
Kellen pulled off his gauntlets and scooped up large handfuls of the stuff. It was a bright violet color, and even in the cold it was as thin and drippy as honey. He wiped it on as gently as he could—Calmeren seemed to sigh with relief as soon as it touched her—emptying the jar, and then scrubbed his hands clean in the snow.
By then, Idalia was ready to begin. “Who will share the price of this healing?” she asked.
“We will—all of us.” A black unicorn mare, who seemed to be the little group’s leader, stepped forward and spoke.
Shalkan shook his head mutely, stepping back from Calmeren. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, so low that only Kellen could hear.
“Me, too. I’ll share,” Kellen said. If Shalkan couldn’t help Calmeren—he didn’t understand but this was no time to ask questions—he’d take his friend’s place.
“That should be more than enough to make this easy,” Idalia said. She handed Kellen a knife, and at her direction, he gathered strands of hair from each of the waiting unicorns’ manes, then presented the bundle to Idalia. She reached out and cut a few blood-soaked hairs from Calmeren’s mane, added a few strands of her own hair, and pricked her finger to add her own blood to the mix, then tossed the little knot of hair onto the brazier.
Once again, Kellen felt the sheltering weight of Presence reach out to enfold them all—him, Idalia, Calmeren, all the other unicorns except Shalkan. But this time, there was a difference. Calmeren’s body sizzled and smoked when the protective dome came down over it, as if there were something about her that could not survive within it. A dark oily smoke seemed to rise out of her coat, and especially out of her wounds. In a few moments, it was gone. Kellen felt light-headed, as if there had been a cost to do that much. But Calmeren’s wounds still remained, stark and ugly against her matted fur.
“Now I can begin,” Idalia said. She reached her hands out and held them over the unicorn, and green fire spilled out of them like water, striking the unicorn’s coat and making it glow as if Calmeren were filled with the sun.
In a few moments—Kellen was always surprised at how quickly something so miraculous could run its course—Calmeren’s wounds were healed. It was as if they simply melted away, sinking back beneath the surface of her coat as the flesh knitted together, though the salve and the streaks and clots of blood remained, matting the white fur.
Kellen didn’t hear the Mageprice that the Powers asked of Idalia, of course—that was between her and her magic, though she might tell him if she chose. Whatever it was, he hoped it was something small and easy to pay; she was doing so much for Sentarshadeen these days that it hardly seemed fair that much more should be asked of her.
Kellen felt the protective shield disperse and the Presence depart once the healing Spell had run its course. Idalia was already dousing the brazier, scattering the coals in the snow, and packing her things away in her bag, then moving back, because her nearness would be uncomfortable for Calmeren and the rest of the herd.
“Is she going to be all right?” Vestakia asked, coming up behind Kellen. Her cloak was covered in snow where she’d fallen to the ground, but the pain in her voice was gone.
“Yes… now,” Kellen said. “Idalia healed her.”
The unicorn mare was already struggling toward consciousness. She opened her eyes—they were as green as Shalkan’s—and gazed wildly around, breathing a shaky snort of relief at the sight of the unicorns.
“Home!” she gasped. She rolled onto her stomach, trying to get her legs under her to stand, but was obviously still very weak. Kellen and Vestakia hurried over to her, lifting and steadying her. She leaned heavily against Kellen, and he could feel that she was nothing more than skin and bones.
“Thank you,” Calmeren said huskily. “I must see Andoreniel and Ashaniel at once! Coldwarg—others I have no name for—they attacked us within sight of the Crowned Horns. They carried off the children. All the rest are dead.” Her head drooped in despair.
Ciradhel? Naeret? Dainelel? Emessade? Kayir? He’d trained with all of them in the House of Sword and Shield. Naeret had taught him xaqiue. Ciradhel had helped to teach him to ride. He’d practiced with Dainelel a hundred times. They’d all gone with the convoy.
And Calmeren said they were all dead, killed by Shadow Mountain.
“I fought and fought—but they took the children and killed the rest. All the rest—all gone—all gone.” Her head hung down to her knees, and her sides heaved. Unicorns couldn’t weep, or at least, if they could, Kellen had never seen it happen, but the sorrow and despair in her voice was enough to bring tears to his eyes. “There was nothing I could do.”
“You brought us warning,” Shalkan said quietly. “That is a very great deal.”
“I should have known!” Vestakia burst out. “I should have known that was why I felt so strange!”
“We should all have known that They wouldn’t just leave us in peace,” Kellen said bitterly. “But we didn’t.”
“Do you think you can walk as far as the House of Leaf and Star?” Idalia asked. “I’ve healed you, but you’re still very weak. You’ll need rest, and care, and food.”
But the unicorn’s head came up again at that. “I have to go back,” Calmeren said, sounding frantic. “I have to save the children!”
“No,” Kellen said, his voice hard. “You have done your duty, and more than your duty, Calmeren. You aren’t strong enough, even healed; now your duty is to pass the task on to someone else. You only have to tell me where to go. I’ll save them. That’s my job.”
—«♦»—
LESS than an hour later, the Elven Council had gathered again. This time Vestakia was present as well, so that they could hear what she could tell them about what she had sensed that morning.
On the way to the House of Leaf and Star, Kellen had heard the rest of what Calmeren had to tell him.