“Which means that They knew our plans all along—and picked this caravan to attack. Specifically,” Kellen said.
“Not that we’d leave any child in the hands of Demons,” Shalkan observed, “or anyone else for that matter. But you know what the basis of Endarkened magic is. And Sandalon is the Heir.”
Kellen took a deep breath. Endarkened magic drew its power from blood and pain and death—from torture. And the death by torture of the Royal Heir would undoubtedly be a source of greater power than any other sacrifice the Demons could marshal, as well as being a great blow to the Elves.
Kellen gazed around the battlefield again. The others were walking among the dead—saying prayers, Kellen supposed, or trying to identify fallen friends. He glanced over his shoulder. Vestakia had stayed with the horses. She was standing beside her mare, leaning against the saddle, the hood of her cloak pulled well up over her face.
Kellen turned back to the battlefield. It was almost as if the bodies—where they lay, how they’d fallen—told a story, and it was one he needed to disentangle. None of the children were here. Calmeren had said they’d been taken, by things that flew, but the only reason she’d survived was because she’d fled before the battle was over. He needed to know more than she could tell him.
Could his magic help him here?
It was worth a try.
Tell me what I need to know, Kellen said silently, summoning up his battle-sight.
There was a shimmer, a faint doubling of vision as the battle-sight rose up, peopling the icy battlefield with the silent silvery ghosts of the dead. He watched as the battle replayed itself before his eyes: the moment when the unicorns realized that flight would not save their precious charges, when they turned, desperately, to fight. They’d been facing the coldwarg pack—the ice-giants would not have been fast enough to keep up with the pack—and… something?
Kellen glanced up at the sky, empty now.
Yes. When the unicorns had turned to face the coldwarg, the flying creatures had attacked as well, forcing the unicorns back into the lethal jaws of the pack, and then carrying off the children and Lairamo. He watched the Deathwings as they attacked, agile and deadly, the long razor-sharp talons on their feet clawing and grasping at the unicorn’s heads and shoulders, snatching Knights into the air with a fell swoop only to drop them to the ground once more with a stunning impact.
But the coldwarg had possessed other allies as well.
Kellen watched as the last of the unicorns and their riders were pulled down, and saw, with distant surprise, a party of cloaked figures move onto the field. Calmeren had said it had been snowing heavily that day. The cloaked figures would have been concealed by the snow until the last instant.
The silvery vision-ghosts moved among the dead and dying without fear of the feeding coldwarg. Allies, then, and too heavily cowled for Kellen to be sure of what they might be. Perhaps even men.
The vision faded, and Kellen blinked, seeing only the battlefield once more.
“What did you see?” Shalkan asked quietly.
“The battle,” Kellen said simply. “Calmeren was right. Those bat-things— Deathwings—carried the children off… somewhere.”
“But where?” Jermayan’s voice was tight with frustration.
“I don’t know,” Kellen said, feeling a moment of utter despair. To come so far, and to fall just short of success…
“I can find them,” Vestakia said.
She’d come up behind him while Kellen was watching the past unfold. She’d pushed the hood of her cloak back, and Kellen could see that her face was set with a mixture of horror and determination. If her skin hadn’t been the color of ripe cherries, Kellen would have bet she would have been pale. As it was, she looked as if she might be sick at any moment, and not just from the ugliness of the sight before her. Shalkan said the killing ground reeked of Taint as much as the stench Kellen’s physical senses could perceive, and Vestakia’s gift and curse was that she was peculiarly able to perceive Demonic Taint. And more than any other creature of the Light, she found it debilitating, sickening, perhaps even painful. Kellen didn’t know for certain; she had never elaborated, and he could only guess.
Shalkan took a step sideways to press his shoulder against her hip.
“They were taken by Demons—or for Demons,” Vestakia said in a small, determined voice. “They were taken by things like that.” She indicated the Death-wing with a shudder. “I think I can track them.”
Jermayan regarded Vestakia with warm approval.
By now the others had gathered around as well.
“There’s something more you need to know,” Kellen said. “When I saw the battle”—he shrugged, not sure how else to say it—“there were others, helping the coldwarg and the Deathwings. Not giants, and not Endarkened. Figures in cloaks, man-sized. I don’t think I could have seen them clearly even if I’d been there in the flesh. But that means we have another enemy to worry about.”
“Not Elves!” Trotaliath exclaimed. “Elves would never betray their own to the Enemy!”
“Men. Yet it would be desirable to know how Men could come so far into our lands without our knowing,” Debarniekel said, eyeing Kellen with disfavor.
“As well wonder how came the frost-giants, or the ice-trolls, or any of our misfortunes,” Jermayan said grimly. “And we do not know yet that they were Men, Debarniekel.”
“I guess we’ll find out when we catch them,” Kellen said. He knew from what Vestakia had told him that Demons could change their shape, and appear in almost any form, but he couldn’t imagine why they’d bother to disguise themselves to come here. They couldn’t have expected to be seen, after all.
And hadn’t the whole point been to have the caravan disappear without a trace? A few more sennights—another big blizzard or two—and there wouldn’t have been any traces at all left for them to find. Only the charred remains of the wagons, if that. The Deathwing would have been completely rotted away.
“Come on,” he said, turning and walking back toward the waiting mounts. “Vestakia, what do you need us to do?”
It felt odd to be taking charge and giving orders like this—especially since he was pretty sure he was the youngest one here, Vestakia included—but Idalia had been right. This was his rescue party. He was the leader, and even while it felt odd, it felt right.
The wind rose while they walked, and the air cleared. All of them breathed easier.
Vestakia had obviously been thinking as they moved.
“I think we need to get away from here, to where I can’t feel that… thing. Kellen, you said you ‘saw’ the battle. Which way did the creatures fly?”
Kellen thought for a moment, then pointed into the sky. “But you know that doesn’t mean anything,” he added conscientiously. “Once they were in the air, they might have circled around, gone in any direction.”
“I know,” Vestakia said. “But it gives us a place to start, doesn’t it? We’ll get out of range of this, and then I’ll see what I can sense, and we’ll follow it. I know I’ll be able to pick up the trail when we’re clear of that dead thing,” she said, determination in her voice. “They thought going by air would leave no traces to track, but they were wrong. I even think I feel it now, but I want to be sure.”
They mounted up again and rode away from the battlefield.
A few minutes later they stopped. The destriers were calm again, and even Kellen felt better, as if an annoying sound just below the threshold of audibility had stopped.
Vestakia dismounted and walked away from the animals. She paced back and forth for a few minutes. Kellen could see the steam of her breath being whipped away by the wind, and hear the crunch her boots made as they broke through the crust of the hard-frozen snow.
It all depended on her, and on her using her gifts in a way she’d never used them before. Jermayan was a fine tracker, but there was no physical trail to follow.
Idalia might cast a Finding Spell with the Wild Magic, or Kellen might, but for either of them to do that would be to incur Magedebt, and there would be no guarantee that it would work. The Endarkened were powerful magicians, easily able to cast greater spells than any either he or Idalia could summon. They could certainly shield their stronghold, just as they must have shielded the presence of the attackers within the Elven Borders. The one thing they could not conceal was the presence of their magic, and that was what Vestakia could follow.
After a nerve-wracking interval, Vestakia returned.
“That way,” she said with certainty. “I’m sorry… I don’t know if it’s the children. But it’s Taint…”
“And it’s within Elven Borders,” Jermayan finished grimly. “So we must investigate it, and pray that it leads to what we hope to find.”
—«♦»—
SEVERAL times Vestakia stopped to reassure herself they were continuing in the right direction. Kellen was relieved to see that though she seemed to be uncomfortable at sensing the presence of Demon-taint, it was not draining her as badly as it had when she had approached the Black Cairn.
The trail led them deeper into the mountains, back below the edge of the tree line, where there was more shelter from the wind. Soon, as Vestakia became more assured in following the trail, they became able to move at the fastest prudent speed over the snow, with the unicorns breaking the trail for the heavier destriers.