"Let us return and tell the Lerkalpoldarans of their good fortune," Ancaladar said, with a sigh of relief.
"It will be a pleasure to have good news to share, for once," Jermayan agreed.
* * * * *
OVER a thousand souls had left the walls of Lerkalpoldara's Winter City. A few days later, just under three hundred stood at the top of the pass with Jermayan and Ancaladar. It was only by the grace of Leaf and Stat that among their number could be counted all of the women with child whom Jermayan had originally come to Lerkalpoldara to bring away.
They had succeeded in keeping six sledges out of the original thirty with them, though they no longer had any draft animals running free. There were no spare horses left, either; the remount herd was gone, most ridden to exhaustion or death, the few survivors abandoned in the foothills.
Magarabeleniel ruled alone now. Last night, as Jermayan had fought to protect their rear guard from Coldwarg following them across the ice, Chalaseniel had died among those fighting a shadewalker. There had been no time to stop to mourn him; no chance to recover his body, just as there had been no chance to honor any of the seven hundred who had died, whether by the jaws or hooves of monsters, or from cold, frost-burn, or simple exhaustion.
"Now you must leave us," Magarabeleniel said to him simply. "You have Andoreniel's work to do, and we must go to Windalorianan, to tell Vanantiriel and Leamrainsia that Lerkalpoldara is fallen, and we are all that remain. The fortune of Leaf and Star go with you and with Ancaladar on your journey."
"And with all of you. And may Leaf and Star grant that we see you again on a happier day," Jermayan answered.
"Let it be so," Magarabeleniel said. She turned her horse's head and rode to the top of the column, and the riders moved slowly off through the blowing snow.
* * * * *
BEFORE he left the Gatekeeper, there was one last task Jermayan wished to perform. He was not sure if he could, but he wished to try, for the sake of Magarabeleniel and her people.
And here and now it should not be so difficult.
He stretched out his hands toward the pass.
A shimmering curtain of ice began to form in the air, soap-bubble-thin at first, then becoming thicker. It spread to the walls of the pass, and rose to the very top, in moments becoming a wall thicker and higher than those that had circled the lost Winter City, sealing the pass against anything that might wish to follow as unequivocally as a wall of solid rock.
If the monsters that now roamed the Plains of Bazrahil wished to cross the pass, they would have to work for the privilege.
Chapter Five
The Best of All Beginnings
OUTSIDE YSTERIALPOERIN, A fortnight after Jermayan's departure, the army held a council of war.
They were still awaiting new orders from Andoreniel, and the silence was beginning to worry all of the Senior Commanders, Redhelwar most of all. His forces were still not yet fully battle-ready, though another fortnight, at most, should see the majority of the Allies prepared to fight.
Most unsettling of all, they had no clear idea of who to fight. Vestakia had still not been able to discover from the Crystal Spiders where the next and Leaf and Star grant, the last Enclave of the Shadowed Elves lay, nor did Redhelwar dare move his army against any lesser threat.
* * * * *
IT was not a small group that was gathered in Redhelwar's tent, though since the Battle of the Further Caverns, and the Battle for the Heart of the Forest, some long-familiar faces were absent from the strategy meeting, and would be forever. Nor was it restricted entirely to the Elves, for the Allied Senior Commanders were there as well.
In addition to Padredor, Adaerion, Arambor, Belepheriel, and Ninolion, Rulorwen, Master of the Engineers, had been newly raised in rank. Though he and his command were not mounted Knights, Rulorwen's quiet promise was that if something held still long enough, he and his people would destroy it, tunnel beneath it, dismantle it for the army's later use, or build a bridge across it.
There were also two Elven sub-commanders present, for their specialized work for the army was vital: Artenal, Master of the Armorers, whose work it was to come up with new weapons and armor to deal with the evolving threats that the army faced; and Riasen, who had become captain of the Unicorn Knights upon Petariel's death.
Idalia was there both as Wildmage and as chief of the Healers, who were drawn from every race that marched with the army.
Kerleu, Wirance, and Kearn attended to represent the High Reaches Wildmages and the Mountainfolk, including the farmers from the Wildlands who had fled to the High Reaches when Armethalieh had expanded her borders and had answered Andoreniel's call for levies instead of returning home, adding their numbers to the small but valued cadre of Mountainborn foot troops. At home the Mountainfolk were organized first by families, then by clans, and at last the clans were gathered into houses. To an outsider, the Mountainborn organization looked like anarchy at best, madness at worst, for it was a structure designed to acknowledge the harsh realities of life in the High Reaches, where at the beginning of winter, no man or woman might be sure they would see the spring.
As such, though they were fierce warriors, who did all and more that Redhelwar asked of them, they simply did not have the same sort of organization that either the Elves or the Centaurs did. What Kerleu, Wirance, and Kearn heard here would be carried back to the Mountainfolk camp to be discussed among them all, with a final decision reached only after hours perhaps days of arguing.
Atroist was here for the Lostlander Wildmages, and Feyrt was here as the leader of the Lostlander fighting men. Though the villages were autonomous at home, here Feyrt had been elected absolute leader of all the warriors Belrix, or War King in a move unprecedented in Lostlander history. Though their numbers were small, they had already proven to be terrifyingly expert fighters, adept with their ancestral weapon, the murragh, or steelbride a massive sword which, blade to pommel, stood taller than a tall man. Razor sharp and heavy as a war-axe, the murragh took much training to use properly, but it was said that an expert wielder could behead a running horse or slice a lightly armored man in half with one blow.
Feyrt deferred to Atroist in all matters where the Wild Magic chose to give counsel, of course, for the Lostlanders lived more closely than any other folk with the power of the Wild Magic, since it had been their only defense against the constant raids of the Dark Folk, as they called Demons.
Kellen was there; that went without saying. He was the army's only Knight-Mage; the only Knight-Mage there was, so far as anyone knew, and the only one born in the last thousand years. This particular form of the Wild Magic gave an instinctive understanding of battle and war. Which didn't mean Kellen always knew what he knew. Or that other people believed that he knew it.
Cilarnen was there as well, though he had no true right to be, being neither a fighter nor one whose work was to support the fighters. But of all of them even Kellen he was the one who best understood Armethalieh, and he was the one who could best advise Redhelwar and the others in how to deal with her.
And dealing with Armethalieh was one of their many priorities.
Kellen had not seen Cilarnen since Kindolhinadetil had made his odd gift of books, and he was shocked at how changed Cilarnen seemed. The boy had lost weight his skin was tightly drawn across the bones of his face and there were dark shadows beneath his eyes. He wondered if Cilarnen was still having his headaches, and if the Healers had discovered the cause. He promised himself he would make time to see Cilarnen after this meeting was over, and find out how his work was progressing.
The traditional Elven formalities were shortened out of respect to the humans and the Centaurs to a single ceremonious round of tea.
"We begin by hearing reports and sharing information in this informal manner," Redhelwar said. "I regret to inform you all that fresh word has not yet come from Sentarshadeen."
There was a moment of dismayed silence as those present heard Redhelwar's news.
"Vestakia is making some progress in her task at least," Idalia said with a rueful sigh. "She has ruled out the north and the east as locations for a Shadowed Elf Enclave the lands around Windalorianan, Deskethomaynel, and Lerkalpoldara. Unfortunately, with the new encroachments, she's starting to get, well, interference from the increased Enemy activity along our Borders and within the Elven Lands themselves. So far it isn't bad, but if it gets worse, opening herself to link to the Spiders will become difficult, if not impossible."
"So we had better have an answer before then."
Kreylmedd was the warchief of the Centaurs, Redhelwar's liaison to the Centaur camp, here with his lieutenants Siust and Truanolm. The three of them, between them, spoke for the Centaur army. In times of peace Kreylmedd was a landholder and a council member in the village of Mossmeade, and the beer he brewed was famed throughout the Wild Lands. Siust was a blacksmith said to be able to work iron fine enough to shoe the wind, whose forge held many fine young apprentices and journeymen, and had produced more than one master smith. Truanolm was a miller, whose eight sons and five daughters held much of the land between Merryknoll and Greenlaw, and whose fields kept his grindstones turning constantly.
But fifty generations ago their ancestors had fought beside the Elves against Shadow Mountain, and if the Centaurs had forgotten much else about that time, they had not forgotten the need to be ready. Each generation they trained and prepared their Centaur warriors, even though they saw no more of battle than keeping the peace at country fairs and occasional run-ins with bandits and outlaws.
Now the Centaurs were the backbone of Redhelwar's army, for the Centaur nation was more numerous than the Elves. They fought as his heavy cavalry infantry: slower-moving than an Elven Knight mounted on a destrier, but massive and unstoppable.
"We will hope that she does, for if she does not, we will not be able to strike at the next Enclave of the Shadowed Elves. But whether we can do this or not, we must also find a way to warn the human city of the treachery she nurtures within," Adaerion said.
"Tell Armethalieh anything? Herdsman guide you," Kreylmedd said with a cynical snort.
"To warn the City of a Thousand Bells is only one of many priorities," Redhelwar said, summoning the meeting back to order. "The Frost Giants are gathering beyond Deskethomaynel, and in a moonturn their shamans will be able to batter through the land-wards and the Frost Giants and their kindred will walk the Elven Lands unopposed. There is plague in both Deskethomaynel and Windalorianan it brings fever and delirium, and many are stricken. There have been no deaths yet, but they are expected.
"And this day, at last, riders have come from Deskethomaynel, bringing terrible news. Lerkalpoldara is no more. Its Flower Forest is gone."
There was a moment of stunned silence from the Elves in the tent.
"They were besieged by the beasts of the Shadow, their passes sealed by winter, their numbers too few to defend themselves not that any defense would have been possible against Them."
Kellen groaned inwardly. This was hardly the sort of talk he wanted to heat from the army's general, especially when he was talking to his senior commanders.