Cilarnen or Jermayan could summon a lightning bolt to blast the stone to ash. As far as Kellen knew, he had no such abilities even if he could call up a thunderstorm out of season, he couldn't bring the lightning here and if he could, it would be far more likely to strike Elven armor than inert stone. He hammered harder at the wall, fury and frustration lending him a strength neatly that of his companions. He had not led them this far just to let them die.
"Shield and push."
It was not his own thought. It seemed to come from outside him. It was almost Shalkan's voice, and yet not.
But I don't Shield I can't!
Shield was a spell no Knight-Mage cast, or needed.
But he wasn't going to let his people die simply because he wasn't willing to try.
"Stand back," he told the others. The water was to their hips.
When Idalia had thought he was going to be a regular Wildmage, she'd told him about casting Shield-spells. A Wildmage Shielded naturally when Healing, though that wasn't quite the same thing. And of course, in his lessons in the High Magick, he'd had the principles of Mage-Shield dinned into him by Anigrel morning, noon, and night for almost a decade.
He did his best to forget all of it.
He placed his hands flat against the wall.
I need this, he said to the Wild Magic. I need this for my people. They trust me to keep them alive. I will pay any price anything! He felt the Presence descend. "When the time comes, you must…let go."
Once he would have thought of that as a light Price. Now he thought it might be the highest Price of all. Yes, he thought.
The sense of listening Presence departed.
His hands began to glow brighter than the Coldfire above his head, until he had to close his eyes. Not the green glow of Healing that he had seen before. Nor was it the blue light he had unconsciously expected the first voice in his mind had sounded a lot like Shalkan. Instead, it was almost a blend of the two, a deep blue green, a color he had never seen in Nature. Even with his eyes closed, he could still see what the light was doing. It spread from his hands over the wall, and where it touched, the red glow of Taint vanished like smoke, until the entire wall radiated with the Shield he should never have been able to cast.
He pushed.
The stone resisted, but now it was soft and rotten, almost like chalk. His hands went through, pushing a large chunk of the center of the wall with them, and he pulled back just in time to keep from getting hit by the top of the wall as it fell free.
Water began to rush through the gap.
"Come on," he said to the others, his voice ragged with the exhaustion that came with summoning the Wild Magic. "Tear it down. Quickly."
* * * * *
A mile was a variable distance.
It was one thing if you were walking through the woods on a warm spring day. Another if you were riding or walking through a winter blizzard.
Yet another trying to move through waist-deep water in a cave beneath the earth.
Moving at the head of the Knights, Isinwen splashed forward as quickly as he could, though the waist-deep water slowed his steps and those of his men as if they moved through thick mud.
His heavy fur cloak was a sodden weight; he unclasped it and let the water pull it away. Though his heavy wool surcoat was also soaked with as much water as it could hold, and clung heavily to him, he did not consider removing it: That would require unbuckling his swordbelt, and he dared not take the time. Every item of clothing he wore was designed to withstand the cold of winter and the subterranean chill of a winter cave; it provided no protection at all against the icy water that he waded through, and the fur, thick weaves, and heavy leather soaked up and retained water, adding to the weight he carried.
The weight that would hold him down, hold every one of them down, and drown them when the waters reached above their heads. He could they all could strip off their armor and swim for it, but they would be miles from their supply wagons when they reached the surface.
And the exit they were heading for was narrow and steep, a small staircase.
It would take so many a long time to ascend by such a narrow passage.
* * * * *
THE cave-opening was clear, and the water was pouring through it, back into the bed of the Angarussa. The level of the water here in the selkie-cavern had dropped to their knees, though the force of the current, as it foamed through the narrow opening, had increased. Kellen was glad to see that the river was running swiftly through its channel which meant that at least some of the water in the caves should be draining away but the water level was beginning to rise again as well swiftly it was possible that this gallery might refill, even with the constant drainage, cutting off their only way out. If these caves were flooded, then any chambers below this level were also flooded. Since the cave floors were both level and even, the water was almost certainly the same depth everywhere in every one of the surviving chambers. They were running out of time.
Had he made the wrong decision, to go deeper into the caves with only a skeleton force? He knew he hadn't. If he had proceeded with his entire command, they would have been trapped here when the Shadowed Elves opened the spillways, with no time to open a line of retreat.
"Ambanire, it would please me greatly should you desire to take the Knights and cross the bridge to join up with Churashil's force immediately. Direct him to send messengers back to the main force: We will need our horses brought to this entrance."
The bridge itself was not trapped. Perhaps the Shadowed Elves themselves needed it. Perhaps trapping it was something they hadn't gotten around to. Or perhaps they'd realized that if they left it alone, it would be a lure he simply couldn't refuse.
"At once, komentai."
Ambanire turned and began to wade out toward the bridge, through the rushing water.
Now Kellen could see the steady glow of Coldfire that meant the approach of his main force. He felt a wave of relief. Isinwen wasn't an idiot, after all, needing Kellen to direct his every move. By the time the water had reached his ankles, he would already have begun to move the forces Kellen had left with him, and gathered Umerchiel's men with him along the way whether he had heard the horn-call or not.
Suddenly, from the darkness ahead, came the guttural barking yelps of the Shadowed Elves.
There were no other exits from this gallery on the maps. They had been hiding in the darkness. Waiting.
Ambanire's men had just reached the middle of the bridge. It was a narrow strip of smooth stone, just wide enough for two Elves to cross side by side. In normal times, the surface of the Angarussa ran several feet below it. Now the swiftly-rushing current was nearly level with the bridge's surface. The wet stone was slick as ice. Any armored Knight who slipped from it would drown beneath the surface of the icy water before he had the chance to struggle free of his armor.
The Shadowed Elves came swarming out of the darkness, too many to count. They held the far side of the bridge, but they did not need it to cross. As their archers began firing, more of the Tainted creatures began climbing across the walls of the cavern, heading toward Kellen.
"Back!" Kellen shouted, drawing his sword. If they could hold them in the doorway, they might survive the assault. But survival wasn't enough. They had to get across the bridge while they still could and it was obvious that the Shadowed Elves intended to hold them here until the water did its work. They didn't care whether they lived or died only that they killed Elves.
Shadowed Elf archers ran out onto the bridge, pressing their advantage. Though the glass shields Kellen's force carried provided more protection than the shields the Knights normally carried, some of the arrows still found their mark. Kellen watched helplessly as Elves staggered and fell, plummeting into the black water. Even though the wounds might not ordinarily have been fatal, they were enough to send their victims over the side of the bridge.
And there was no way he could get to them.
He waded through the rising water, out into the river gallery. The Elves who had not yet begun to cross had retreated to the bridgehead, forming a guard for those still on the bridge, but that wasn't enough either. How many Shadowed Elves had escaped Ysterialpoerin?
They needed the bridge. They needed the Shadowed Elves to come through. All of them.
Kellen grabbed the shoulder of the nearest Knight.
"Back!" he shouted, over the howls of the Shadowed Elves, the clash of steel and the roar of the rising water. "Back into the other cavern! Tell Isinwen to retreat!"
The Knights at the bridgehead began to back away, turning to head for the doorway.
It was blocked by a party of Shadowed Elves. They wore no armor, but every one of them carried an Elven-forged sword.
With a roar of anger, the Elves moved to engage their enemy.