* * * * *
AFTER Jermayan left that morning, Kellen turned to the work he had come here to do.
The secondary entrances to Halacira must be sealed. Later, the passages could be filled in from within by quarried stone, but for now, wooden doors would serve. He set Artenel to the task of designing them, and sent work-parties into the forest to fell the trees that would be needed, with others to guard them. Felling trees was hard work in winter, but it must be done.
Still other parties were sent out as scouts, to make sure the area was clear of enemies. After his experience in Halacira, Kellen took nothing for granted.
They would need a bridge to cross the Angarussa as well, as soon as Artenel could build one, for the Wildmages' work beneath the earth had shattered the river's thick coveting of ice, and the river ran freely in its bed. There was no safe passage across it now. The only bridge across the river lay several miles closer to Sentarshadeen, and it was a narrow one, unsuitable for cavalry or wagons. To get to Sentarshadeen from Halacira now, he would have to take the forest road or fly.
Which meant, Kellen realized with an inward sigh, that when Keirasti arrived with her troops in a sennight, they would be trapped on the other side of the river. Maybe Jermayan could build them a bridge.
He thought of the power Jermayan could command as an Elven Mage magic bordering on the unbelievable. Surely there had been Elven Mages in the Great War? If there had been, why had the Demons ever gotten as far as They had?
He had no idea.
He did his best to delegate as much as he could, wishing with all his heart that Adaerion were here or Belepheriel. As soon as Vestakia arrived and the caverns were pronounced clean of Taint, he had to go on to Sentarshadeen to see Andoreniel, and that meant leaving someone else in charge here but who? Redhelwar had sent him out with a force of sub-commanders of his own rank; though all of them were decades, many of them centuries, older than he was, none of them had a Knight-Mage's intuitive ability to command an army in the field. If they were attacked…
If there is any possibility of that, you cannot go.
He could not abandon his command to danger simply because he thought he had something better to do.
Then Idalia will have to do it for me, he thought grimly. And Vestakia. And Jermayan. And Cilarnen.
It was why he'd called for them, after all.
* * * * *
WHEN he'd given every order he could think of to give, Kellen took Isinwen and twenty others and went down into the caverns again. Of his own twelve, Ambanire, Nironoshan, Seheimith, and Sihemand had perished in the caverns; he would have to go over the rolls and reorganize several commands. He wanted to talk to Shalkan about that not because he thought the unicorn would have any particular ideas about troop formation, but just because talking to his friend always helped to cleat his head. When they had been on the march, it had not often been possible to find the time or the place to talk safely with Shalkan. but here at Halacira, things were different, and Kellen intended to take full advantage of that, for what small comfort it could give him.
One of Master Belesharon's favorite sayings had always been that a commander of armies lived in a city of distance, and more and more these days Kellen was starting to understand what that meant. He was the one who had to make the decisions. There was no one else who could. And nobody he could share them with. He could ask for advice, and even take it, but the final responsibility for every decision was his.
As much as he hated the comparison, he supposed it was a little like being High Mage of Armethalieh.
* * * * *
THE caves were still very damp, and in places there were pools of water on the floors, but now that the series of dams and pumps that the Shadowed Elves had built had been smashed, most of the water had drained back into the bed of the Angarussa. Much of the Coldfire that the Wildmages had cast on the walls of the main galleries still glowed, and Kellen added more where he could, though he still felt the aftereffects of the spell he'd cast the day before to break down the dam-wall the Shadowed Elves had built. Still, Coldfire was a simple spell, one that asked little more than a payment of personal energy on the part of the Wildmage.
They inspected as much of the cave as they could, cautiously exploring the lower levels. Those, too, were damp but free of standing water, and Kellen's spellsight enabled them to stay out of the areas where the rock was now dangerously unstable. He'd had the foresight to bring chalk, and marked those places when he came to them, as Artenel would certainly want to know.
There was so much to do here.
There was so much to do everywhere and all of it vital.
If they held off the Enemy until Planting six moonturns from now, as Kellen reckoned the Elven calendar Halacira would have to be ready to welcome refugees. The Allies wouldn't fight if it meant abandoning their families to the Enemy, and even if Fortress Halacira were largely symbolic, it would keep them going now.
A few moonturns ago you would have thought something like that was dishonest, Kellen realized. Building a fortress holding out a hope of safety that he thought would never be used.
Now he only thought of it as a practical way to keep the army going.
And they'd use it if they could.
He just didn't think they'd get the chance.
What am I becoming?
He knew what he was becoming.
A Commander of Armies.
* * * * *
BY the time Kellen had finished his preliminary survey of the caverns and returned to the surface, the sun was setting. Jermayan had not yet arrived. Kellen dismissed his men to a well-earned rest, heard brief reports from his commanders, stuffed his tunic with meat-pasties and honey-disks, and took a covered mug of tea out beyond the horse-lines to think.
"Are we having fun yet?" Shalkan asked, joining him.
Kellen drained his mug in a few gulps it was almost cold, anyway and sat down on a nearby pile of logs. It looked as if Artenel's men had managed to fell a good part of the forest today, which was just as well. He knew the Elves hated to do it, preferring to harvest trees only according to a careful plan, but tight now they needed a lot of timber in a hurry.
He dug in his tunic for the honey-disks, and offered them to Shalkan.
"Sure we are," he said unconvincingly.
"You did the best you could," Shalkan reminded him.
"I know," Kellen said. "Jermayan says that Andoreniel's… sick."
"So Ancaladar told me."
"All They have to do is take the City finish taking the City. And sit back and wait while the plagues wipe us out. Even before I left, Redhelwar heard it was starting to take hold in the High Reaches. Not just among the Mountainfolk, but in the forests. That means it will reach the Wildlander granaries soon, if it hasn't already. And the herds."
"I know," Shalkan said.
"And I'm sitting here thinking about how to reorganize the units that took losses at Halacira."
"That has to be done, too," the unicorn said inarguably. "And building a fortress nobody will ever use."
Shalkan rested his chin on Kellen's shoulder. "Are you sure?" The unicorn's breath was warm in Kellen's ear. It smelled of honey.
"I'm sure it has to be done anyway," Kellen said with a long sigh. He reached up to stroke Shalkan's neck.
"Then do it. No one can see all of the future. Only their own part in it. And… Wait." Shalkan looked up, gazing at something Kellen couldn't see.
"They're coming."
* * * * *
WHEN he'd left that morning, Jermayan had lit the landing-grove with Coldfire. Beneath their coverings of snow, the trees at the edges of the clearing glowed an eerie spectral blue, as if they were not honest wood and greenneedle leaf, but some strange glass copy made by the Elves and set in their place.