Mercedes Lackey - Magic's Price

A long, narrow valley, it was as clean a cut between two ranks of mountains as if a giant had cut it with a knife.

Too clean. . . .

Stef took a closer look at the sides of the pass. The rock faces looked natural enough until about ten man-heights above the floor of the pass. From there down they were as sheer as if they had been sliced, and as regular.

“Magic,” Van whispered. “He must have carved every difficult pass from here back north this way. Dear gods - think of the power - think of what it took to mask the power!”

He looked up, above the area that had been carved. “If we walk along the floor of the pass, we'll be walking right into the path of - of anything coming along -”

Stef looked where he was looking and saw what looked like a thin thread of path. “Is that the original pass up there, do you think?”

Van nodded. “Look - see where it joins the route we're on? This is the original trail right up until this point. Then the old trail climbs, and the new one stays level.”

Stef studied the old trail, what he could see of it. “You couldn't bring an army along that - at least not quickly.”

“But you can on this.” Van studied the situation a moment longer. “Let's take the old way as far as we can. We might have to turn back, but I'd rather try the old route first. I'd feel too exposed, otherwise.”

Stef sighed, seeing his hopes for an early halt vanish. “All right, but if I spend the night camped on a ledge, I won't be responsible for my temper in the morning.”

Van turned suddenly and embraced him so fiercely that Stef thought he heard ribs crack. “It's not your temper I'm worried about, ashke,” he whispered. “It's you. I don't want anything to happen to you. I need that, to know you're safe. If I know that, I can do anything I have to.”

Then, just as suddenly as he had turned, he released the Bard. “Let's get going while there's still light,” he said, and began picking his way over the rocks to the old trail. Yfandes nudged Stef with her nose, and he took his place behind Van, with the Companion bringing up the rear.

From then on, he was too busy watching where he put his feet to worry about anything else. The trail was uneven, icy, and treacherous; strewn with spills of boulders that marked previous rockslides. After they came across one pile that had what was clearly a skeletal hand protruding from beneath it, Stef started looking up nervously at every suspicious noise.

And to add to the pleasure of the climb, the right side of the trail very frequently dropped straight down to the new cut.

It was not an experience Stef ever wanted to repeat - although for the first time in days - or the daylight, at least - he wasn't cold; the opposite, in fact. There was something to be said for the exertion of the climb, after all.

Night fell, but the full moon was already high in the sky, and Vanyel elected to push on by its light. They were about halfway across the Pass, and according to the kyree, there was a wide, flat meadow on the other side, and a good-sized stand of trees. That meant firewood, and a place to camp safe from avalanche.

Stef was very much looking forward to anything wide and flat. His back and legs ached like they'd never hurt before, and once the sun was down, the temperature dropped. His labor was no longer enough to keep him warm, and his hands were getting numb.

:Just one more rise, Bard,: Yfandes whispered into his mind :Then it's downhill -:

Suddenly, Vanyel dropped flat, and Stef did the same without asking why. He crawled up beside the Herald, who had taken shelter behind a thin screening of scrawny bushes.

Vanyel turned a little and saw him coming; put his finger to his lips, and pointed down. Stef wriggled up a little farther so he could see, expecting a scouting party or some such thing below them.

Instead, he saw an army.

They covered the meadow, the snow was black with them, and they were not camped for the night; there were no bivouacs, no campfires, just rank after rank of men, lined up like a child's toy soldiers. Stef wondered what they were waiting for, then saw that there was movement at the farther edge of the meadow, where the next stretch of the trail began. More men were pouring into the meadow with every candlemark, and they were probably waiting for the last of them to join the rest before making the last push through the mountains. By night, so that no prying eyes would see them.

Master Dark was bringing his army into Valdemar, and there was nothing on the Northern Border that could even delay them once they came across the pass.

Vanyel wriggled back; Stef followed him.

“What are we -” Stef whispered in a panic. Van placed his finger gently on Stef s lips, silencing him.

“You're going to alert the Guard post; Yfandes will take you, and with only you on her back, she'll be able to do anything but fly. I'll hold them right here until the Guard comes up.”

“But -” Stef protested.

“It's not as stupid an idea as it sounds,” Van said, looking back over his shoulder. “Back there where the old trail meets the new, one mage can hold off any size army. And if the Guard can come up quickly enough, one detachment can keep that army bottled up on the trail below the Pass for as long as it takes for the rest of the army to get here. But none of that is going to work if I don't stop them now, here.”

Stef wanted to object - but he couldn't. Vanyel was right; even a Bard could see that - this was a classic opportunity and a classic piece of strategy, and Master Dark couldn't possibly have anticipated it. “You'd better - just -” Stef began, fiercely, and couldn't continue for the tears that suddenly welled up. “Dammit, Van! I -”

Vanyel took Stefs face in both hands and kissed him, with such fierce passion that it shook the Bard to his marrow. “I love you, too. You're absolutely the best friend, the dearest love I've ever had. I'll love you as long as there's anything left of me. Now go - quickly. I won't have my whole attention on what I'm doing if you're not safe.”

Stef backed away, then flung himself on Yfandes' back before he could change his mind.

:Hang on,: she ordered, and he had barely enough time to get a firm grip on the saddle with hands and legs when she was off.

Vanyel watched them vanish with the speed only a Companion could manage - just short of flying. Stef weighed far less than he did, which should improve Yfandes' progress. . . .

Then he climbed down the sheer slope to the floor of the new trail. He had to make the best possible time to get to the end and the bottleneck, and the only way he was going to be able to do that would be to take the easiest way. Getting down was the hard part - when he got there, he found that the ground was planed so evenly that he could run.

First, he began a weather-magic that would bring in the clouds he sensed just out of sight. Then, run, he did. He was out of breath by the time he reached his chosen spot, but he had plenty of leisure time to recover when he got there. In fact, the worst part was the waiting; he had placed himself right where the old trail made that sharp turn into the new, and they wouldn't be able to see him until they were right on top of him. And he couldn't see them, which made things worse.

He tried not to look around too much; this was the exact setting of his dreams, and he didn't want to be reminded of how they had all ended.

ForeSight is just seeing the possible future, he reminded himself, probing beneath the skin of the land for nodes, and setting up his tap-lines now, filtering them through his mage-focus so that the power would be attuned to him and he wouldn't have to use it raw. Moondance told me that ages ago, and if anyone would know, the Tayledras would. The first dream was almost twenty years ago! Things have to have altered since then. And if I remember what happened in them, I may be able to alter the outcome. Some of those dreams even had 'Lendel in them with me, instead of -