The first night after they crossed the bounds, Vieliessar wrapped herself in a Cloakspell and walked from the camp.
The air was too cold to hold scent: if it had not been, she would have been able to smell the good fragrance of roast meat, for with the power of Janglanipaikharain to draw upon, the Lightborn had Called herds of deer and flights of birds to their cookfires. Their supplies continued to dwindle, but this night, at least, all had eaten well. What would come tomorrow would depend on what she found before tomorrow’s dawn.
Her steps broke through the surface of the snow; here beneath the leafless trees it was deep, but not as deep as it had been in the open land. She walked for miles, reveling in the silence, the solitude, the sense that for a little while she need answer to no necessities but her own. At last, reluctantly, she came to a stop. If she could not find what she sought here, she would find it nowhere.
She laid her gloved hand upon the trunk of a greenneedle tree and felt its sleeping life, and through it, the life of the whole forest: vine, bush, and grass, lichen and moss. The life of the world, which Mosirinde’s Covenant protected. And beneath it, beyond it, the hot bright life of Janglanipaikharain, its power hers to draw upon.
Thurion said that all the Flower Forests were One in the Light, and so I might walk from Janglanipaikharain to Tildorangelor in a single step—if I were in Janglanipaikharain.
Well and good. But as much as she needed to go there, she needed to lead her army, her people, there even more. And so she wound Janglanipaikharain’s Light about her hands as if it were skeins of silk, and cast her spell.
Find.
In her mind she held her image of Amrethion’s study, the delicate desk of golden wood, the wall of windows. The great green sweep of valley from the window Lady Indinathiel had gazed out of. The star-bright perfection of the Unicorn she had once glimpsed.
Find!
The Light was her guardian, her lover, her companion, her tool. It was all of truth and reality she’d possessed since the spring of her twelfth year. Its wisdom had set her on this path, its strength had preserved her, its need drove her onward.
FIND!
Heartbeat upon heartbeat she drew in power and built the spell. It fluttered against her heart like a falcon on the glove, dreaming of prey. Suddenly, so swiftly she could not anticipate it and prepare herself, the power flew from her like the shaft from a forester’s bow. In the sky above, she heard silver hooves ring against starlight. The Light roared through her, a depthless, sourceless torrent.
Until at last, its work accomplished, it struck, and held, and drew the last of the spell energy to it. Moonlight on snow became the ringing of bells, the tocsin of silver hooves, the wind that felled not trees, but empires.…
There were hands on her shoulders, shaking her to consciousness, raising her from her knees. The snow had melted around her; her boots and trousers were soaked through, her fingers numb within her gloves.
“Vielle! Tell me you live!” The most welcome, most unexpected voice roused her instantly from unconsciousness.
“Thurion!” she cried.
“Did you think you could set such a weaving and I would not hear?” Thurion asked. His smile barely disguised his worry.
She groaned as he raised her to her feet. “Am I a child, to have been so overset by a spell?” she grumbled. She began to shiver, and he laid one hand, palm flat, against her shoulder. She felt his Magery cascade over her, warming her and driving the wetness from her garments.
“What have you done?” he demanded.
“It seems you are always asking me that,” she said with a shaky smile. She looked past his shoulder, toward her encampment. She had ordered them to strict discipline, for sound and light would carry across the bounds even if Magery did not. The Findspell she had cast had roused the Lightborn; she could see faint sparks of Silverlight moving about in the distance like the glowbeetles of summer. Soon enough they would find her missing.
“I have set a spell to show me where we now must go,” she said, and Thurion’s eyes widened with shock—and hope.
“You have found Amrethion’s city,” he said. “With this … it is as great as Tildorangelor herself.”
“I hope it is not, for I mean to claim Tildorangelor for my own, and should the Alliance also be able to claim such power the battle will be dreadful indeed,” she answered.
“And Amrethion’s city. And the Unicorn Throne. You have found them all,” Thurion answered as if he had not heard her.
“I have done as I must,” she said. She pulled her cloak more tightly about her. “Now come—if the spell has called you, I know it has wakened all my folk.”
Gunedwaen and Harwing Lightbrother found them before they had covered even a third of the distance back to the camp.
“It would indeed make good hearing to know for what cause you have stolen into the night to make yourself the target of any sword,” Gunedwaen said with heavy irony. He swung down from his palfrey’s back and gestured for her to mount.
“Thurion?” Harwing said in disbelief.
“I had thought to have quiet and shelter for the casting of my spell,” Vieliessar said to Gunedwaen, “but if Thurion was roused by it—”
Only then did it occur to her to marvel at the power of the spell that had brought him here, for the power needed for Door increased with the distance traveled, and he could not have known to draw upon Janglanipaikharain’s Light to open it. “Where were you when you came to me?” she asked suddenly, turning to Thurion.
“A guesthouse in Utheleres. I was in meditation, hoping to Farspeak you with the news.…”
“Iardalaith ’Spoke with one of our spies among the Alliance Lightborn,” Harwing said. “They have heard nothing.”
Vieliessar nodded. The boundary Wards had protected her from detection, as she had hoped. But the bond she shared with Thurion was deep and reinforced by their continual use of Farspeech. He had sensed her spell because he was trying to reach her.
They were safe.
“Then we still have the advantage, until they strike our path. Come, Gunedwaen. Ride behind me, and I shall speak to you of the weaving I have done this night.”
Vieliessar gazed around at those whose lives stood like marking stones along the path she had taken to this moment and this place. She commanded a force as large as that of the Twelve; her Lightborn wore armor and fought on the battlefield; her commonfolk bore arms and fought beside komen. She had made herself the tool of Amrethion’s Prophecy because if she did not, the Darkness would come and destroy all she knew. And in becoming that tool, she had changed the world.
She did not know if that was better—or worse.
It was still candlemarks before dawn; she had gathered to her not the senior commanders of the High King’s army, but those who had stood as friends and guides upon the long road Vieliessar Farcarinon had walked to get here.
Lord Thoromarth of Oronviel, whose faith and generosity humbled her when she thought of them. Thurion Lightbrother, who had broken with the custom of centuries to follow the dictates of his reason, not his heart. Aradreleg Lightsister, who walked a careful path between the old ways and the new. Rondithiel, her first and best teacher. Lord Gunedwaen, who had taught her the Code of Battle and followed her even when she shattered it. Rithdeliel Warlord, born to Caerthalien, who had broken his heart to give Serenthon victory, and who had risen from the embers of betrayal to do more than that for Serenthon’s daughter.
Harwing. Iardalaith. Nadalforo. Changed by what she had done just as she had been changed by Amrethion’s Prophecy.