Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

Elvida refused to allow the stallion to finish. :People kill horses because the animals don’t understand the necessary treatment and usually wind up hurting themselves worse. You’re not a horse. You’re a sentient being, capable of deep thought and understanding.: She dropped the senseless argument, dismissing Raynor’s words as an attempt at heroism. Though only trying to save her, the Companion’s words were nonsense. Elvida could never leave him to suffer alone; and, if he died, she surely would also. Besides, his value to the Queen far exceeded hers—and he knew it. :I’m going to look for another way out of here. You let me know if anyone—:

:Don’t waste your time.:

Elvida rose, scarcely daring to believe she had heard correctly. :What?:

:It’s the job of Heralds to detail every part of the world. I know of this cave—a Waystation once. It has a stream and a back exit . . .:

Elvida’s hopes soared, only to be dashed by the rest of Raynor’s description.

:Both cut off to anything larger than a mouse by a massive cave-in. Ahead lies our only escape and, unfortunately, our only water.:

Elvida’s lips went suddenly dry, and she licked them thoughtfully. Her crazed bout of crying would only see to it that dehydration overcame her sooner. She swallowed hard, steeling herself against the same fog of hopelessness that had earlier consumed her. Even if she never earned her Whites, she would at least learn to die bravely. She strode away from Anthea to look out over the camp of the waiting army. :So why haven’t our enemies come after us? What are they waiting for?:

Elvida did not expect a reply to her mostly rhetorical question, so Raynor’s surprised her.

:Morning. Daylight. They’re a superstitious lot and worry about monsters or spirits in the darkness.:

Elvida shook her head. :Too bad we’re not monsters.: She shivered, not bothering to add “. . . or spirits.” Soon enough, they might become exactly that. She tried to understand their enemy, as the strategists had taught. If she could get into their minds, perhaps she could find a way to outwit them. Enter the depraved world of men who attack Heralds at peace, who slaughter and cannibalize Companions. The thought stirred an anger Elvida could not quell. She would rather die than see the reason behind heinous and barbarous actions. I don’t ever want to know what stirs inside those creatures in the guise of men.

Elvida sank to her knees. She had never followed a religion, but now she bowed her head, fingers laced tightly against her chest. Gods, Lords and Ladies who sanction goodness, I beg of you now to come to our aid. I will do anything, suffer any trial if you will only rescue my friends, these humble servants of the Queen. She could feel her heart thumping against her fists. Please, anyone who’s listening. I will do whatever bidding you ask, you need only make it clear. Save Raynor and Anthea. And, if it is your will, save me as well.

For several moments Elvida remained in this position, waiting for an answer, some sign to indicate any deity had heard her prayer. Insects hummed a steady chorus. The dull rumble of conversation, occasionally pierced by laughter and shouts, came from the enemies’ camp. No other sounds reached her, not even the light breathing of herself and her injured friends. It seemed the gods took no interest in their plight.