“When the Black Dragon comes, when the Eldest of the Kantri falls from the sky, then will come the ending of the world.”
“May all the Winds preserve us,” repeated Idai, shuddering, as the thing flew eastward out of sight. “This is an evil day.”
“Shikrar!” cried two hundred voices in my mind.
I was about to reply when a wave of sheer hatred crashed over my mind, followed by a cry from voices I did not yet know. A single word, shouted in fury by hundreds of minds and throats, as a mere ten miles away the great cloud of the Restored rose into the air to give chase.
Demonlord!
Kedra
A terrible shudder rippled across every soul there in Timeths field when that vast black shape passed over. We had lost the only home we had ever known, we had flown across the Great Sea for our very survival, beyond hope the Lost were restored to themselves and to life the very day we returned—and now when even we, even the Kantrishakrim, required rest and time to think, the shadow of our ending swept over our heads a bare day after we had arrived in Kolmar.
I saw Treshak look up when the shadow passed over; saw her flick in an instant from the Attitude of Calm, which had finally graced her after many long hours of talk and food and rest, into Fury. I watched in amazement as she went in a single fluid movement from being at rest to being airborne.
“Demonlord!” she screamed, aloud and in truespeech, and a second and worse shudder took us all—but we who had returned from the Isle of Exile watched in amazement as all the Dhrena-gan echoed that cry and, rising up in a great cloud, flew after Treshak towards the distant black figure.
And behind them, but gaining fast, my father Shikrar.
Shikrar
Treshak was insane. She it was whose name was most remembered of the Lost, for she was the first to be changed by the De-monlord. Her fury, like a furnace when he murdered her mate Aidrishaan, had made her first in the attack. This had happened five thousand winters and more ago.
To Treshak, it was a raw wound made but two days since.
Her grief, her fury, were unabated, and she flew on her new-made wings straight towards Death. I shouted to her, sending truespeech that could be heard halfway around the world, but she would not listen. I cried out then to the rest of the Restored, commanding that none should take away Treshak’s honour of the first attack. I knew my thoughts were full of my fear of her death and I did nothing to conceal it. Perhaps that would convince them where mere sense had no sway. It seemed to work, for they broke off the pursuit and circled high, a great column rising in a spiral, all eyes fixed below on Treshak.
As I bespoke them, I used every advantage of size and strength I possessed to try to catch up with Treshak, but there was not enough time. The Black Dragon was too near to her and I too far away. I had barely passed the great mass of the Restored when she had come level with the thing and dove at it from on high, screaming wordless defiance, talons outstretched and mouth agape, to rend, to kill with a single strike.
It heard and turned its head over its shoulder. It opened its jaws and a terrible sound came out, short unconnected bursts of noise, as Treshak fell upon it. Just before she could strike, it changed its flight angle, rolling and pulling up to face her, and spoke a single word as it rose. The sound was sickening, and it was clearly in the language of the Rakshasa. Dread took me. If this was in truth the Demonlord, had it just uttered the word that created the Lost in the first place?
Were we all doomed?
Treshak flinched but was otherwise unaffected, and hit the Black Dragon at an angle.
It all happened so quickly.
Because it had changed its orientation, her trajectory took her straight at its underbelly. When she hit, she sank her front talons and her upper fangs into its wing, striving to tear the membrane, and let her momentum carry her back claws into what, on us, would be the soft flesh just in front of the back legs.
Then she started to scream.
She could not free herself from it. Her front talons and her fangs were embedded in the black wing, but it was not flesh. Where her talons tore frantically at the surface, I saw a white-hot seething mass, just before her forelegs disappeared into the creature. It was terrible. Her screams redoubled, ringing hideously in my ears. It seemed that the thing had caught hold of her body and was actively pulling her into itself as they fell earthwards. It was plain that she could not get away, and I watched in sick horror as she began to burn—but she denied it the final victory. She chose of her own will the Swift Death, and cleansing Fire took her instantly from within.
The Black Dragon cried out briefly in pain then, as pure Fire, sacred to the Kantri, took Treshak to sleep on the Winds with her lost Aidrishaan. I saw something small drop to the earth and marked where it fell. The great black thing pulled out of its dive, and flapping clumsily but otherwise unconcerned, it returned to its eastward course as if nothing had happened. It ignored me. It ignored the great mass of the Restored, flying high above and watching in agony.
“Back. Go back. This will not be overcome by fury, my people,” I said sternly. “Let us go back and think how we may defeat this creature, lest we all be taken down into darkness.”
“We will not let it go, Shikrar!” cried Naikenna, the Eldest of the Restored after Treshak.
“I do not ask it of you, Naikenna. Follow at a distance and mark where it flies,” I said sadly. “And bespeak us, as we will you. We will follow soon. I pray you, use what restraint you may and do not attack the creature again as Treshak did.” I could not conceal the deep grief that weighed down my heart. “We have longed for your Restoration for many lives of our people. I pray you, do not desert us for the sake of vengeance. We will find another way to destroy the creature, we will all bend our minds to it—I beg you, practice what Disciplines you may, Restraint and Calm if you can bear them, Forbearance if all else fails, but I beg you, do not go down into death for no purpose.”
“We will do what we may,” said Naikenna coldly. “Follow soon.” And she closed her mind to me.
I turned back sadly and flew low, coming to land where I had marked the fall of Treshaks soulgem. It took me only a little time to discover it where it lay at the side of a field, half buried in mud. I wiped it clean on the grass and gazed into the depths dreading what I might find.
Clear. It was clear.
I breathed again. There was no flicker, she was not trapped again, it was like all the soulgems of those who have gone before. I gave silent thanks to the Winds from the depths of my heart, clutched it to my chest, and flew back to Timeth’s field and my own people. I bespoke all of the Kantri and told them what had happened, in every detail. We needed to know what we faced.
It was in my heart to speak with Salera as well. She was proven disastrously correct in the vision she had revealed to us. If she knew aught of the creature we faced, or could assist us in any way, I would beg it from her before we left.
Kedra
My father’s words were meant to help us understand, and they did, but we all work differendy. Some at least there were who became desperately afraid. I could understand, for we all felt horribly exposed, resting as we were in the northern end of Farmer Timeth’s field. Nearly thirty souls rose up when Hadreshikrar described Treshak’s passing, their weariness forgotten, scattering in all directions as their fear took them, seeking shelter in hills, in caverns, in the heart of whatever forest they might find. I could not blame them. If I had had neither mate nor youngling, I might have even made one of their number.
My father returned soon with Treshak’s soulgem and reverently made room for it in one of the casks that contained all the others of our people who slept on the Winds.
The rest of us took what courage we could muster and did what small tasks there were to do before we departed, clearing away the remains of our feeding, taking a long drink ere we set off after the Dhrenagan and whatever dark destiny awaited us.
It was in this hour that my mate Mirazhe proved the usefulness
of forethought. She had spent the morning arranging for the lan-sip trees and seedlings, which had been carried at such great cost of weariness across the Great Sea, to be planted in a large corner of Timeth’s field. We watered them in by the mouthful, carried from the nearby stream. By the time we needed to leave, the lan-sip was as well cared for as we could manage. It was an important task for many reasons, the practical among them, but to me at that moment it was a powerful expression of faith in our future. Lan-sip, Lanen had taught me, was worth more to the Gedri than its weight in silver; with it, we might have some useful coin in which to treat with those who must see our arrival as a kind of invasion.
The trick with lansip is, of course, that it cannot flourish except in the presence of the Kantri. I do not wish to be crude, but it had astounded me over the centuries that those Gedri who had come to our island and taken seedlings or saplings back with them, against all experience (for the young trees always died), had never considered the matter of—fertilizer.
Farmer Timeth, however, had summoned his courage and come out to ask what we were doing to his land. He did not object, especially when we told him what kind of trees they were. He watched carefully and said he’d do all he could to look after them, but as I had learned from Lanen how valuable lansip leaves were to the Gedri, I would not follow our fate eastwards without making certain that the trees would be protected. Some of our number would have to stay, and one choice at least was obvious. The youngest of us, and his mother, must remain behind.
My parting from my beloved Mirazhe and our young son Sherok was the darkest and most desperate moment of my Me, and I will not dwell upon it. Her spirit showed its true colours in that evil time, for I knew well that she would have come with us in a moment had it not been for Sherok, and because he was there she would not leave his side. He had barely seen six full moons, and already he had crossed the Great Sea. He should have been running on grass and diving in shallow pools for many years, not having to hide from death and danger. My beloved swore to keep herself and him safe and far from harm. A few others also decided to stay, for they were kind and would not leave Mirazhe and Sherok alone.
I was also intent on making certain that Dhretan agreed to remain behind. He was the youngest apart from my son, and although he had come of age he was yet very young in spirit. I was forced to take him aside and ask him to protect my beloved Mirazhe before I could make him stay. I warned her that I had convinced him so, and I delighted to hear her mindvoice lilt with delight as she assured me she would do her best to appear helpless for Dhretan’s sake. At least for a few hours.
My father rose up and flew the short miles to Verfaren, there to collect the Kantri and Gedri who sought the demon-master Berys. It seemed that, at least for the moment, our paths lay together, but I did not doubt that we would be parted ere long. I wished them good fortune, but in the face of the dark evil that threatened to overwhelm us all I am ashamed to admit that all my care was for the Kantri. A single Gedri life, even that of so dark a soul as Berys, suddenly seemed to weigh little in the balance.
When all was done that might be done, I again bespoke Naikenna, who gave me the best directions she could, and as the sun rode down into the west, we rose and followed our destiny eastwards into the rising dark.
Even at the time I thought of it as the Last Flight of the Kantrishakrim. Only a hundred and fifty of us took to the air, singing a wordless song of battle and determination and courage.
The legend of the Black Dragon was simple and terrible. From our earliest times, it had been said that the Doom of the Kantri would rise up, in shape and form as one of us, pure black in hue, but with killing fire in its veins. A great battle would rage in the sides above terrible mountains like talons of our enemies, but it would last no more than a single day, sunrise to sunset—and when it was done, when the Eldest of the Kantri fell from the sky, then would come our doom and the ending of the world.
Lanen
To say that I was torn barely touches the surface. My heart was raging, now in one direction, now in another. I knew that safety lay with Mirazhe and those few of the Kantri who were going to remain in the west. That delightful vision of peaceful rest among the gardens of Elimar had seduced me, in my heart of hearts I was willing Shikrar and the others to get on and leave, and then that damned Black Dragon showed up.
I heard them, of course. The Bestored had yelled “Demon-lord” so loud I’m surprised Rikard hadn’t heard it. And then they all took off after it—sweet Shia, only bloody dragons would fly as fast as they could towards their greatest enemy! Anyone with sense would run the other way. I was ready to do just that, with a song in my heart, but then I hit the stone wall that was my husband.
He had turned to me, his harrowed soul in his eyes, and said, “I must go, Lanen.”
“What?” I said, confused. “Go where?”
“It is the legend. When the Black Dragon rises, filled with killing Fire, a great battle will come—the great battle—and with it our doom.” He bowed his head and added quietly, “Our doom, and the ending of the world.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” I snapped. “I don’t care how powerful it is, it can’t bloody well bring the world to an end.” I spat, disgusted. “Legends indeed! Legends are no more than stories, and they grow with every telling. If there is a grain of truth in your legend, it’s more than I expect.”
“Natheless, kadreshi, I must go with them,” he replied, abstracted. “A moment. Shikrar bespeaks me. Even now Treshak flies to do battle with—no!”
I winced. I heard that as well, saw as if I flew with him the dreadful images that Shikrar was sending. Treshak bursting into flame, unable to escape, choosing the Swift Death after surviving so many long ages trapped and Lost. It was terrible, it was heartrending, and it set Varien’s resolve as nothing else could have done. “Surely you see it, Lanen?” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “Would you have me wait with you, safe and at our ease, while those I love face death?’
That was it. Here I was, shaking with terror, and he wanted to play the hero. As usual, I turned fear into anger. Anger is so much easier to deal with.
“And what will you do, while they are fighting?” I asked, suddenly furious. “What can you do against the Black Dragon that they cannot? Where are your wings, to fly against it as your people will?” I cringed even as I said that. It was a cruel thing to throw in his face, but just at that moment I’d use any weapon I could reach. “Has it occurred to you that the nearer we come to Berys, the nearer I come to death?” I cried. “Why put Shikrar and Jamie to the bother of saving me if we are going to go back into the teeth of that evil? Will you throw even our children on the pyre of your loyalty to the Kantri?”
“Enough,” Varien growled.
“No, it’s not enough,” I snarled in return. “We said we’d speak truth to each other, Varien, no matter what,” I reminded him. “The Kantri five too long! You, even you lose track of how fleeting life can be.” I could no longer control my voice, it shook so that I could barely speak. “I fear Berys to my bones, Akor. He wants me for a sacrifice. He said he’d take my soul, wed whatever is left—though I suppose he’d have to murder you first—and use my blood for Goddess knows what. By now Marik has surely told him of my pregnancy.” I was shaking head to foot now, my arms wrapped about me as they had been in that terrible cell. “Goddess, how can you ask it of me?”
“I ask nothing of you,” he said, his voice utterly calm, his gaze cold now and shuttered. “Wait here in safety. I will bespeak you when there is news, and if I survive I will return as swiftly as I may.”
“Damn you!” I screamed. “Did you hear a word I said?”
“Of course. If you fear Berys, you need not be anywhere near him. Mirazhe will be glad of your company, as will young Sherok.”
I reached out with my mind, but his was closed to me. I could not reach him. Oh Hells. Is he lost to me, so suddenly? I was shaking, whether with fear or anger I couldn’t be certain. Just like that, to have
him turn from me?
“You must do as your heart tells you,” he said quietly. “So must I.”
Thank the Goddess, just then he reached out to touch my cheek, and his hand trembled as well. “There are some things in this world, Lanen, that must take precedence even over the truest love that ever was. For all that I have the form of a child of the Gedri, I am yet the Lord of the Kantrishakrim, the King of my people. I have been so for more than seven hundred winters. How then? Shall I turn my back on my people in their hour of need? Even if I cannot fly into battle, yet I know them. I know their hearts. If I am with them, I may not make any real difference to the battle, but, Lanen”—he reached out for my hand and held it between his two as gently as if it were a rose—“if I am a thousand leagues from them and they facing the worst evil our race has ever known, how shall they have the heart for battle? The Kantri choose their King in each generation. It is a sacred I rust. I cannot break it, kadreshi,” he said, and his voice shook just a little, “even if keeping faith with my people breaks my own heart and yours.”
For a fleeting moment as I reached my own decision, I wished with all my soul that we had been willing just this once to stick to comforting lies; that just this once we might have done what we wished rather than what was right.
“Oh, Hells’ teeth,” I muttered, swearing rather more than that. “Come on, then, we have to catch Shikrar.”
“But—” he said.
“Don’t be stupid,” I said. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Shia only knows what you might get up to if I left you to your own devices.”