[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost

  “Yes,” I stammered, and in the instant Aral was back, with her Healer’s aura deep blue about her, and the soulgem in her hand glowing brilliant ruby.

  “Hells’ teeth, what was that?” she cried.

  “Later, Aral,” said Vilkas, his voice stony, his gaze still locked deep in my injuries. “Are you well?”

  “How should I be well? Some dead dragon just took over my body, how in all the Hells could I be well!” she yelled.

  Vilkas wrenched himself away from studying me and took Aral by the shoulders. “Aral, not now. We need to work. Are you injured?”

  “No,” she said sullenly, shaking off his grasp. “Just angry.”

  ‘Then help me. I need you, and we need that—Loria-whats-her-name. Now.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but don’t ask me to work, I’m far too angry.”

  “That’s fine for now,” said Vilkas, turning back to stare into my wing. “Just you open that door and let me in …”

  Aral, mumbling, laid her left hand on his shoulder. Her right still held Loriakeris’s soulgem—and in the moment, I felt a wave of power, and blessedly, there was no more pain. “You’ve damaged this ligament,” muttered Vilkas as he worked, “shouldn’t take long to—there, that’s it—now the inflammation …”

  It was fascinating, the link that was forged. Not that he could hear truespeech, or that I could hear him precisely, but there was most certainly a connection. I wondered if other Gedri were aware of it when they were being healed.

  And then, as I was concentrating on the fink between us, I noticed for the first time a strange undercurrent to my thought. There was something of truespeech in it, but there did not seem to be many words. It was more like a distant murmuring. I wondered briefly if Salera was teaching all her people about true-speech, but that did not seem right—as I have said, younglings cannot normally keep their early truespeech under such control. However, a swift sharp pain, like a stiff muscle unlocking, brought my thought suddenly back to those who were working to assist me.

  This Vilkas, I noted, was a most extraordinary soul. I had never heard of such a man. For all his usual reserve, for all that he fought the very essence of himself with every breath, he could yet give of his gifts without stint and without restraint to accomplish this healing. A gift indeed. It was over in mere minutes, but in those minutes, what a change! By the time he had finished, Vilkas was sweating and breathing like prey running from a hunter. He was moving towards my shoulder, but I stretched out my forearm and stopped him. “Enough for now, Master Vilkas,” I said quietly.

  “No, that’s just the easy part, I need to—”

  I did not let him move. “It is enough for now. You will exhaust yourself, and that will serve no one.”

  Vilkas opened his mouth to argue, but Aral interrupted. “Quite right. Thank you, Shikrar,” she responded loudly. Then she quietly muttered something to Vilkas that I could not hear. It must have been a powerful argument, for he released his healing power and sat heavily on the ground.

  I was concerned for him, but as I opened my mouth to speak to him a great noise arose from behind me. Name of the Winds, does this day hold no peace?

  And there, in the back of my mind, a little louder now but still faint, that distant murmuring, like waves on a shingle shore.

  II. The Wind of Change

  Idai

  It was just as well that Varien had gone apart with Rella, for I had to protect the Gedri with my body from those who sought to harm her and I could not have protected him as well. I had barely glimpsed the creature before I had to save its life.

  “It reeks of the Rakshasa!”

  “Move away, Idai. It is evil!”

  Great flutterings of wings, great agitation, exhaustion, frustration, and very little thought. Shikrar and I had long feared this moment and spoken of what we should do. I was learning, yet again, that plans are never complete enough to deal with life. I could smell the demon-trace around this woman as well as any, but Shikrar and I had made oath to each other that we would not harm nor allow harm to come to any who came to us in peace no matter what they reeked of. It would take a great deal to make me trust this Gedri, but first I must keep her alive.

  “This is not yet our home!” I shouted, trying by sheer volume to break through the anger of my people. “On the Island of Exile we were alone and accountable only to ourselves. Here we must learn to bear with the Gedri; we must learn to live among them whatever they may reek of. They were given Choice by the great Powers!” I summoned calm and let as much concern as I could find show in my voice. “That gift of Choice is with them until they die. Would you steal this soul from the Win—from the Lady of the Gedri, before it has a chance to repent?”

  This won at least a moment of silence. The Kantri are fire-hearted, and the reek of the Rakshasa fans the flame terribly, but we are not stupid.

  A muffled voice came from the region of my chest. “For goodness’ sake, my soul to the Lady, I am in Her service! It’s not me they’re reacting to, it’s this thrice-damned Farseer. If you’d just give me a moment to speak…”

  I opened my talons, looked down, and there found that which would in all likelihood make me trust her, for looking up at me was the very image of Lanen, if you added enough years and lines and turned half her hair to grey. “My thanks,” she said, nodding to me. She bore a large pack on her back and I still held her close. “I suspect I owe you my life. May I ask your name?”

  “I am called Idai. You are the mother of Lanen,” I said. It was not a question. I bespoke Shikrar and Varien as I gazed down at her. “My friends, there is someone here whom you must meet. Come quickly. I feel the need of your counsel.”

  The Gedri’s eyes, clear and relieved before, clouded. “Yes. I am Maran of Beskin.” She stood straighter—for courage, I thought—and something of desperation came into her gaze. “Have you found her?’

  “No,” I said quietly. “Have you?”

  “I think so,” she replied, never glancing away.

  Shikrar

  I hurried to answer Idai’s summons, still weary from the curious aftereffects of my healing and leaving Vilkas and Aral where they stood. I found Idai surrounded by many of our folk, nearly all of whom stood in the Attitudes of Anger or Frustration. More worrying, I felt also an undercurrent of Fire, that flame that arises in us in the presence of our life-enemies the Rakshasa. Varien arrived about the same time I did.

  Before I could speak, though, Rinshir cried out, “The Gedri that Idai defends reeks of the Rakshasa, Eldest!” He too stood in Anger, but his was moving swiftly towards something stronger. “Are we come to this, that we should protect the Raksha-touched?”

  “We are new-come here, Rinshir. Would you then destroy this child of the Gedri, in its own land, with no thought of its life or its laws, without even troubling to ask why it has come among us?” I resisted my own anger and the temptation to shame Rinshir further. “You are weary, my friend, weary and hungry and unsure of what lies ahead, as are we all. Let us not begin our lives here in our ancient home by murdering an innocent.”

  “Hardly innocent, Master,” interrupted the Gedri from Idai’s shelter. I could have cheerfully swatted it myself. Stupid creature! Just like Lanen, I thought, no sense of when to hold its peace. Are all the Gedri so foolish, I wonder?

  “Shall we let all the demon-touched pass unharmed, then, that they may murder us at their ease?” snarled Rinshir. “I do not like your reasoning, Hadreshikrar.”

  “I do not appeal to reason, Rinshir,” I replied as calmly as I could, “but to mercy, and to patience. Remember, Raksha-trace can linger where the soul has been attacked as well as when it has had traffic with the creatures themselves.”

  “If you would just bloody well listen to me, I could explain!” cried the Gedri, its voice muffled by the protective cage of Idai’s hands. “I am not a demon-caller! Name of the Lady, I’ve spent half my life fighting the damned things. It’s the Farseer you feel, I swear it on my life!”
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  And finally, I heard the voice that uttered those words, even though I could not see her face, and my resolve sharpened. “I will have your word, Rinshir, that you will not harm this daughter of the Gedri, that you will keep silence and let her speak in safety,” I said quietly. “I will take it upon my own soul to vow that she will not call the Rakshasa down upon us.”

  Varien had reached us then, and came to stand near Idai. He glanced at the Gedri in her hands and drew in his breath in surprise.

  Rinshir moved away slightly, his Attitude of Concern warring with that of Anger. “Shikrar, don’t be absurd. Your souls pledge for a demon-tainted Gedri? What could make you do such a th …” He drew back, standing in Amazement, but only for a moment. Then his eyes widened in realisation, and he moved in the instant from Amazement to Fury. “Surely she bends your will even now, Eldest!” he cried, and faster than thought he drew in a breath to flame the evil where it stood.

  I could do no more than stare at Rinshir, astounded at such hatred, entirely unprepared. Idai, blessedly, was ready for him. When he arched his neck and aimed at the creature Idai was protecting, she knocked his head back with her own, so that his flame scorched only air. I was most impressed; I had never seen Idai move so swiftly. While he was recovering from that blow, she knocked his wings aside with her own, loosed the Gedri woman, and wrapped her right hand around his throat, just under the jaw where we are most vulnerable.

  I kept well out of it. If anything, I’d have assisted Idai.

  “You fool, Rinshir,” she hissed, her talons poised at the great vein in his throat. “How do you dare to attack that which I guard?”

  “It is demon-stained, Idai!” he yelped in his own defence. His voice was none too clear.

  “Thrice fool and blind,” she snapped, her teeth worryingly close to his throat. I began to fear a little for Rinshir’s life, but there, defying Idai was the act of one who cared little for life in any case. “And did you not see this other Gedri standing here, who would also have died in your flame?”

  Rinshir looked down, but he did not recognise what he saw.

  “Good morrow, Rinshir,” said Varien quietly. “I had hoped that your travels might have stretched your mind as well as your wings, but alas, I see no evidence of it.”

  Rinshir flinched at that voice, distorted as it was through Gedri throat and tongue. Varien, for all the changes that had beset him, was still our King and held our fealty.

  “I have lived eight hundred winters longer than you, fool of a dhraisek,” hissed Idai. “Are you then grown so very wise in so very short a time that you can see that which is hidden from me, while it lies yet between my talons?” Her eyes glittered and her wings rattled with her anger. I was glad to see that Rinshir had yet some sense left, for he finally tried to move away from her. He did not get far, as she did not loosen her grip on his throat.

  “Do not think to challenge me, Rinshir,” she hissed, keeping her body between Rinshir and Varien. “There is a very old and very simple reason why we of the Kantrishakrim respect our elders. I am twice your size, and by all the Winds that ever blew, I will fight you if you do not heed me.” Without apparent effort she overbalanced him and bore him to the ground, her talons still around his throat and her face a blink away from him. “And know this, fool,” she snarled in his ear. “If ever you bring even the least harm to Lord Akhor, to Varien, by my name I swear I will have it out of your hide.”

  I had never seen Idai so angry, and in that moment I was sincerely grateful that I had followed my own deepest instincts and had kept on her good side ever since she was the merest youngling. To speak truly I do not know what would have happened had not Varien walked up to put his hand on her forearm.

  “Idai, my friend, it is enough,” he said gently. “Let him go. We are unharmed, all is well. Let him go.”

  Idai

  Varien s voice shook me out of my self-indulgent anger. I stood back and let go of Rinshir. I don’t think I have ever seen him move so quickry. I turned to Shikrar, who stood beside me, and winked. Just as well he should never know how near I had come to murdering Rinshir for even thinking of putting Akhor in danger.

  “A moment, if you please,” said a voice from near the ground. The Gedri woman, who had very sensibly moved away while I

  was instructing Rinshir, had returned, and now she laid her hand on my forearm as Varien had. “I have you to thank for my life,” she said simply. “I am deeply in your debt.”

  Varien stepped forward and stood beside her. “As am I, Idai. As ever. Again.”

  I hissed my amusement. “It was worth it to see Rinshir’s Attitude change. From fury to absolute terror in a single moment. Most satisfying.” I glanced down at the Gedri woman, then to Varien as I said, “And now, if ybu please, Maran of Besskin, you will tell us what it is about you that so reeks of our life-enemies.”

  “I’ve been using the Farseer to keep up with Lanen,” she said simply. “Whenever I use it the stink wears off on me. I must be overdue to make my devotions to the Lady. I never meant to set everyone off. Seems you folk are a lot more sensitive to it than we are.” She scrubbed at her face with both hands. ‘The damned things barely worth the bother of keeping, when all’s done,” she said wearily, “but as long as I have it, Berys can’t bloody well make another one. That’s the only reason I didn’t smash it twenty years ago—though I’d never have found you in time if I had.” She paused for a moment. “Do you have the first idea where Lanen is?”

  “No,” said Varien cautiously, “though one of our number has gone to seek her in Verfaren.”

  “Thank the Goddess,” she said, and unfamiliar as I was with Gedri faces, even I could recognise the relief in her voice. “It’s Jamie, isn’t it?’ It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes,” said Rella, speaking quietly as she appeared behind Maran. “Well-met, my friend,” she said, nodding to the newcomer. “Jamie’s gone after her.”

  “Blessed Mother Shia, we might have a chance yet,” Maran replied, but before she could say more I heard Kedra’s voice calling out to us all. At least he sounded pleased.

  Shikrar

  Kedra and Will returned at just that moment and provided a much-needed distraction. The sounds at the edge of hearing were growing noticeably louder. I could nearly make out words. And it seemed to be coming from somewhere near at hand.

  While he was still high up and a little way distant, Kedra called aloud to us all on the ground, “All is well! We have food, my friends, and water in abundance, and a place to rest as long as we need it!” Kedra landed awkwardly, allowing Will to drop just the little distance from his hands as he backwinged frantically. As Will picked himself up and brushed the earth from his clothing, I bespoke my son.

  “Kedra, how fare you? Is it well, truly?”

  “It is very well, my father,” he replied aloud, though his eyes were troubled. “I must speak with you soon, Father,” he said in tightly focussed truespeech, then continued aloud, “Farmer Timeth is presendy recovering from the acquisition of sudden wealth, but his kine are healthy, his water is good, and his farm backs up to a high rock wall to the north, under the shelter of which there is room for us all.”

  “Blessed be the Winds,” I murmured. “Good news at last.”

  Mirazhe came to join us then, her tiny youngling Sher6k awake now and riding between her wings. He looked so terribly small and fragile. When I frowned a litde at Mirazhe and opened my mouth, she hissed a laugh and said, “Fear not, Hadreshikrar. Your son’s son is perfectly safe, and the soulgems of the Lost are in Gyrentikh’s keeping.”

  I shut my mouth with a snap and turned my head away briefly in embarrassment as Kedra and Mirazhe laughed. “Am I so transparent, my daughter?”

  She replied, her eyes dancing, “You are, my father. But none the less valued for that.”

  Sherok, for his part, was delighted with the view despite the hunger that he was broadcasting in waves. Kedra greeted his son by touching his soulgem to the raised spot on
Sherok’s faceplate where his soulgem would eventually break through, and Sherok’s thoughts turned from hunger to joy in the instant. The wash of his pleasure at seeing his father again was as the dawning of a second sun to my weary soul, and I stood and called to the Kantri, aloud and in truespeech, telling them Kedra’s news.

  “It is nearby, dear heart,” muttered K6dra to Mirazhe. “I have not eaten, but it will not be long now.” Indeed, most of the Kantri were preparing to depart when Vilkas came running up to me.

  “Lord Shikrar, please, you must not let them eat right away!” he cried, a little out of breath. “Will told me what you were doing, but you must listen. Don’t let them eat at first! Start by drinking. And when you kil the catde, start by drinking the blood.”

  I stared at him. “Surely how we eat is no concern of yours,” I said, annoyed at his tone of command.

  “Please, I beg you, listen to me. Your bodies are very similar to ours, I saw the results of fatigue in your blood and muscle. Just exactly like us. And I tell you, if you eat meat too quickly after such desperate exhaustion and hunger, you could die of it. Even water is not the best. Blood has salt and enough sugar to help you back to enough strength to eat. Drink the blood, I pray you, and wait an hour until you are recovered. Then drink water, slowly, and very small amounts of food at first—that is the most important. Eat much less than you want, lest your hearts stop from the shock.”

  “We have managed to five so long without your assistance, Master Vilkas,” I said dryly. “I thank you for your concern, but—”

  “Shikrar, didn’t you tell me once that some of the Ancestors died when they reached the Isle of Exile?” asked Varien quietly.

  “Yes, the greedy ones who gorged themselves on the few large creatures who lived on the island, and left the rest to—oh.”