”Kédra and I are on the north side of the clearing, in the trees. Are you hurt?”
His answer chilled me.
”Not yet.”
Fear, loathing, anger—in a lucid moment they transformed into cold, calculating thought, as Jamie’s drills on battle came back to me. If your enemy is unarmed, use your fist, you’ve a long reach and he won’t expect it. If he’s wearing light armour, use your dagger to pierce the joints. If his armour turns your dagger, use your sword. If it turns your sword, get under his guard and push him over backwards across your ankle, he won’t expect that either.
I knew Caderan must have several spells going at once. It couldn’t be easy to keep all that up.
If only I could find something to distract him—
The Lady’s servants say that thought is the birth of action. I believe it, for no sooner had the thought come to me than Rishkaan, glowing in the sunrise, leapt into the air and beat his wings, climbing swiftly into the morning. I couldn’t believe it, he was running away, leaving Akor to face the two of them alone.
Marik, who had seemed to be mumbling to himself since Rishkaan first attacked, raised his hand, and in the dawn light I saw the sun glinting off something on his finger, a ring of some kind. Then I realised it wasn’t sunlight; the ring was glowing a bright and hideous red. He said something I couldn’t understand and turned the back of his hand to Akor.
Something small and swift, glowing even in daylight, flew from his hand and struck Akor in the chest. I watched helpless as red blood flowed from him, obscenely lovely against his silver armour, while I hid unmarked in the trees, horrified, helpless, furious.
Akhor
I did not know I was wounded until I heard Lanen cry out. I looked down and saw a small red stream trickling from a perfectly circular wound high on my chest, and I knew. Nothing pierces our hides save Raksha-fire. Marik was in their service, and I would kill him if I could. If he didn’t kill me first.
I began to understand for the first time the actions of my people against the Demonlord.
Foolish as it had seemed, at least they did not stand still and wait to be wounded. I longed to launch myself at the rakshadakh again—instead I leapt into the air, seeking height, calling out to my dearest companions, to Shikrar, to Kédra, even to Idai as she flew: ” ‘Ware, my Kindred, the demons are among us! The Rakshasa have sent their slaves and our doom is upon us. To me, my friends, to me!”
I heard the chorus of their replies (along with Idai’s curses at being too distant to aid me as yet), heard Shikrar from the Chamber of Souls and Kédra not five lengths away rising in anger as I looked down on the rakshadakh and saw the last thing of reason I can recall before I threw myself at Marik.
It was Rishkaan, diving with wings folded from a great height, straight at the demon master Caderan. From the Gedri’s fingers shot out a blinding gout of black flame, and I am certain that Rishkaan died even as he fell—but still he fell, all the size of him, falling like the end of the world down upon the demon master.
Caderan screamed, like a beast that sees its death come upon it, and tried to run. He might as well have tried to outdistance the dawn. He cried out only once as he died, and my heart rejoiced in the sound.
My heart was afire, Fire rippled through me and burst out of my throat with a roar. Rishkaan may have been my adversary in Council but in his dying he was my brother in blood, and I would destroy this other of the Gedri vermin or die trying.
Shikrar
When Kédra bespoke me, telling me that Marik and his servant stood at bay before Akhor and Rishkaan, I told him I would leave that minor matter to them.
When Akhor cried out to me that a demon slave, a rakshadakh, was his enemy, I ran from my chamber and was in the air before I could think. So short a way, but once I was in the air a thought did come to me. I bespoke Kédra.
“Khetrikharissdra, I charge you as Keeper of Souls to stay out of this battle.”
“Father, no!” he cried, entreating.
”It is not your father who speaks, it is the Eldest of the Greater Kindred and the Keeper of Souls,” I replied sternly. “Should I be killed in this battle you will become the next Keeper, you alone beside myself have the gift of the Kin-Summoning. You will not risk losing that in battle.”
“Father, I beg you!” he cried, his heart in his voice. I knew how he longed for vengeance, but I could not permit.
“Obey me in this, my son,” I said, more kindly. “I do not charge you by your fealty, but by your love. I lost my beloved, I will not see my son die before me. And above all, Kédra my son, you have a youngling newborn. He will need a father.”
And I was there.
Lanen
I couldn’t believe what I saw. Marik was laughing, the bastard. He watched Shikrar arrive even as Akor attacked him, and he was laughing.
Dear Goddess. Akor!
Even as I watched, Marik sent the deadly circles flying from his hand, one after another, each a little worse, each striking Akor in a new place, wounding him more deeply than the last.
Four of them followed the first, striking Akor unerringly even as he flew. He fell from the sky before ever he came within reach, streaming blood, great gouges in that glorious silver hide.
I ran towards Marik even as Shikrar thrust himself between Marik and Akor and attacked. For his pains he received the worst yet of Marik’s circles, a terrible hole in his shoulder.
Marik’s mind was all on the Dragons.
I ran into him at full tilt, with no thought for my safety until it was too late. I might have saved myself the worry; whatever he had to protect him from Dragons didn’t seem to apply to his own kind. I did as Jamie had taught me and it worked a treat, knocked him off his feet, long enough at least to give Shikrar and Akor a breathing space. In seconds I was sat on his chest trying to slit his throat with his own dagger—but it did not bite. I tried again, and again the blade slid harmlessly off his skin.
He laughed and started to gesture at me with the ring he had been using on the others. I tried to knock his hand aside, but he was too quick. He pointed at me and said something in a foul language I had never heard before. We were both surprised when nothing happened.
I recovered just quickly enough to hit him, but I didn’t have much leverage and it hardly bothered him. Then I saw an idea strike him harder than my fist had. He raised the hand with the ring on it and pointed towards Shikrar, who despite his pain stood now between Akor and Marik.
“Choose who will die, Maran’s daughter,” he cried in terrible delight. “For no matter what you do they cannot touch me, and no weapon of yours will bite any more than their useless teeth and claws.”
And in that instant it came to me how he must be defeated.
Thank the Lady for truespeech.
”Akor, beloved, thus may he be stopped—”
Akhor
I heard her through my pain, through the fury that still burned white-hot within me. I bespoke Shikrar, who moved away to let me see, and together we turned our thoughts to the figure that struggled now with Lanen on the ground.
Even against such a strange form of attack, never so much as imagined in all the history of the Kantri, Marik must have had some defence, for his mind lasted long enough to work the last evil from his ring. As Shikrar and I together attempted to reach his mind with truespeech, to stop him with the sheer force of our wills, he managed to point the cursed thing at me and send through the air a final circle of dark fire that burned agony into my chest. I looked down in shock to see a gaping wound.
My bones, I noted, were intact. I knew, for I could see some of them.
Then, blessedly, as the pain began to sear through me, my legs would not hold me up and I fell insensible to the ground.
Marik
The gems sing louder, even in victory I cannot stop them, that horrible noise invades my very bones and shakes me. But Maran’s daughter fails to save the silver one, and I have defeated—
light white light voi
ces screaming in my head shut up get out get out GET OUT
FIRE
my head is on fire
it’s inside my head the gems are screaming
the Lost
Lostlostlost
Die in agony rakshadakh
White flame inside my head
then darkness all darkness nolight noair allgone alllost
and all is gone
all gone
all lost
lostlostlostlost
nononononooooo
……………………..
Kédra
My father called me to come when Akhor fell, for he judged that Marik was no longer a danger.
“Kédra, help me, we must bear him to his Weh chamber,” Shikrar my father cried, his own wound ignored, his voice struggling to get past the tightness in his throat. I had to look away.
Could it be that Akhor still lived? I had never seen, never imagined such wounds.
“Help me, Kédra, I cannot bear him alone,” said my father. I braced myself and moved towards them, wondering how we two could lift him and Shikrar so hurt himself, when I heard an unexpected voice.
”Kédra, Shikrar, I am come. Where are you ?”
”In the Gedri camp, Lady Idai,” I replied with relief. Idai was older than I, large and strong, with her help we surely could lift Akhor.
”Be warned, Idai, his wounds are grievous,” said Shikrar as she approached. ”We must carry him to his Weh chamber, and we desperately need your strength. Save grief for later, it is action he needs from us now.”
Nevertheless, she cried out when she saw him. Lanen was beside him, bowed in what I guessed was grief or despair, unable to do ought to help. “Who hass done this?” Idai demanded in truespeech, even her mindvoice hissing with hatred. ”It iss the Gedri witch, it iss her doing,” she said, and with all the power of her will she shouted at Lanen. “Stand away frrom him!”
“I will not!” Lanen screamed back at her, using the Language of Truth now as one born to it. She stood with her back to Akhor, looking for all the world like a mother protecting her youngling; her feet were planted in the ground (as well as two feet can be), her knees bent to spring, her forearms raised and her fury plain, and she all but hissed back at Idai. ”Akor is mine as I am his, I will stand with him if you kill me for it, damn you.” They stood thus braced against one another for mere seconds, when Lanen fell to her knees and I smelt seawater. ”Lady, he bleeds as we stand here. If it would heal him I would die gladly. What can I do? Dear Goddess, what can I do?”
Idai’s wrath abated somewhat, for she knew agony when it stood before her defiant, defeated. “Let us lift him, child. He must go to his Weh chamber and sleep, there to heal or to die. Move away, littling.”
Lanen hurried from Akhor’s side and spoke briefly with Rella. The three of us turned him to carry him on his back, when I stopped for an instant and knelt. “Come, lady. I will bear you,”
I said to Lanen. She nodded at Rella and leapt up onto my neck. ”Hold fast, this will be difficult,” I warned her, and together we three Kindred gathered ourselves and, as one, leapt into the air, beating our wings furiously, carrying our King to his rest.
Lanen
I had just thought enough to spare to bespeak the Council— well, everyone, actually—to let them know that Rella would be bringing the soulgems of the Lost in their cask as far as the Boundary fence at the place of Summoning. Then I forgot about it entirely.
I hope I never live through such a horrible time again. I was terrified for Akor. Goddess, Dear Shia, Mother of Us All, I could not stop looking at him, borne senseless through the morning by his companions. Those great gaping wounds bled terribly. I had never imagined that anything could bring such destruction to so powerful a creature. Dear Goddess. It was past bearing, it was unendurable, but I had no choice. Endure it I must.
I did not weep. I think I was beyond tears, though my cheeks felt wet. I clutched at Kédra’s horns when the flight of the three was worst, begging the Winds, the Lady, whoever would listen, to let Akor live. Nothing else mattered.
Finally, beyond hope, I saw the hill and the little pool below us. The three started to spiral down, slowly, carefully. The landing was rough, and I thanked years of hard work for the strength in my arms to hold on. I let go and dropped off as soon as I could, for Kédra had told me that he was the only one small enough to enter Akor’s cave and he would have to drag him. I followed behind, as one who is already dead but has forgot to lie down.
Kédra managed to get Akor to his floor of gold, where he lay in a pool of sunlight from the opening above. Akor lay on his back with his wounds uppermost, and—I couldn’t believe my eyes—Kédra was scraping gold from the walls, breathing flame onto it until it glowed, shaping it like clay with his great claws into what could only be a bandage.
“Kédra?” I asked quietly.
“It will keep what blood he has left within his body and speed the healing,” he said, not even glancing at me. “It is our way, Lanen. Let me finish.”
I backed away, both hands covering my mouth lest I distract Kédra again, and watched, tears unheeded washing my hands.
When he had finished, when the redstained, silver wreck of Akor’s body was decently covered with gleaming golden bindings, Kédra bowed his great head, sorrow at last coming into its own. “Lanen,” he said quietly, “he will not hear me. I must know if there is aught he desires. When we are wounded our bodies have different needs and only the wounded know what they are. Bespeak him, I pray you, that he may be healed. You are his beloved, he will rouse for you.”
I clenched my teeth and made myself stop weeping. I knew instinctively that I must be calm for him lest my distress take his mind from his own needs. Deep breath, Lanen. Now.
“Akor, dearling?”
He did not answer.
”Akor, beloved, it is Lanen who calls, Lanen Kaelar. Dear-ling, speak with me, I beg you, for one moment only before the Weh sleep takes you. Akor?”
Nothing. Forgive me, dear one, I thought to myself, but Kédra is here and I cannot make him leave. This must be done. Then I said aloud and in truespeech, in the best tones of command I could muster, “Kordeshkistriakor! Wake to me. It is Lanen Kaelar who calls.”
Like one rising from deep waters he raised his head. “Hwat would you, ssweeting? I must ssleeep….”
“Akor, it is Kédra,” said he in truespeech, loud enough for me to hear. “You are wounded, what have you need of?”
“Ssleeep onlly, Khedthra,” replied Akor as loudly. “You haff sstopped the woundss with khaadishhh?”
”Yes, lord,” replied Keira. ”Need you meat or water, heat, iron—”
“Ssleeep onlly, younglinng,” he replied. “But where iss Hlanen who called me?”
”I am here, dear heart,” I answered, clinging to calmness with all my strength. “How may I help you, my love?”
”Let me but feel your hand, little one,” he said, more clearly than he had spoken yet. I stepped up and laid my hand on the soft skin under his jaw and saw him relax. “Ahh, hyu arre perilouss, Hlanen Kaelar. Around you the world changess sso quickly I cannot learnn onne thinng beforre the nexst iss upon me. But you do make life interressting!” He smiled. “Ssleep on the Windss, Hlanen Kaelar. I will look fforr hyu hwen I wake….” His mindvoice floated into nothingness and he slept.
I gazed at him. He had gone beyond his pain, forgotten the Council, Marik, anything that might ever have been a danger to either of us; but he remembered that he loved me. And he remembered my name.
“Sleep on the Winds, beloved,” I said quietly, lightly touching the dulled soulgem in his forehead, and unbidden from my mouth came softly the words of parting. “Go you safe, and keep you safe, and come safe home to me.”
Then I began to cry in earnest.
XVIII
THE WINDS AND THE LADY
Lanen
When Kédra and I left the chamber, Akor was already deep in the Weh sleep. Kédra was please
d that his breathing was regular; it was a good sign, he said, and promised well for the healing. He had brought a large quantity of khaadish outside with him, and applied it to the gouge in Shikrar’s shoulder. The process appeared to pain Shikrar, but after it was done he seemed better able to bear the wound.
Shikrar and Idai had thoughtfully lit a fire for me in the clearing, for the day though bright was sharp with winter’s approach. I thanked them and stood as near the flames as I could, wondering why I was so weary. Dear Goddess, was the Weh sleep affecting me? No, it couldn’t, surely. Then why was I so weak? I was even starting to tremble—
And the voice that lives always at the back of my mind spoke up, its tone lightly mocking. Well, my girl, aside from nearly dying two days ago, having no more than an hour’s sleep last night, fighting for your life with the Council and watching as the one you love best is butchered before your eyes, you haven’t eaten since that stew in Marik’s cabin a day and a half ago. Remember?
I swayed as I stood and said, “Please, is there anything to eat here? Goddess, I don’t even know what you eat. I’m starving.”
Shikrar brought his head down to my level and spoke quietly. “We eat meat and fish, littling. Can you eat of the beasts your people brought with you?”
“Everything but bones, hide and hair,” I answered. “But I don’t think I could catch one now, or butcher it either.”
Shikrar hissed softly. “Sit you down and rest, lady. You have the soul of my people, and I can almost forget that you have not the body. How often do your people require food?”
“At least once a day—two or three times is best,” I said, sinking down beside the fire, and despite my hunger and fatigue had the satisfaction of seeing a Dragon stand in what was obviously Astonishment.
“Rest now,” Shikrar repeated, recovering. “Kédra will keep watch over Akor, Idai shall watch over you, and I will bring food.” He bowed, that graceful sinuous Dragon bow, and took off at once. I managed to watch Kédra going into the Weh chamber, and muttered a kind of thanks to Idai (despite her obvious annoyance at being made my guardian) before sleep took me.