The Tale of Lanen Kaelar

“His power was shown to be that of the lowest of Healers, able to cure small wounds, help in a small way. Even that little was more than most were given, but for him it was never enough. From the moment he discovered that only the smallest portion of power was his, he sought to increase it, convinced that he was born to surpass his revered ancestor. He began by wanting to learn more from the Kantri, working hard for many years and asking penetrating questions, but he learned at last that there is no way to gain more power than the Winds have given.

  “It was his ending and his dark beginning. He left the settlement and burned his home behind him. The fire spread to several other dwellings and one young girl was killed; thus his first death was accomplished without thought or concern. It became the pattern of his numbered days.

  “No one knows how he discovered a way to treat with the Rakshasa. Did his curses simply fall on receptive ears, or did he stand in seven circles and call some dark name, or make some offer that degraded race could not deny? It is a moot point. The Rakshasa have always known the needs and the frailties of the Gedrishakrim, and they nurse ever their hatred of my people. It is enough to know that he summoned them, and the world is the worse for it.

  “He is called only the Demonlord. His name is not remembered. He traded it, before the end, to one of the Lords of Hell for a great power in this world, and when it went to that Lord it took all memory of itself from those who had known it. He surrounded himself with the lesser race of the Rakshi, the Rikti or minor demons. Thus, with no name to give power to another, and a defense that seemed to him impenetrable, he was free to work his will.

  “It is difficult for rational beings to understand what moved the Demonlord. Did he seek the domination of Kolmar? Of the entire world? Or perhaps it was an integral part of that small, mad soul to require all power once he had even a taste of it.

  “He went first, disguised, to others of the Gedri, in a place where there were none of my people. He demanded that they worship him as their king, showing them but a portion of his power. When they denied him he grew wrathful and stood before them in his new person. The Rikti that surrounded him became visible to natural sight, and the only survivor of that place described a luminous glow about him, of the hue common to Healers but scored with broken black lines like a mad spider’s web. The teller of the tale admitted that he ran terrified from that sight alone. Looking over his shoulder he saw that black-shot blue cover the villagers, and he heard them scream as from a great distance. When he returned with others of the Two Peoples, they found nothing but dark steaming stains on the ground stinking of the Rakshasa.

  “The Kantri moved as one, silently, terrifying him with their utter, inexorable response.

  “They burned the black stains clean with dragonfire.

  “When the first tongue of flame reached the first stain, there was a flash of light and a loud moan. The Kantri grimly went about the settlement, flaming clean every stain, every house, every burnt-out shell of every dwelling. As Kantri-fire met Raksha-trace the air was filled with searing white flame, and with the cries of the damned.

  “When at last the work was finished, the Kantri met in a circle where the Demonlord had stood. None knew where he had gone, but he must be found. They began to send out word to all the Kindred.

  “The Kantri and Gedri met then in a Great Council. Every one of the Kindred who could fly or walk to the meeting place in a day was there, bar one or two who chose to stay with their settlements and defend them. It was the last Great Council. There were four hundred of the Kindred there, glowing in all shades of bronze and copper and gold, and fifty of the Gedri like small, bright children against the vast size of so many of the Kantri. Its like will never be seen again.

  “The Kantri knew the Raksha-stink; the Gedri survivor told of the unholy alliance and described the sickening corruption of the Healer’s will. More tales reached them, even as they met, of further atrocities, through the links of truespeech between the Kantri. All the news was of a madman steadily destroying settlements of the Gedri.

  “The Great Council lasted only a few hours while Kantri and Gedri debated the best way to deal with the Demonlord, for it had become known that he travelled the demon lines and could disappear in moments. The only hope of the council was that the Demonlord would tire or demand more of his servants than he had paid blood for.

  “It is remembered as the Day Without End, though some now call it the Day of the End. Before noon, while the sun shone bright and uncaring at the Great Council, a lady of the Kantri called Tréshak cried out as in great pain. Two of the Gedri Healers rushed to her, summoning their power as they ran. They could not have known.

  “Tréshak, a kind soul with two younglings, a teacher of the Gedri her whole life long, turned on the Healers and destroyed them with fire. The only kindness is that they never knew her betrayal. They were dead by the time they fell to earth.

  “Tréshak screamed her agony. ‘Aidrishaan! His Rakshasa have killed Aidrishaan!’ Aidrishaan was her beloved.

  “There was no more speech. The Kantri broke from their circle, and in seconds the sky was black with them and the clearing thundered with the sound of their wings. Flames preceded them into the sky as they flew at best speed to the settlement where Aidrishaan had been.

  “They found the Demonlord. It is not known to this day why he did not simply leave that place when he saw the Kantri coming for him, but he did not.

  “He stood laughing beside the smouldering bones of Aidrishaan.

  “Tréshak was first. Her fury, her fire burned hottest, and she had flown on the Wind’s wings for vengeance. She drew in breath to flame this abomination, though she should die for it. We waited in respect for her loss, knowing that no child of the Gedrishakrim could stand against the armed fury of our Kindred.

  “The Demonlord uttered a single word, and Tréshak changed. Before our eyes as she flew she dwindled to the size of a youngling and fell out of the sky, for her wings would no longer bear her up. A gleaming blue flame shot up from her blue soulgem, and no one who lived through that day ever forgot the sound of her last cry. It haunts the dreams even of those who were not there, as though time itself is offended and cries out for pity.

  “It was cut off in the midst as her soulgem was ripped from her by the hands of the Rikti and delivered unto the Demonlord.

  “Perhaps it would have been better if the Kantri had retreated, taken time to consider.

  “We did not.

  “Four hundred of the Kantrishakrim flew straight at the Demonlord, setting fire to the very air as they dove. He spoke rapidly, the same word over and over, and fully half of the Kantri fell from the air and had their soulgems ripped away by legions of the Rikti.

  “He could not get us all.

  “He laughed as he died, as the Rikti around him disappeared in our flame (for they are the weaker of our natural enemies and cannot withstand dragonfire in this world). We do not know if he was so far into madness that he did not fear death or pain, or if there was some darkness in his soul that believed even then that he would triumph in the end.

  “Fights broke out among the Kantri as we all tried to add our own touch of destruction to the dead body. A kind of madness gripped us, cooled only when the youngest, Keakhor, cried aloud, ‘He is dead, we cannot kill him more. For pity’s sake look to the wounded.’

  “We turned to those who had been struck by the Demonlord’s curse. We tried to speak to them, but in vain. One sifted among the ashes of the Demonlord and found the soulgems; they were already shrinking (as is their nature once separated from the body), and even then they bore the taint of their demonic source. In the course of nature, the soulgems of the dead resemble faceted jewels. When the Kin-Summoning is performed they glow with a steady light, and the Keeper of Souls may speak with the dead, but when the Summoning is over they again fall dark. These gleamed—to this day they gleam—at all times from within with a flickering light.

  “We believe the souls of our Kindred are trapped within,
neither alive nor dead, and despite endless years of our best efforts they still are bound.

  “The bodies of our brothers and sisters had become the bodies of beasts. We could not kill them, for old love, but we could not bear to see them either. Someone first called them the Lesser Kindred on that day, and it has become our name for them. They breed now like beasts and live brief, solitary lives. We try to contact the newly born every year in the autumn, but we have had no evidence through the long, long years that a single one has heard or tried to respond.

  “We returned in shock, in sorrow, mourning our loss though we could not yet comprehend it. It was a forefather of Shikrar, little better than a youngling himself, who with great effort kept the Kantri from destroying the innocent Gedri who waited still at the settlement. He took the Gedri aside and explained quickly what had happened, and he stopped them from offering to heal those who had been wounded. It was decided then that those of the Kantri who remained must leave the company of the Gedri, for in each face those who were now the Greater Kindred would see the Demonlord, and the memory of their comrades falling from the Winds in agony.

  “Without a word, without a glance at the Gedri (who yet had heeded some inner voice and gathered in homage), the Greater Kindred leapt into the sky and left the land forever.

  “This is the cause of the Great Ban. Kantri and Gedri must not meet, lest the Kantri take delayed vengeance, or another Demonlord arise among the Gedri.

  “This took place five thousand years ago.

  “It is the blink of an eye to the Kantrishakrim.”

  Lanen

  I sat on the cold ground, my arms wrapped around my knees and my cloak around all, as he finished his tale. I felt a little drunk and a little ill. The world of the moonlit glade had grown hazy about me as I watched the tale unfold, as a mind older than I could imagine sent thoughts behind my eyes. I sat calm and peaceful in that time when the Two Kindreds lived in harmony, was devastated by death and betrayal, watched in breathless horror as the Lesser Kindred fell from the sky, rejoiced with a dark joy when the Demonlord was destroyed, flew back exhausted with the Greater Kindred, and quietly wept at their final departure from the lands I knew.

  In the back of my mind I heard the warning of the bards. The eyes of a dragon are perilous deep…. I knew then a little of why that is so, a little of our shared history in the world, and I could only weep. I did not meet Akor’s eyes when he had finished, letting instead my tears fall silently onto my cloak.

  I knew many of the bardic songs about Dragons—I had sought them out since I was a child—and none had more than hinted at a time when the Two Peoples had lived together in peace.

  For a while we were both silent. The cold darkness closed in around us, the small sounds of life stilled in the deep night. The moon had sunk down in the sky, but there still was enough light when I looked up to show the outline of that terrifying, expressionless face, like a blank silver shield. His body that had shone like the moon on the sea was now only a lighter patch in the darkness.

  “I too am much moved by the tale, Lanen Kaelar,” he said softly in truespeech. “Your tears honour me.”

  “They honour the Lesser Kindred,” I replied aloud, surprised at the depth of feeling I had discovered for creatures I had been told were little more than cattle. I cannot explain why I felt as I did, but it seemed to me that all my sorrow, all my long desire to speak with Dragons had led me to this place and distilled into this: that I should bring our two peoples together, and that I should set the Lesser Kindred free. What good I thought I could do, all alone, against thousands of years of mistrust and the power of a Demonlord, I cannot now imagine: but such are the dreams of youth, too gloriously stupid to realise what cannot be done.

  And without those dreams, how should we ever accomplish the impossible?

  “Akor, is there nothing to be done?” I cried urgently as I rose to my feet. My heart was in my voice, as were the tears that had dampened my cloak. “In all this time, have your people found nothing that can help those poor trapped souls?”

  He was silent. I stumbled a bit from sitting long in the cold and began to pace the clearing to warm myself, and because the plight of the Lesser Kindred spoke to my heart and would not let me be still.

  Akor moved in the darkness. I waited for his words, ached for them; he was silent yet for some time. From what I could see, he stood in an odd position and seemed distracted, as if he warred within himself and only the victor might speak.

  I paced back and forth, stamping and rubbing my arms to try and coax a little warmth back into my hands and feet.

  Akhor

  “Akhor, you must not! Already she knows more of us than any Gedri since the Peace. Would you tell her all? And what more of her people have we learned? Always it is her questions you answer, never she yours.”

  “And what should we ask of her, Shikrar? Have you questions to ask the Gedri? I have a few, indeed, but they are mere curiosity. The child has barely begun to live, and will surely die long before she has time to learn aught of much interest to us. I have touched her heart, my friend. She will not harm us, and there is no taint of the Rakshasa in her.”

  “There is always room in the hearts of the Gedri for the Rakshasa. They are free to choose, Akhor, and they may change at any moment. I tell you, be wary! Her very weakness is her strength. Through it she may learn enough to destroy those of us who remain.”

  “I shall be on my guard. But I must answer her last question. Her concern deserves that at least.”

  “Very well. But keep your answer short, and end this meeting as soon as you may.”

  Lanen had begun pacing back and forth, rubbing her arms. It looked most peculiar. I decided to indulge my curiosity and Shikrar’s prejudice.

  “What are you doing, little one?”

  “Waiting for your answer,” she replied. I was amused to hear an edge of anger in her voice. How quickly the Gedri change! Not long since she had been terrified of me. Then she said, “Oh, you mean walking around? I’m cold, this is the only way I know of to get warm without a fire.”

  I couldn’t resist.

  “Go fetch some wood and set it ready,” I told her.

  She furrowed her face at me but did as I asked. “I must ask about that sometime,” I reminded myself idly.

  “Stand clear,” I told her.

  As soon as she was out of the way, I summoned my Fire and breathed on the wood.

  I’ve always been proud of my aim.

  Lanen

  I leapt back as a thin stream of fire shot past me and struck the wood. It instantly burst into roaring flame, fiercer by far than any fire I had known. The warmth was most welcome, though, and once I was sure he wasn’t going to do any more than that, I stood near. I shuddered gladly with the heat as it began to thaw my hands and face, and smiled when I heard a gentle hissing laugh from Akor. It was just occurring to me that I had at last seen dragonfire when Akor said, “Do you know, Lanen, this is probably the first time since the Peace that our two Kindreds have cooperated in even so simple a thing as this?”

  I thought of the lansip harvest, but realised that was not so much cooperation as simple permission. My, no, our little fire suddenly warmed me more deeply. A little light in centuries of darkness, just like the flickering soulgems of the Lost Ones….

  “Akor, forgive me, I must ask again. Are you certain there is nothing to be done for the Lesser Kindred?”

  He drew in a deep breath and let out as human a sigh as I could imagine.

  Akhor

  “We have sought to aid them ever since it happened, Lanen. We have tried everything we can think of countless times in the hope that some new voice, some new soul’s influence might make the difference. If it lay in the power of the Kindred to do aught, they would have been restored long since. Surely you do not think we neglect our own kin, or forget that they lie trapped? At least that is what most of us believe.”

  “Is there some question?” she asked.

&nb
sp; “There are those who say the gems of the Lost Ones flicker only with demonfire, and that the souls of those who bore them are long since passed to the Winds.” I paused. “It could be so, in truth, but my heart rebels at the idea. And they do not smell of the Rakshasa. No, since I came into my own I have dreamt of them, the Lost Ones, calling ceaselessly to us, their blood and bone, to release them. It haunts me as it does Shikrar, in whose charge the soulgems lie. I do not doubt that they are imprisoned and aware. The wonder would be if they were still sane.”

  She stood silent for a moment, in what looked like the Attitude of Deep Thought. It was obscurely pleasing to me that the Gedri seemed to use Attitudes instinctively, as we did, though theirs were as minimal as those of the eldest of my people. They had developed mobile faces to express their thoughts, which meant they used only a small range of Attitudes. However, I was beginning to intuit some of the meanings of those facial expressions, combined as they were with voice and stance. In all my studies, none had ever mentioned how their faces changed. I was entranced.

  I watched her closely as I waited for her words. The firelight was playing on her features, strong and blunt, and turned her long hair to the colour of ripe autumn grain. I had never considered that the Gedri might have a kind of beauty. I caught a glimpse of it then.

  “I wish I could help,” she said quietly.

  “Akhor, have you not yet finished with the little one?”

  Lanen

  Of all things I least expected what happened. Suddenly through the gathering darkness I saw Akor’s great head come towards me like a striking snake. I didn’t even have time to move away or cry out when I heard his thoughts rolling over my mind, so quickly I could barely understand him, and so soft I could hardly hear.

  “Lanen, I beg you do not reply in truespeech, Shikrar would hear your lightest thought. We must meet to discuss these things when he will be elsewhere and not aware of us. Come here tomorrow just as the last light leaves the sky and we shall find a private place. We must end our speech together for now. I will speak with you then.”