Marik screamed and ran. Caderan was cooler—he turned where he stood and spoke to the demon, even as Akor was making the hole large enough for him to enter.
“The offering will be made later. For the price that was paid, I charge you now, destroy the Kantri lord.” And before my eyes, Caderan vanished.
The thing said something I could not hear, but in that instant I was restored to myself. I ran from the circle, past Akor and away as he hunched into that cramped space, breathing fire and swiping a clawful of daggers at the demon. I knew that the only thing I could do in this fight was to get out of the way.
I learned then what Akor meant when he called the Rakshasa “life-enemies.”
The demon grew in stature until it rose high above where the roof of the cabin had been. It was now nearly of a size with Akor, though it was still bound within the circles Caderan had drawn. Akor did not even pause in his attack. He flamed it, dragonfire searing the face and body of the creature, and raked at it with both front claws leaving great gashes behind. The thing spat at him, its essence scoring his silver armour, and, reaching out with its mangled and flame-scorched arms, took him by base of the throat and squeezed.
Akhor
Those hands were near to stopping my breath, but even in that moment I blessed the Winds for its stupidity. If it had grasped my throat near the jaw, things might have gone ill, but our long necks are very flexible and I kept my head well out of range of its arms. As it was, I drew my head back, pulled in what air I could and spat a great gout of Fire at its face. It burst into flame, and while it was thus distracted I turned my own head sideways and snapped at its neck once, twice. Again. Again. Its blood burned my tongue, and the taste nearly made me stop. Nearly.
It took several bites, but these jaws the Winds gave us are made for such battles as these. The burning head dropped from the shoulders; the thing gave a drawn-out scream and vanished. The only traces of its presence were dark stains on the ground where the head had rolled, and in the cabin where it had been bound.
I flamed them clean with Fire, and burned what was left of that building to ashes. I stood watching the fire scorch all clean, when I heard a soft voice behind me.
“Akor. You’re hurt.”
It was Lanen.
Lanen
I was afraid to speak to him. I was in awe. When I finally got up the courage to say something, I could only think of his wounds.
“They do not pain me, dearling. A moment, though,” he said, and proceeded to cleanse each of his gashes with Fire. “There. All is done.”
I had begun to shake with reaction, but somehow I managed to look around me. I shouldn’t have been surprised. They weren’t coming any too close, but the noise and the flames had drawn a crowd. One finally got up the courage to speak—it sounded like one of Marik’s guards.
“What happened?” He was addressing me. I nearly laughed. Here was this wonder, this figure of legend standing before them, and this man was talking to me. Best they know the truth, I thought. If Marik is still alive, at the very least he isn’t going to have many friends.
“Marik and Caderan summoned a major demon, a Lord of the Rakshasa, and he was going to give me to it. The Dragons”—“Forgive me, Akor, it is the word they know”—“do not tolerate demons on their island. The Guardian has destroyed it.”
“Come,” he said to me, and turning to the people said calmly, “There is no need to fear. I have delivered both you and my own people from a great evil. I will not harm you.” “Let us leave them, dearling,” he said in the Language of Truth. “It seems your people are no more prepared for our friendship than are mine. Will you come with me?”
“With all my heart,” I answered. “Is there somewhere we can go to rest?”
“We shall go to my chambers near the Great Hall. Come.”
He gathered me in his hands and leapt into the night. I held tight for the very few moments of flight until we came to land outside his chambers. He brought wood and lit a fire, then curled around it and let me sit against him.
I thought I was doing well until I sat down against his warmth. It was as though someone had suddenly cut the strings that had held me up, for I began to shake and to babble about nothing, and finally to weep in earnest. I sat huddled against his neck with his head beside me and his wings soft about me, and I told him as I sobbed of the haunted dreams and tortured wakings, of the demon and the dread sinking in my soul when it touched me, of the horror of helplessness in the face of so great an evil. He had the wisdom to say nothing, but when I had finished talking and had only tears left, he kept repeating, “It is gone, Lanen, back to its dwelling place. It is destroyed in this world, it cannot return until it has recovered so far as to enflesh itself again, and that will not be in your lifetime.”
My lifetime. So short a time we had together. As long as a Weh sleep, no more—“Dear Goddess, no!” I cried.
Akhor
She seemed so fragile in that moment. I had not been prepared for her storm of tears, though when it came I understood. In times of great stress my own people take to the air, and flame and sing to the sun or the stars until the madness has left them.
“What is it, dearling?” I asked gently in truespeech. “I am here, I will let no harm come nigh you.”
“Not me, you,” she said, and I felt her fear. “Akor, your wounds—” She dropped her voice. “Blessed Shia—will the Weh sleep come on you?”
I closed my eyes in relief and pulled her close with my wing. “No, dearling, they are not so bad as all that. They will heal of their own in time.”
She let out her breath in a great sigh, and her fear was gone as swiftly as it had come. I thought for a moment and was surprised at the conclusion I came to.
“Lanen Kaelar!”
“Still here,” she said aloud, smiling gently now, wiping the tears from her face, reaching out to touch me.
“You feared that the Weh sleep would take me from you.”
“Yes.”
I had no words, no response, but unbidden my mind rang with the first notes of the song we had made between us, and I opened my mind to my beloved. She joined me, just for a little while, and in the Language of Truth we sang again our joy.
Soon, though, Shikrar bespoke me. He had gone to tell the Council of the killing of the Rakshasa, as I had asked, but it had not helped matters. They wished to ask me particulars of the battle, and if I knew which of the creatures I had fought. I left Lanen safe in my chambers.
Kédra
I was greatly relieved when Akhor bespoke me and said all was well with them. He asked that I keep Rella company until the Council could come to some decision. My father was in the Great Hall now, telling them news they would not wish to hear. For my part I was intrigued by the Gedri who sat before the fire I had made, and I understood Akhor’s wishing to speak with them. The Boundary was safe between us—I stood a little back in hiding and listened on all levels for any trespass by others of her race—but I longed to hold converse with her. Yet I was bound even as Akhor was bound; I could not speak first. She had gathered the wood in silence, and when I had lit it for her she only looked at me. She would have to—
“Dragon? Are you still here?”
“I am, Lady Rella. I stand Guardian, and Lord Akhor has given you into my keeping.”
She moved so that she could at least partially face me. “How kind. Am I your prisoner?”
“Forgive me, lady, I am not so fluent in your language as Akhor. I do not know that word. What does it mean?”
“Will you hold me here against my will?”
I was shocked. “Lady, what do you think of us? My Lord Akhor thought you would be in danger if you returned to your own people, so he has asked me to watch over you here. We await only the word of the Council to bring you where the Lady Lanen waits now.”
“So I am free to go.”
“Wherever you wish, though we cannot cross the Boundary to protect you.”
“Why not? Akhor did. Three ti
mes.”
“All three were to save the life of—of Lady Lanen.”
“I see,” said the Gedri. “And I am not as worthy of protection as she is.”
“It is a different case, Lady Rella. Lady Lanen is—”
“Oh, spare me the ‘Lady’! Just use our names, Dragon. And I don’t see why her case should be different.” She put her hand to her face. “I have two black eyes thanks to that girl—though I did ask for one.” She made a noise which I guessed was a kind of laugh.
“And thanks to Lady Lanen, I have a living mate and a son, where all was death before,” I answered a little sternly.
“What?” She stood and came up to the Boundary. “Do you tell me that she saved your wife and child?”
In as few words as possible, I told her our half of the tale. She told me the rest, then fell silent for some time. “Wretched child,” she said, shaking her head. “Idiot. Burn your arms off for—oh, dear Lady.” She put her hands before her mouth for a moment, then looked up at me. “Dragon, did you see her before Akhor brought her here? Did you see her wounds?”
I bowed my head. “I did not. I never thought she might be in such pain, she made never a sound, all her heart was in the saving of my child—”
“I am—my work has taken me many places, and I have seen death in forms more terrible than most have to know, but in all my life I was never so sickened by anything as by the sight of her burns. Her arms were naught but shreds of muscle stretched over—oh, I can’t.” She turned away for an instant, then looked straight at me. “If your Akor had taken a single moment longer to get her to the Healer, she would have died in agony. You owe her two lives, Dragon, you know that.”
I bowed to her. “I know it full well. And my name is Kédra, Lady Rella.”
“I told you, it’s just Rella.”
“No, lady,” I replied. “By your actions this night you have preserved the life of the Lady Lanen, and that for no hope of gain that I can see, simply of your kindness. ‘Lady’ is among my people a term of respect, and for that kindness I am afraid that you shall always be Lady Rella to me.”
She smiled at me then, a crooked grin that suited her well. “Oh, well. I suppose I’ll just have to put up with it.”
Marik
I finally stopped running about a quarter mile from the place. I was heading south from some instinct of finding safety on the ship, but my true fear was that there was no safety anywhere. Call me coward, but what is the point of bravery in the face of certain death? Perhaps Berys could stand up to an angry Dragon, but I couldn’t. When I realised it did not pursue me, I began to walk cautiously back along the dark, rough path to the cabins.
I met Caderan running in my direction. He slowed when he saw me. He was badly out of breath. “The Raksha—held off the Dragon—long enough for me to get away. But the cabin is gone—and so is the girl.”
My hands were around his throat without my thinking of it. “And what good are you to me now, sorcerer?” I asked, finding satisfaction in the feel of his throat beneath my fingers as I tightened my grip. “Now I must live with this pain forever, and in the matter of the Dragons all dissembling is useless. I never thought to live this long when that beast came through the wall. Now that the Dragons will kill me on sight, what good are you to me?”
I shook him once more and pushed him away. He fell to the ground.
“I am your only hope, Marik,” he said, coughing as he lay in the dust. “How else will you survive if it comes to an attack? Remember, Merchant, only I can provide a shield against dragonfire.”
The worst of it was that he was right. I would have to suffer him a little longer, at least until tomorrow, the last night of the Harvest. Then I could—no.
Tonight.
It would be the last thing they’d expect, to do so bold a thing after so great a defeat. And who in his right mind would leave a Harvest early?
Only one who intended to be long gone by the time the Dragons noticed anything was amiss. I hauled Caderan to his feet and drew him swiftly after me. We slowed when we drew near the smoking remains of the guards’ cabin, but as the beast was nowhere in evidence, we slipped into my own cabin unobserved.
I closed tight the door and threw wood on the fire. “Now, demon caller, you will learn for me if this night is a good time to go into the dragonlands.”
He looked surprised, but only for a moment. “I have ascertained it already, my lord. You asked me to consult them when first you purposed to go there. I learned at that time that tonight and tomorrow night are equally auspicious.”
“You never said anything about tonight before,” I growled at him.
“It did not seem important. I knew you planned to wait until the last night.” He must have seen my displeasure and doubt, for he went on, “My lord, the creatures hold some kind of assembly among themselves for these two nights. They are well distracted. There is still a Guardian, but its thoughts will be far from you.”
It was then that my vague thoughts became a plan of action. I mastered my anger and spoke softly. “Very well. Good master Caderan, I pray you send for my guards. Let word be spread that the Harvest is over, for fear the Dragons will attack again. Send out to the farthest reaches where the Harvesters have gone and tell them they must return, for we leave at dawn. Let the Master of the ship be notified that as soon as may be, we shall decamp and take all on board.” I turned to him, my anger now become determination. “I shall keep to the timing we arranged, that I may come straight from that place and onto the ship by morning. Go now. I would be alone.”
He left, and I heard him shouting for my guards. Good.
A vision of the gems rose before my eyes, bright and enticing. By night’s end the creatures would pay for robbing me of my only hope of pain’s ending. I shuddered again as the vision of that silver beast pulling down the wall rose in my memory. By the powers, I would have mastery over it yet.
I ran my fingers over the ring on my hand, its circles warm now with my heat, and I felt a slow smile spread over my face.
Let it come.
Lanen
As I sat recovering in Akor’s chambers I heard a curious voice. “May I bespeak you, Lady Lanen? Kédra speaks.”
“Of course,” I replied, bemused. For an instant I feared for Mirazhe, but his mindvoice was calm, even pleased.
“I stand Guardian and so may not come to you, but I have not yet given you my own thanks for saving my dear one and our youngling.”
“Is Mirazhe well?” I asked.
I could hear the smile in his voice, even in truespeech. “She and the babe are wondrous well. They send you their greetings.”
I grinned. “Surely the little—uh, the littling is a bit young to speak yet!”
“I see now why Akor is so drawn to your people,” said Kédra in a curious tone. “There is great pleasure in teaching. When we are first born. Lady, we have little control over our bodies, but our minds are well awake. My littling cannot send thoughts, not in words, but his mother can see the pictures he makes and get a sense of his feelings. She sent him a picture of you this morning, and he remembered with pleasure.”
He remembered.
Newborn, and he remembered me.
I would never have forgotten that face, those eyes gazing into mine, but I never dreamed that he would remember.
“Oh, Kédra, what a gift you have given me,” I whispered. “I had no idea. We don’t start remembering until we’re three or four years old, and then only in patches.” I hugged the thought to me. It was a kind of immortality, to be remembered by a creature who would live so far into the future I could not imagine it. “Has he a name yet?”
“His use name is Hjerrók,” said Kédra proudly.
I almost laughed aloud. Why couldn’t they come up with something a human could actually pronounce for a change? I tried it a few times out loud and replied in truespeech, “Well, the best I can do with that is Sherók. Bless Sherók and his mother, and you Kédra, for all you have given me. Y
our friendship and your kind regard are gifts beyond measure.”
“They are yours and your family’s for all time, Lanen Maran’s daughter. You have saved the two lives I value most in the world, and though I can never repay such a gift I will do what I may.”
“Akor has told me that Rella is with you. Your greatest gift to me now is to guard her well,” I replied. “Akor has been speaking with your father, and he comes now to tell me how the Council is drifting. I must go.”
“Then fare you well, Lady Lanen. I am at your service as long as I live.”
“Farewell, Kédra. The blessing of the Lady on you and your family.”
Akor entered his chambers slowly, his soulgem dull even in the bright firelight. I wished yet again that he had an expression I could read—but no, he had told me, with them it was the stance and the way they held their wings, what had Akor called it—oh, yes. Try to read his Attitude. “What news then, dear heart? Has the Council come to a decision?”
“Not yet, but they approach it.” I heard the weary note in his voice, like a sigh. “It does not bode well for us, dear one. That was the last word Shikrar gave me. He has been most eloquent in our defence, but the tide of the debate goes badly against him.”
I was almost afraid to ask, but my choices were rapidly disappearing. “And what exactly can the Council do to us?”
His voice was right at the edge, I could hear his control slipping. The glorious rescuer, the tender beloved who had left not an hour since was gone, and in his place stood a defeated soul. That frightened me as much as his words. “They might find against us both, or against either one of us. They might demand that we part, that we be exiled, that I give up the kingship, that you be kept here forever apart from your own Kindred, or—”
He did not finish, but I did not need to hear him speak the words. If the Council was against us, I must of necessity ask Akor to decide between me and his people, the one thing I had sworn to myself not to do. I felt my heart plummet into my boots. This last defeat, from so unexpected a quarter, was the one too many. My legs gave way and I fell to my knees. “Are we lost, then, after all we have done?” I asked, my voice deep with despair and barely above a whisper. “Will they call for our deaths, Akor?”