The Lesser Kindred (ttolk-2)

by Elizabeth Kerner

  "I can do no more, young woman," she said. "You should get yourself to a Mage as soon as possible. You need to rid your body of that child before it kills you."

  That did it. Despite her pain, Lanen was on her feet in the instant and had struck the woman across the face, hard. "How dare you!" she cried, in a towering rage. "Touch me again and I swear, my soul to the Lady, I will knock you senseless. Get out!"

  The woman was as sensitive as a stone but she did have at least some sense of self-preservation. She left, but she managed to say as she went, "You may not like me but I am not wrong. That child is feeding off of you, it can only be got rid of by a Mage. If you do not rid yourself of it you will surely die."

  Lanen aimed a kick at her backside but the woman had scurried off.

  "My girl, she's not worth kicking downstairs, just think of trying to get the bloodstains out of the wood," I said, desperately trying to defuse Lanen's fury.

  "Bloodstains on wood! On my knife, more like. Rella, she was horrible—Goddess, what a hideous, unfeeling cow! How could such as she ever—I mean—oh Hells," and Lanen deflated all at once. "Oh, Goddess help me," she said weakly. "Hells, Rella, she's a bitch but do you think she could be right?"

  I sat Lanen down and held her by the shoulders. "My girl, I think she's right that you're pregnant, don't you?"

  She just looked at me, desolate, then she burst into a strange mixture of laughter and tears. "Yes, now you mention it, I think I am. But I feel so ill with it."

  "Well, I think she may be right about that too. Remember two things, though—first, she was not able to rid you of the pregnancy, which tends to mean that there is good healthy life in the child." Lanen nodded and looked a little brighter at that. "And second—well, I'd wager there is a qualified Mage somewhere in this town who will be able to do rather more than that idiot could." I snorted. "I've seen them before, barely qualified and they think they know everything. I wouldn't trust that—that unspeakable, inhuman piece of refuse to cure a wart!"

  "You don't think she was right about me dying, though, do you?" asked Lanen solemnly. I knew I could not lie to her, she'd know it in a moment. Thankfully I didn't have to.

  I gazed into her eyes. "We all die, my girl, but I would wager my next seven years' pay that you are not destined to die in childbirth. If nothing else, there are plenty of Mages in Ver-faren and that's where we're headed. We'll get you there in one piece, never fear." I leaned over and kissed her cheek. Sweet Shia, that girl could touch my heart. "Now get yourself dressed and come down to dinner—I expect you're starving."

  "I'll be down in a moment," said Lanen quietly.

  I nodded and left her to her thoughts.

  Shikrar

  I flew over the firefields one last time, only seven days before the Council was to take place, and I waited until dark that I might see the true extent of the unrest.

  I was still far too many leagues away when I saw the glow. It lit the low cloud from beneath, turning it bright red and giving the whole north end of the island a hellish look, as though legions of demons were breaking through a hole in the world. I had seen the effect before but never from so far away. My heart turned to stone in my breast as I flew, for as I drew nearer the light grew brighter, filling my eyes with fire. I had never in all my life seen anything like it. Surely those three active mountains could not throw so much light abroad, unless.,.

  I topped the high crest of the Grandfather, which had hid some of the worst from my sight, and the full horror lay before me. I nearly fell from the sky as the heat tossed me back like a feather on the breeze. I barely recovered my balance in time. Taking heed, I turned away from the cliffs and spiralled much higher, having to work hard in the cold air. I kept away from the worst of the turbulence, though the air was still choppy, and the steam through which I flew was full of the stink of the yellow earth that appeared sometimes when stone melted.

  Once I was over the firefields, much higher than I would normally fly at night, I used the strong thermal updrafts to soar higher still and to behold the full extent of the fire.

  Every mountain for miles ahead of me, and to left and right, had its own part in the inferno. Nearly every peak in that great range of mountains was throwing rock and flames into the air or, worse yet, sitting brooding in a series of lakes of molten stone.

  Worst of all, most frightening, was the way the land had changed near the Grandfather and the other heights of the southern cliffs. I was used to the great round pit on top of the high mountain that stood sentinel above the Grandfather, extending north from the harder rock of the southern cliffs. At some time, long before the Kantri had arrived, that mountain had run with fire, and when it cooled the deep round pit had formed.

  When I looked for it now, it was gone, the pit was filled; and the black and fire-yellow and red surface boiled like water, throwing flame aloft here and there, almost like a living tiling. From time to time a gout of flowing red stone would escape away towards the north and run swiftly down the mountain, but on the southern edge—I gasped—the Winds preserve us, there was very little darkness now between the fire and the Grandfather mountain. I could not believe that the slender barrier of stone would hold much longer against that great weight of fire and molten rock.

  The peaks on the far northern edge of the firefield held their own silent menace in the great bulges that distorted them, and everywhere I flew that high scream, of rock or fire or the very earth itself, assaulted my ears and rattled my thoughts.

  It is difficult to surprise one as old as I, for the years building each upon each tend to even out all things—but the devastation before me shocked me to the bone, and I saw no slightest sign that there was an end in sight. On the contrary, it was vastly, hideously worse than it had been mere days ago. The heat was immense, and the smell of burning rock was acrid in my nostrils and grew only stronger as I fought to hold a steady way through the violent updrafts. At least they helped me put more air between myself and the raging earth. There was also a great deal of steam, which made it harder to see, and the red light was sometimes more hindrance than help.

  From what I could make out through the smoke and the stink and trying to see through that dreadful light, Terash Vor, at the centre of the widening ring of fire, was now much larger than it had been, and there was a darkness around and about it. No fire sprang from its top or its sides, but it showed an ominous bulge on its southern flank.

  I realised that the terrible high screech was combining now with a rumble deep in the earth, and I banked in panic when I realised that the rumble was directly below me. Even as I flew off, fire spewed beneath me where moments ago there had been only a dark bulge on a mountainside, and I had to swerve again violently to avoid the fire-rock, spurting from the mountainside like blood from a death wound. Despite the height at which I flew I had been singed, tail-tip and wing-tip, albeit not badly. It must have been a quarter as high again as the mountain that had birthed it.

  I gave up then, scorched, exhausted, my wings grown as weary as my heart. I turned away south towards the chambers of my people. I had still over an hour to fly, and my new-healed shoulder was aching.

  I must tell my people what I had seen. I could not wait an other sevenday.,

  This was the death of our home.

  Wearily, wearily, sorrow bowing down my heart, I bespoke the Kantrishakrim.

  "My people, my Kindred, hear me. It is Hadreshikrar who calls. We have no more time. Come to me at the Summer Plain at dawn."

  A confusing babble greeted me, including many voices protesting that I had arranged the Council for half a fortnight hence. I heard their protests for only a moment. "There can be no argument," I said coldly. "Behold what I have seen."

  I concentrated on the manifestation of the hells that I had just flown through, on sending the image of that devastation to all of my people.

  It was met with absolute silence. I was not surprised. We are not a stupid race and we all knew death when it threatened. "My people, we mu
st leave. I hope that we will have this night to prepare ourselves, but we must all be ready to take off instantly if need be. If there is aught of value you cannot bear to leave behind, bring it, remembering that the journey will take some days and there will be little chance to rest save on the Winds. If you know of any who keep the Weh, call to them and pray the Winds they hear you. If there are any who are not wing-light, tell me that we may find a way to bear them with us.

  "If we are to survive, we must leave this place in a very few hours. Kedra?"

  "I am here, Father," came his voice. Strong and sure, my anchor.

  "Come to me at the Chamber of Souls, my son, once you and Mirazhe have Sherok safe. I will need your assistance to prepare the Ancestors and the soulgems of the Lost for the journey."

  I would not listen to any who tried to bespeak me. I was weary beyond belief.

  The Place of Exile had been our home for more than five thousand years—it was the only home, the only world, any of us had ever known.

  And as I flew, I seemed to hear my own voice chanting to a succession of younglings over the long, long years.

  First is the Wind of Change, Second is Shaping, Third is the Unknown, and Last is the Word.

  It is the first of the teaching verses, the basis of our understanding of the way the world works, the four Winds that blow through our lives. But she who taught me that verse when I was no more than a killing never told me that the wind of change, on wings of flame, could blow so very, very cold.

  Berys

  The problem of Vilkas has come to a head at last. I have alerted the other Magistri. Finally, the chance to get him and that wretched girl out of my way! Now it has come to the point, it has been so very, very easy. And Erthik and Caillin at a stroke—ah, life is sweet.

  Vilkas has been a student here at the College for two years. He tested nearly as high on his entrance as I did all those years ago, a once-in-a-generation power—but I would have wagered a day of my life that he was not working to his capacity for the test. I suspected at the time that he was a powerful wastrel who could not be bothered to exert himself and would come to nothing, for I have seen others of that kind, if never any so strong. Still, his capacity was high enough for me to keep a watch on him. I made certain mat my occasional observations of him were well hidden from the other Magistri, and went out of my way to befriend him. He was not interested in my friendship. Given the power available to him, that made him my enemy.

  Not long after he arrived, the girl Aral appeared. She also tested very high, not in the same class as Vilkas but with more real ability than even her test results would indicate. She is not a threat, however, and may even be an asset, for she is his weakness. They are both far too powerful for their good or mine, but they are young and ignorant enough to be outmatched without overmuch effort.

  I timed it well. When Magister Rikard unlocked the door this morning and swiftly threw it open we caught them in the very act. Vilkas was surrounded by a brilliant corona, the Healers' Power without a doubt, and he was using it to hold an unconcerned Aral some three feet off the floor.

  "Vilkas!" cried Rikard, appalled.

  Every member of the Council, assembled for this very purpose, saw the tall young man turn his head, acknowledge us with a nod, and gently lower the girl to the ground. The moment her feet touched the floor she would have started forward, but Vilkas raised a hand and she stopped where she was, bristling with righteous indignation. I suppressed my laughter with difficulty.

  Vilkas bowed to the Council, calm and faintly amused. Aral stood unmoving, with a defiant flush on her cheeks. "Very well, gentlemen, you have found us out," said Vilkas with a smile. "I hope you will allow us to explain our actions."

  "Vilkas, how could you!" cried Rikard. "When Magister Berys told me I would not believe it. How can you act against all we have tried to teach you?"

  Vilkas only lifted an eyebrow. "I have acted against nothing you have taught me, Magister Rikard. We have invoked the Lady with every breath. All is well. And Aral is unhurt, as you see."

  "We've done nothing wrong," said Aral. She was bristling now, all five feet of her, in defence of her friend. So, he was her weakness too. I had not known that for certain. "What is it that you object to?"

  I turned to Magistra Erthik. "Do I understand that you have not warned these two against using the Power for purposes other than healing?"

  Erthik was the least concerned among us, with the possible exception of Vilkas, and spoke lightly. "Berys, really! You know perfectly well that if you desperately want an entire class of students to do a thing, all you need do is say, just once, 'Don't even think about doing this, it's dangerous and unpredictable.' We don't even mention such possibilities one way or the other until the third year, and it never occurs to one in a hundred that our power might have other applications before then. Only one in ten of those ever try it." She looked at the pair before us and smiled crookedly. "Well— two in ten. Though I must say that's the most impressive result I've ever seen." She had the insolence to sound impressed.

  "Then there is a prohibition against the use of the Power for anything other than healing?" said Vilkas, unperturbed.

  "Of course there is," said Rikard sternly. "And despite Magistra Erthik's indulgence you should know it is a most serious offence."

  "So I gather. However, given that we were both ignorant of such a prohibition, you can hardly condemn us for attempting to discover the limits of our gifts."

  "On the contrary, Master Vilkas," I said, "condemnation is precisely the word. There is a harsh penalty for what you have done."

  "A penalty for ignorance? Then the whole world owes a debt," said Aral sharply. "We have acted in the name of the Lady at every turn."

  "Why?" I asked her, and when Vilkas attempted to speak I silenced him. "No, I would hear Mistress Aral." I turned to her. "Why did you feel it necessary to be so assiduous in your devotions, Mistress? Surely a simple prayer of invocation to begin would be enough."

  She spoke her defiance without hesitation. "It might have been, indeed, but I am a servant of the Lady. We were making sure there was no room for the Rakshasa, Magister."

  "What made you think there might be?"

  Vilkas laughed. "Magister, I know you have chosen to keep all of your students in the dark, but after a year and a half of working together we have learned that any extended use of the Power draws those of the Demon-kind like cats to a fishmonger. I do not know, but I would guess that Power is like food and drink to them, or like sunlight, and the more you use it the nigher they come unless you do something about it."

  His gaze lingered on me just that fraction too long.

  "Magistri, you may leave us," I said. "I will deal with this."

  Erthik was loath to go and began to grow angry. "This is not a matter for you alone, Berys," she said. "This must be dealt with by all of us. You do not know these two, but I do. Let them be disciplined, certainly, but you cannot think either of them Raksha-touched."

  I let slip some of my anger and directed it at her. "Erthik, you do not know what can happen to even the stoutest soul when it perverts the Power. I do. That is all my study, night and morning. You treat this far too lightly! I will bring them before the Assembly this afternoon, but I have a few words to say to them first."

  For a moment I feared she would not go—she is stubborn—but after a last long look at the two of them she nodded and left. Fool. Rikard seemed more hurt than angry, for these two had been in some sense his apprentices. He left with the others, muttering sad phrases. I closed the door swiftly behind them.

  "Magister Rikard informs me that you have been experimenting with the Power," I said coldly. "That you have attempted Farspeech, and moving objects with the Power, and that you have tried to read the future. Do you deny these charges?"

  "No." Vilkas, straightforward as a knife and every bit as malleable.

  "For Shia's sake, we've never tried to hide it." Aral, armoured in justice. Fool.

  "K
now you the penalty for such a misuse of power?"

  "It was not misused. We simply applied it in a different way," said Vilkas. He was controlled as always: unconcerned, his eyes half-lidded, his voice steady and calm. "We have done all in the name of the Lady, invoked her with every breath. There is no Raksha-trace on either of us."

  "Indeed," I said sternly. I assumed he had noticed. "Unfortunately I have been doing research on certain of the Demon-kind and am tainted myself at the moment, else I would investigate your claim. However, that is not the issue."

  "Then what is?" demanded Aral. "We've done nothing wrong, Magister."

  Vilkas simply stared at me, a challenge which I ignored. Instead I let my voice rise in anger. "On the contrary. By the laws of Verfaren, young woman, you have incurred the harshest possible penalty."

  "Our work has been harmless. How could it possibly be a threat to the Magistri?" asked Vilkas. His stance and his gaze annoyed me, his lazy voice grated, and of a sudden I tired of the game.

  "The threat is this," I replied. I called up my power and sent a bolt of pure force against Aral's midsection. She reacted swiftly enough to deflect the blow in part—I must admit, that surprised me—but the point was made. She fell to the floor.

  I turned again to Vilkas, who without an obviously hasty movement stood now between me and his companion, incandescent with Healer blue. "You may dismiss your nimbus, young Vilkas. I have done with my demonstration," I said, letting contempt show in my voice. "That was but a gesture, a tiny fraction of my power. If I were to focus it at either of you in earnest you would die on the instant. That is what happens when the Lady's gift is perverted—inflicting pain and death rather than healing, rejoicing in our power fok its own sake rather than for the good it can do others. If this were a mere hundred years ago, you would both be tried and executed for your crimes. Deviating from the Healing way leads inexorably to the misuse of Power, and almost always to the summoning of demons."