Redeeming the Lost

by Elizabeth Kerner

  “You’re humouring me. Stop it,” I said, pleased at the banter.

  “As you will,” he said, bowing while seated, which is quite a trick. I batted at him, but he caught my hand and kissed it, and was suddenly more serious. “Lanen, I do most deeply apologise that I could not—humour you this morning.” He sighed. “We are creatures of habit, we of the Kantri. I have reacted in a certain way for a very long time, and I can forget that old responses are not of necessity the correct ones.” He sighed. “I heard your fears, my dear one, but I reacted as though I had never changed, as though I were yet Akor, and Akor alone.” He forced himself to look into my eyes. “I very much fear that you were right—are right—and that by taking you within a thousand leagues of Berys I am putting at risk not only your life but the lives of our childer.”

  Ah, damn it. In my weary heart I had been hoping that we could just let this one go, but no. We had already sworn to speak only truth to each other, however spiky and unwelcome it might be.

  “Yes, you are putting us all at risk. I told you that in Verfaren, and I wish to goodness we’d had more time to think about it. But Varien—I don’t seem to recall you having to drag me kicking and howling away from Verfaren, or forcing me at knife point to go with Shikrar.”

  He looked confused. Poor dear. He was still a bit slow when it came to understanding heavy sarcasm.

  “Love, it’s true, you gave me very little choice,” I said. “But that is not the same as ‘no choice.’ I could have decided to let you chase this damned Black Dragon with the rest of the Kantri and stayed safe and warm in a real bed in Verfaren. I didn’t. I, of my own free will, chose to come with you. So both of us must bear the consequences.”

  He relaxed a bit at that.

  “That doesn’t mean that I’m not annoyed at you for putting your people before your family, by the way,” I added, turning onto my side with my face to the fire and wrapping myself in my blanket. “I can understand it, and I’m here because in this one particular instance I agree with you, but it’s not a habit of mine I’d care to encourage.”

  “As you say, kadreshi,” he replied. He lay down alongside me and put his arm around me. Even on the cold hard ground, even in that lonely place, his presence was comfort and safety to me. I lay wakeful only a little time, until the weight of Varien’s arm assured me he slept, and I matched the rhythm of his even breathing until I too fell into sleep’s kind embrace.

  Salera

  I heard my elder brother sing up the moon. I lay, as he, beside a fire, watching over a child of the Gedri, and I joined my heart’s voice to his. I would have sung aloud, but I had already learned that the Gedri require far more sleep than do we of the Aiala. There was a little breeze, a light spring wind, with the promise of warmth even in the night. The sap was rising all about us, pounding up the trunks of trees, whispering in the growing grass. Great changes coming, great changes all around us with every spring, but surely never before so many as in this spring that was changing the world.

  There was much to ponder in the quiet of the night, beneath the shelter of a few trees. I still was teaching my heart that no others among the Kantri or the Gedri could sense the future rising before them. That Lord Shikrar had been so astounded at so simple a vision. That he could be facing that future and not have at least the shape of it to guide him surprised me.

  Clearsight is not a gift of our Awakening. Even while we yet lived our half-lives before, I and others knew of this ability. We do not all have it—or perhaps it is more true to say that we have it to greater and lesser extents. I am not among the most gifted of us; Erliandr sees furthest and deepest, and there are many others whose Sight is clearer than mine. Still, like most I can see best when my own future forms a part of the vision. I knew I would not remain here in the west much longer, but I had yet one task to accomplish ere I might leave with the rest of my Kindred who were not partnered to Healers.

  I would miss Mik. He and I had spoken long with Magister Rikard, and by sunset there were three hands—no, what were the words Mik taught me—five and ten—yes, fifteen pairs of Aiala and Gedri gone out to challenge the corrupted Healers. He had not objected when I asked him to accompany me, but he did seem confused when I asked that we leave immediately, ere the sun should set, and that we should go north as several others were planning to do. I had been forced to ask him to trust me.

  That was when I realised that there was one aspect of clearsight that I had brought forward with me, through my Awakening, and that it was right. I knew, deep down, that I must not speak of particulars to the individual soul. I had not told Lord Shikrar the full truth of what I had seen of his future, and I had not told Mik either. True, I was with him, and that might change things—I trusted that it would—but I must not speak of what I had seen.

  The future is always in motion, like a flowing river or a branching path. The slightest thing can direct the flow or choose the branch a person takes. Speaking of specific events can—it is difficult to express this—can stop the river, freeze it like ice, into the one particular version that has been spoken of. Speaking the future can lead a soul down a particular path, even if that is not the best one for them to take, or the one they would have taken if nothing had been said.

  The night was moving towards dawn before it came. I was lost in contemplation when I heard an incautious footstep, far too near.

  Finally.

  “Mik, you must waken,” I said quietly. He did not stir. Too quiet, perhaps.

  “Mik!” I shouted.

  He was on his feet in a single movement, crying out, “What, what is it?” He looked around. There was nothing to see apart from me.

  “What is it?” he asked. “What happened? Did you see something? Hear something?”

  “Both,” I said. “’are, Mik. Something comes.”

  And so it did. An arrow flying towards Mik through the darkness, as I had seen in my vision. I batted it out of the air with my faceplate.

  “Come,” I hissed, and sped towards the source. It cursed when it saw me coming, which helped me find it. The creature tried to fire another arrow, but I moved quickly to the left, out of its path, and pulled my right wing close in. Then I was upon it.

  My instincts told me to kill it, but that was not so easy as it once was. Instead I wrapped myself about it, holding it unmoving until Mik ran up, panting.

  “What in all the Hells are you playing at, you idiot? Who the Hells are you, anyway, and why are you shooting arrows at—damn it! Gerthayn!” he cried.

  “You know this man?” I asked.

  “Of course I know him. He was in the year above me,” said Mik, clearly confused. “He left at Midwinter Fest last year,” he said, slowly. “Said he’d got himself a fine post.” Suddenly Mik cursed. “Gerth, tell me you didn’t take on with the House of Gundar.”

  “Gerth issn’t here,” hissed the creature.

  “Damn it!” shouted Mik. He summoned his power to him, a clear blue glow, and sent it to cover his erstwhile friend. The creature writhed in my grip. Mik called his true name thrice, as Rikard had done, but the creature only laughed.

  “I told you, he isn’t here,” the thing said. “His spirit ran away when I came to live here. I’m just as pleased.”

  Mik looked to me, pleading. “Salera, what can I do?” he asked softly.

  “Call your friend once more,” I suggested, but I held out little hope. The creature in my coils smelt purely of the Rakshasa, barely human at all, save for the shell it wore. Mik’s summons was answered by a more determined writhing, but it changed not at all.

  “I fear me your friend is truly fled,” I said, as gently as I could. “He will not return.”

  Mik couldn’t help his instincts. He sent his power to cover the Raksha, trying to let the Lady’s healing drive the thing out. Certainly he made its life hard for the Raksha, but Mik swiftly began to fail. He had not the vast resources that Vilkas possessed.

  I sighed. “Forgive me, Mik,” I said, “but I cannot
allow you to throw yourself into death for one who has already departed.”

  And with that, I broke the Raksha’s neck. It cried out and disappeared, leaving only the two of us in the company of the body of one who had been a friend to my companion.

  Mik raged. He struck at me with his fists, he kicked me and shouted at me and cursed me. I let him do so. Had I been in his position, I would have been as hurt and angry at knowing that nothing else could be done for one I had cared for. When he finally stopped from sheer weariness, the sky was lighter than it had been.

  “Forgive me, Mik,” I said. “I share your sorrow that the Raksha have claimed your friend, but I could not allow you to destroy yourself to no purpose. Your friend died when the Raksha took over his body—I would guess that he fought it and perished in the attempt.”

  “Knowing Gerthayn, that’s very likely,” croaked Mik, his voice hoarse from yelling at me.

  “Then honour his deed, and mourn him. And,” I added dryly, “give thanks that you do not follow him.”

  He looked up at me, and in the growing light I could see clearly the deep pain that he bore. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad,” he replied. “Damnation! It’s all gone so wrong. So many dead, so many poor souls corrupted, just for being weak. Damn it. It’s not fair. It’s not fair!”

  I could not help but hiss my sympathy. “Truly, we are not so different, your people and mine. I agree, it is not fair, but it is the truth.” I reached out carefully and touched his jaw, making him look at me. “All that is left to us, Mik, is the way in which we decide to react to that truth.”

  He stared at me, pain and anger still raging.

  “Throwing a life after a life is not the path of reason,” I said gently. “Rejoice in the life that was, mourn its passing, honour the memory and live. Life is the greatest gift of the Winds, Mik. Do not dare to cast it away for no better reason than an excess of sorrow.”

  He swore again. “Damn it, Salera,” he said, his voice unsteady now. “Gerth was a good man. He didn’t deserve this.”

  “Berys has much to answer for,” I agreed. “But I would have you take note: you did not summon your power instantly when you woke. If you had, you could have shielded yourself, and I would not have had to deflect the arrow. Next time such a thing threatens, do not hesitate to call upon your power. It will save your life.”

  “I’ll remember,” he said groggily.

  “Do so, for I will not be here to remind you,” I said. False dawn was swiftly giving way to true sunrise, and I heard the wings of the Aiala as they gathered upon the Winds. My own wings fluttered in sympathy, almost against my will. “I am called away east, Mik. I did not know it before, but I must go. The others who partner the Gedri will remain with them, but the rest of us must join the great battle. Not a mile away west of here you will find Erliandr of the Aiala and Ferdik of the College of Mages. Go you safe and keep you safe,” I said.

  “Damn. I was looking forward to talking with you some more,” said Mik, half a smile on his face.

  “There will be long and long to talk, after all is done,” I replied.

  “Go well!” he shouted as I took to the air. “And kick the bastards twice for me!”

  It was as good a benison as any. I met the rest of my Kindred, spiralling up on the Winds, and we struck out away west. We could not fly nearly as swiftly as the Kantri, but we would arrive when we were needed.

  Of that I was certain.

  xi

  The Eve of Battle

  Berys

  I am still exhausted. The Black Dragon seems to need more sheer strength over land than it did to fly across the ocean, even more than I had planned for. I was summoned by a minor demon soon after I woke. It seems the Demonlord was angry that its body was going stiff and would need much more power lest it fall from the sky. “Not that those mouldy dragons can hurt me, but I thought you wanted me there swiftly, little demon-spit.”

  “I do. You have fought them, haven’t you?” I asked. I meant only to buy time, and was a little surprised by the answer.

  “It was good practice,” it replied smugly “One of them attacked me. I had to do a little more than fly in a straight line. It’s not so easy as you might think.”

  “Fool!” I snarled. “Every beat of your wings is held up by my hand. Do not waste your strength.”

  “Why little demon-spit, do you grow weary?” it purred. “If you are so weak, why do you waste your time with me? Release me from the bond, I will find strength enough on my own to fly as I like.”

  The threat was always there with demons. One moment’s weakness, true or perceived, and they pounced on it. I laughed.

  “Weak? I have defeated nearly every Mage alive, I have brought a golem of stone and fire across the Great Sea to do my bidding, and I have you bound to me as my slave. I have strength in me yet to conquer worlds, witless creature. Here, be filled.” So saying, I lifted my arms and sent of my own native power to the thing. It absorbed all I sent and sucked at me, demanding more. I closed the stream and denied it. “You must make do with that, for now,” I said. “When you get here, I shall provide you with all you will ever need. In the meantime, fly straight, don’t go too high, don’t damn well fight the Kantri, and hurry.”

  “Yes, O great one,” the Demonlord sneered. “I come.” It cut the connection.

  Once I was certain it was gone I collapsed. It had absorbed every drop of my strength. I had not counted on that. I managed to summon a servant to bring me food and wine, and told them that I was not well and to let me sleep. One of them asked me a moment ago where Master Marik was, and I quite truthfully responded that he was resting and was not to be disturbed. No need for him to be put into a cell and arouse the locals, after all. I have arranged for the guards who came with us to look after him and to report to me what he says and does, until I require more of him.

  It is annoying that the book of Marik’s thoughts lies buried in the rubble of the College of Mages. I will have to get him to tell me what he knows before the Demonlord arrives and I give it his soul.

  I really must rest and make my preparations.

  Tomorrow is the turning point.

  Lanen

  I woke in panic from a dream of war to find myself alone, though I didn’t have far to look. Most of them were gathered around the fire having a hurried breakfast. I packed my bedding and went to join them. Travel rations again, I thought, sighing just a little. Never mind, at least the water was fresh.

  Vilkas and Aral still slept. The sun was not long risen, and the tail end of the dawn chorus of noisy little birds fell like sweet refreshing rain from the eaves of the wood as I hurried to join the others.

  “Varien, Shikrar, I’m a fool,” I began. Everyone laughed at this announcement and I had to raise my voice. “There is much I should have told you yesterday, it’s important, especially for you two.”

  “Yes, love?” asked Varien gently in truespeech.

  “Don’t!” I cried. He looked startled. “That’s the problem. You and Shikrar must not use truespeech if you can possibly avoid it.”

  “Why, Lady?” rumbled Shikrar. Damn, he looked huge in the morning light. “What do you know?”

  “Marik can hear you. Anything you say, either of you, he’s been listening for months now.” I explained swiftly how Marik had come to have truespeech.

  Jamie cursed. “That’s one of our greatest advantages gone,” he said bitterly. ,

  “Not entirely,” replied Shikrar, sounding thoughtful. “Akor and I may not use it, but there is nothing to stop the rest of us, or Lanen, from bespeaking one another.”

  “I may not be safe either,” I responded miserably. “He heard me too, when I was in that prison. He said he hadn’t before. I don’t know if it was because I was shouting or because I was barely ten feet from him, or if he’s getting better.” I turned to Varien and clasped his forearms in mine, wanting an anchor, wanting him to have one. I felt distinctly light-headed. “Varien, love, he also learned that I
’m pregnant. Berys didn’t know before, but I’d wager anything he does now,” I said grimly. “I’m so sorry, love. I cried out to you in truespeech and he heard.” I looked up to Shikrar. “But as far as I know, that’s all. You, me, Varien. Everyone else is safe.”

  “We cannot so assume,” said Varien.

  “I was hoping to plan our strategy against the Black Dragon as we flew this day,” said Shikrar.

  “And so we shall, Teacher Shikrar,” said Idai. She turned to me. “Know you if Marik can hear what we tell Shikrar?”

  I thought about it. “He said he could hear you two, he reported what you said,” I answered. “He didn’t mention anything about hearing what you heard. Although,” I admitted glumly, “that doesn’t mean much. Marik lies as easily as he breathes.”

  Varien

  “Indeed.” Idai hissed her amusement. “Perhaps it would be best if we assumed that he can hear, and will report, anything that you hear or say, Shikrar. Very well—then let you consider the most tedious subject you can think of, in great detail and at length, and speak to Marik of it all the day long.”

  “Lady Idai, I like the way you think,” approved Rella.

  Idai continued. “The rest of us will consider how to defeat the Black Dragon.” She glanced at Lanen and winked. “I know that we have not your years, that we are the merest younglings, but we must needs struggle along this once on our own. No doubt we shall falter without your guidance, O Sage of the Kantri, but think of us in our hardship and have pity …”

  Shikrar laughed, a bright tongue of Fire in the broadening day. “Enough!” he cried. “It is all quite true, of course, and no doubt it will be a terrible struggle for you to manage so trivial a task without my assistance, but you must take courage and remain hopeful. If life and the Winds are merciful, you may one day attain to my years and my wisdom—though my natural modesty forbids my ever saying such a thing aloud.”