Redeeming the Lost

by Elizabeth Kerner

  “Your natural modesty would fit neatly in Lady Lanen’s palm with room to spare,” said Gyrentikh merrily.

  Shikrar snorted. “Very well. I abjure pride from this moment. You kitlings come up with a grand plan to defeat our Doom and I will obey blindly!”

  “Ha!” barked Rella, finishing her chélan, shaking the last drops from her cup onto the ground. “Even I know you better than that, Shikrar.”

  Varien laughed loudly. “Poor Shikrar! Even the Gedri tease you now!”

  Shikrar’s eyes gleamed in the morning light. “Alas, all my secrets are known, my character discovered, my faults made public, and I have not been here a fortnight! Where shall I hide from such infamy?”

  “Please, Lord Shikrar,” growled a deep voice, “have mercy. Waking to the hissing of laughing dragons is bad enough. I beg you, speak lower.” Vilkas, groggy and bleary-eyed, poured himself a cup of chélan and drained it at once. Aral, behind him, grinned and drank her chélan more slowly as he was inhaling his second.

  “In truth, Idai,” continued Shikrar, more quietly out of mercy for Vilkas, “if we look to be drawn into battle before day’s end, I think we must chance Marik overhearing what is said.”

  “Of course, Shikrar,” she replied. Looking to Rella and Jamie, she said, “Have either of you any idea of how much farther there is to go?”

  “Quite a long way,” Rella said, and Jamie nodded. “I think I have a rough idea of where we are. Castle Gundar is hundreds of leagues northeast of here, through Mara’s Pass—though if you are flying high enough, perhaps you won’t need to worry about the pass. But I shouldn’t think you could reach Castle Gundar before tomorrow in any case.”

  “Ah, but, Mistress Rella, you have not seen us at our best,” said Alikírikh unexpectedly. It did my heart good to see her taking part in this. “We are still weary, but a night’s rest will make a vast difference.”

  “Then let us be at it,” said Shikrar. “Idai, will you wait for these heroes to break their fast? You have the best chance of catching me up.”

  “I will,” she replied, “though I recommend they break it quickly.”

  Aral and Vilkas ate faster.

  “Then let us be gone,” he said to Lanen and me. Gyrentikh gathered up Jamie and Rella, Alikírikh took Will and Maran—and we were aloft.

  Will

  That day was years long. The morning was decent enough, clear weather and warmed by the sun, but clouds dark with rain rose before us ere noon. We stopped briefly just before the rain came on, to take some food and let the Lady Alikírikh catch her breath. I took the chance to take my blanket out of my pack and wrap it around me. For all that spring was now well along, it was bloody cold up there.

  After we went back up, it rained almost constantly. Of course, Alikírikh sheltered us from much of it, but there was no escaping it all. After an hour we were soaked. When she remembered, she held us near her, and we warmed up and dried off a little—but it seemed not to be a natural position for any of them, and she often forgot.

  Northeast, Rella had said. I didn’t know if it was chance, but we seemed to be following the river. It had to be the Kai. I stared, delighted. I had always wanted to see the Kai, though I had to smile. I’d planned to be rather closer to it.

  It would have cheered my heart to have passed the time with Maran, heard her story, maybe found out what she and Lanen had been yelling about, but the constant sound of the wind in our ears was all but deafening, and speech all but impossible.

  Northeast. How any creature could tell directions in that downpour I know not, though of course the river lay below. And eastwards it must surely have been, for the hills rose steadily higher before us.

  Shikrar

  I sought the Black Dragon from the moment I took to the Winds that morning. We soon, to my sorrow, came upon it and the Dhrenagan together. Even as I approached, two of the Dhrenagan broke off from the rest and flew straight towards the Black Dragon. I could see their comrades trying to dissuade them, but to no avail, and as I watched the Demonlord laughed and caught them, burned them until all they could do was to choose the Swift Death, cheating him of their souls but throwing their lives away to no purpose. I could not bear it. I did not care if Marik heard every word.

  “Naikenna, can you do nothing?”

  Her mindvoice was disconsolate. “And how would you stop one of your own who was determined on death, Shikrar?” she asked, soul-weary, heartsick. “They are the seventh and eighth of our people to choose their deaths in this fashion. Each is a soul I have known for many long winters, each was a link to a past that is else lost forever. By my soul, I assure you, I would stop them if I could.”

  “Can they not even await our Council this night?”

  “Most can,” she replied. “Those of us who slept can wait. Those of us who waked, even in part—ah, you cannot know. To taste blessed freedom at last, to breathe, to ride again on the Winds! Thus far we are in paradise, after long ages of torment undeserved. To see the founder of that torment so near, in a travesty of our own shape, and know that we cannot even now extract revenge—it is more than some can bear.”

  “I hear you, Lady,” I answered sadly. “Can you at least convince them to keep out of its sight? Let it not know where we are or what we do.”

  “I will try, Shikrar,” she replied. I thought she had closed her mind to me, but—well, perhaps she was not shielding as tightly as she might. “Alas for Hyrishli and Orgalen,” she mourned. “Hyrishli, soulfriend, heart’s-sister, what darkness so overshadowed your soul? We are alive again, we are free, released from our torment at last. Was life so frightening after all these years? O Hyrishdianareli, my sister, sleep on the Winds, sleep soft and gentle where you are gone.” Her mindvoice dropped to the merest whisper. “Hyrish, dear one, why could you not let me say farewell?”

  I could not keep silence. Quietly, I bespoke her with the only words I had.

  “May the Winds bear them up, where the sun is ever warm and bright.”

  We finished the Blessing for the Dead together. If Marik heard, much comfort may he take of it.

  May their souls find rest in the heart of light.

  I bespoke Kédra, for my heart ached for the sound of his voice. “Where are you, my son?”

  “Far ahead and higher up,” he replied shortly. “Fear not, my father.”

  It was enough.

  We flew on. I would fain have joined Kédra and the others, but we four had to stay low for the sake of those we carried. We swiftly passed both Black Dragon and Dhrenagan and settled into a steady rhythm, following the river far below.

  It came on to rain just after noon, and soon after we reached that place the Gedri call Mara’s Pass. It is an excellent landmark for flight. It is not truly a pass, for the hills to the north and south fall away to flat ground for some leagues, but it is the only sensible place to cross that range of mountains if you cannot fly above.

  I became more and more unsettled as we approached it. It looked—familiar. I could swear I knew the place, even to the extent of knowing that there were better updrafts on the northern side. I rose swiftly on the thermal, anticipating the jog to the left that I knew lay before me just past the highest point of the surrounding hills. I swooped away left, caught the rising air as though I had lived there all my life, and nearly dropped Lanen and Varien when I saw the vista before me. Their cries in my mind brought me back to myself, but all was changed.

  There in the distance were the true East Mountains, of which these hills were mere outliers. They stood, snow-topped and menacing under the dark sky, looming at the edge of sight like a threat, and I realised between one breath and the next how I knew this place.

  My Weh dreams.

  Dreams that occur in the healing Weh sleep are important. The Weh sleep is our time of regeneration: the longer we live, the larger we become, and it is impossible to grow surrounded by armour. Thus, about every fifty winters the Weh comes upon us, with little or no notice—perhaps a day, perhaps a f
ew hours—and we have no choice but to find a safe place and go to sleep. It is the only time that we are vulnerable to the Gedri, when our old armour becomes brittle and falls away and the new armour underneath has not yet had time to harden. It can take up to six moons for one my age to rouse from the Weh sleep. In most cases we do not dream, or do not remember it if we do, but sometimes a dream will come to haunt us. If it comes more than once, we consider it worth paying attention to.

  I had dreamed of this place four times, over the space of three hundred and fifty winters. I knew the way to Castle Gundar from here, I knew what it would look like and what surrounded it.

  And I knew now, to my sorrow, that my destiny awaited me there.

  Idai

  The rain lightened and gave way to clear skies just before the sun began to set. The high mountains before us began to glow in the golden light as we drew nearer, and the wind changed, blowing now from those distant heights. The air was cold and clear and bracing. I took a breath like a faceful of snow and was revived.

  “Kédra, how fare you?” I asked.

  “We are well, Idai, and we are here!” He sounded quite pleased. “The castle rises above a huge lake right at the edge of the mountains. If you veer north-by-west when the lake appears the size of a soulgem, fly a double hand of heartbeats then roll a quarter right, you will find yourself above a long curving valley between two ridges. At the end of the valley is a grassy field, almost like the Summer Plain. There is a waterfall to the south and a little stream running from it.”

  “Have you spied out the land around the castle?” I asked.

  “I considered it, Lady,” Kédra replied, “but it is still light. Surely it is best if we are not seen?”

  “True. Ah, well,” I sighed. “The moon is with us, at least, she nears the full. We must trust that it will be enough.”

  “Shall we light a fire to guide you, Lady?” he asked. “I would not hazard our discovery on such a thing, for all the comfort it would bring.”

  “If our enemy can see a fire through a mountain range, we surely are doomed in any case,” I replied dryly, and Kédra laughed.

  “Very well, then. Come to the fire, and bring my poor father as swiftly as you may. He will be suffering agonies at this enforced silence!”

  I sent a swift thought to Shikrar, no more than “all is well,” and shut my mind to him. Our plans, such as they were, would not take long to communicate to him once we came to land.

  It seemed likely that all would be over and done by the morrow’s sunset. I shuddered, making Aral and Vilkas cling more tightly to my foreclaws, the poor souls. I longed to turn from this path, fly on powerful wings in any direction that did not take us to our fate.

  I could no more turn away than fly on my back. Our path was determined when the first Kantri who ever breathed chose order over chaos: thus we balance the Rakshasa, our life-enemies, who chose the path of chaos. The poor doomed Trelli chose not to choose, and they have vanished from the world. The Gedri alone among the Four Peoples from the dawn of life had chosen choice itself—each individual soul was free to decide if it would follow order or chaos.

  The Kantri could no more abandon the Dhrenagan to their fate than walk on water. We are bound, by blood, by honour, by our very nature, to stand by them.

  I took some comfort in the knowledge that for all the suffering the Lost had endured, for all those endless years of captivity, the balance that is in all things decreed that there was a terrible price yet to be paid. I for one intended to make sure that the Demonlord and that Rakshadakh Berys paid it as painfully as possible.

  It did occur to me that the battle that loomed before us could be a blessing from the Winds, in a strange way. As if we were being given the chance to undo the great evil that had created the Lost all those.long ages ago.

  It eased my heart to think that, at least.

  Berys

  I have slept nearly a full day. The sun was setting when at last I opened my eyes, fully rested and ready to welcome the Demonlord. I sent a Rikti to find out when he would arrive. The useless creature said that he could see the East Mountains only as a mist in the distance, and that it was not possible that he should arrive before the morning.

  “What delays you?” I demanded sharply. “Are you lost? Have you fought the Kantri again though I forbade you?”

  “I haven’t fought them, but what should I do when the damn things throw themselves at me?” he complained. “There have been at least half a dozen of them that couldn’t resist the urge to kill themselves today.” I could hear the pleasure in his voice. “I have let this body do most of the work. They do burn nicely.”

  “Are all the Kantri close to you?” I asked. “Do they follow you or precede you or fly by your side?”

  “Damned if I know,” he said, snorting. “I’ve been flying through mist and rain and cloud most of the day. Until the last half hour I have only seen the ones who attack. The rest could be anywhere.”

  “The skies are clearer now?” I asked.

  “Yes, enough at least to know I can’t see a trace of a dragon, but clouds still obscure the moon. Even now I can barely see to fly.”

  “I care not for your excuses. Keep coming. On the whole, I would rather you got here before the Kantri.”

  “I don’t know why you are concerned about them,” he replied. “They are just as stupid now as they ever were. They are doing now exactly as they did then, throwing their little lives away in a temper.” He laughed briefly.

  “Are you entirely stupid, or have you forgotten how to count?” I snarled. “Only six of them! There are hundreds more left.”

  “There would not be if you would let me engage them.”

  “Patience, foolish one. You are not yet at half the strength I have prepared for you. Get you here as swiftly as you may. This castle is vulnerable without you to serve as my guard.”

  “Guard! Little demon-spit, you have much to learn,” he hissed. “I come because you promise me the Kantri, all together, all at my mercy.”

  “You bore me,” I said, yawning. “Boasting is so tedious. You come because you are bound to my service, whatever your pride might wish were the case. Come swiftly and be ready to destroy the Kantri. If they are not here before you, they will not be far behind.”

  “I have been ready to destroy the Kantri for thousands of years,” he snarled. “Let them come when they will. I will throw them from the sky, each and every, until they fall upon the earth like drops of rain. I will tear their souls from them and take them back with me to the deepest Hell, there to feast upon that rich harvest down the long ages.”

  I had never asked, and I was curious. “You were man, you are now demon for the most part—how long do you expect to live?”

  In a low, drawn-out voice, it replied, “Forever.”

  Lanen

  I have to say, it’s quite handy travelling with the Kantri. True, we were all still damp and cold from the morning’s rain, but if you ever want to get warm fast, talk to a dragon. Gyrentikh, who seemed to be enjoying the adventure, brought a young mast for firewood, broke it up, and lit it as well. Dragonfire bums hotter than normal fire, so the wood was consumed swiftly until it settled down to being normal flames, but that first blast of heat was more than welcome. Still, I’d have given a great deal for a hot bath.

  While the Kantri were making their preparations, we humans all sat around the fire and tried to come up with some way of taking Berys out of action. Maran used the Farseer to check on him, and the image was the last one any of us wanted to see. He stood before a makeshift altar, obviously preparing something important, and all around him fluttered a small army of Rikti and a few Rakshi fetching and carrying. Jamie cursed and Rella shook her head. “That’s work for the Kantri,” she said. “I’d happily carve Berys into steaks, but I couldn’t get anywhere near him like that.”

  We all looked to the Healers. Will and Aral looked to Vilkas, who sat very still indeed. It was left to Varien to ask, “What say you
to that, Mage Vilkas?” His voice he kept carefully neutral. “Can you do aught to dispel those creatures?”

  He took a long time to answer. “Yes, I can,” he said, “but whether I will be able to do so on demand tomorrow is another question.” He frowned. “I cannot in all conscience let you make any plans depending on my abilities,” he said calmly. “I cannot give you my assurance that I will be able to do anything at all about Berys’s demons.”

  Aral opened her mouth to protest, but Will put his hand on her arm and she held her peace.

  Varien nodded. “It is as well we know this now, Mage Vilkas. I appreciate your honesty.” He glanced around the circle. “The Kantri have said that they will bear us to a hill near the side of the lake tomorrow morning, that we may see with our own eyes everything that occurs. We should keep well away from the water’s edge.”

  “Damn it, man, do you mean that we are to do nothing tomorrow?” cried Jamie. “If Berys is left to work unchallenged we will all be the worse for it. Surely there is some way, between the eight of us, that we can defeat enough demons to at least distract Berys.”

  Aral began to protest, as did Rella. Vilkas scowled at everyone.

  The most peculiar idea occurred to me.

  “What if Berys were attacked by a demon?” I asked loudly.

  Well, it got their attention, but not a soul there looked pleased at the idea. Vilkas glared at me and said sternly, “Mistress Lanen, do you tell me that you are versed in the summoning of the creatures? I would be surprised to hear it.”

  “Of course not,” I snapped. “Only Healers can call the things, surely. I thought that perhaps you—I mean—uh—”