Redeeming the Lost

by Elizabeth Kerner

  I was not yet accustomed to my new strength and had some concerns about carrying Lanen, Maran, and Mage Vilkas all the way to Beskin, but I barely noticed them once I was airborne. I remember thinking that I had had no idea that Shikrar was so astoundingly powerful. I flew high, smiling as I heard his voice in my memory. High air is the best—least work, longest flight. His words were a part of me, they had been for many a hundred winter and would stay with me as long as I drew breath. The thought gave me comfort. Sleep easy on the Winds, my soulfriend Shikrar. Your words yet ring in my heart.

  I was not prepared, however, for the sheer joy of flight. I had flown a few times near Castle Gundar, mostly short hops, and the great Celebration of the Three Branches—but that was a dance, not flight for the sake of it. This—this was freedom, this was life and all, and it filled me with unalloyed delight. I did not dare to bespeak Lanen, lest she feel my joy and gain a terrible understanding of what I had missed.

  I felt she had enough terrible understanding to be getting on with.

  In the meanwhile, I took intense pleasure from the feel of the wind bearing me up, the strengthening sun of spring on my face, the sheer power of these immense wings, and a new land below me full of promise and the unknown. I sang my joy to the Winds, and heard Lanen’s mindvoice echoing the song.

  We had spoken together several times in the kindly darkness of evening, up on Shikrar’s Hill (it is called that to this day). There was a truce just then between my lady wife and me. We lived as we had said we would, one breath at a time, but so often still those breaths were bought with heart’s pain.

  It did not help matters that Lanen was even more passionate in her nature than usual. Vilkas had told me that this was normal for a woman carrying a child, but it widened the gap between us even more, for I found myself inclining in the other direction. The body shapes the mind in many ways. At rest, my heart now beat at a tenth the pace of Lanen’s, and I took far deeper and far fewer breaths. How could my mind not be affected by this incredible change?

  I do not say that my love was lessened, for it was not and never has been—but the expression of it was changed perforce, and that threatened to tear my heart in two. Lanen was the same, I know she was. I heard her thoughts while she slept, saw her dreams, knew her fears. From dreams of winged and clawed monsters she would wake with racing heart, calling out to me in fear, and the only answer I could make was to speak to her mind to mind, say her name gently, reassure her that all was well and that she had only been dreaming, bespeak her until her heartbeat slowed. She had had to wake the maidservants at Castle Gundar to bring her a warm cup of chélan. I knew not what we could do when we reached Beskin.

  Beskin should have been three days’ flight, but it took us full five days to find it. Maran, the only one of us who knew where it was, did the best she could, but as she reminded me, nothing looks the same from the air. She was quite right. Finally she laughed and said perhaps we should try walking for a few hours, in the hope of finding someone to ask our way from. After four days had passed, that is precisely what we did, though I decided to keep a little distance away lest I terrify any poor souls that should happen upon us. The great forest of the Trollingwood stretched trackless away to our left, but I needed more precise directions than “just keep going until you’re near the mountains, then turn back a little.”

  In the end, Maran wandered into a little town and came back shamefaced. We were much too far south and west, it seemed. I gathered up my charges and rose up aloft, bearing north and east. I took pleasure in the smell of the trees rising to meet me, in having so vast a land to fly over. Our old island took less than three hours’ flying, end to end. There was so much to see here!

  Lanen and I began to consider, simply as an exercise, the possibility of some kind of harness that I might wear, whereby she might in future accompany me in more comfort. We whiled away quite a few idle hours on possible designs.

  In the midafternoon of the fifth day, Lanen bespoke me to say that Maran had recognised a great stone house not far from Beskin. We came to land at the edge of a large field. The cattle galloped away, which suited me well. Maran led us—swiftly by her standards, at a snail’s pace by mine—along the road for a few miles, and up. Beskin lies in a cosy valley, protected by half a ring of hills at its back, looking out over rich farmland, and behind the bare hills around Beskin lies an arm of the Trollingwood, the vast northern forest that sprawls over most of the width of Kolmar. Maran assured the others that the Trollingwood was just far enough away for the villagers of Beskin to be safe from marauding wolves and bears. Most of the time.

  I walked with the three of them to the door of Maran’s house. The village seemed deserted, but Maran laughed and told me that everyone was hiding. “We’ll have the chance to sort it out later, Akor, never fear,” she said. She seemed curiously pleased to be invading the village at the feet of a terrible marauding dragon. “That’s what they’ll think you are, at least,” said Maran, her grey eyes alight. “I think I’ll let you talk them out of it.”

  Her home was built on two levels with several rooms in each. I found Gedri buildings astounding and stared into each window in turn, but the little stone courtyard around the smithy was far too small for me. I could only stand there coiled about myself, with my wings tight furled and my tail firmly tucked out of the way. It would be like trying to live in a tiny cage.

  Lanen, realising for the first time that I must dwell entirely apart from her, turned stricken eyes up to me. “Akor, what—damn, I thought you’d be nearby at least—” Her eyes filled with tears, which she dashed impatiently away. Her raging emotions, over which she had no control, made her furious.

  “Do not be concerned, my heart,” I replied. “We are but new-come here. There will be plenty of time for change.” I grinned. “And possibly for building. Lady Maran, have you thought of a place nearby where I might rest, or shall I seek shelter in the Trollingwood?”

  Maran met my gaze and replied, sadly, “For now, Akor, I fear it must be the Trollingwood. I have ploughed my brains for days, and I can think of nowhere large enough for you to stay. Forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” I replied, doing my best to keep the sorrow from my voice. “I will see what may be done. You are certain that none claim land in the Trollingwood?”

  “Certain sure,” said Maran, grinning. “It’s said to be far too dangerous in there.”

  “How clear-sighted of people, to know in advance that I was coming to dwell therein,” I said lightly. I leaned down and came within Lanen’s reach. “I am ever here, dearling,” I said in truespeech as she laid her hand gently upon my faceplate. “No more than a thought away. And if it may be done, perhaps we will make the smithy courtyard more worthy of the Kantri.” Aloud I added, “If you all will meet me at the edge of the wood tomorrow at dawn, I will guide you to whatever chambers I have been able to find.”

  By the next morning, I was pleased to show them my new dwelling. It was but a short distance from the eaves of the wood. I had found a cave nearly large enough to fit into, and there was a good clear stream not far away. With some effort on my part, it would be a comfortable enough place to dwell. I also asked Maran, who said that no other owned the land round about her house, and I was welcome to enlarge her courtyard to my heart’s content if I would do the work of laying the stone floors and building walls.

  I took it as a challenge.

  Lanen

  It was the oddest feeling I have ever known, walking into Beskin. I had never been there before, but—how shall I explain it? It began with the scent of the Trollingwood, whose western edge lay near my old home in Ilsa. I knew that smell and it was the same here, only wilder somehow. The air was fresh and sharp with the scents of pine and balsam, the ground was rich, the hills felt like old friends. I walked into Beskin and felt that I had come home, to a place I had never seen. It was very strange, but oddly reassuring.

  Maran’s house was huge. Her grandfather had built it wi
th his sons, and there was room and to spare for all of us. The rooms were sparsely furnished, the furniture well made and lovely in its simplicity. One of Maran’s brothers, Harald—Goddess, how odd, to have uncles and aunts!—Uncle Harald is a woodworker, and made all the furnishings in the house himself.

  Maran gave me a room to myself on the upper floor, a large airy room looking to the hills, with plenty of space for the children when they came. She slept across the hall, near enough for a hail but far enough for privacy. Vilkas had the third bedroom on that floor to himself.

  Maran and I settled in quickly enough, but Vilkas was like a butterfly that could not light upon a single bloom. After a few days, when he was certain that I was well enough and would keep, he went off on his own into the country round, a travelling Healer. During our first three months there, as spring gave way gradually to summer, he would disappear for weeks at a time, turning up suddenly of a morning with a scrip full of silver, looking a little more weather-beaten each time and a little more at peace with himself. He would give me relaxing herbs, examine me closely, make sure the babes were thriving, exhort me to eat more meat, and disappear again.

  I managed to sit about the house resting, as ordered, for all of a week. The next morning I was up before Maran, making the porridge and starting the bread. She scowled at me for not following Vilkas’s orders for exactly three breaths, then she grinned at me. “Bored, are you?” she asked.

  “Put me to work,” I begged. “Quick, before I get too big to do anything at all.”

  She laughed and led me to the forge, where she provided me with an ancient, scarred leather apron and a thick leather jerkin. I started like the rawest apprentice, working the bellows, but over the days and weeks she taught me how to stoke the fire, the smell and look and sound of iron when it is ready for the hammer, and one memorable day she handed me her second-best hammer and let me get on with trying to shape metal.

  I have never known anything like it. I’d never done the like before, but I had watched Maran close for some time by then, and the movements just seemed—natural. The hammer seemed to fit my hand, the iron turned sweetly for me. My mother’s eyes gleamed with pride. “By the Goddess, my girl, you’ve the making of a fine smith in you!” she declared.

  “Oh, is that what they are?” I said, looking down at my bulge in surprise. She had a grand laugh, my mother, one that started at her toes and took her over entire when she was really amused. Impossible to resist.

  When I came near to the start of the seventh month of my pregnancy, however, Vilkas returned and declared that his wandering was over for now.

  “I’ve almost two months yet before anything exciting is due to happen, surely?” I said, panting a little. I was finding it harder to breathe, and Maran had banned me from the forge the week before, for her own safety as well as mine.

  “You never know with twins,” replied Vilkas, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably.

  “And how many twins have you delivered, O Great Dragon Mage?” I asked, teasing.

  “Only one set, and that was at Verfaren,” he replied, suddenly serious. “Lanen, now that you mention it, I would like your permission to bring in a colleague to assist me. Her experience with midwifery is much greater than mine.” He grinned a little ruefully. “She is also less likely to terrify an expectant mother, though I’d hope you would be used to me by now.”

  I took advantage of my state to surprise young Vilkas and hugged him tight. “You dear idiot,” I said, releasing him. “I’m married to the largest dragon in all the world, and you think I’d be afraid of you?”

  He laughed rather well, all in all. “Still, I would like to call her in for the birth,” he said, “and perhaps a few weeks before. Twins can come early.” He looked about him. “If your mother wouldn’t mind, I expect she’d appreciate a place to stay as well.”

  I laughed. “What’s one more in this barn? Do what you need to, Vil. I trust you,” I said.

  I should have known, really. Idai arrived a week later, bearing Aral and Will and followed closely by Salera. Vil had gone to Akor, asked him to bespeak Idai and beg her to find Aral. There was a grand reunion, and the house was full.

  I was quietly delighted that Will had come with Aral as a matter of course. They had progressed so far as to occasionally hold hands publicly. It was clear to all the rest of us that it only a matter of time. Aral was more contented than I had seen her, and Will stood at least a handspan taller, bless his good soul.

  When the new arrivals sought their beds, I stepped out into the long twilight of the northern summer to walk Akor back to his chambers. He had been labouring on Maran’s courtyard, but it was slow work, and not kind to the clumsy hands that attempted it. As we passed the latest disaster of a stone wall I smiled. “Perhaps we can find a stonemason who will trade his skill for raw lifting power,” I suggested. It made Akor hiss with amusement, and for that I was grateful.

  I was becoming grateful for anything that helped us to be together. We had begun to live disparate lives, and it worried me. When we were apart, we bespoke one another and we were knit as close as ever. Our souls have ever been the two halves of one whole. In truespeech we shared heart, mind, and spirit, and all was very well. It was only when we were in one another’s presence that we could not ignore the eternal distance between us. Now and ever, Kantri and Gedri, between whom there could be only a meeting of the minds—except in our babes.

  I waddled along the rough path, feeling better for the exercise but not able to keep it up very long. We came to an open space where there was a convenient stone to sit on, and I made use of it.

  “Are they not yet prepared for the world?” asked Akor lightly, staring fascinated at my awkward body. “Surely you cannot stretch any farther!”

  I laughed despite myself. “Alas that we cannot call to them and suggest that now would be a fine time to be born! The Lady knows I am ready for it.” I sighed. “Right now, I’d settle for being able to see my feet.”

  I expected Akor to hiss, but he turned away with a moan.

  “Dear heart, what is it?” I asked, adding dryly, “I mean, what is it more than we have borne these three months past?”

  “Nothing more, Lanen, but—nothing less,” he said. He could not look at me. “The time is nearly come. Our children are ready to be born. And I will never—I cannot—damnation!” He cried out, a wordless shout into the darkling sky. “Lanen, I can bear it no longer!” he groaned. His wings were starting to flutter in his agitation. “Here you are, more beautiful than ever, full of new life we have made between us—and I who have longed for younglings for a thousand years will never be able to hold my own babes.” He began to pace up and down, as much as so large a creature could in the space. “It will be many years ere I dare even to touch them, lest a careless talon should rip through tender skin. I could murder them by mistake!”

  “Please, Akor,” I said, trying to compose myself. “Love, don’t break now. I need you more with every passing day.”

  “I know it, I know it, but Lanen—Lanen, I cannot bear it! I am come to the end of myself.” He roared, sending Fire into the night sky, and I realised that he was furious. “Ye traitor Winds!” he cried out. “I have given myself, body and soul and life and all, to my people, as you demanded. I never knew love until I knew her. Why have you given us to each other only to tear us apart?” His voice grew even louder. “I cannot bear it!” He was practically dancing on the spot, so desperate was he to be gone from me. I knew exactly what he was feeling, and I couldn’t blame him in the least, and I blamed him with every word he said. He turned to me again, agony in his voice. “Lanen, I cannot bear it!”

  “Then go,” I said, stonily. “You have wings. You can go wherever in the world you wish.” I stood tall, my belly prominent. “I am held down to earth.”

  I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t bespeak him, I knew it would be the last burden on a weakened back, but my anger rose to meet his. “Your childer, Akor. Our c
hilder. Do not turn coward on me now, damn you. I need you.”

  He screamed then, a soul pushed to the limit of endurance. He rose with a thunderclap into the darkening sky, and his mindvoice sang its agony and its contrition as he flew away north, deeper into the great forest.

  “Lanen forgive, forgive, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it any longer. Lanen, my heart, you know that I love you beyond words, to be separate forever from you and from my only younglings, it destroys me, I cannot bear it, forgive, forgive …”

  I felt as though I should weep, but there were no tears. Curious. I think I would have been more angry with him if I had not been so relieved. He was not the only one who could not stand it any lounger. It was not his fault, nor mine. I bowed my head for a moment, my eyes closed. Ah, Lady Mother Shia, I whispered. I heard the bards’ tales but I did not understand. The love that is too wild and strong destroys the lovers every time, doesn’t it? I don’t think I could have stood his presence a moment longer, it was agony to see him, agony to have him so close and so infinitely far away. I gazed up where he had gone. Fly well, my heart, I thought, carefully not bespeaking him. Thank you for leaving. Your suffering made mine worse too. If you ever come back, I’ll apologise properly.

  I walked slowly back to my mother’s house. I got in just before the rain came.

  The next evening I went into labour.

  Khordeshkhistriakhor

  I flew low, ashamed to be aloft yet as unable to stay with Lanen as to turn back time.

  I had never thought of myself as a coward before, but I could not escape the evidence. The bravest thing I did was dare to bespeak my wife as I left. My heart burned within me as though it were truly aflame. I flew to escape my skin, to escape the torture of being so near to happiness yet forever separated from it.

  I did not fly far. My strength seemed to drain away from the instant I left Lanen. I just managed to glide to a patch of open ground before I fell from the sky. I was confused and dizzy and my eyes didn’t seem to be working very well. I felt rain begin to beat upon me, lightly at first, then harder and harder as the clouds opened. I was soon soaked, and I had the curious feeling that I was shrinking with every raindrop. Perhaps the Winds have heard my plea and have sent this rain to dissolve me, I thought, oddly cheerful. Eyes closed, shaking with fever, I imagined that I grew smaller and smaller. Perhaps Lanen will have room in her womb for me, I thought, but that was a very peculiar thought and I didn’t like it. I decided not to think any longer. That was good. And after another little time, just before the end, I realised that I could no longer move my limbs or feel my wings.