The Lesser Kindred

by Elizabeth Kerner

  Kaibar is a large city that sits on the banks of the great River Kai, just where the smaller River Arlen joins it from the north. The Arlen is the boundary between Ilsa, where I was born, and the North Kingdom that we had been travelling through for two moons. If you stand on the pier at Kaibar facing west, your feet are in the North Kingdom, before you across the Arlen lies the southern border of Ilsa and across the Kai to your left is the northern boundary of the South Kingdom—hence the three kingdoms and the name of the tavern. I didn’t think of the kings very often, for though I knew old King Tershet of Ilsa sent his tax men to the farm and the village once a year, they never demanded anything that couldn’t be paid easily by all, and we never heard tidings of the other three. There had been peace between the four Kingdoms for many years, and even though the barons, the great landholders, were always squabbling amongst themselves it didn’t make much difference to the rest of us.

  When we finally stopped at the inn, Rella went in and was out again in a very few minutes, looking happier than I had seen her in weeks. “We’re to take our horses to the stables while he makes up the beds in our rooms, I’ve got us the use of the scullery all morning to wash our garb, and I’ve claimed the first bath, so there!”

  The horses were drooping even as they stood—I knew how they felt—but we all four managed to brush them down decently for a change, feed them a good mash of oats and corn with plenty of warmed water to drink, put their blankets over them and let them lie on clean straw. I managed to hide the fact that I was feeling terrible, and in fact the stretching helped a bit. Jamie’s Blaze let out a huge sigh of relief when he finally lay down, and we all laughed for we felt exactly the same way.

  Despite being grubby we ate first, for the afternoon was passing and we’d had nothing since breakfast to sustain us. And such a feast! Or so it seemed to us—imagine the change, from what felt like weeks of little but tough strips of dried salt beef, oat-cakes, hard cheese, and salted porridge for breakfast every day of the world, to fresh brown bread and soft white cheese, hot soup with carrots and barley and a venison pie cooked with strong red wine. There were even spiced roast apples afterwards. We all fell on it like starveling souls, the innkeeper must have thought we hadn’t eaten in weeks. It felt that way to me, too, and for once I was hungry enough to do the meal justice. I only hoped that enough of it would stay down to do me some good. The headache had eased a little as well.

  While Rella had her bath I chose out my least filthy tunic to wear as I washed everything else I owned and paid one of the kitchen girls to put my clothes to dry before the kitchen fire and keep an eye on them.

  The inn, miraculously, boasted a little room on the ground floor with a little fireplace, a high window to let in the light, and a real bath. When Rella finally came out and the maidservant brought in clean water I leaned over and scrubbed my hair first, then knotted it on my head and lowered myself into the water. I nearly wept when the heat started soaking through and warming my cold bones. Never mind that I was far too long for the bath itself, that my head was pounding, that I was still swollen—warmth and the prospect of being clean did wonders for my spirits and I lay back as far as I could, revelling in the luxury. I had not realised how stiff my shoulders had been until I felt them relax. I was almost falling asleep when the first pains hit me.

  It felt like little more than a muscle cramp, at first. A twinge below my waist, no more. I ignored it. Then as I sat back in the water and started to relax it cramped again, a little harder and a little longer this time; but it gradually went away and I gently began scrubbing off the grime. I made fairly quick work of it and was leaning over in front of the little fireplace drying myself off, but when I stood up straight from having dried my foot I felt pain like a knife blade in my gut. I cried out, as much in surprise as anything.

  Then, I felt a strange dampness between my legs that was not water and realised that I was bleeding. Not much, but my blood time was past. It frightened me well and truly, and fear I had to rush out of the bathing room to be sick in the garden. So much for that lovely meal. I managed to get back to my room and get a blood cloth in place before I called for Rella.

  Rella

  I’m glad Lanen called me to help her. Varien was bathing, for which I was grateful. This was not something that either ex-dragons or husbands would be much good at.

  I took one look at her and called to the landlord, who immediately sent one of his lads for the local Healer.

  “Thanks,” she said, when I came back in. “I thought I’d need one soon. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Rella, but it’s getting worse.” She told me then, finally, all that had been affecting her. I began counting the moments until the Healer would arrive.

  “You idiot child, why in the name of all that’s sensible didn’t you say something before?” I asked her, keeping my voice as calm and reasonable as I could. “How long has it been since you kept down a proper meal?”

  She couldn’t answer me right away. I think that’s when I began to realise that she was very unwell indeed.

  The Healer finally arrived in the late afternoon. It was a woman, middle-aged and sharp-looking, very brisk and blunt in her manner. I was not impressed, and that was before she set to work.

  She called her power to her with the ease of long practice as she took a deep look at Lanen. “Sweet Shia’s tears, girl, how long have you been like this?” she asked, as she reached out to send her power into Lanen.

  We should have known, I suppose.

  “Like what?” asked Lanen. “The bleeding only just started, not the half of an hour gone.”

  “No, I mean how long have you been so ill with this pregnancy?”

  “What!”

  “My dear, I must warn you now that it is not going to last, but you are most certainly with child.”

  Lanen was pale before, but now she went white. “Shia—what do you mean, it won’t last?”

  “I’m sorry. This is your first, isn’t it?”

  “My first what?” demanded Lanen, her voice a little blurred. She was so terribly pale.

  “The girl’s in shock, woman. Help her,” I snarled. The Healer nodded and sent a brighter blue pulse towards Lanen, who relaxed a little. “Your first pregnancy, my dear. I’m sorry, I’m not often called in as a midwife, but I have done enough work in the field to know when the body is intent on rejecting that which it carries. Believe me, it is for the best. If the unborn is too weak or too ill-formed to live, your body is the first to know. It is always best to simply assist the body to cleanse itself. Rest assured, I will make you comfortable while it happens.”

  She covered Lanen with a bright blue haze and started moving her hands.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded. Lanen’s eyes were watching but unfocussed. The woman was a horror.

  “The body has rejected the unborn, but at this stage it is not difficult to remedy,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “I have only to encourage the natural—oh.”

  She stared at her hands for a moment, then closed her eyes and began to glow much brighter. She opened her eyes again and sent a thin blue river of power through Lanen, who instantly started screaming.

  I had the Healer flat against the wall and my hand about her throat almost without thinking. It worked, for the flow of her power stopped. “What in the Hells are you doing!?” I cried.

  “It should have worked,” the woman said, removing my hand but otherwise bizarrely unperturbed by my actions. “And it most certainly should not have hurt her. I don’t understand.”

  “You’d damn well better try. What were you trying to do?” I demanded.

  “What I said, attempting to assist the girl’s body to rid itself of the pregnancy, which is obviously causing her great harm,” she said. “It would cure the girl and ensure that the next pregnancy would be more likely to be successful.” She frowned at Lanen, who was now holding her belly in pain. “Her body doesn’t seem to know what it is doing, which is very odd indeed,” she said.
“It seems to be at war with itself, at the same time trying to protect and trying to be rid of the unborn.” She held her hands out towards Lanen again and sent a far softer blue glow her way. The pain faded from Lanen’s face but the anger did not.

  “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 Verfaren 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 thing. 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 another 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 must 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 Sherdk 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 kitling never told me that the wind of change, on wings of flame, could blow so very, very cold.