The Lesser Kindred

by Elizabeth Kerner

I had only just finished the tale of my life with Salera when we all saw a light ahead. There was nothing else for miles in any direction, it had to be the little village of Wolfenden and the Dragon’s Head. I stood up straighter and ran my fingers through my hair, wishing I’d brought more silver with me. I hoped the bloodstains on my cloak weren’t as obvious as the ones on Vilkas’s tunic.

  The smell of hot food wafted through the cold night air and gave us all heart. “It’s as good as it smells, I swear,” I said cheerfully.

  “I don’t care if it’s braised liver of cat, I’m having some,” said Aral. To my surprise she took my hand as we walked in the darkness and held it, briefly. “I hope you find Salera again, now you’ve left Verfaren,” she said softly.

  “I do too,” I replied. Her hand in mine felt so right, so good—and then it was gone. I kept my foolish thoughts to myself and the three of us hurried into the warm, well-lit common room of the Dragon’s Head.

  Shikrar

  Dhretan led me as swiftly as he could fly up the east coast of our island. We had passed Akhor’s old Weh chambers and were beginning to approach the southern cliffs and the Grandfather when he began descending. It was difficult to keep behind him, and to be honest it was difficult to fly that low, but the poor soul was working so hard.

  “There,” he told me in truespeech, pointing with his snout. “That cavern there, with the tiny clearing before it.”

  “Lead on, Dhretan, but be warned, I am going to shout,” I replied.

  I began in truespeech.

  “NIKIS! NIKIS, AWAKEN!” I cried, as loud as I could. I kept shouting her name, and when we had come to land and Dhretan showed me the entrance to her Weh chamber I hurried inside and began shouting aloud.

  “Nikis, it is Hadreshikrar who speaks! You must waken, your life is at stake!” No response. “Nikis, our home is dying, we must leave this place.” As if to echo my words, there was a deep rumble and a brief earthshake even as we stood there.

  There was no response from Nikis.

  “Go close and call her by her true name,” I said to Dhretan. “I will go out. Shout it at her and fear not, I will be too far away to hear.”

  I walked into the forest to find the stream I had smelled, and drank while Dhretan was yelling. I tried very hard not to hear what he was saying.

  “Eldest, she does not waken! he cried. ”She has not so much as twitched.”

  “Touch her hide gently,” I said as I returned to the clearing. “See how tough it is, that we may have some idea of how much longer she will sleep.”

  I heard him cry out aloud before he bespoke me. “Alas! It is barely hardened at all. Her scales bend, lord!”

  As if in sympathy with his dismay, another deep rumble rolled through and the earth shook, a little longer this time. My heart was beating fast and every muscle cried out to be gone from this place, but having come this far I could not leave her there.

  I sped into the cavern and noticed this time that my wings, folded tight, still brushed the sides of the entrance to her chamber. We would not be able to work together to lift her out.

  Dhretan must have noticed as well, for as I ran to Nikis he asked, “How are we to do this, lord?”

  I got my first good look at Nikis—strange how you notice such detail when time is of desperate importance. She was a lovely young creature, her delicate new scales the colour of dark iron, her soulgem like a deep yellow topaz. She was only a few kells older than Dhretan, which was a blessing, but she was still larger than I could carry easily or for long. “Help me turn her over,” I said. “Swiftly, swiftly!”

  Together we managed to get Nikis on her back. “Fold her wings in carefully,” I said, “take care that they lie to the side and not under her. Now let me get hold of—”

  I was interrupted by a loud explosion. Too close! It was swiftly followed by another earthshake, which began as the slightest of movements and grew worse. And worse.

  I could barely keep my feet, but I managed to grasp Nikis’s shoulders under her wing-joints and cried out to Dhretan. “We must get out now, we are too close to the firefields! Look to her wings!”

  I dragged Nikis backwards, scrambling as swiftly as I could, desperate to be out of there. I fell onto her twice, thrown off my feet by the movement of the ground. It was terrible and hideously slow; I knew her hide was being scored and her wings bruised and battered, but as long as I got her out of that cavern I did not care.

  When I finally reached open air I could pull much faster, putting my back into it, and she was out in moments.

  However, moments were all we had. The earth had stopped moving but the smell struck me as soon as I had emerged. When Dhretan followed Nikis out he too smelled it. “Eldest, what is that on the air?” he asked. “And the sound—it roars, Lord Shikrar!”

  “It is fire, youngling,” I said, trying desperately to remain calm. “Help me turn her on to her chest that I may lift her.” As we struggled with the dead weight I added, “And whether it is earth or forest that burns, we have very little time before it reaches us.” I shuddered, for the stench was growing thicker by the instant, and Dhretan seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace. “Her back legs are tangled—quickly, Dhretan! We have no more time.”

  “But the smell,” he said as together we rolled Nikis back onto her chest. “That is not wood.”

  “No. It is rock. Now get aloft, I am going to have to lift her.” What I would give for a cliff top to leap from, I thought longingly. It was hard enough to lift myself from the flat ground, and Nikis must weigh a third of my own weight. I sent a swift prayer to the Winds and wrapped my forearms about her chest. I could only just reach so far. However, I managed to interlock my talons in front of her.

  A crash from far too close, the acrid smell of molten stone far too near, a gleam of yellow-red moving through the wood.

  “The fire is upon us! Fly!” I cried. Inspired by terror I crouched, gave the greatest leap of my life with my back legs and flapped as hard and as fast as I could.

  To my everlasting astonishment, I felt myself lifting from the ground. “Get underneath the instant you can, Dhretan, take some of this weight for me.” I gasped out in truespeech, fighting for altitude. “Quickly, quickly!”

  Dhretan maneuvered underneath Nikis as soon as I had lifted the two of us clear of the trees. He managed to take some of her weight, allowing me to fly a little more steadily. I glanced back to see where the molten stone was, and where it had come from.

  We were barely two wingspans above the ground and still flapping madly when the fire-rock covered the clearing behind us, hissing violently and sending up a cloud of steam when it took the pond I had drunk from moments before. “Faster, Dhretan, ’ware the downdrafts!” I cried. For twelve hundred years I had taught every one of the Kantri how to fly: better than anyone I knew what would happen if we were too close to the ground, so desperately unstable, and were hit by the downdraft ahead of the swiftly approaching thermal created by the molten rock.

  We managed to fight our way to a decent height and establish a kind of rhythm. Never before had I so blessed my wingspan, but that was all there was to be thankful for. I glanced behind me just for an instant, and in that glance I saw where the molten rock had come from.

  The southern cliffs stood sentinel no longer. There was a stream of fire pouring over the edge at the lowest point, and the stream widened even as I watched—a red-gold firefall. A great pall of smoke was rising from the forests as they burned. It was like seeing the death wound of one I loved.

  “My people, we have no more time. Fly! The southern cliffs are breached!” I cried, broadcasting truespeech to all who could hear. “The fire comes! Trizhe, what news?”

  “Good news, Teacher Shikrar,” replied an unexpected voice, and with a deep sigh of relief I realised it was Gyrentikh. “My cousin has wakened me. It is as well he has the gentle voice of a rockfall, for I slept sound.”

  “Welcome, Gyrentikh, praise the Winds you are with us. Idai?” I
called.

  “Peace, Shikrar, I am wide awake, I thank you,” came Idai’s wry comment. “I am aloft with nearly all of our folk. I can see the island-and I can see you. Name of the—Kretissh, swiftly, with me!” she called out.

  “I would not have asked, Iderrisai,” I said softly to her alone as she rode down the wind to where Dhretan and I struggled, “but I will be glad of your help.”

  “And should I have left you thus?” she asked. “Move, Dhretan, you have saved this old idiot, more honour to your courage, but Nikis is too great a burden for you. Join the others.”

  “As you wish, Lady. Brace, Lord Shikrar, I am diving,” said Dhretan.

  “My thanks for the warning,” I replied with a grunt as he left and the full weight of Nikis hung from my locked forearms. Name of the Winds, but she was heavy!

  “We have caught the thermal that rises from the eastern cliffs, Shikrar,” said Idai, coming up under me and taking much of Nikis’s weight on her back. “I thought you would be glad to hear it.”

  “If I had the breath I would laugh, Iderrisai,” I replied. “Are we all here?”

  “Tóklurik has not yet bespoken me, but it is a long flight to the northwest where Roccelis lived—Shikrar, between us two, have you any hope for them?”

  “None, Idai, and I do not believe Tóklurik does either, but the heart must follow its own path. Roccelis was kin to him. Perhaps he only hopes to recover their soulgems. Soulgems! I take it—”

  “Enough, Hadreshikrar!” Idai said acerbically. “I appreciateyour concern, but the rest of us really are quite capable of looking after ourselves. Yes, the soulgems of the Ancestors and of the Lost are safe. Even Kédra’s daft idea of bringing hlansif trees is being attempted.” Her mind voice softened. “A few small artefacts, some seeds, and a small stone brought from the Summer Field: those will be all we have to show for five ceats in the Place of Exile.”

  I managed to hiss my amusement. “Those and the lives of every soul of the Kantri now living!”

  “Well, if you put it that way,” she said. The air of quiet amusement in her voice was a great relief to me. I looked back and down. It was hard to see past Idai’s wings, but I could just glimpse the island where I was born. It was half covered in a pall of dark smoke, and in the northern half, even in bright sun, I could see patches of vivid red that must be vast firefountains to be seen from so far away.

  Idai glanced up at me. “Shikrar, my friend, have done,” she said sadly. “We know it is gone. There is no need to watch the last of the destruction. Remember it as it has been, not as it is. The deep truth of any living thing is in its life, not its death.”

  She was right, of course. I closed my eyes and turned away, concentrating on carrying Nikis, on gaining altitude, on heading east and a little south.

  But I kept looking back, as long as I could see even the clouds that covered it.

  Lanen

  I woke the next morning feeling reasonably well. Varien had moved only far enough apart to let me sleep, but the other beds were empty yet. I was just worried enough to get to breakfast early but Rella and Jamie were there first, drinking chélan and laughing quietly.

  When Varien joined us, he drew me aside, and for a change there was joy in his eyes. “Lanen, it is a wonder,” he said earnestly. “There is hope for you, and for the babe.”

  “What?” I said. He hesitated. “Look, it’s too early in the morning to confuse me and it’s no challenge at this time of day,” I said sharply. “What are you talking about?”

  “I have dreamt of our younglings, Lanen,” he said.

  I laughed despite myself. “One at a time, please!”

  He smiled. “That is what I thought, and truly it is difficult to tell ages in dreams. They might have been years apart. But I saw us, all four of us, standing in a high place on a glorious summer’s day.” He cupped my face in his hands. “I cannot tell you what a comfort this is.”

  I took his hands away as kindly as I could, but it was hard. “I’m glad you are comforted, my dear, but dreams tell us only what we wish to hear. And just so you know, please don’t do that.” He looked startled. “Holding my face in your hands,” I said angrily. “It might feel good to you but it makes me feel like either a child who’s being yelled at or a horse that’s being sold. I was waiting for you to look at my teeth.”

  He just looked at me.

  “I mean it,” I said angrily.

  “Very well,” he replied, gazing deeper into my eyes than I wanted him to. “And to your anger and your fear, kadreshi, I say that I hear you. However, you must know that I recognise true visions when they come, even if I do not require the Weh sleep any longer. This was the echo of a Weh dream I had not sixty winters past, Lanen.”

  I was astounded. “Truly, Akor?” I asked him.

  He kissed me. “Truly, kadreshi. Therefore, let us hope once more, no matter the cost!”

  I smiled at him, for I knew what we both were thinking. We might not have another night to spend together, but at least we had spent the last one in each other’s arms.

  “Drink up your chélan, my heart,” I said. “We need to go.”

  The Post horses were waiting, spoiling for a run, bless them, and we gave it to them. The speed was balm to me even as the ride shook me out of my comfort and back into pain. I could not tell how far we managed to go in the morning but even Rella seemed astounded. We did not stop to eat, for I knew—we all knew—that every moment I lived now was borrowed. As the morning wore on the aches and the sharp pains grew worse, but I kept quiet as long as I could. It wasn’t too bad at first.

  Between us we had a flask of wine, which helped, and at every change we managed a swift draught of chélan for warmth. We only ever stopped long enough to change horses and answer calls of nature, but once when the lads were off round a corner I called to Rella. She rode over to join me.

  “So—I gather you and Jamie have made your peace,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

  “You could say that,” replied Rella, one corner of her mouth curling into a smile.

  “I could say a damn sight more but it can wait,” I replied, laughing. “And what was that about a concession the next time the Service wants horses?”

  She laughed back. “I’m amazed you heard that!” She looked at me then, a little surprised. “I really am surprised, you know, but you heard me fine. I’d have thought that Post horses for three days for four people would be worth a few of Hadron’s horses next time we’re in need.”

  “Not a few, Rella. Two.”

  “Two! But that’s nothing to the cost of—”

  I interrupted her before she could dig herself in too far. “Yes, two. A stallion and a brood mare. Will that satisfy you?”

  She stared back at me openmouthed for an instant, then laughed. “You’ve done it again, you wretched girl! I ask for bread and you gift me with a feast.”

  A twinge hit me just then and I must have grimaced, for she moved her mount closer. I held up my hand. “Just get me to Verfaren alive and in one piece and you can have your breeding pair this very autumn.”

  “Agreed,” she said, holding out her hand. I clasped it and held on for a moment. “Rella—I’m so glad that—I mean—be good to him, will you? He deserves it.”

  “Do you think so?” she asked dryly, letting go my hand as the men reappeared.

  “Yes,” I said simply.

  She looked across at me, her expression softening. “So do I,” she said, and we were away again.

  We rode well into the night, for we were still travelling faster than Rella had dared to hope we could. The stars were out in a dark night of a young moon and we were passing a range of high hills to the west, away off on our right, when it hit. A deep, sharp pain that time, and so unexpected that I cried out in agony.

  They all tried to rein in but I kicked my horse. “Come on!” I yelled. They didn’t have much choice. We all knew my only hope was to get to the Mages. How we were going to get a Healer to come to me
in the middle of the night without Berys finding out about it wasn’t clear, but to be honest I was leaving that to the others.

  I wished then I had asked Varien more about what he had dreamt. I tried to see it in my mind, a picture of health and a glowing future, but there weren’t enough details. Truespeech is a wonderful thing.

  “Varien?” I called.

  He didn’t answer, or if he did I didn’t hear him. I tried again. “Varien, can you hear me?”

  I opened my mind, listening, but I wasn’t prepared at all.

  Hundreds of voices, shouting, frightened—no, terrified.

  “Varien!” I cried out. He turned. I tried to bespeak him, but again he couldn’t hear me. I gestured to his saddlebag and then to his head. He nodded, drew forth his coronet and put it on.

  He wasn’t prepared either.

  Varien

  I was overwhelmed by the noise. I could not even hear Lanen through the chaos, though I tried to bespeak her. She frowned over at me as we journeyed, but I could not make out her voice. I called, therefore, to the one voice I had known longest, and like the worst fool the world has ever spawned, I called him by his true name. I would give worlds, I would give years of my life, to have that name back.

  “Shikrar! Hadretikantishikrar! Soulfriend, namefast friend, hear me in all this madness and answer I beseech thee!”

  “Akhorishaan! Blessed be the Winds, I could not reach you. We are aloft, Akhor, all of us.”

  “What? Why?”

  “See, my brother. Alas for us all! See in my thoughts the fate of our home.”

  He opened his mind to me and I could not help it, I cried out aloud, a wordless cry from the heart. In truespeech I could manage no more than, “Name of the Winds. I cannot believe it. When, Shikrar?”

  “Not yet two days past. We have found the Sea of the High Air, blessed be the Winds, but the most of our journey lies still long before us.”

  I had only flown that high sea twice in my life. It was a current of air that ran strong and sure from west to east at certain times of the year, but it was hard to find and rested near the very limit of our capacity: the air was thin and cold so high up. “At least you may ride upon its broad back for a little time. Are you all—Shikrar, you are weary already What burden do you bear?”