“They are their own people, aren’t they?” Lanen replied. For once she was the calmer of the two of us. Her hands on my shoulders were all that kept me upright. “Ready to burst into full life.” Her mindvoice faltered as she added, “They are become a new race, Varien. They are no longer the mindless beasts the Kantri believed them to be. The Lady knows I rejoice for this glorious child and her people, but alas for the Lost!”
“Lanen?”
“I am such a fool, my love. I had wondered in my deep heart if—”
“If the Lesser Kindred could be reunited with their soulgems to restore the Lost. I know, my dearest, and if you are a fool I have been one for hundreds of years, for I had thought it too. But if they are all as she is, they are a breath away from full sentience.”
“I know it. We must think of some other way to bring peace to the Lost.”
This whole exchange of thoughts took mere moments, and it did not in the least make less of the wonder of that recognition. Salera understood. She was aware.
I stood and bowed to Salera, as Shikrar always bowed to a youngling when first it used truespeech. “I welcome thee, Salera, my cousin.”
She bowed back, but I could see her shaking with the effort of containing herself. I scrambled to my feet, laughing, for I knew what was coming as though my own muscles were shaking so. She took the others by surprise as she leapt into the sky, sending Fire aloft to hallow the time. I would have joined her if I could.
“Why did you say Varian?” asked Lanen quietly, not even glancing at me. Her eyes never left the little one.
“Fewer sounds to learn all at once,” I replied. Salera filled my vision as well. “We all learn thus when we are young.”
Will stared for some moments, slack-jawed. “I’ll be damned,” he said, watching Salera as she danced in the air.
Aral sighed loudly and started walking. “Very likely,” she said, shoving him as she passed. “And unless we get moving and get off the high road we are all going to be damned together. Berys is still around, you know.”
“A point to Aral,” he said, starting off after her.
We all set off towards the lowering sun, into the Súlkith Hills, following the faint path west and up.
Marik
Berys finally replied to my message by sending Durstan to bring me to him.
“It’s about damned time, Berys, what in the Hells have you been doing?” I growled when I was shown into his rooms.
“A few necessary things,” he said, not bothering to rise. He was stretched out on his bed in what looked like a nightshirt.
“Like neglecting me, for example,” I snarled. “You were in such a tearing hurry to heal me so I could be of use to you. Do you have the slightest interest in what I have learned from the dragons? Or would you rather laze about like a bored merchant’s wife?”
“If you were not so useful, Marik, I would have your throat cut for that,” said Berys offhandedly. The worst of it was that, despite his tone of voice, he meant it and I knew it. He would happily kill me if it suited him and I never forgot it.
“But I am useful. I am suddenly the most useful man you know, Berys, and you will soon believe me on that score.” I sat beside the table and poured myself a cup of wine. “What have you been so busy doing?”
“Ensuring my victory,” he purred. “Maikel pursues Lanen even now. In three days’ time—no, just over two days’ time, now, when I am recovered from my labours, or as long as it takes him to find her—he will build an altar and conveniently die when the demon emerges to plant the Swiftlines.”
“What in the hells are Swiftlines?” I asked. “You never told me about this. I thought you said you couldn’t find Lanen!”
“Swiftlines are—well, some call them demonlines. They are instant transportation. I don’t even have to know where the other ends are, for there are two, one each way. I can step through, capture her and be back before anyone notices. As for Lanen—remember the report from our healer in Kaibar?” I nodded. “It was accompanied by a sample of her blood which I have made good use of.”
I snorted. “Ever find out what that dragon was that the Rikti said was protecting her?”
Berys, for all that he looked exhausted, managed to sneer. “The Rikti was mistaken. She passed through Kaibar and there was no sight nor sound or smell of a dragon. Or perhaps the Rikti was right and it has left her. In either case I do not fear the wrath of the Kantri here in Kolmar. My folk would have heard if one had been seen, and they cannot make themselves invisible!”
I laughed, low, almost to myself. “Well, Berys, I wish you good fortune. That girl finds protectors in the strangest places. Didn’t our man in Kaibar say the humpbacked woman was with her again?”
“Yes, Rella seems to have joined her,” said Berys casually, “along with two men he didn’t have the names of and I don’t recognise. It makes no difference. They will not be able to prevent me.”
“They may not have to,” I said grimly. “That is what I’ve come to tell you. The Kantri are coming, Berys. Here. Now, as we speak. We’ve got about—well, what a coincidence. About two days or so.”
It was worth the bald statement to see Berys’s face. He seldom allows anything as minor as surprise to affect him, but there, this news would change a few of his plans.
xv
And the Walls of the World Came Scattering Down
Varien
It was the strangest of journeys. We set off from the inn at Wolfenden in the early afternoon, and the rest of the day was bright and warm. We walked together, the seven humans and Salera at Will’s side, exchanging stories. I learned how Will and Salera had met, and Lanen and I told them a short version of our own meeting. It made the time pass easily. We camped in the shelter of a small wood that night and woke early in the morning to the most extraordinary day.
Overnight, winter seemed to have given up the battle and early spring had leapt up all around us. The small flowers, the ground roses, that were fighting to bloom in Kaibar were here full-blown. I would have expected the year to regress as we walked higher into the hills but it did not. Will assured me that as we went higher, towards the high field that was the pass through these hills, the shoulder of the sharp pinnacles of rock ahead would be cold enough for my taste. Indeed, I could see snow lingering on some of the peaks, but at least in their lower reaches it seemed that the Súlkith Hills were disposed to be kindly. Lanen showed me as we walked the brilliant red and yellow blooms on their short stalks, and in a warm and quiet dell blessed by sunlight, the fragrant queen’s chamber, a many-blossomed purple spike of a flower, scented the air.
Strange, is it not, that it should be the flowers that I remember? In the midst of my sorrow for my lost kindred, in the depths of my acceptance and my grief and in the joy of the new and deeper peace Lanen and I had made, it is the strong colours of spring in the mountains that most affected me.
Lanen walked beside me, unusually silent. The feelings between us were not simple nor could they ever be again, but in turning to face the darkness we had overcome the worst of it. She knew at last, truly knew in her soul, that she was not to blame for the change the Winds had thrown upon me—and so, at last, did I. And now she was changed as well, of her own free will, to a strange hybrid creature—nearly as strange as I—there was much to take into both of our hearts and consider, of gifts and bereavement, of death and life and the mingling of souls.
I remember the flowers.
Shikrar
I had my wings tucked close in, the surface as small as I could make it. The winds of the eternal Storms that blow between Kolmar and our island were ever potent and threatening. The flying was difficult to say the least.
I had left Idai only a day past. We had found that most of the Kantri were willing to rest for a little time before undertaking the second and more dangerous half of the journey, especially as the rain had stopped and the sun shone, and even that little green rock felt safer than the unknown perils of Kolmar for many of us.
<
br /> I declared that I would go on ahead to learn what I could of the effects of the Storm winds and to meet with Lanen and Varien, that we might discuss how best to prepare the Gedri for the return of the Kantri. Idai frowned at me and told me that her thoughts would be open to me day and night. It was an extraordinary offer, to be open and listening for days on end. She has always had much of generosity about her, the Lady Idai.
However, at that particular moment I would have exchanged all the generosity in the world for a body beside me in the air. Two can read the currents better than one and I felt very alone, high above the wind-whipped seas. Every muscle was aching from carrying Nikis the Weary—I had heard her so referred to by others now, the poor soul—but thus far they all served me still.
I had left at dawn and encountered the Storms only an hour from the Isle of Rest. It had been a long day of effort, followed by an endless night of work, striving to keep high enough that when the air dropped suddenly away it did not bring me too near the water. I was weary beyond belief, which would explain why I was so foolish as to relax my vigilance when the headwind dropped for a moment. I let out my breath and allowed my wings to lock, just for a moment’s rest—
—when a wall of air rose up like a wall of stone before me. I was thrown on to my back, and though I managed to turn over and glide up and out of the drop, my right wing was throbbing in the main joint. It had not broken, thank the Winds, but the pain ran deep. I had no choice, days from land in any direction, I had to use it.
I was most fortunate. I found that the wall of air I had hit was the trailing edge of the Storms. I forced myself higher, every beat of my wings sending out a jolt of pain.
I was glad then that Idai was not there, for I could not restrain myself. With no other soul near me to pity or assist, I cried out with every downbeat. It made it a little easier to bear, but I began genuinely to wonder if, injured, I could go so far alone.
There is no choice, Teacher-Shikrar, I told myself. You have taken this task to yourself on behalf of the Kantri and you are hours from land in any direction. Wind and life or sea and a slow cold death, Shikrar!
That choice was simple enough. I drew in a great breath and roared out my pain to the Winds as I forced myself higher. Kolmar lies ahead, Kolmar and Akhor and a new life. It is well. I stopped talking to myself long enough to adjust my angle of rise. Besides, I told myself, if you think Nikis faces years of laughter at her expense, imagine what would come your way should you fail in this flight. Name of the Winds! You would give every soul you ever lectured about flying the chance to taunt you for the rest of your days.
It seemed to take years to reach the High Air, but it was my only chance. Every time I had to lower my wing I cried out. Eventually I fell silent, for the air was growing thin, but the pain did not lessen.
I knew that my life depended on gaining altitude. I would have given ten years of my future for a rising thermal, but the cold sea ran below me unfeeling, uncaring, cold watery death awaiting me.
We can swim, of course. In the summer we enjoy the water, and in truth it was known that flying very close to the surface took less effort—but I dared not risk it, for it is impossible to take to the air from the water’s clutches. If once I touched the sea, I was dead.
The thought sent me higher yet. I may be the Eldest of the Kantri, but in the normal way of things I had still before me a good two more kells of life, and I had a strong desire to see my grandson fly.
When at last I found the broad river on high, when at the end of my strength I caught the edge of that strong wave and could ride it with locked wings, I learned what I needed to know. It led me swiftly and easily over the top of the Storms and that terrible wall of air. I bespoke Idai and told her, that she might guide the others through more gently than I had managed.
Ahead in a clearing sky the winds dropped and the wave in the High Air disappeared, but as I glided down I found another current leading eastwards that was strong enough to bear me. I rode it, wings locked, giving thanks, breathing again. My injured wing throbbed but I was better able to bear it when I could glide and did not have to stroke the air.
The absence of pain seems a simple thing until you possess it no longer.
Once I started allowing myself to glide, however, I found it desperately hard to think. I held on to the little that I knew—according to the Ancestors, I had just over a day’s flying yet to accomplish. I was weary to the bone, but I knew I would have to seek height again as soon as I had rested. Just a little rest, just a little, now that the pain was gone—
“Shikrar? Hadreshikrar, it is Idai who speaks. How fare you, my friend?”
I woke with a start to Idai’s voice. I was flying through a cloud and was terribly disoriented, but from the pressure I feared that I was far lower than I should be. In the few moments it took me to rouse, the air had grown a great deal rougher. Strange, I thought, this feels like the turbulence you get when water meets—
I came out of the cloud and hit first a powerful updraft that carried me safely up and over the cliff that rose high above the water’s edge, and then encountered the downdraft on the other side which threw me unceremoniously to the ground.
Not the welcome I was expecting, I thought briefly as the darkness took me.
Maikel
I found them halfway up the mountain. They were a long way ahead of me, down a valley and up another hillside from where I stood, and there were more of them than I expected. I saw one that I assumed was Varien, for his silver hair was hard to miss in sunlight, but I knew Lanen the instant I saw her even from that far away.
At last, at last, that stopped me where I stood.
How in the Lady’s name could I possibly be certain of that distant moving speck being Lanen?
I looked again. I could not tell how many people there were—more than four. There were at least three horses, but there might have been four or five. There was a strange creature with them at first, though it left as the sun was going down. It moved very fast. It might have been a light chestnut horse, I couldn’t really tell. But I knew Lanen was there, and which of the tiny dots she was.
That was not possible.
I tried to think what might make me feel so certain. I felt pity for the girl, certainly, but there was no bond between us. I had asked for Lady Shia’s aid but this did not feel like divine guidance. My gut wrenched at the thought of the goddess and I could not think clearly.
I drew food from my pack, for it was growing dark and I would have to stop. From what I could see the others were setting up their camp; I saw fire spring forth, friendly and welcoming on that far hillside. The longing grew in me to go there, to speak to Lanen again, to warn her, to be with good people again—to warm my hands and my heart at that fire.
At the very thought I was doubled over with cramp. I could not stand or walk long enough to gather wood for my own fire. The cold food helped, but my gut was dreadfully painful. Enough, I thought, I must do something about this. After I had eaten and rested a while, I sent a prayer to the Lady and summoned my healer’s power to me.
There is a kind of half-trance that accompanies healing. I was so weak that my own corona made me dizzy, but I fought the feeling and called in my power. Only the faintest nimbus answered me. I drew on it, weak as I was, to help heal the pain in my belly, but the slightest effort swiftly exhausted me. The pain was as bad or worse after I had finished.
I sat propped against a stone with thin blankets wrapped about me to keep out the night, but the cold and the pain were sharpening my mind.
Finally.
The very things that beset me were making me realise that all was wrong. All. Everything I had done since I left Verfaren made no sense. I had meant to go east and north, and I had done that, but at a snail’s pace and towards no destination. I hadn’t eaten for days—foolishness. And the sudden urge, no, the need to find Lanen and warn her—how in the name of the Mother had I had even the slightest idea of where to go?
I shivered, n
ot with cold. For I had found her, in all the great world I had found her in a matter of days. That was sickeningly not right. What was guiding me? What was pushing me, and why?
I shivered again as a pain cramped across my gut. Oh dear Goddess, sweet Lady Shia—ahhh!
Oh Hells’ teeth. The pain hit me worse every time I prayed, or even thought sincerely of Shia—a spasm clenched me even as I realised.
I drew in my power again, ignoring the weakness that demanded I stop at the appearance of the merest nimbus. I am a Healer of the third rank, I can heal broken bones in minutes, knit torn flesh, relieve fevers—I had saved Lanen’s life when she was very near to death indeed.
It was a struggle, but finally at least a useful portion of my corona surrounded me. I gathered my courage as I had gathered my power and looked with the healing sight into my own body.
I spewed forth my meagre meal and kept heaving long after there was nothing more to come. No one should have to see that in themselves. Oh Mother, oh kind and blessed Lady of the ground below and the water around and the moon in her gentleness above, keep me man alive long enough to fight back.
Wrapped around my gut, with claws in my spine and a spiked tail flicking back and forth, was a demon. I had not called it, I had not allowed it into my soul much less my body, it had been put there against my will. By Berys, of course.
I had heard of such things, but I had never believed that it could—it never happens to you, does it? It was a Sending. A major demonwork that cost the summoner dear one way or another, but not nearly as much as it cost the chosen host.
There was no way to be rid of the thing. It was the cause and the force behind the compulsion that had made no sense. I didn’t know why Berys wanted me to track Lanen, to be near her when she stopped, but I “knew” it was something I had to do. No, I corrected myself. It was something that Berys, through the demon, wanted me to do.
The Lesser Kindred Page 39