[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (19 page)

Underlying all, of course, there is the
undeniable pleasure in knowing I have Marik of Gundar’s blood and bone in my
grasp. With the power now at my disposal, I do not need her to fulfill some
foolish prophecy. I will still grant her soul to the Rakshasa, if only to shut
Marik up, but her body I shall keep for another purpose. I need her blood,
after all.

I do not yet understand what forces cluster
around her, this strange creature. I have had any number of incredible reports,
chief among which is that the Kantri have taken to her. They flew her out to
the Merchant ship after it had left the Dragon Isle. They talk with her
constantly if Marik is to be believed. The very first of them to arrive in
Kolmar, weary and wounded, nevertheless came immediately to her assistance. It
will be useful to have her in my power when I leave this place, lest the
dragons are too cowardly to deal with my Black Dragon without encouragement.

Of course, I now have no further need for
Marik himself.

I do not plan to use him this night. No, he
will be worth a great deal to me when the Demonlord comes. Betrayal, despair,
perhaps even fury; a tasty banquet for whatever it is that inhabits the Black
Dragon. I will enjoy putting an end to his whining and his endless requests for
assistance—let him live pain-free for one night. His despair will be all the
more delightful when it comes.

Ah, but enough of such pleasant musing. I go
now to claim my birthright. And when the Demonlord arrives and all the Kantri
are dead, and with the help of the fool King Gorlak of the East Mountains and
his armies, I have control of all of Kolmar, I will give to the Rakshasa a home
for themselves in this world, that they may serve me more readily.

The time approaches. After I have released the
Lord of the Fifth Hell to feed on my erstwhile colleagues and any students he
can catch, I shall take Marik with me to collect his daughter. Let Marik feel
himself fully healed for a day or so before I sacrifice him. He will have so
much more to regret that way.

Ah, life is sweet.

It had been too long since I’d had to use
lockpicks, and I was as rusty as the lock. It didn’t help that every instant I
was anticipating the sharp claws of the Rikti in my back. I must have been
there a full minute—it felt like forever—when I felt the lock go and I pulled
open the door, shining the lantern into the darkness. Lanen stood there, eyes
blazing, manacled and chained to the wall. For all that, she stood holding a
chair by its back, the legs aimed at whoever was coming in. I was proud of her,
being prepared for an enemy despite everything. She caught sight of my face and
threw the chair from her. I winced, waiting for the clatter, but of course it
made no noise at all.

I was inside in a moment, lantern in hand,
setting the delicate lockpicks against those rough manacles to release her from
her chains. There!

And suddenly she was free and in my arms, my
girl, my own Lanen. I stole enough time from our peril to hold her to me for a
breath—forever—then I took her arm and pulled her with me. Every bone in my
body was screaming at me to run.

The moment I reached the road I called out in
truespeech. “Shikrar, my friend,” I cried, striding as swiftly as I might
towards Verfaren, holding my fist to the stitch in my side. “How fare you?”

“I have eaten a little, and rested,” he
replied. “I am still hungry, but that may be addressed in time.”

“There is no time, Shikrar, do you hear me ? I
am filled with the most terrible foreboding. I beseech you, my friend—my wings are
gone forever, I must needs borrow yours. When will you be able to
fly?”

My head ached instantly from using truespeech,
my side was worse, and I noticed as I walked that the wind was rising. From the
south, of course. I was headed directly into it.

There was the merest hint of a sigh from
Shikrar. “I am at your service, my friend. I have eaten but little, I am yet
wing-light.”

“Then come now!” I cried, breaking into a run
for a moment, despite the pain, ere I was forced to walk again. My heart
pounded in my chest like a great river over rapids, and of a sudden I found I
was terrified. I could not stop shaking, and I feared in my marrow that Lanen’s
death was near her. “Come swiftly, soulfriend, find me on the road. I will not
stop to wait for you.”

Even as I bespoke him, I felt the fear of
death enter me. “Shikrar, swiftly, to me!”

The moment we stepped outside the cell several
things happened at once.

First and most obviously, we sprang Berys s
trap, for more of the Rikti appeared and began attacking us—though they seemed
to concentrate on Jamie. I fought them off as best I could.

The second thing that happened was that, to my
infinite delight, I could hear again, and I could speak.

“Varien!” I cried, as loudly as I could in
truespeech. “Come swiftly, my heart!” Then I realised—I had no idea where I
was.

“Where the devil are we, Jamie?” I asked,
beating off Rikti as I spoke.

“ Verfaren, where else would you find half the
Hells in the corridors,” he grunted, between slashes at the Rikti and swerves
to avoid being injured. “Come on, the farther away we can get the better. Run!”

We pelted down the corridor and I called out
to Varien as we ran—

“We Jamie and I are in Verfaren the College of
Mages attacked by Rikti but I am free …”

—and met Berys and Marik turning the corner
not five feet in front of it.

“Oft, Hells, it’s Berys!”

I heard only “We come Lanen! Shik—” before
Berys waved his hand and the beloved voice in my mind was silenced yet again.

I was getting truly sick of that trick of his.

I felt the activation of the Rikti on the
prison door and hurried Marik down with me, along with two of my favoured
guards who bore lanterns and the makings of the small altar that was needed to
work the demonline. There was very little reason for either of us to stay in
the Great Hall any longer, after all. The Lord of the Fifth Hell was doing a
fine job on its own.

I was tempted to linger. The pleasure of
seeing those colleagues I had despised for so many years dying in pain,
confounded by a powerful demon—for they had never truly considered the
possibility of such a battle, leaving such studies to me—ah, it was balm to my
soul. Deeply satisfying. Still, there was no more for me to do, and I did not
wish to lose my new treasure.

I expected to find the hunchbacked woman or
possibly the proud student Vilkas in a foolhardy raid being savaged by Rikti;
instead we ran full into the prisoner herself barely at arm’s length, with some
servant behind her and the Rikti nowhere to be seen. I threw up a barrier and
just managed to stop them barrelling into us and escaping; they were held
motionless. It was as well I was so powerful at that moment, for they struggled
wildly, but my will was implacable and my power ascendant. I grinned and with a
gesture stopped her from using Farspeech as well.

“How very kind,” I said lightly. “Now I have
two sacrifices, and you have even unlocked the door for me. Very considerate.”

The guards handed off their lanterns to Marik
and bore the prisoners unceremoniously into the cell they had just left.

In the event, Shikrar was nearly upon me when
at last I heard my beloveds mindvoice.

“Shikrar, I have heard her! She is in Verfaren
and faces Berys—in the name of the Winds, come quickly!”

“I am aloft. Where are you, Akhorr” asked
Shikrar. His mind’s serene voice restored in me a tiny measure of calm, at
least enough to answer.

“On the road heading south of the field where
we welcomed our people,” I shouted, running as fast as I could. I told him what
little she had said even as I ran, and heard his distant roar through the
darkness. It was balm to my heart, as was the sound of his wings above me. I
cried out to him in truespeech and saw him looking back and forth.

“I can’t see, drat these clouds—grace of the
Winds, there is the moonlight—and there you are, all of you. I come!”

All of us?

I turned around. The wind had been in my face,
I had not heard the others behind me. Aral and Vilkas were on foot, Rella,
Will, and Maran were mounted. Just for an instant I blushed in the darkness. At
least someone had thought of horses.

Although I was proved the shrewder in the
event.

The poor creatures had objected strongly to
Salera when she had first arrived at the Dragons Head—was it ten, twelve days
since? It seemed a lifetime—and even more strongly to Shikrar when he joined us
up on the High Field, in the mountains. They were still not at ease around him,
but they hadn’t bolted. Or they hadn’t bolted when Shikrar was walking sedately
alongside them as we all came down the mountain. When he appeared suddenly from
the night sky and landed with a thump right in front of them they did a
spinbolt and disappeared into the windy darkness, leaving Rella, Will, and
Maran to rise up and brush the dust from their clothes.

“Well, it was a nice idea,” said Rella, grimacing.

“I cannot stay,” I told them, as Shikrar
gathered me in his hands. “I will see you in Verfaren.”

“Don’t leave me here!” cried Rella. “Please—Jamie—”

“I have bespoken Kedra, he comes for you,”
said Shikrar, and took to the wild sky. We were barely aloft when he let forth
a huge hiss of pure fury, stretched his wings, and flew at the utmost of his
strength. I could feel it even as he held me, I knew that bone-deep change
between flight that is important and flight on which life depends.

“Raksha!” Shikrar cried in truespeech as he
flew. The wind was fierce against us. “Akhor, it is a Lord of one of the Deep
Hells, some kairtach has summoned a major demon!”

The wind might have come directly from the
Hells that night. It blew in huge gusts, catching him on the upswing, throwing
me backwards as he tumbled. The gale fought him, swiped at him, almost seemed
to be trying to knock him out of the sky, but he laughed fiercely at the
challenge and rode the tempest.

My heart soared. No matter that we rode on the
treacherous wings of storm—it was Hadreshikrar who held me safe, who for more
than my lifetime had taught every youngling of the Kantri how to fly. He was
not the teacher of flight because he enjoyed the company of younglings, or
because he had endless patience with them, although those were truths as
well—no, he had earned his position. Every year. Only the best flyer, the one
with the most experience and the greatest proven skills, was allowed to teach.
He had been the best longer than I had been alive. I felt it when he caught the
feel of the winds, felt him begin to move with them, anticipating the gusts by
some weather-sense I envied desperately even as the blankness at my back ached
for what was not there.

And suddenly there below was Verfaren. Ten
miles was not so far on those great wings, thank the Winds and the Lady. The
lights in the town shone on winding streets, and lights in the windows gleamed
in the darkness, but the College on the hill was dark as death.

Shikrar landed hard outside what I assumed was
the College of Mages—it was the largest set of buildings and had its own walled
courtyard—and he didn’t so much release me as throw me to the ground. I rose to
find him facing the gates. A large Gedri, heavily armed, took one look at
Shikrar and ran silently and with great concentration into the night and away
from anything he might have been guarding. Shikrar ignored him.

The gates of the College of Mages were
astoundingly strong, as it proved. They withstood a blow from the Eldest of the
Kantri without breaking, which was one blow more than I had thought it would
take. When Shikrar hit them again—harder—the entire frame came away from the
stone walls and the still-locked gates fell to the ground with a great crash.

There was a single human figure in the
courtyard, barely visible in the dimness. He called out, “Jameth of Arinoc!”
and ran towards me, thereby striking me as being very clever.

Shikrar rushed into the courtyard and looked
around frantically, echoing my desperation. “Where, Akhor?” he cried. His voice
boomed and echoed in the cobbled square.

I ran up to the shaking man and caught him by
the shoulders. “Where is Jamie? Where is LanenP”

“I don’t know,” he said, and even in that
darkness lit only by fitful glimpses of the moon I could see that his eyes were
wide and staring. “Most likely there, you see those grates?”

He pointed to a row of small gratings to the
right of the courtyard, maybe five feet above ground level. Light gleamed in
one of them as we spoke.

“Shikrar! There, where the light shines, she
is within!”

I struggled furiously against the holding
spell, but I might as well have tried to dig a well with a fork. Lanen, away to
my left, was swearing at the guards, who ignored her. When we were all inside
the cell, Berys had his guards shut and lock the door while he cast a silence
around us. “Don’t bother yelling,” said Marik smugly. “No sound can pass those
barriers. In either direction.”