[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (24 page)

Heh. I wonder what kind of havoc that is
wreaking across the three Kingdoms this day? Only the three, of course. Gorlak
has ever been a support to our plans, so we have not touched any of the Healers
from his Kingdom of the East Mountains. I wonder if Berys has had word of how
Gorlak is doing in his battles? Last I heard he had taken the North Kingdom and
was within a breath of victory in Ilsa. That would suit us well. If there is
yet an “us”—though Berys did save me from that monster just now, perhaps he
still sees my worth in his schemes. Without me he has no legitimacy in this
Kingdom, where my family is very near to the throne. Only Gorlak and his fool
of a son, Ulrik, truly stand between me and my rightful place. If you look at
the lineage a certain way.

It occurs to me to wonder, more and more, what
will happen when all the Kantri are dead? Berys was going to wed what was left
of my daughter, for his own devious reasons—I never really cared much why. At
least, that was what he told me when he was his natural age. It would give me
time to father a son where I would. But now—Hells take it, he looks younger
than I am! Mind you, I can’t see him interested in a woman, or giving a damn
about having a child to establish a dynasty. Giving a damn about anything other
than himself, in fact.

I must watch him more closely. Never trust a
demon-master, even when he is in your pay, for he has fewer scruples than a
weasel and only stays bought as long as you are useful. However, I am secure
enough here. True, Berys is more powerful than ever, but he is in my home now.
I may have been gone for a few years, but I still know and am known by most of
the folk here. They have worked for my family and been well paid for it for
many years, first by my father and, for some time now, by me. Surely that is
worth something.

I have seen Mistress Kiri already; she roused
and came to meet me the instant word had time to spread. She is greyer, but
otherwise much the same. She seemed pleased to see me despite the hour. My own
mother died young; Mistress Kiri was mother to me most of my life. I think she
may still have some affection for me, and at the least she and her family owe
me their allegiance. My father, second only to King Gorlak, was more and more
in the court from the moment my mother died, and he never saw me from one year’s
end to another. His influence and the power of the House of Gundar grew and
spread as he worked through the years, and I was proud of him, knowing that all
he achieved would be mine one day. I was well content that my father should
never seek me out, for it meant I could do as I pleased.

The sun rises earlier here than in Verfaren by
some hours, but it can damn well rise without me today. I have pulled the heavy
shutters closed. I will sleep late, I think. I shall tell Berys what I have
discovered about Lanen s pregnancy sometime soon, but tonight I am weary. It
will keep.

I have accomplished the second great work of
my rise to power. The first was the raising of the Demonlord; now the College
of Mages is no more, and most of the Mages are dust and bone. I have sent one
of the Rikti to discover what became of the Lord of the Fifth Hell. It did not
survive. I had hoped it would be set free when the building was destroyed, to create
havoc to its hearts content. Alas, it was not to be. Sent down to the True
Death in a senseless battle by the dragon that stole away my prize. However,
Marik tells me that this is the one called Shikrar, whose full true name Marik
taught me some time past. That knowledge gives me a great power over it. If I
invoke its true name in its hearing, I will have absolute power over it. What a
lovely thought.

I regret the passing of that particular demon:
all that power, all that focussed will so well controlled, now lost to my hand.
I will have to think of a suitable return for that death.

It is curious. I did not realise that I would
be so weary. I was not this spent when last I summoned the Lord of the Fifth
Hell—though I suppose, last time, it wasn’t killed either. Ah, well, such are
the fortunes of war. And I have discovered that in all the activity I have left
my book of Marik’s thoughts in Verfaren. It is annoying, truly, but of no great
consequence, as I have the book of my own thoughts with me. I trust him as he
trusts me, that is, not at all, but he is shaky in his sanity and his
imagination has ever been greater than bis capacity for action. He does not
seem to have noticed anything amiss. If I were he, I would have demanded the
sacrifice of the girl the instant she was captured, but he accepted my plea of
weariness and other more important tasks to hand.

I must remind myself from time to time that he
is not a fool. It is too easy to discount Marik. At least now that he needs me
to keep his pain at bay, he will not easily rise against me. He does not seem
to have his old ambition since I returned him from madness. Perhaps he fears
me? That would be pleasant.

The Demonlord has sent one bit of good news as
well. It says it can smell land. It should reach the Kolmar coast in less than
a day, likely by early afternoon, Verfaren time.

There is so much to do tomorrow. I cannot hope
that the Demonlord will arrive here in the East by nightfall: it will almost
certainly take it at least another full day to fly the distance, possibly more,
and the power I have provided it will run out at midday tomorrow. I must cast
the spell yet again, send it my own energy yet again. Golems are draining. It
is as well that I have the power of our tame Healers at my bidding. However, I
do not wish to squander it. I believe I shall have to take up my alternate
arrangement. If I understand the ancient scrolls of Pers the Hermit correctly,
there is a way to ensoul a golem, a soulless construct, which will give it
continued power and movement without further investment of time or energy from
me. The trick is that the Demonlord gave up his soul many thousands of years
since, so I will need another soul to enslave the golem that is the Black
Dragon. Pers never thought of two minds in the one place, but extrapolating
from his work, I think I will be able to arrange for the mind of the sacrifice
to be superseded by that of the Demonlord. I suspect this all will make the
sacrifice quite mad, but the man I have in mind is only a very short distance
from madness at the best of times. No great loss. I have only ever promised to
end his pain. There is little pain in madness, as a rule.

I will confess, I look forward to watching
Marik’s face when he realises that I have brought him along as a victim. His
daughter would have been most useful, it is true, but she is lost to us for the
moment. Favoured of the Goddess, pah! But the Holy Bitch is wanton and seldom
bestows her favours for long. Those who speak with the Voice are often left
bereft very soon after. I will seek out the girl again soon, for she is my link
to Marik of Gun-dar’s blood and bone, as well as holding the dominance of the
Demonlord in her veins. Far too valuable to leave wandering the world. All I
need do is let the Demonlord loose to work his will and destroy the Kantri, and
she will have no more protectors.

As it happens, I have already thought of this.
When I sent her into sleep against her will, I linked one end of a demonline to
her boots. If I really need her before the Demonlord has got rid of them all, I
will be able to reach her in the blink of an eye, no matter how many dragons
cluster round her.

As to the more mundane side of things, King
Gorlak of the East Mountains is consolidating the Four Kingdoms for me by
conquest. He took the North Kingdom swiftly, and reports I received just before
I left Verfaren would seem to indicate that Ilsa was about to fall. I’m only
surprised it has taken him this long, everyone knows ancient King Tershet is
childless and senile. Though perhaps he has good generals. Had good generals.
Gorlak says Ilsa will be his in a matter of weeks, possibly days. He may not
realise that the plague of Healer-demons I have unleashed will work in his
favour. At the very least, it will distract his foes.

“Marik of Gundar’s blood and bone shall rule
all four in one alone.” That was the prophecy made more than a hundred years
gone by a great seer of the demon-masters, before Marik’s father’s father was
even thought of. I have studied long, and I am certain that it means that Marik’s
only child, this Lanen, is destined to rule the Four Kingdoms of Kolmar, and so
she will. At my side. Or under my foot. Depending on how you look at it. The
line before that is “When the lost ones from the past live and more in fight of
the sun”—I am certain that that line refers to the restoring of those the
Demonlord created nearly five thousand years since. That has come to pass,
entirely without my assistance, but two days since. The prophecy is taking
shape, and I will do all I may to help it come into truth, as long as Marik’s
blood and bone is bent to my will.

And with the Kantri gone and the Demonlord
bound to her bidding and she to mine—well, it was never said how long she would
reign. Accidents do happen.

I shared a late breakfast with Will of
Rowanbeck. Nice lad. He told me what Lanen and her other half had done up in
the High Field a few days since. I’d seen part of it in the Farseer, but I’d
had no way of knowing what the true effect had been on the little dragons. The
Lesser Kindred, he called them. He told me about raising Salera from a kit, and
how he had loved her as a child even before she had been transformed. It was
all intriguing, to say the least of it. I was looking forward to speaking with
this creature.

Will didn’t know when Salera would rejoin him,
but said she had told him it would be this day sometime. He headed off to speak
with Shikrar and Kedra. Dragon mad, that one. I excused myself and said I would
join them later.

Once he was gone I sought out the nearest
Servants of the Lady. It wasn’t easy to find them; it seems that all the
activity the night before had spooked nearly everyone. This pair, a husband and
wife, were only a little better than useless. I was worried that such people
could not truly pass on Mother Shia’s forgiveness, but She is merciful and
considers the intent rather than the messenger. I felt the usual deep-seated
pain and then the release as the Raksha-trace was removed. I had never found
anyone who could tell me why it hurt so much, despite making me feel a great
deal better at a different level. I had begun to wonder if it were possible
to—if perhaps I was losing a bit of my soul whenever I used the Farseer. It
wouldn’t surprise me anymore. I left a donation, said a fervent prayer, and went
off to look for the others.

They weren’t hard to find. They were in the
centre of a circle of folk standing around a bloody great dragon sat in the
ruins of what had been the College of Mages.

Well, whatever else happened, this was going
to be worth seeing.

I keep hoping that people are going to
surprise me. I don’t know why I bother. Lanen is the only one in years who has
managed to do so. Oh, and Jamie once or twice.

I had had a few hours’ sleep, no more, when
Hygel chapped at my door. “Mistress Relleda, you need to come. Now,” he said
quietly.

I knew that tone of voice, and in any case I’d
slept in my clothes. When I opened the door and saw his expression I started
moving. “Rouse Jamie if he’s not wakened yet. Where do I need to be?”

“The College,” replied Hygel. “I’ll follow as
soon as I may.”

“Bring chelan!” I called as I headed out the
door.

I ran down the deserted streets to find a
large crowd gathering around Shikrar. Kedra was gone—just as well, really. I
wished yet again that the damn great things had facial expressions; those
faceplates of theirs looked like concealing masks. On some, like young Salera,
they were beautiful. On Shikrar, who was the colour of old bronze, it just
looked—impassive. Unconcerned. Otherworldly. Other.

I fought my way through a half circle, several
deep, of the curious and the disbelieving, giving way at the front to the
angry.

Oh, Hells.

“By my name I give you my oath, I did as
little damage as I could, but there was the Lord of the Fifth Hell to fight,”
said Shikrar, his voice calm and reasonable. He lay, seemingly at ease, amid
the ruin of the courtyard, with no one to stand beside him. Where in all the
Hells were Lanen and Varien?

“What was a demon doing here?” shouted an old
woman. “This is a blessed place, or it was until you got here!”

“Daughter, I did not summon the creature,”
said Shikrar gently. I shivered. His voice at least was much in his favour, so
musical, so expressive. ‘The Rakshasa are our life-enemies, there is a hatred
between us that goes deep in the blood. I fought and defeated it. Why do you
aim your anger at me?”

“Goddess help us, the College is in ruins and
all the Mages dead! Do you say that one demon did all that, with no help from
you?” cried a large man at the front of the—well, yes, might as well call it a
mob.

‘They have not all perished,” replied Shikrar.
“One of the Magistri lives, and some score of younglings escaped as well.”

“So where are they then? If you saved them,
shouldn’t they be here defending you?”

I had opened my mouth to speak when a loud
voice behind me called out, “If you will seek them out at The Brewers Arms, I
expect you’ll find them fast asleep.” Jamie strode through the crowd. “It was
near dawn when all was done. If you will only hear truth from one of your own
then seek out Magister Rikard. The only innkeeper with the courage not to bolt
his doors was Hygel, and he took us all in last night. Or this morning,
depending on how you look at it.”