[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (37 page)

Ah, damn it. In my weary heart I had been
hoping that we could just let this one go, but no. We had already sworn to
speak only truth to each other, however spiky and unwelcome it might be.

“Yes, you are putting us all at risk. I told
you that in Verfaren, and I wish to goodness we’d had more time to think about
it. But Varien—I don’t seem to recall you having to drag me kicking and howling
away from Verfaren, or forcing me at knife point to go with Shikrar.”

He looked confused. Poor dear. He was still a
bit slow when it came to understanding heavy sarcasm.

“Love, it’s true, you gave me very little
choice,” I said. “But that is not the same as ‘no choice.’ I could have decided
to let you chase this damned Black Dragon with the rest of the Kantri and
stayed safe and warm in a real bed in Verfaren. I didn’t. I, of my own free
will, chose to come with you. So both of us must bear the consequences.”

He relaxed a bit at that.

“That doesn’t mean that I’m not annoyed at you
for putting your people before your family, by the way,” I added, turning onto
my side with my face to the fire and wrapping myself in my blanket. “I can
understand it, and I’m here because in this one particular instance I agree
with you, but it’s not a habit of mine I’d care to encourage.”

“As you say, kadreshi,” he replied. He lay
down alongside me and put his arm around me. Even on the cold hard ground, even
in that lonely place, his presence was comfort and safety to me.

I lay wakeful only a little time, until the
weight of Varien’s arm assured me he slept, and I matched the rhythm of his
even breathing until I too fell into sleep’s kind embrace.

I heard my elder brother sing up the moon. I
lay, as he, beside a fire, watching over a child of the Gedri, and I joined my
heart’s voice to his. I would have sung aloud, but I had already learned that
the Gedri require far more sleep than do we of the Aiala. There was a little
breeze, a fight spring wind, with the promise of warmth even in the night. The
sap was rising all about us, pounding up the trunks of trees, whispering in the
growing grass. Great changes coming, great changes all around us with every
spring, but surely never before so many as in this spring that was changing the
world.

There was much to ponder in the quiet of the
night, beneath the shelter of a few trees. I still was teaching my heart that
no others among the Kantri or the Gedri could sense the future rising before
them. That Lord Shikrar had been so astounded at so simple a vision. That he
could be facing that future and not have at least the shape of it to guide him
surprised me.

Clearsight is not a gift of our Awakening.
Even while we yet lived our half-lives before, I and others knew of this
ability. We do not all have it—or perhaps it is more true to say that we have
it to greater and lesser extents. I am not among the most gifted of us;
Erliandr sees furthest and deepest, and there are many others whose Sight is
clearer than mine. Still, like most I can see best when my own future forms a
part of the vision. I knew I would not remain here in the west much longer, but
I had yet one task to accomplish ere I might leave with the rest of my Kindred
who were not partnered to Healers.

I would miss Mik. He and I had spoken long
with Magister Rikard, and by sunset there were three hands—no, what were the
words Mik taught me—five and ten—yes, fifteen pairs of Aiala and Gedri gone out
to challenge the corrupted Healers. He had not objected when I asked him to
accompany me, but he did seem confused when I asked that we leave immediately,
ere the sun should set, and that we should go north as several others were
planning to do. I had been forced to ask him to trust me.

That was when I realised that there was one
aspect of clear-sight that I had brought forward with me, through my Awakening,
and that it was right. I knew, deep down, that I must not speak of particulars
to the individual soul. I had not told Lord Shikrar the full truth of what I
had seen of his future, and I had not told Mik either. True, I was with him,
and that might change things—I trusted that it would—but I must not speak of
what I had seen.

The future is always in motion, like a flowing
river or a branching path. The slightest thing can direct the flow or choose
the branch a person takes. Speaking of specific events can—it is difficult to
express this—can stop the river, freeze it like ice, into the one particular
version that has been spoken of. Speaking the future can lead a soul down a
particular path, even if that is not the best one for them to take, or the one
they would have taken if nothing had been said.

The night was moving towards dawn before it came.
I was lost in contemplation when I heard an incautious footstep, far too near.

Finally.

“Mik, you must waken,” I said quietly. He did
not stir. Too quiet, perhaps.

“Mik!” I shouted.

He was on his feet in a single movement,
crying out, “What, what is it?” He looked around. There was nothing to see
apart from me.

“What is it?” he asked. “What happened? Did
you see something? Hear something?’

“Both,” I said. “‘Ware, Mik. Something comes.”

And so it did. An arrow flying towards Mik
through the darkness, as I had seen in my vision. I batted it out of the air
with my faceplate.

“Come,” I hissed, and sped towards the source.
It cursed when it saw me coming, which helped me find it. The creature tried to
fire another arrow, but I moved quickly to the left, out of its path, and
pulled my right wing close in. Then I was upon it.

My instincts told me to kill it, but that was
not so easy as it once was. Instead I wrapped myself about it, holding it
unmoving until Mik ran up, panting.

“What in all the Hells are you playing at, you
idiot? Who the Hells are you, anyway, and why are you shooting arrows at—damn
it! Gerthayn!” he cried.

“You know this man?” I asked.

“Of course I know him. He was in the year
above me,” said Mik, clearly confused. “He left at Midwinter Fest last year,”
he said, slowly. “Said he’d got himself a fine post.” Suddenly Mik cursed. “Gerth,
tell me you didn’t take on with the House of Gundar.”

“Gerth issn’t here,” hissed the creature.

“Damn it!” shouted Mik. He summoned his power
to him, a clear blue glow, and sent it to cover his erstwhile friend. The
creature writhed in my grip. Mik called his true name thrice, as Rikard had
done, but the creature only laughed.

“I told you, he isn’t here,” the thing said. “His
spirit ran away when I came to five here. I’m just as pleased.”

Mik looked to me, pleading. “Salera, what can
I do?” he asked softly.

“Call your friend once more,” I suggested, but
I held out little hope. The creature in my coils smelt purely of the Rakshasa,
barely human at all, save for the shell it wore. Mik’s summons was answered by
a more determined writhing, but it changed not at all.

“I fear me your friend is truly fled,” I said,
as gently as I could. “He will not return.”

Mik couldn’t help his instincts. He sent his
power to cover the Raksha, trying to let the Lady’s healing drive the thing
out. Certainly he made its life hard for the Raksha, but Mik swiftiy began to
fail. He had not the vast resources that Vilkas possessed.

I sighed. “Forgive me, Mik,” I said, “but I
cannot allow you to throw yourself into death for one who has already departed.”

And with that, I broke the Raksha’s neck. It
cried out and disappeared, leaving only the two of us in the company of the
body of one who had been a friend to my companion.

Mik raged. He struck at me with his fists, he
kicked me and shouted at me and cursed me. I let him do so. Had I been in his
position, I would have been as hurt and angry at knowing that nothing else
could be done for one I had cared for. When he finally stopped from sheer weariness,
the sky was lighter than it had been.

“Forgive me, Mik,” I said. “I share your
sorrow that the Raksha have claimed your friend, but I could not allow you to
destroy yourself to no purpose. Your friend died when the Raksha took over his
body—I would guess that he fought it and perished in the attempt.”

“Knowing Gerthayn, that’s very likely,”
croaked Mik, his voice hoarse from yelling at me.

“Then honour his deed, and mourn him. And,” I
added dryly, “give thanks that you do not follow him.”

He looked up at me, and in the growing light I
could see clearly the deep pain that he bore. “Maybe it wouldn’t have been so
bad,” he replied. “Damnation! It’s all gone so wrong. So many dead, so many
poor souls corrupted, just for being weak. Damn it. It’s not fair. It’s not
fair!”

I could not help but hiss my sympathy. “Truly,
we are not so different, your people and mine. I agree, it is not fair, but it
is the truth.” I reached out carefully and touched his jaw, making him look at
me. “All that is left to us, Mik, is the way in which we decide to react to
that truth.”

He stared at me, pain and anger still raging.

“Throwing a life after a life is not the path
of reason,” I said gently. “Rejoice in the life that was, mourn its passing,
honour the memory and live. Life is the greatest gift of the Winds, Mik. Do not
dare to cast it away for no better reason than an excess of sorrow.”

He swore again. “Damn it, Salera,” he said,
his voice unsteady now. “Gerth was a good man. He didn’t deserve this.”

“Berys has much to answer for,” I agreed. “But
I would have you take note: you did not summon your power instantly when you
woke. If you had, you could have shielded yourself, and I would not have had to
deflect the arrow. Next time such a thing threatens, do not hesitate to call
upon your power. It will save your life.”

“I’ll remember,” he said groggily.

“Do so, for I will not be here to remind you,”
I said. False dawn was swiftly giving way to true sunrise, and I heard the
wings of the Aiala as they gathered upon the Winds. My own wings fluttered in
sympathy, almost against my will. “I am called away east, Mik. I did not know
it before, but I must go. The others who partner the Gedri will remain with
them, but the rest of us must join the great battle. Not a mile away west of here
you will find Er-liandr of the Aiala and Ferdik of the College of Mages. Go you
safe and keep you safe,” I said.

“Damn. I was looking forward to talking with
you some more,” said Mik, half a smile on his face.

“There will be long and long to talk, after
all is done,” I replied.

“Go well!” he shouted as I took to the air. “And
kick the bastards twice for me!”

It was as good a benison as any. I met the
rest of my Kindred, spiralling up on the Winds, and we struck out away west. We
could not fly nearly as swiftly as the Kantri, but we would arrive when we were
needed.

Of that I was certain.

I am still exhausted. The Black Dragon seems
to need more sheer strength over land than it did to fly across the ocean, even
more than I had planned for. I was summoned by a minor demon soon after I woke.
It seems the Demonlord was angry that its body was going stiff and would need
much more power lest it fall from the sky. “Not that those mouldy dragons can
hurt me, but I thought you wanted me there swiftly, little demon-spit.”

“I do. You have fought them, haven’t you?” I
asked. I meant only to buy time, and was a little surprised by the answer.

“It was good practice,” it replied smugly. “One
of them attacked me. I had to do a little more than fly in a straight line. Its
not so easy as you might think.”

“Fool!” I snarled. “Every beat of your wings
is held up by my hand. Do not waste your strength.”

“Why, little demon-spit, do you grow weary?”
it purred. “If you are so weak, why do you waste your time with me? Release me
from the bond, I will find strength enough on my own to fly as I like.”

The threat was always there with demons. One
moments weakness, true or perceived, and they pounced on it. I laughed.

“Weak? I have defeated nearly every Mage alive,
I have brought a golem of stone and fire across the Great Sea to do my bidding,
and I have you bound to me as my slave. I have strength in me yet to conquer
worlds, witless creature. Here, be filled.” So saying, I lifted my arms and
sent of my own native power to the thing. It absorbed all I sent and sucked at
me, demanding more. I closed the stream and denied it. “You must make do with
that, for now,” I said. “When you get here, I shall provide you with all you
will ever need. In the meantime, fly straight, don’t go too high, don’t damn
well fight the Kantri, and hurry.”

“Yes, O great one,” the Demonlord sneered. “I
come.” It cut the connection.

Once I was certain it was gone I collapsed. It
had absorbed every drop of my strength. I had not counted on that. I managed to
summon a servant to bring me food and wine, and told them that I was not well
and to let me sleep. One of them asked me a moment ago where Master Marik was,
and I quite truthfully responded that he was resting and was not to be disturbed.
No need for him to be put into a cell and arouse the locals, after all. I have
arranged for the guards who came with us to look after him and to report to me
what he says and does, until I require more of him.