[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (40 page)

I grabbed his arm and stopped him. He sought
to tear himself loose but before he could I slapped his cheek. Not hard, just
enough to shake him out of himself.

“Don’t be so damned full of yourself,” I
snapped angrily. Bloody dragon. “If we had never met, if I languished still in
Hadronsstead, do you think your island would somehow yet be above the waves?
Nonsense. The Kantri would still be here in Kolmar, Berys would still have
summoned that damned Black Dragon, and here you would be, all of you, just as
we are now.” I let go his arm. “The only real differences would be that the
Lost would still be lost, the Lesser Kindred would still be asleep on the
borders of reason, and—I wouldn’t be carrying your children.”

“And you would not be here, in terrible
danger, carrying our children,” he echoed, all contrition. He wrapped me again
in his arms. “Oh, Lanen, how do you bear it?” he murmured into my ear.

“One breath at a time, my love,” I said,
holding on to anger that I might not weep. “One breath at a time.”

We walked slowly back to the fire. The Kantri
had begun to return by that time, and I felt safe enough to rest. We lay near
the fire beside Idai. I had no idea what lay ahead, though I dreaded it—but for
that moment I was content to sleep beside my husband, held close in each others
arms. One breath at a time.

We did not even seek to rest until the moon
began to sink, weary, towards the mountains. Our plans were laid, our
preparations, such as they were, completed. We would fight fire with earth,
air, and water. I think that none of us truly believed we could prevail, yet
still we worked deep into the night, flying by moonlight, piling the largest
boulders we could lift into a cairn on the flat top of a low hill beside Lake
Gand. Idai and I found a small wood that would serve our purpose, and made
certain that as many knew of its location as possible.

A few of the Dhrenagan yet kept pace with the
Black Dragon, still several hundred leagues away and not likely to arrive
before morning, but for the most part they joined us that night. Nearly.

Naikenna it was who thought to use smoke to
our advantage. She was saddened by the deaths of her people, but the Dhrenagan
as a whole had given themselves up to the single purpose of destroying the
Demonlord.

I found it both frightening and deeply
distressing. They would not be swayed by reason. I had never seen that in our
people before. They would not keep close company with us that night either,
because of the Gedri among us. I saw the hatred in some minds, the barely
controlled longing to destroy any human merely for the crime of being of the
same race as the Demonlord had been. It did not bode well for our future in
this place. I spoke to Lanen, and we ensured that all of the Gedri slept within
the protection of at least one of the Kantri, lest any of the Dhrenagan be
moved to seek revenge in the night.

When at last all was done that could be done,
I joined my father and Idai, Gyrentikh and Alikirikh. The four of them watched over
the Gedri most dear to me—Varien and his Lady, Lanen Kaelar, who had saved my
beloved and my son. The humans had talked long into the night, but now they all
slept near the fire. There was Vilkas Fire-soul and Aral the Vahant, who
together had saved my father; there the Lady Rella and her dear one, Lanen’s
Jamie; and there a little apart, Maran Irongrip and Will the Golden.

The night was growing old. The stars in their
ordered dance wheeled steadily above us, to the music of the nearby waterfall.
There was a bird that sang as well that night, all the night long. I had never
heard a night bird or its lovely, liquid song before, but it soothed my spirit
as much as anything could. There was no more to be done but wait until the
morning. Gyrentikh and Alikfrikh were obviously using truespeech so as not to
wake die Gedri.

My father, though, was restless. He could not
settle after the work was done. I knew how he felt. The morrow held battle,
something only the Dhrenagan had known. The prospect of severe injury, of
death, of maiming, was very much in my mind no matter what I did to ignore it.

Finally he stood and left the circle of
firelight. I followed him, a little way down the valley. The sky was still
bright with moonlight, though she would set very soon.

“Will it ease your heart to speak, my father?”
I asked quiedy.

“Ah, Kedra,” he replied wearily. ‘This night
is as long as years.” He stood in Sorrow, and his eyes were solemn. He did not
say more but, to my astonishment, came near to me and gendy twined his neck
with mine.

It is a family gesture, parent to child. He
had not touched me so since my mother Yrais went to sleep on the Winds. I was
deeply moved. The gesture brought back a hundred memories, of the time when my
mother still lived, of a time when my greatest concern was how soon he would
teach me to fly. A hundred Midwinter fires blazed in my heart, when in the way
of our people we sang togedier a song of home and family, of a love deeper than
time that would never fail, love stronger than death.

It was at that moment I knew. He was saying
good-bye.

“No, Father!” I cried, pulling away. “No, you
can’t believe a legend! It’s foolishness.” I tried to keep my wings from
rattling with my agitation. “Why should you not prevail with all of us, Kantri
and Dhrenagan, to fight beside you?”

“Kedra,” he said softly, “this has nought to
do with the legend.” His Attitude softened. “As it happens, I think it very
likely that we may prevail tomorrow, if the Winds are blowing our way, and the
Gedri may well prove the turning point. Akhor’s folly, that brought us Lanen
and those around her, may prove our salvation.” He sighed. “Alas, my son, I
have seen this place in my Weh dreams.”

“No,” I breathed, stricken.

“Time and again, Kedra. Four times, and each
ends in much the same way. I know what awaits me.”

My heart dropped like a stone. I could only
shake my head. No no no no no.

“I do not know all that will happen tomorrow,
and by all the Winds I will fight with every drop of my strength, but”—he gazed
then upon me with such naked love in his glance that I could hardly bear it—“it
is in my heart, my dear son, you whom I love most in all the world, that I am
going to die tomorrow. I would not leave without saying farewell.”

I could hardly breathe. I knew somehow, deep
in my heart I knew that he spoke bitter truth. I tried to deny it, I longed to
deny it, but the words would not come.

“You know that you have been the light of my
soul since the day you were born, Kedra,” he said gently. ‘That has never
changed, nor the fight ever dimmed. Know that, remember it, and know that no
matter what happens to me, a fathers love never dies. I simply go before you to
sleep on the Winds, and when after long years your time here is done I will be
there to greet you in the Star Home, the Wind’s Home, the place of all Songs,
with your mother at my side.”

“Father,” I choked out, through a throat
painfully tight. “Must this be?”

“It will be,” he said gravely. “I know not
precisely how it will come to pass, but—it is battle. I may not be able to
speak with you when the time comes.”

And at last his calm resolve cracked, and he
bowed his head, and I saw that he was weeping.

We are creatures of fire. Tears are agony to
us. We only weep when our hearts are wrung beyond bearing.

In a moment he looked up again, gazing into my
eyes, his voice barely a whisper. “I say farewell to you now, my dearest son. I
pray you, give me your farewell in return, that I may know you have heard the
truth I tell you.”

I could not, just then. My heart was too full.
“Not yet,” I whispered. “Not yet, I beg you, while night covers us.”

He nodded. “Until dawn, then.”

While darkness lasted we lay close together,
my father curled around me for comfort, as around a youngling. We spoke of so
many things: of memories, of hopes, of sorrow and of delight. Of fife and
death. Time seemed to spin around us, unheeding, as my heart begged it to slow,
to stop, just for one more moment.

At last, away to the east, fight began to
creep silently into the darkness. It spread like water, slowly washing away the
night, until false dawn filled the sky. For the first and only time in my life,
I cursed the dawn.

We both fell silent, and my father looked to
me. Waiting.

I would have given my wings to deny the truth
of what he had said. I longed for him to be mistaken, for him to live long
years yet with me—but I knew that my father was the truest creature I had ever
known. To deny his truth was to deny him, and that I could not do.

“Farewell, my father,” I whispered, barely
able to speak. “May the Winds bear you up.”

He touched his soulgem to mine and we stood
thus in communion for a long moment while day grew broad about us. Then he drew
back, nodded to me, and turned to rejoin the others, who were rousing with the
dawn.

That moment has remained with me all the days
of my life.

Even now, as I stand here removed by so many
years, I can feel his soulgem against mine, a benison beyond words. These
moments shape our lives.

I am glad I had the chance to say good-bye.

“Vil?”

“Mmm?”

“Vil, you can’t ignore it. Tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes I can,” he replied, both eyes still
tight shut.

“What will you do, Vilkas?” I asked, keeping
my voice neutral. “When the demons come?”

“I’ll be able to decide then, because I will
have had some sleep,” he growled. “Not much, but some. Please, do shut up.”

I said no more and he feigned sleep for ages,
until at last exhaustion claimed him.

I would not have had his dreams for all the
world.

Marik arrived just after dawn, nicely annoyed.

“What the Hells do you think you’re doing,
sending for me at this time of day!” he yelled as he strode through the door of
my rooms. I smiled.

“Good morning, Marik. I thought you would like
to join me for breakfast,” I said. “I thought we might venture to celebrate
this morning.”

“This is my home, Berys. In future please
assume that I will seek you out if I want to talk to you, and I bloody well won’t
at this time of day.” He threw himself into a chair and helped himself to food.
He made quite a good meal of it. Very appropriate, I thought, considering.

“Have the dragons said anything of interest?”
I enquired.

“Not a damn thing they couldn’t have said
aloud.” He grinned, wolfishly. “Though one of them at least is nicely
miserable. Weary at heart, it seems, poor bastard that he is.” He took a savage
bite of bread and butter. “So, what news of your flying friend?”

“The Demonlord is nearly upon us, I am delighted
to say. He reported this morning that he neared the mountains. I expect him
here within the hour.”

“Well, better late than not at all,” Marik
said easily. “Tell me, is he going to start killing the Kantri right away, or
do we have to feed him first?”

“He must be fed,” I said.

“What does a creature like that eat?” he
asked, draining his cup of chelan.

“People, for preference,” I replied. “Specifically—you.”

Marik stared at me for a moment and then
laughed.

“Hells, Berys, I thought you bloody meant it!”
he crowed. I smiled at him.

“Come on then, tell me,” he said, brushing the
crumbs from his lap. “What does it really eat? If I need to send for a cow or
six, it will take a little time.”

“No, Marik,” I said cheerfully. “I meant what
I said. It’s going to eat you. Oh, perhaps not physically, that depends on what
it feels like, but you are going to feed it.”

“What, yet more blood?” he asked, annoyed, and
entirely incapable of believing what I said to him. It was delightful. “This
grows old. I’m amazed you have anything at all in your veins.”

“Come into the courtyard,” I replied, rising,
and calling over my shoulder as I left, “I will await you.”

I waited for Berys to go, waited a moment
longer lest he be listening outside the door, and shpped out through the hidden
door in his bedchamber.

I’m not a complete fool. I grew up here, I
know every foot of this casde, and I’d had him put in these rooms for a very
good reason. It’s one of only three that connect to the concealed passageways
between the walls. You can go practically anywhere in the place, including out.
I was soon scrambling out the little concealed door and up into the mountains.
Hells’ teeth, he was going to feed me to that damn thing without another
thought! Me!

Bastard. He’d pay for that in time, but first
I had to get a very long way away.

A voice rang in my head.

“It comes! Rise up, my people!”

I cursed and hurried on. Stop bloody posturing
and get on with it, I thought wildly. Bloody dragons! If you’d just damn well
kill the thing I may live to see another day.