[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (43 page)

Someone is going to have to dive into that
lake to recover their soulgems when all is over, I thought stupidly as the
steam cloud roiled below me. Those who had fallen upon the Black Dragon had
done so in full knowledge of the price to be paid. I bowed my head and vowed in
my aching heart to honour their courage and their sacrifice more formally, if I
lived.

The thing was huge and made of molten stone—it
must be vastly heavy, and surely only kept aloft by demonic power. It could not
possibly swim. Did it need to breathe? Would it drown? Would the cold water
freeze its limbs forever?

Then the steam cloud rising from the lake
began to move towards the shore.

There was work yet to do. I had feared it
would not be so easy. As I dove and plucked the topmost boulder from the great
cairn of them we had created, I bespoke Idai.

“It is time for your plan, my friend. Set your
Fire where it will do the most good, that our enemy rising from the water may
be confused.”

“Your words fly to the Winds and become truth,”
replied Idai as she led a number of the Kantri in a long fine, swooping low
behind the nearer hills and sending Fire into the heart of the wood they had
marked by moonlight. The wood grew at the foot of a great fiat cliff face that
rose high above the trees. There would be an impressive updraft there on a
sunny day, even before we did anything about it. In a very short time the wood
was alight, a cloud of thick smoke rising into the clear air like a burnt
offering for the dead. It shrouded the cliff face very effectively. If you were
new-come to flight and knew not what you were doing in that maelstrom of air
currents, it would be quite a hazard. With luck and the blessing of the Winds.

The water boiled in a straight line, more
vigorously now, and the creature’s head rose from the lake. By the time the
whole creature was out of the water I soared high on the rising air, watching
to see the result of our efforts and the sacrifice of our Kindred.

The Black Dragon was covered all over with
strange black extrusions, some very large indeed, especially where its limbs
met its body. As it walked, steaming gently, onto the shore, I saw great lumps
of black stone fall away and shatter on the ground.

It was decidedly smaller. Who knew what masses
of the fabric of that body had had to be discarded, gone cold and dead in
contact with the water, that it might move again?

Before I could even begin to rejoice, however,
before I could think what we should do next or call off those of the Restored
who dove at it and hurled stone, I heard its voice. It spoke with great
difficulty, as if it were not used to the shape of its mouth, but the words
were clear enough, as was the malice with which it spoke.

“By the price that was paid, by my mastery, I
summon thee, Ur-kathon, Prince of the Sixth Hell! Take unto thee the woman
Lanen and wrap her in hellfire until her bones be ash and her heart blows away
on the wind!”

We were all ranged along the edge of the
hilltop when we heard the Black Dragon scream out its summons, damning me, and
I learned then how much I had changed. Fear had no more power over me. I had
faced hopeless despair and found fire in my soul, sacred Fire, like the Kantri
whose blood I now shared. I drew the dagger Rella had provided me with, useless
though it would be against even a minor demon, that I might at least face my enemy
armed.

I did not stand alone. Varien’s sword rang as
it flew from its scabbard, making a bright harmony with Rella’s and Jamie’s
swords as they were drawn. Vilkas and Aral stood surrounded by the blue glow of
their power, and as I watched they strove to cover us all in a kind of shield.
Varien, considering, nicked his arm slightly and let his blood flow onto his
sword blade. Good point, I thought, and did the same for my dagger. Seems we
both bled Kantri, at least in part. That seemed to work on the Rikti. It almost
certainly wouldn’t kill a demon prince, but if it banished the Rikti at least
it might give the creature a bad taste in its mouth. There came a deep rattle
of metal on metal and I turned to find my mother, Maran, standing like the
others with her long heavy sword at the ready. Against all sense she grinned at
me, a wild delight in her eyes. “Well, girl, we’ll likely lose,” she said, her
eyes fixed fondly on me, “but Hells’ teeth, won’t it make a good ballad!”

Even there, even then, we laughed—grim
laughter, but laughter—and lo, all was changed. I knew death stalked me close,
but for that moment I was surrounded by those I loved, in the free air, on a
glorious morning in spring.

I reached out with truespeech.

“Varien, kadreshl na Lanen,” I whispered.

“Kadreshi na Varien,” he replied simply,
reaching out to take my hand. His love, real and sohd and unchanging, washed
over me like clear water.

It was a good day to be alive.

Suddenly on the hillside there came a
disturbance in the air, as though a small storm cloud were forming before our
eyes. It grew swiftly until it was a dark upright oval, three times the height
of a man—and from that darkness emerged a gigantic figure, the size of the
portal, to stand on the very summit of the hill.

My stomach churned. It was an obscene mixture
of dragon and human. It stood on two legs but from its back sprouted large
leathery wings, like those of a bat. Its face was covered by a mockery of a
Kantri mask—what in the Greater Kindred looked like worked metal armour,
beautiful and unchanging, was here attenuated and become a threatening
deformity. Great fangs protruded from its jaws, long talons tipped its hands,
and it reached out for me, getting through Vilkas’s barrier with no trouble at
all. Vilkas cursed and dissipated it.

Jamie’s sword struck the thing just after
Rella’s thrown dagger bounced off of it. It spat at Jamie, who had to dodge
balefire.

“Nice try, Jamie,” said Aral firmly, “but this
one’s ours.”

Behind her I could see the Black Dragon leap
into the sky once more, assailed by our people with every wingbeat, breathing
death among the Kantri. Another fell even as I watched.

Aral, concentrating, sent a stream of blue
flame to encompass the creature. The demon barely shrugged and Aral’s flame
winked out. Vilkas shuddered.

“Vil, help me!” cried Aral, reaching out again
with her Healer’s power. The thing tried to move but Aral’s will opposed it,
and for a moment or two it was held in place, but I watched the colour drain
from her face in a heartbeat. “I can’t hold it!” she cried, even as the demon
prince shook itself free of her web, flapped its batlike wings, and was beside
her faster than eye could follow. It wrapped one great hand around her and
started to lift her towards its mouth. Will, horror-stricken, tried to hold on
to her and was lifted high in the air, clinging to Aral’s waist. The demon
prince took only enough notice of him to toss him aside. He cried out as he
fell. He struck the ground with a sickening thump and lay still.

Aral screamed as Willem fell, her voice rising
unbearably at the end. “Vilkaaas!”

There was no more time for soul-searching or
hesitation or fear. I watched the demon lift Aral to its mouth and I knew that
what would follow even I could never heal.

I had to stop it. Now.

Time slowed to a terrible crawl, and I
realised that all those dreams, all those nightmares of stepping into my full
power were come upon me. I had to choose. Would I let fear decide my fate and
Aral’s, or would I leap into the unknown and hope for the best?

I am not well endowed with hope. It seems to
elude me, for the most part.

I decided to go with love instead. I might not
love Aral as a man loves a woman, but by the Lady, I knew perfectly well that
she was part of my soul, and I loved her as I loved air.

It wasn’t a difficult decision, on the face of
it; but the next time you decide to change your life at a crucial moment, truly
change it at a fundamental level, no matter how obvious the need, you will
learn just how hard it is to leave what you have known. Even if what you have
known is pain and anguish, it is familiar pain and anguish. I felt a thousand
demons of doubt and fear rise up within me, what if you destroy your friends
what if you fail how many will die at your hands what if you cannot control
this power once you accept it Death of the Worid what if-don’t-what if-don’t.

I fought the real battle then, in that
timeless moment, though it took less than half a breath. All those years of
self-control, all the terror of that which dwelt within me, all the wildfire
passion in my soul screaming to get out, burning within me now in truth as
before only in dreams—

I held out my arms and chose to be whole, and
for the first time in my life I raised my full power about me.

The high thick walls I had built so carefully,
to protect both myself and the world, the armour so thick I could barely live
within it, all, all were gone as smoke in a high wind, leaving only the searing
blaze of the power that I had run from since I came of age. I was dizzy with
the change, shaking at the terrible sense of nakedness as my true self settled
into my body at last.

It was as if I had spent my life wandering
blind, stumbling, crashing into the unseen on every side, and I had magically
been given sight. It was like diving into deep cold water on a summer’s day.
The Lady’s gift coursed through my body from head to foot, light and life and
power, oh, yes, power, and I knew that this was what I was born for.

It took a moment to adjust.

It took years.

It was now, and Aral was nearer death, her
terrified voice still caught on my name.

With a thought I immobilised the demon long
enough to release Aral from its grasp and bring her safely back to solid
ground. It struggled—I could feel the lash of its powerful will, and was
surprised—but I was adamant.

Once she was safe, the true battle began.

Damnation! I wasn’t expecting the Demonlord to
do that. Still, those who protect her will almost certainly be able to prevail
against that prince long enough for me to steal her away while they are engaged
elsewhere.

Drawing out the amulet that holds the near end
of the de-monline, I draw my power to me and throw the amulet on the ground.
Grind it with my foot. My eyes are darkened for an instant, and then the
demonline is there before me, shimmering in air, connected directly to Lanen.

I step through.

I had to turn away from Vilkas, for he was
become the sun and I risked being blinded.

Just as well, for I saw Varien swinging his
sword at—

“Berys!” I cried. He stood beside me and reached
out to grab my arm. I aimed a kick at him but I was beaten to it by Jamie, who
knocked me out of the way. He didn’t even stop to consider, he just stepped in,
whirled, and slashed at Berys.

Berys raised a hand. Jamie’s sword bounced off
the shield of Berys’s power and Jamie howled with frustration.

Varien, who had missed his first stroke,
strode up to Berys shouting, “He’s mine!” Jamie cleared off and Varien swung
back his sword and struck a horizontal blow with all his strength. Berys didn’t
even try to get out of the way.

I nearly fainted. I saw that huge heavy sword,
driven by Varien’s terrifying strength, go through the barrier as the demon
prince had gone through Vilkas’s. Without slowing in the slightest, Varien’s
sword swept right through Berys’s body like a bread knife through a loaf. My
husband cut Berys in half. He should have bled like a butchered cow and landed
in two pieces.

Berys’s eyes flew wide with shock, just for an
instant, but even as I watched the wound was gone. The only trace of it was a
thin line of blood along the line of the cut, all around his torso.

“Have you forgotten that I’m the best Healer
in all the world?” he asked cheerfully. “You really are stupid. You can’t touch
me, any of you. You might as well give me the girl. She’s not much to look at,
it’s true, but I can make use of her.” He looked directly at me, so deep in his
own madness that he looked absolutely normal. “You don’t even know what you can
do, you poor fool.”

For all that the demon and the Black Dragon
had frightened me, this mad immortality shook me to my bones. Staggering back
from the thing that had once been Berys, I called in shaky true-speech, “Shikrar,
Idai, we need your help! Can the battle spare you?”

“I come, Lanen,” said Shikrar instantly.

Despite Berys’s protection, he didn’t seem
inclined to throw himself on the collective swords of Jamie, Rella, Maran, and
Varien to get past them to me. He frowned slightly at me. “You’re going to call
for help any moment now, aren’t you?” he said, annoyed. Then a slow grin spread
across his face and I swear his eyes twinkled.

‘Tell you what. I’ll go first, shall I?”

He raised his arms and cried out in a terrible
voice, “Come unto me, ye legions of darkness! Come, I command thee! By my
power, by my name, I, Malior, Master of the Sixth Circle, do summon to my
service all ye of the deep Hells to my aid. Come swiftly!”