[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (45 page)

Jamie and Rella were having trouble with the
demons. Maran was much better at fighting them, but Lanen had smeared her
dagger with her half-Kantri blood and was doing best of all, especially as Aral
was now at her side. Vilkas seemed to be well in command of the Lord of the
Sixth Hell. I trusted them all to the Winds and the Lady and turned back to my
dying soulfriend.

Shikrar’s mind began to relax, as the pain
left him and he realised that his time was come. “Kedra, my son,” he said, his
mind-voice soft but clear.

“I am here, my father,” said Kedra calmly. “Be
at ease.”

“Farewell, my dearest son. The Winds blow ever
kindly on you and those you love.”

Kedra’s eyes never left his fathers. His strength
humbled me. “I love you, my father,” he replied, his mindvoice calm and clear. “Rest
upon the Winds, and know that you will live always in our memory,
Hadretikantishikrar.”

I breathed again. It was well that the last
time Shikrar heard his true name, it was spoken with love. I was grateful that
he could not see any longer, for the great hissing tears wrung in agony from
Kedra’s eyes would break a heart of stone.

“AkhorP Idai?” Shikrar called weakly. We who
had known him longest, through all the years.

“Here, my friend,” I replied quietly, and “Here,
Shikrar,” she said. I knew that oceans of grief awaited me, a thousand years
deep and broad as all time yawning to swallow me up, but as yet I stood on the
shore.

“Fight on,” he said, and died.

I could not speak aloud, so in truespeech I
sang, “Sleep on the
Winds,
Hadretikantishikrar,” honouring him with his true name as he passed from us.
Leaning forward, my hands on his faceplate, I closed my eyes and gendy went to
touch his soulgem with my own one last time, in token of the depth of our
lifelong friendship.

To my horror I felt his soulgem move under
mine. My eyes snapped open, my bones turned to water, and I saw the brilliant
ruby fall to the earth. I could not stop the movement I had begun, and my own
soulgem touched the place where Shikrar’s had been.

And I fell, and fell, and fell forever.

That happened which could not happen.

I saw Varien lean forward to touch Shikrar’s
soulgem, saw Shikrar’s red gem come loose and fall to earth, saw bright emerald
touch the hollow where it had lain—and saw Varien fall into Shikrar’s body, as
a man falls into a grave, and be swallowed up. The great body that lay before
us shuddered along its length, once, then lay still.

What in the name of all heaven was happening?

“Varien!” I screamed idiotically, turning my
back on Berys. “Goddess! Varien! Varien!”

Then the green soulgem, resting in the hollow
where a soulgem should be, began to glow. From a tiny gleam in the depths, as a
light rising through deep water, it brightened and flowed until it filled all
the space in Shikrar’s faceplate. The light grew brighter yet, green as clear
emerald, green as leaves in deep summer, bathing all that vast body in its
radiance. The dark bronze of Shikrar’s face did not look so dark as it had.
Under the green light, just around the blazing soulgem, it seemed much
lighter—almost—

Silver.

I laboured to breathe as I watched, for
miracles, good or ill, are not easy to bear. Starting from the slight silver
stain around his soulgem, the dark bronze of Shikrar’s hide was washed in a
coating of silver, sweeping ever more swiftly from nose to tail. Where the
green and silver touched the great wounds Shikrar had borne, light flared as
flesh and blood and bone were healed. The terrible broken wings blazed green
and silver and were made whole. The neck bone came to its right place with a
snap very little less terrible than that which had broken it.

It all took little more than the blink of an
eye, and when all was done—Akor lay before us, but not Akor. He was the size of
Shikrar, and all his body glowed yet fire-bright with emerald radiance.

Then he opened his eyes.

I woke as from a long sleep, instantly aware,
myself again after some dream of another life. I stood and stumbled, as one who
has not moved for some time. I flexed my wings, glad to find that they were not
as stiff as I had feared. Only then did I look about me.

My beloved Lanen stood staring up at me, her
eyes huge, her mouth slack. She—she looked terrified. Astounded.

Desolate.

“Akhor?” said a voice, quietly, behind me. I
turned to see Idai gazing up at me, her eyes like Lanen’s full of fear and
wonder.

Wait—Idai gazing up?

I reared onto my back legs and stared down at
Idai, and far, far down at my own Lanen. Her lips moved, but it was not the
voice of the body I heard. It was the voice of her mind, soft and dry as death,
in motionless agony, and so terribly alone.

“Akor. You are Kordeshkistriakor once more.
Sweet Shia, no!”

And then she cried out in her desolation, a
scream of pain torn from her as though her heart had been wrenched from her
breast. She fell to her knees and hid her face from me.

We were parted once more, as I had never
thought to be parted from her again in life. Parted forever.

Sorrow fell before fury.

I never wanted this.

Wrath rose in me then, fire unquenchable, and
I looked up to where the battle raged. I did not try to understand. There was
no time to mourn Shikrar, to mourn anything. With a heart blazing with death
and fury, I leapt into the sky and trumpeted a challenge to the Black Dragon,
not nearly so huge now as it had seemed. I flew twice as fast as ever I had
flown before, I flew as one gone mad, and I felt light as a birds feather. I
swear the Winds blew solely to bear me up.

I dragged myself out of that damned lake once
more to find that Ur-kathon was no more. The sun had turned blue, it seemed,
and come to rest on that hilltop. For the moment, the girl was beyond my reach.
Still, I-Demonlord had faced any number of Mages in my day. Eventually they
grew weary, as I would not in the body of this golem of fire and ash. The
largest of the Kantri, the big bronze one, lay dead on that hilltop as well,
which gave me joy. I rose with a great leap into the sky and began pursuing the
others, one by one. The big one had been a lesson in flight; the smaller ones
were good, but they were not the match of their dead leader. I danced on the
air and destroyed some thirty or forty, one after the other, glancing back to
that hilltop after each one died, waiting for that Mage s glow to die down, or
at least to withdraw from the figure of the girl.

There! He was busy with something else—of
course! Berys! Excellent! I wished that Mage all success, as I dove straight as
an arrow for the key to my death/my daughter/Lanen, who stood now unprotected
and unaware. I drew breath and sent a lance of flame to scorch her to bare
earth—and a wind blew up from nowhere. The molten stone of my fire was blown
back at me, I was thrown nearly onto my back by the fierce wind. Recovering, I
stared in amazement.

Their leader was dead, the big bronze one. I’d
seen it lying still as stone with a broken neck—but here it was rising before
me, glowing green and shining silver.

I-Marik remember. It’s that damned great
dragon that came through the wall, I thought it was dead what is it doing here
alive again no it’s coming for me!

I-Demonlord fight to retain control of this
body. I-Marik is taken with soul-deep panic, for a moment I-Marik am in control
and I fly as fast as I can away from the creature.

But I-Demonlord look deeper into my other half
and find the hatred below the fear. I fan it, I encourage him to remember what
has been done to him and what this body can do to the beast. I-Marik slow,
thinking, and when I-Demonlord show him an image of the silver one dead I-Marik
peel away right and return the way I came. I-Marik gladly let my other self
take control.

The silver one sees us coming and takes
fright, turns to escape.

We pursue with a light heart.

XIV

Jamie, Rella, Maran, and I took advantage of a
brief pause in the fighting to catch our breath. Most of the Raksha that had
been harrying us had been dashed on the rock of Vilkas’s power and destroyed.
Others would no doubt replace them soon. Aral was kneeling by Will, her power
bright around her. Even as I glanced at them, he sat up, his hand to his head. “Hold
still, you idiot, I’m still working,” she told him.

He let himself be told. It was as well Aral
was looking at his wounds and not his eyes. Even now, I thought, the greater
wound is there. He gazed at her the way Varien—Akor—no, I can’t bear it…

“You’ll keep now,” she said briskly, rising,
and she returned to us, swiftly cleansing and sealing the worst of our wounds.

I longed for more Raksha to fight. Anything
that would not let me stop and think.

Kedra stayed for only a brief moment
after—after—“Lady Lanen, I pray you, assist me here.”

I hurried over. He reverently lifted his
father’s soulgem and placed it in my hand. “Keep it safe, Lady. I cannot stay.”

“As my own life, Kedra,” I replied.

He leapt into the bright morning to join the
others in the aerial battle. I put Shikrar’s soulgem in my scrip and turned
back to find the others watching me. Behind them more demons approached—’ I
cried out and pointed. We all prepared, and I drew my dagger across my arm yet
again, letting the blood fall onto my blade. I welcomed the pain. Anything that
kept me from thinking.

I had never been so happy, or so free, or so completely
myself in all my life. There I stood, fighting for my life against the powers
of darkness, and I was filled with a joy so vast I could barely contain it.
Only the smallest part of me remembered that in my dreams I laughed as I
destroyed the world.

Berys was more powerful than I would ever have
believed, certainly far stronger than he had ever revealed himself to be. He
screamed and cursed and sent dark flame like daggers to pierce me to the bone.
Most I deflected, but those that got through and injured me I healed at once.

At first I let him do all the work,
restricting myself to defence while I tested the extent of my own powers.
Before I welcomed them, a few minutes and an age of the world before, I would
have been terrified. Now—ah, now I felt the Lady’s power flowing into me
through my feet, through the top of my head, through my very skin. I formed it
into a shield that soon deflected everything he flung at me.

Berys turned from smug to angry very quickly. “You
foolish boy, you cannot hope to equal my power!” he cried. “Bow before your
master!”

“I have already made my devotions to the Lady
this morning,” I replied, turning away the forest of knives he had conjured to
throw at me.

“This is some trick!” he screamed. He paused
to draw a deep breath, moved his hands into a semblance of a claw, and reached
for my heart. I had never seen such a thing, his arm grew impossibly long and
his fingertips appeared to touch my skin. I battered against the claw, moving
away from it; it followed me, and suddenly I felt something tap my abdomen. I
looked down.

If he’d had two hands I might have been done
for, but even Berys could not make a claw from a stump.

I laughed and poured the healing light of the
Lady into the very substance of his extended arms. He cried out in pain and
released the spell before it could travel up his arms. In panic, to buy himself
time, he sent a cloud of choking blackness to cover me. I summoned a wind to
blow from behind me, returning the cloud to its maker, who had to disperse it
as swiftly as he had called it into being.

I seemed to have the defensive part worked
out.

Berys glared at me, wild-eyed, desperately
summoning yet more strength for some new attack.

“My turn, I think,” I said, and grinned. I
relaxed and breathed deep, feeling as if I were sustained by a brilliant beam
of light shooting through me from the very heart of the world. I drew power
from the very air as a lamp draws oil through a wick, ignited it at the raging
bonfire in my soul, and sent it forth to batter down the thick defensive walls
around Berys’s soul. He fought me, beating away my initial foray. I leaned into
him, sending my power deeper. He did not laugh anymore, he was focussed
absolutely, but he turned aside my attack.

How could this be?

I sent again, concentrating harder, thinking
to tear his shields from him.

He remained unharmed.

Stop we cannot win we must not lose control
hold back do not attack do not let go

Old voices chattered their old song in my
mind, insistent.

Strange. I had thought they were answered.

I concentrated, astounded that there was yet
some vestige of that in me—and yes, there, for all my new freedom, I was still
holding back. Thick walls yet surrounded my very core, where lay the deep
roiling center of the flame.