[Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost (41 page)

“Bloody hellsfire! Marik?”

What the—somebody heard me?

We rose just after dawn, not that anyone slept
much, and broke our fast together. Shikrar and Idai took wing to see that all
was prepared, and Maran announced that she was going over to the waterfall to
have a quick word with the Lady and if anyone wanted to join her they’d be
welcome. Vilkas and Aral wandered along, and after a moment so did I.

We said little, each in the privacy of our own
minds addressing the Goddess. Being so near a waterfall, of course, the
Laughing Girl of the Waters was uppermost in my mind. It seemed odd, addressing
so weighty a subject as battle to the lightness of Mother Shia, but somehow it
cheered me. If the Mother of us All had sent us the Laughing Girl, perhaps it
was to remind us of hope. That’s how I chose to think of it, in any case.

Aral was deeply moved, kneeling, her hands
cradling the leather bag around her throat that held the soulgem of some lost
Kantri, and her corona surrounded her for a moment as she prayed. To my
surprise, her power was no longer plain blue; it was still bright and clear,
but there was a depth of colour that suggested purple. I had seen corrupted
Healer’s power. This seemed the opposite.

My mother Maran seemed to have a very rough
and ready approach—she didn’t kneel, she didn’t even stop moving, just kept
walking back and forth in front of the little waterfall, muttering, gesturing,
as if she were addressing someone who stood beside
her. An impulse took me—I’m sure it was because of the danger we all
faced, rather than a kick from the Goddess, but I went up to Maran, stopped her
for a moment, and kissed her cheek. Just like a daughter.

Tears sprang into her eyes, sudden as a spring
shower, and she wrapped her arms about me. “Oh, Lanen,” she said, just for a
moment holding me close. “Bless you for that.”

Our devotions were soon done, and as we walked
back to rejoin the others I happened to glance at Vilkas. I never meant to look
at him with my new depth of vision, but so it was. I shuddered. I had once
watched a travelling silversmith ply his trade, and I swear that under the
surface Vilkas was like nothing on earth more than molten metal burning off
impurities; white-hot and boiling, dangerous, beautiful, and waiting to be shaped
by the hand of the maker. How he could bear it I will never know.

And suddenly a clarion call ringing in my
mind.

“It comes!” cried Shikrar. “Rise up, my
people!”

We started running when to my amazement I
heard another voice.

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

A voice I had heard before, but never with my
mind. “Bloody hellsfire! Marik?”

“My name somebody heard me Hells what is this?”

His mindvoice was shrill with panic. Varien
waited beside Idai, who was to bear us to a safe place on the far side of the
mountains. I took Varien s hand and opened my mind to his.

“It’s Lanen, Marik. You said you could only
hear.”

“It was true up to this moment where are you
how can you hear me?”

“Can you hear him?’ I asked Varien as we
scrambled with Vil and Aral into Idai’s impatient hands. The instant we were
all together Idai launched herself skyward, throwing us all off balance.

“Hear who?” shouted Varien, struggling to keep
his footing.

“Marik!” I yelled.

Varien obviously couldn’t hear what I was
saying: it wasn’t worth trying to talk. Idai and Gyrentikh were flying as fast
as they could, but because there are no thermals so early in the day they were
having to fly to the end of the mountain ridge, south and a long way west of
where they wanted to be, then back around east and north to Lake Gand. It was
sheer hard work. It didn’t help that they were also burdened with the eight of
us.

However, it did mean that we saw the arrival
of the Black Dragon. It headed straight for the castle nesded up against the
mountains’ roots. Casde Gundar. My father’s home.

It was not alone. Behind it, above it, flew
many of die Dhrena—gankantri. They watched closely as it aimed itself direcdy
at the   casde, then held back. They all knew the basics of the plan of attack,
and praise Shia there didn’t seem to be any more of them who desired death so
strongly that they must needs pursue it.

We came to ground on a hilltop, near the shore
of Lake Gand. Idai dropped us as gendy as she could as she came to land. She   did
not rest, but launched herself immediately off the edge and aloft again.
Gyrentikh did the same before joining the gathering cloud of Kantri.

Idai swooped past then, returning with the
last and largest boulder to lay on top of a cairn of stones that she and many
others had carried from the mountains’ feet by moonlight in the small hours.
Many of the Dhrenagan and the Kantri took this fleeting moment of quiet to fly
into the mountains, searching, taking this brief chance to learn the lay of the
land in daylight.

We all watched as the black thing circled and
landed behind the high walls of the courtyard. It barely fit. Even as we
prepared, insofar as we could, we could see its wing joints above the walls.

“The Winds and the Lady help us all,” I
muttered.

Varien stood at my side and put his arm around
my shoulders. “They will, surely,” he said.

“I’m glad you think so,” murmured Rella. “In
my experience tbey tend to stay well out of such things.”

Varien gazed unblinking at the distant
creature. ‘The Wind of Change has blown over us, the Wind of Shaping we have
been part of,” he said quietly. “This is the Unknown, kadreshi. It is the
hardest to bear.”

“You Gedri keep away from the lake,” said Idai’s
mindvoice in our heads. “It begins. Keep well back. We will fight the better
for not having you to worry over.”

Speaking of worrying. “Varien, before Idai
brought us, did you hear—” I began.

Then I heard him again, Marik, my father. His
thoughts spilled into my mind. I tried to shut him out, but no matter what I
did his voice was there. Goddess, it was terrible.

When Marik didn’t follow me, I raised the
alarm. His castle, after all, his people. “Your master is missing. His mind is
not stable, he has not been well, help me find him, there are dragons out
there!”

The presence of the dragons had not escaped
the denizens of Castle Gundar. They were petrified, and only Marik’s
reassurance stood between them and panic. They were desperate to get him back.

I was seriously annoyed with Marik. Of all
times to develop an independent mind! No, I was not amused at all. Fortunately
one of his old family retainers came forward—one Mistress Kiri—and told me that
as a child he used to be fond of the hills, and when he went missing they would
always find him in a certain place.

I was impatient. Waiting in the main courtyard
of the castle, I called up a Messenger Rikti and sent to the Demonlord.

‘Tour future has escaped into the mountains,”
I said without preamble.

“My future lies where I choose, demon-spit.
What are you on about?”

“I have a soul here, ready to join with you
and make you less dependent on my power,” I said. “But the current owner has
escaped.”

“Why are you telling me this, fool? To expose
your weakness before I have a chance to find it out myself?’

“Don’t waste time. Legend calls you Demonlord,
with power over every Raksha ever spawned.”

“Only the Lord of the Last Hell does not owe
me homage,” it said smugly.

“Then send me a winged Raksha to fetch me your
soul carrier,” I demanded.

“Why should I use my power to assist you,
little demon-spit?” it asked haughtily.

“I will waste no more time in debate,” I
growled. With a thought I was in the realm of the spirit, where Healers see all
things in metaphor. There soared the Demonlord like a vast highflying hawk. A
tethered hawk. The line was woven of all the binding spells I had cast about
him: it was interwoven with cruel spikes, poised upon his back to cut him to
the bone should he disobey me, and the line led to my hand. I had made the
binding tight and true: he could not shake it off, try though he might. I
grasped my hand about the tether and pulled. Hard.

The spikes of the bargain he had agreed to
were driven into bis flesh. He screamed, and with my real ears I heard a
distant dragon roar. It was good.

“Bound to me, in bonds unbreakable. Do as I
bid you or suffer more,” I commanded.

“I am not a demon, fool!” it cried.

I pulled the binding leash again.

“I don’t give a damn what you think you are.
Do my bidding as was agreed, or suffer the True Death.”

It laughed, even in its pain. “You cannot
threaten me with that! My life is as safe as ever it was.”

“Your life is in your heart, which you bear
even now within your form.”

It laughed again. “Fool! Do you think the power
of the Distant Heart is in its physical location? There is only one creature in
all the world and time that can inflict the True Death upon me. It is the
stricture to the spell, and you know it not.”

I smiled as I pulled the binding tighter. “Fool,
thrice fool and damned! I know exactly what is required, and I have her under
my hand: she who, when cut, bleeds both Kantri and Gedri blood.”

The Demonlord reeled, in the realm of the
spirit. Luckily my mind was closed to him, at least enough that he could not
see that I did not physically have her by me. Enough that I knew the stricture
and had a demonline to her. I knew I could take her when I needed her, and that
is all he would see in my mind.

“If you are done with your posturing, send me
a Raksha to bear to me my prey,” I growled at him. He cursed and spat and
writhed in the bindings, prophesying my sudden demise—and sent me a Raksha.

“Fetch Marik,” I told it. “He will be in these
hills. A man, running away from this place.”

“Too many Kantri!” it cried. I’d never seen a
Raksha terrified. Interesting, but I had no time for this.

“Then fly low and find him swiftly,” I
retorted. “Go!”

It flapped up to the wall, looked about, and
took off towards the southeast.

I stood alone in the courtyard, drew my
poniard, and waited.

Height. Must get higher, so I can see and not
be seen. I can’t shake the feeling that Lanen is right behind me, but I’ve
looked back ten times and she is not there. My mind is playing tricks.

My mind. How did I get to this place? I was steadily
gaining wealth, I was doing well as a merchant, then Berys came along and I
made that damned Farseer and my life was ruined. I’d never have been as rich as
I am, but who knows, Marik, you might have lived longer, eh?

There is no pursuit. Hells! I’m not as young
as I was, I can’t run up the side of a mountain without catching my breath.
Damn—but I’ve come a long way up, he’ll have a job finding me—what’s that over
the castle—oh, Hells.

It’s the sodding dragon. It’s too big to be
alive, nothing that big should be able to move. It’s circling to land, it’s—

Damn it what’s that something s got hold of me

it’s a demon NO NO Let me go damn you let go
of me oh Hells we’re flying!

It’s taking me back. I just came all that way
I got away I was nearly away it’s taking me BACK—to Berys, Berys is standing
there in my courtyard smiling, and the dragon is waiting.

I’m struggling against the demon but I can’t
get away, the second it drops me one of Berys’s own guards holds me, I kick I
fight to get free but it’s done—

Oh, shit.

A second of pain, a deep thrust with a knife
like a terrible needle—the sight of it sticking out of my chest is surprising,
my heart stumbles and stops—thought flies away, it’s like a dream my mind is
loosed my body drops away I’m free at last…

Gahhhh!

I was dead. I know it. Dead, just now. A
terrible, eternal, burning moment of pain, and then freedom. No more agony, no
madness, no fear. No self. It was—comforting.

But Berys has dragged me back, half healed.
Hells, the agony! I cannot breathe, my chest is on fire—and Berys is calling my
name. I ignore him, but am forced to open my eyes. He is standing above me,
smiling.

“Ah, Marik, welcome back,” he says happily. I
struggle, I long   to leap up and throttle him, but I cannot move. “Just in time.
Here is your soul mate. I hope you like him.”

Something huge has fallen to earth behind me,
with a great commotion and a gust of hot air. The Black Dragon. The Demon-lord.
It is so near I can see its eyes, but I cannot focus for more than an instant,
the pain is everywhere. I cry out with it but nothing happens. I force myself
to look at the creature, take my mind off the searing agony in my body.

Close to like this, it seems to be no more
than a thin shell over something that flows horribly beneath the surface, ever
changing. And it is hot, a haze rises from it, it bleeds heat like a hundred
days of summer violendy crushed into one, scorching heat streams from it,
merciless, more cruel than death.