Redeeming the Lost

IX The Black Dragon

"Go where you will, Shikrar, go even with my blessing, but go. I am weary beyond measure," moaned Rinshir. I sighed. The petulance in his voice was annoying me. "Has the world not changed sufficiently for you? We all need rest before we undertake another such journey."

"I do not demand your presence particularly, Rinshir," I replied as calmly as I could. "Only a few are needed—the rest may surely remain and recover their strength."

Those around him had the good grace to be embarrassed at Rinshir's whinging. I saw several looking at my newly healed wound. No matter, the scales would darken with time.

"I do not ask you to cross the Great Sea again," I added loudly, addressing the Kantri. The Dhrenagan listened, but I would no more ask such a thing of them than ask my grandson Sherok to fly to the bright fields of the sun. They had so much to encompass— so much time passed, so much life lost, the world so changed—I would not dream of challenging them further by asking them to assist the Gedri. "True, there is no way of knowing how far there is to fly, for we have only the Gedri's knowledge of the distance. We go east, towards the far mountains." Still there was silence. "I need only two more to assist me," I repeated, "as the Lady Idai has offered to come for the adventure."

"Can it not wait, Teacher Shikrar?" asked Trizhe wearily. I knew him for a good soul, but I could tell that he was genuinely exhausted. He could barely lift his head off the ground to speak. "Give us but a fortnight and you will have us all at your service."

"We leave in a bare hour, Trizhe my friend," I said. "But I would not take you even if you offered. You have nothing left to give beyond your goodwill."

"Then let me help you," said a quiet voice. It was Dhretan, the youngest of us, aside from my son's son Sherok who had not yet seen six moons. His willingness touched me but there was scant time for tact.

"Dhretan, I thank you from my heart, but I fear you could not keep pace with us, especially burdened," I said as kindly as I could. However, his was the last voice that spoke. I sighed. So much for volunteers. "Gyrentikh?" I called softly in truespeech, bespeaking him only.

"I was hoping you wouldn't think of me," he said wryly, aloud. "I wouldn't mind being lazy, and I swear I could sleep a full moon round; but yes, Hadreshikrar, I will come with you," he said. 'Were it not for you I might never have wakened from my last Weh sleep when the Isle of Exile was dying." Despite his words, he did not look or sound as worn-out as many of the others. "In any case, I do not believe the Gedri will be much of a burden," he added with an amused hiss. "They are too small."

"Two of them together are perhaps a quarter the weight of a bullock," I said, keeping my voice light. "There are few of us who could not manage so little weight without effort, even over a long journey."

"Father, let me come with you," said Kedra again. "I am rested enough, I am strong—"

"And you will be the Keeper of Souls when I go to the Winds, my son. Our people cannot do without you. I cannot do without you. Stay here and be for me the voice of Reason with our people, and with the Dhrenagan," I replied to him alone. Aloud I said only, "No, Kedra. You must stay and look after your young son. He has much to learn and he needs his father."

"Very well then. If no one else will help you, I'll come along," said a disgruntled voice, and to my astonishment I realised it was Alikirikh who had spoken. I did not know her overwell, but I knew her history. She was among the older of us. Her mate Lirh had been a good, kind soul, but he had gone to the Winds soon after the last of his younglings was born. She had turned bitter at bis passing and for many a hundred winters now had kept her own counsel and company, seeing only her children and shunning the rest of us. She was the last creature I would have thought would volunteer for such a task, but I was in no position to argue.

"Blessings upon thee, Alikirikh. Of your kindness, my friends, prepare yourselves now, for we must go to Verfaren to collect the Gedri and be on our way as swiftly as may be." Turning to the others, I said, "As for the rest of you, O my people, and ye Dhrenagan, ye Restored, whose presence is such balm to our hearts, rest well and recover yourselves. I would beg you all to have patience with the Gedri, should you have dealings with them while we are gone, for they are intensely curious and will almost certainly seek you out. Remember of your courtesy that, here and now, however foolish it may seem, we are legends in this place. Most of those who see us are likely to be terrified first and angry after. Try to think of them as younglings, and remember that we are new-arrived in their land. I will see you all when I return."

I let Varien know who was coming. "Alikirikh? Shikrar, are you certain?"

"I am as surprised as you, my friend," I said. "Perhaps our voyage here has reminded her that the world is full of new experiences, and that there are many kinds of good in the world."

We snatched some food, for it was now long past midday, then joined Vilkas, Aral and Will, Jamie and Rella, and my mother Maran. Jamie, Rella, and the Healers were all desperate to get away, to get to Berys as swiftly as possible to stop him. I could understand it but I can't say I was convinced.

My heart misgave me ferociously. Only by the grace of the Lady, Jamie, and Shikrar was I alive at all. I could not forget that Berys had said I was the most precious thing in the world to him when he learned of my mingled blood. I couldn't help but feel that the most sensible thing for me to do was to stay as far away from him as humanly possible. I took Varien aside for a moment and put it to him.

"I cannot argue with you, dearling," he said solemnly, "and I would not place you in danger for all the world. Perhaps we could remain with the Kantri until the others return?"

"What, you mean rest?" I teased. 'Together? In safety? Surely not." I grinned at him. "If this were a proper bard's tale we'd be going along with the others, intent on revenge to the exclusion of everything else, including good sense."

He laughed. "Ha! Let us confound the ballad-makers, then, and take our ease." He kissed me lightly. "We have surely deserved it. Very well. Let us go and tell our comrades of our decision."

They were all assembled in the shelter of the one corner of the College that still stood: there was at least a portion of roof to keep off the rain that threatened, and there was room enough for Salera and Shikrar, though Idai, Gyrentikh, and Alikirikh had to wait outwith the crumbling walls. Tolmas the stonemason and several dozen others from the town were there as well, to hear what Rikard might say about their future, that for so many years had depended on the College of Mages. The assembled Gedri—I shook myself— people stared at Shikrar in astonishment, and at Salera in disbelief.

Rikard took a deep breath and began. "There are two chief matters before us," he said. "First and most obviously, I have much to tell you of the destruction of the College and our hopes

to rebuild, but that will have to wait, for there are those here who must leave as soon as may be." He nodded to us. "There is news that will be hard to hear, but hear it we must. Ignorance would be lolly. Pray you, hearken to Mistress Rella."

"Those of you who were around earlier saw what happened, with the Healers Donal and Rathen," said Rella, and speaking quickly, she told them of the demon-haunted Healers. Over the shocked swearing she continued. "We know beyond doubt that Magister Berys, he who was Archimage, has been the source of their temptation and the one who must bear the blame for this obscenity." She drew a deep breath. "What this means is that you cannot trust any Healer, apart from Rikard and those students whom you see before you, not to be the victim of demonic possession." Now that brought a hiss of indrawn breath. "Berys has taken even that fundamental surety away. Those who serve the House of Gundar are almost certainly tainted. For the rest, we cannot tell, but the dangers are too great to take chances. The best we can do is to recommend that you only trust Healers who wear a Ladystar in contact with their skin. The demons cannot bear the touch of that symbol of Her power."

"We cannot live thus for long, surely!" cried Tolmas, the others echoing his words. "And even if we are so fortunate as to have Rikard and the others, what may be done for those who live elsewhere?' His brow was deeply furrowed. "My sisters son dwells in Elimar, and bis young lad is not well. What is he to do? How will he know who to trust? And how shall we deal with any of the tainted ones who approach us?" He lowered his voice. "Surely we need not kill them?"

"We leave this very hour to seek out Berys and destroy him," said Jamie stoudy. "The death of the demon-master breaks the spell. They will be free."

"Aye, well, if you manage it, all well and good," countered Tolmas. "But the Archimage as was, he's a powerful man. He may not be so easy to kill, and in the meantime how are we to protect ourselves? Demons walking in the shapes of men. Shia preserve us," he muttered.

"We will keep watch, day and night," replied Rikard heavily. He opened the top of his clasped robe to reveal the new Ladystar that hung above his heart from a silver chain. "It will take more than one of us to restrain them, so we will move in groups of three. We are very few, alas, and I fear..."

"Magister," said Salera, raising her voice only enough to be heard clearly. "I hight Salera, of the Aialakantri. My people and I have spoken of this, and we believe there is a better solution."

Those who had not heard Salera before stared, slack-jawed, at this impossibility. Surely that was one of the little dragons, speaking!

"There are not full five hands of the true Healers who yet live," she continued. "If one or two of you are able to subdue these crea-tures, rather than three, it would leave more free to watch and ward, perhaps to go abroad in the world to seek them out if that is needed; I have found"—here she paused to concentrate—"three hands of my fellow Aiala who have said they will assist. If we work together, surely we all will benefit."

Rikard's eyes were nearly as wide as those of the townsfolk and he obviously could not speak, so I did.

"Salera, you are most generous, and I know the Healers appreciate your offer. Are you certain that this is best for you?" I added in truespeech, for Varien had told me that she could hear it, "Dear Salera, this is a great work and a great danger you undertake. What so moves you to generosity towards the Gedri? It will be hard, and not all will accept you for the reasoning creatures that you are. If you seek to do this as a kindness to my people, for my sake and Varien's, know that it is not necessary."

"I know that well, Lady Lanen/Mother" she replied, her mindvoice calm and clear. "It is because they do not yet know us that it must be done. For our own protection, the sooner we are able to assist the Gedri, to speak with them for longer than a brief moment, the sooner will they come to see us for who we now are." I could hear the determination in her thoughts. "There is also an undeniable pleasure in knowing that we will be working against our life-enemies. Fear not, Lady/Mother. This is not misplaced gratitude. I have spoken with my people at some length, and it has been decided."

Aloud she replied only, "It is decided. If the Gedri will accept our offer, we will work together against the Rakshasa."

Rikard had mastered himself and said solemnly, 'Tour offer is a blessing beyond hope, Salera of the Aiala. We accept gratefully."

"The blessing of the Winds and the Lady go with you then, Salera," said Varien, his glorious voice balm and benison. "The Wind of Change has blown roughly across us all of late. I rejoice that you and the Aiala are called to be the Wind of Shaping. Good fortune attend you," he said, and in broadcast truespeech he added, "Remember that truespeech is not limited by distance, and that the Kantri for the most part will be near. Lanen and I will be among them. If ever you have need of us, you have only to call upon us."

She stared at him in surprise and responded in the same broadcast truespeech he had used. "Lord Varien, have you not seen? You and the Kantri, all save a few, journey east this very day with the whole people of the Dhrenagan."

Idea responded while the rest of us stood speechless. She hurried into the courtyard, pushing Shikrar aside in her haste. "What say you, youngling?" she demanded, agitation rattling her voice. "That was the true voice of vision, I know it. Whence comes this?"

Salera seemed confused. "Lady, it is—it is knowing. It is true. It lies ahead as surely as the sunset. Why do you question?" Faced by our blank expressions, realisation dawned on Salera. She blinked in surprise. "Do you tell me that this Sight is not known to the Kantri?"

"We live in ignorance of our future, Salera," replied Varien, masking his astonishment as best he could. "I gather from your words that you do not."

She was projecting confusion and uncertainty. "We thought—I thought—Lady Lanen, surely you of the Gedri can see as we do?"

"Not even slightly," I replied, trying to keep my voice light. Salera appeared to be deeply disturbed at this revelation. "I wouldn't mind a bit of warning, but we can't see ahead." I smiled at her. "To be honest, most of us have trouble enough seeing where we are, much less where we are going to be."

"This requires thought," she said, slowly. "We have made assumptions that do not appear to be true."

"Then think on it while we are gone," interjected Jamie rudely. 'Tour pardon, Mistress Salera, but this lot would talk the sun down. We must go."

"Jamie!"

"We are losing the daylight, Lanen," he said impatiently. He was practically dancing to be gone—and I had to admit he was right. "Did I hear that you're staying here?" he asked quietly.

"It seems the most sensible thing to do," I replied. "Varien will be with me."

"Thank the Goddess!" he responded fervently, hugging rne. "A battlefield is no place for you, with your babes to protect." He released me, and there was a curious look in his eyes. "Though I have never known you to be so sensible before. You're not growing wise, are you, my Lanen?"

"Surely not," I replied, smiling. "Perhaps I'm simply being forced to grow up, eh? It would be nice to think that I'm balancing the fact that I'm being forced to grow out as well."

Jamie grinned and turned to go. I caught him, hugged him again, and kissed his cheek. "Go you safe, Father, and keep you safe, and come safe home to me," I said softly, our traditional words of farewell.

"So I will, my girl," he said, and hurried off to join Shikrar.

I stood beside Salera while the Healers made their plans. We had begged the time from the dragons who had offered to carry us. I knew in my bones that I had to be with Aral, that she would need me soon, but oh! After all those years of missing her, I was loath to bid Salera farewell so soon. Even to leave her side was hard.

"I tell you, we can manage with one just one Healer with each of the little dragons," insisted Mile—he always hated being called Chalmik—to Vil and Aral as Jamie and Lanen were bidding each other farewell. 'Trust me, we all paid attention in Magister Pos-rik's classes. That's how we survived the first attack in the Great Hall." His voice grew lower and grimmer. 'Think of it as a test. Those of us still alive can deal with demons."

"And what about the times when you can't?" replied Vilkas sternly. "Not all the Rikti respond to the same restraints. And I am here to tell you that the creature that dwelt in Rathen was one of the Rakshasa. They are a different problem altogether, and we know not how many like him there may be."

"How would you know?" said Mik, stung by the implied criticism. "I'm sure you're well up on theory, Vil, and you did well enough today once the actual demon was gone"—Vilkas started to protest volubly, which Mik ignored—"but I haven't forgotten a thing about Posrik's classes," said Mik, sneering. "You turned white as a sheet the one time we dealt with a real demon. Damn near fainted."

I would have smiled if I dared. Mik and Vilkas always put on a great show of not being able to stand the other's presence. Idiots. And at such a time! Still, it made a kind of sense. The world they had known was literally lying in ruins at their feet. Their old rivalry was familiar, safe. Known.

Ah, and here came Aral, eyes snapping, to puncture the raucous pride of the young men's display. I was proud of her.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, can't you two give it a rest even now?" said Aral, exasperated, turning to Vilkas and frowning. "Vil, you know Mik's right, demons make you lose your reason. Don't snarl at Mik just because you—because you weren't thinking straight last night. He survived. That took skill." Then she turned to Chalmik, who was beginning to look rather smug.

Ai, I thought, cringing. Mik, you're an idiot. For Shia's sake, don't smile at Vil's discomfort! You ought to know Aral better than that.

"And don't you bloody well pick on Vilkas," she said, rounding on Mik and looking for all the world as if for two pins she'd slap his face for him. I swear, you'd never believe such concentrated defensive fury could exist in so small a frame.

"Leave it, Aral. I don't need your help," growled Vilkas. She ignored him.

"He's dealt with more demons in the last week than you've ever seen in your life, including last night. We've been working without cease since Berys murdered Magistra Erthik. Vil's done things people are going to write books about, if any of us get out alive. Back off." The two young lads exchanged a speaking look over her head, male commiseration over the peculiar habits of the female, but she reached out and took each of them by the arm. "No more classes, lads," she said, her voice low and solemn. "No more stupid rivalry. That world is gone. It's all too bloody real now. We need to stick together."

"It's not enough, Aral," replied Mik, more subdued now that she had forced him to let go his mask of scorn. "Vil's right. I know I can manage the little ones, but—I'm still learning to be a Healer. I'm not gifted like you two, I'm just one of the crowd. I learned last night that I can hold off demons, and I've a reasonable idea of how I managed it, but what if I have to face a Healer with twice my strength?"

"There are only two ways to get rid of a demon," said Vilkas, starting to grin. He could see over Mik's shoulder, of course. "Run or have a dragon handy."

"I can't run very bloody fast," grunted Mik.

"Then let us not depend on the strength of your legs, Master Chalmik," said a clear voice from close behind the young Healer. He jumped a foot, and Aral howled with laughter as Salera stepped forward.

"Forgive me, Master Chalmik," Salera said. "Magister Rikard said that I should speak with you regarding the partnerships we seek to create." She gazed into his eyes, her soulgem bright in the late afternoon sun. "He suggested that I should work with you, setting up teams, planning our—our strategy." She sounded proud, though whether that stemmed from remembering the word or being able to pronounce it, I was not certain. "I am willing if you are."

Mik blinked. Knowing him, he was too touched to speak. I knew only a little of his history, but from what I could recall there was precious little of kindness in it, and less respect. You've caught him on the hop, Salera, you clever soul, I thought. Well done, lass!

"She's the leader of her people, Mik. You won't get a better offer this year," said Aral, gently teasing.

"I've a feeling you may be right, Aral," declared Mik, finally allowing a slow grin to cross his face. "I'd be honoured, Mistress Salera. Though I still think we need another Healer. I'm damned new at this."

"I have seen your heart, Chalmik of Durrum," she replied, "and others have told me of your kindness. You are not nearly so limited as you choose to believe."

Mik's grin widened. "Very well, then," he said, raising his hand, palm out. Salera touched her palm with his. "As long as you stop calling me Chalmik. That's my dad's name, it sounds like you're talking to my father. I'm just Mik."

"Very well, Chustmik," replied Salera as she let out a great hiss. Mik jumped back several feet.

"It means she's amused, lad," I reassured him as he caught his breath and let his heart slow back to normal.

Mik turned to me, annoyed. "And that's another thing. How in all the Hells do you know what that means?"

I ignored him, for the others were preparing to leave. The time was come.

"Salera, my lass," I began, but she was already moving towards me. Despite the lack of expression on her bright face, the young Healers all turned away. Salera did not speak at first and nor did I, we simply gazed at one another for a moment—and then she bowed her head, like any daughter wanting the kiss of benison from her father at parting. I leaned in and touched my lips briefly to her brilliant blue soulgem, then threw my arms about her great long neck.

"It'll all come right, littling," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, the strange, spicy smell of her hide awakening a hundred memories from when she was a kitling. "We've found each other after all this time, haven't we? We'll manage it again when this is over." She did not reply, just rested her head against my back for a moment. "Your life is all before you, and a great work awaits. I know you will do all things well," I said softly. "I trust—I know all will be—" I faltered for a moment, then moved a little away and gazed deep into her eyes. "Salera, my heart's daughter. I am so very proud of you."

There was a moment of utter stillness between us, when we did not breathe and I'd swear our hearts didn't beat, and for that timeless moment there were only the two of us in all the world.

But time still flows, and we stood back from one another—and the dratted creature got in the last word. "She does not know, my father, but have patience," she whispered to me. "Aral is very clever. She will see you in time."

She dropped her jaw and grinned at me, then turned to walk slowly away with Chalmik.

It was time to go.

Before I could question Salera further about this astounding ability the Lesser Kindred seemed to possess, Idai glanced up and said, "Shikrar, behold, one comes from the west." She sounded puzzled. "But it flies in from the sea. Surely we are all here? It cannot be Nikis!"

"I cannot tell from—this range—" I replied as my words began to falter. I felt a cold wind rising. That distant form cast a shadow over my heart.

"May all the Winds preserve us," whispered Idai. I felt the shiver that trembled through her. "Shikrar, it cannot be!"

The shape was right for one of us, but this creature was too high up and too far off and moved—oddly. It flew stupidly, impossibly, vast black wings flapping like a crow even at that height, where it should soar on the kindly winds. It looked to be twice my size and black as night, and when it passed between me and the lowering sun I shivered from horns to talons, and for that moment I felt as though my heart were turned to stone and would never beat again. In that desolate silence one of the oldest legends of our people whispered through my heart like the hiss of falling snow.

"When the Black Dragon comes, when the Eldest of the Kantri falls from the sky, then will come the ending of the world."

"May all the Winds preserve us," repeated Idai, shuddering, as the thing flew eastward out of sight. "This is an evil day."

"Shikrar!" cried two hundred voices in my mind.

I was about to reply when a wave of sheer hatred crashed over my mind, followed by a cry from voices I did not yet know. A single word, shouted in fury by hundreds of minds and throats, as a mere ten miles away the great cloud of the Restored rose into the air to give chase.

Demonlord!

A terrible shudder rippled across every soul there in Timeths field when that vast black shape passed over. We had lost the only home we had ever known, we had flown across the Great Sea for our very survival, beyond hope the Lost were restored to themselves and to life the very day we returned—and now when even we, even the Kantrishakrim, required rest and time to think, the shadow of our ending swept over our heads a bare day after we had arrived in Kolmar.

I saw Treshak look up when the shadow passed over; saw her flick in an instant from the Attitude of Calm, which had finally graced her after many long hours of talk and food and rest, into Fury. I watched in amazement as she went in a single fluid movement from being at rest to being airborne.

"Demonlord!" she screamed, aloud and in truespeech, and a second and worse shudder took us all—but we who had returned from the Isle of Exile watched in amazement as all the Dhrena-gan echoed that cry and, rising up in a great cloud, flew after Treshak towards the distant black figure.

And behind them, but gaining fast, my father Shikrar.

Treshak was insane. She it was whose name was most remembered of the Lost, for she was the first to be changed by the De-monlord. Her fury, like a furnace when he murdered her mate Aidrishaan, had made her first in the attack. This had happened five thousand winters and more ago.

To Treshak, it was a raw wound made but two days since.

Her grief, her fury, were unabated, and she flew on her new-made wings straight towards Death. I shouted to her, sending truespeech that could be heard halfway around the world, but she would not listen. I cried out then to the rest of the Restored, commanding that none should take away Treshak's honour of the first attack. I knew my thoughts were full of my fear of her death and I did nothing to conceal it. Perhaps that would convince them where mere sense had no sway. It seemed to work, for they broke off the pursuit and circled high, a great column rising in a spiral, all eyes fixed below on Treshak.

As I bespoke them, I used every advantage of size and strength I possessed to try to catch up with Treshak, but there was not enough time. The Black Dragon was too near to her and I too far away. I had barely passed the great mass of the Restored when she had come level with the thing and dove at it from on high, screaming wordless defiance, talons outstretched and mouth agape, to rend, to kill with a single strike.

It heard and turned its head over its shoulder. It opened its jaws and a terrible sound came out, short unconnected bursts of noise, as Treshak fell upon it. Just before she could strike, it changed its flight angle, rolling and pulling up to face her, and spoke a single word as it rose. The sound was sickening, and it was clearly in the language of the Rakshasa. Dread took me. If this was in truth the Demonlord, had it just uttered the word that created the Lost in the first place?

Were we all doomed?

Treshak flinched but was otherwise unaffected, and hit the Black Dragon at an angle.

It all happened so quickly.

Because it had changed its orientation, her trajectory took her straight at its underbelly. When she hit, she sank her front talons and her upper fangs into its wing, striving to tear the membrane, and let her momentum carry her back claws into what, on us, would be the soft flesh just in front of the back legs.

Then she started to scream.

She could not free herself from it. Her front talons and her fangs were embedded in the black wing, but it was not flesh. Where her talons tore frantically at the surface, I saw a white-hot seething mass, just before her forelegs disappeared into the creature. It was terrible. Her screams redoubled, ringing hideously in my ears. It seemed that the thing had caught hold of her body and was actively pulling her into itself as they fell earthwards. It was plain that she could not get away, and I watched in sick horror as she began to burn—but she denied it the final victory. She chose of her own will the Swift Death, and cleansing Fire took her instantly from within.

The Black Dragon cried out briefly in pain then, as pure Fire, sacred to the Kantri, took Treshak to sleep on the Winds with her lost Aidrishaan. I saw something small drop to the earth and marked where it fell. The great black thing pulled out of its dive, and flapping clumsily but otherwise unconcerned, it returned to its eastward course as if nothing had happened. It ignored me. It ignored the great mass of the Restored, flying high above and watching in agony.

"Back. Go back. This will not be overcome by fury, my people," I said sternly. "Let us go back and think how we may defeat this creature, lest we all be taken down into darkness."

"We will not let it go, Shikrarl" cried Naikenna, the Eldest of the Restored after Treshak.

"I do not ask it of you, Naikenna. Follow at a distance and mark where it flies," I said sadly. "And bespeak us, as we will you. We will follow soon. I pray you, use what restraint you may and do not attack the creature again as Treshak did." I could not conceal the deep grief that weighed down my heart. "We have longed for your Restoration for many lives of our people. I pray you, do not desert us for the sake of vengeance. We will find another way to destroy the creature, we will all bend our minds to it—I beg you, practice what Disciplines you may, Restraint and Calm if you can bear them, Forbearance if all else fails, but I beg you, do not go down into death for no purpose."

"We will do what we may," said Naikenna coldly. "Follow soon." And she closed her mind to me.

I turned back sadly and flew low, coming to land where I had marked the fall of Treshaks soulgem. It took me only a little time to discover it where it lay at the side of a field, half buried in mud. I wiped it clean on the grass and gazed into the depths dreading what I might find.

Clear. It was clear.

I breathed again. There was no flicker, she was not trapped again, it was like all the soulgems of those who have gone before. I gave silent thanks to the Winds from the depths of my heart, clutched it to my chest, and flew back to Timeth's field and my own people. I bespoke all of the Kantri and told them what had happened, in every detail. We needed to know what we faced.

It was in my heart to speak with Salera as well. She was proven disastrously correct in the vision she had revealed to us. If she knew aught of the creature we faced, or could assist us in any way, I would beg it from her before we left.

My father's words were meant to help us understand, and they did, but we all work differendy. Some at least there were who became desperately afraid. I could understand, for we all felt horribly exposed, resting as we were in the northern end of Farmer

Timeth's field. Nearly thirty souls rose up when Hadreshikrar described Treshak's passing, their weariness forgotten, scattering in all directions as their fear took them, seeking shelter in hills, in caverns, in the heart of whatever forest they might find. I could not blame them. If I had had neither mate nor youngling, I might have even made one of their number.

My father returned soon with Treshak's soulgem and reverently made room for it in one of the casks that contained all the others of our people who slept on the Winds.

The rest of us took what courage we could muster and did what small tasks there were to do before we departed, clearing away the remains of our feeding, taking a long drink ere we set off after the Dhrenagan and whatever dark destiny awaited us.

It was in this hour that my mate Mirazhe proved the usefulness of forethought. She had spent the morning arranging for the lan-sip trees and seedlings, which had been carried at such great cost of weariness across the Great Sea, to be planted in a large corner of Timeth's field. We watered them in by the mouthful, carried from the nearby stream. By the time we needed to leave, the lan-sip was as well cared for as we could manage. It was an important task for many reasons, the practical among them, but to me at that moment it was a powerful expression of faith in our future. Lan-sip, Lanen had taught me, was worth more to the Gedri than its weight in silver; with it, we might have some useful coin in which to treat with those who must see our arrival as a kind of invasion.

The trick with lansip is, of course, that it cannot flourish except in the presence of the Kantri. I do not wish to be crude, but it had astounded me over the centuries that those Gedri who had come to our island and taken seedlings or saplings back with them, against all experience (for the young trees always died), had never considered the matter of—fertilizer.

Farmer Timeth, however, had summoned his courage and come out to ask what we were doing to his land. He did not object, especially when we told him what kind of trees they were. He watched carefully and said he'd do all he could to look after them, but as I had learned from Lanen how valuable lansip leaves were to the Gedri, I would not follow our fate eastwards without making certain that the trees would be protected. Some of our number would have to stay, and one choice at least was obvious. The youngest of us, and his mother, must remain behind.

My parting from my beloved Mirazhe and our young son Sherok was the darkest and most desperate moment of my Me, and I will not dwell upon it. Her spirit showed its true colours in that evil time, for I knew well that she would have come with us in a moment had it not been for Sherok, and because he was there she would not leave his side. He had barely seen six full moons, and already he had crossed the Great Sea. He should have been running on grass and diving in shallow pools for many years, not having to hide from death and danger. My beloved swore to keep herself and him safe and far from harm. A few others also decided to stay, for they were kind and would not leave Mirazhe and Sherok alone.

I was also intent on making certain that Dhretan agreed to remain behind. He was the youngest apart from my son, and although he had come of age he was yet very young in spirit. I was forced to take him aside and ask him to protect my beloved Mirazhe before I could make him stay. I warned her that I had convinced him so, and I delighted to hear her mindvoice lilt with delight as she assured me she would do her best to appear helpless for Dhretan's sake. At least for a few hours.

My father rose up and flew the short miles to Verfaren, there to collect the Kantri and Gedri who sought the demon-master Berys. It seemed that, at least for the moment, our paths lay together, but I did not doubt that we would be parted ere long. I wished them good fortune, but in the face of the dark evil that threatened to overwhelm us all I am ashamed to admit that all my care was for the Kantri. A single Gedri life, even that of so dark a soul as Berys, suddenly seemed to weigh little in the balance.

When all was done that might be done, I again bespoke Naikenna, who gave me the best directions she could, and as the sun rode down into the west, we rose and followed our destiny eastwards into the rising dark.

Even at the time I thought of it as the Last Flight of the Kantrishakrim. Only a hundred and fifty of us took to the air, singing a wordless song of battle and determination and courage.

The legend of the Black Dragon was simple and terrible. From our earliest times, it had been said that the Doom of the Kantri would rise up, in shape and form as one of us, pure black in hue, but with killing fire in its veins. A great battle would rage in the sides above terrible mountains like talons of our enemies, but it would last no more than a single day, sunrise to sunset— and when it was done, when the Eldest of the Kantri fell from the sky, then would come our doom and the ending of the world.

To say that I was torn barely touches the surface. My heart was raging, now in one direction, now in another. I knew that safety lay with Mirazhe and those few of the Kantri who were going to remain in the west. That delightful vision of peaceful rest among the gardens of Elimar had seduced me, in my heart of hearts I was willing Shikrar and the others to get on and leave, and then that damned Black Dragon showed up.

I heard them, of course. The Bestored had yelled "Demon-lord" so loud I'm surprised Rikard hadn't heard it. And then they all took off after it—sweet Shia, only bloody dragons would fly as fast as they could towards their greatest enemy! Anyone with sense would run the other way. I was ready to do just that, with a song in my heart, but then I hit the stone wall that was my husband.

He had turned to me, his harrowed soul in his eyes, and said, "I must go, Lanen."

"What?" I said, confused. "Go where?"

"It is the legend. When the Black Dragon rises, filled with killing Fire, a great battle will come—the great battle—and with it our doom." He bowed his head and added quietly, "Our doom, and the ending of the world."

"Don't be ridiculous!" I snapped. "I don't care how powerful it is, it can't bloody well bring the world to an end." I spat, disgusted. "Legends indeed! Legends are no more than stories, and they grow with every telling. If there is a grain of truth in your legend, it's more than I expect."

"Natheless, kadreshi, I must go with them," he replied, abstracted. "A moment. Shikrar bespeaks me. Even now Treshak flies to do battle with—no!"

I winced. I heard that as well, saw as if I flew with him the dreadful images that Shikrar was sending. Treshak bursting into flame, unable to escape, choosing the Swift Death after surviving so many long ages trapped and Lost. It was terrible, it was heartrending, and it set Varien's resolve as nothing else could have done. "Surely you see it, Lanen?" he said, trying to sound reasonable. "Would you have me wait with you, safe and at our ease, while those I love face death?'

That was it. Here I was, shaking with terror, and he wanted to play the hero. As usual, I turned fear into anger. Anger is so much easier to deal with.

"And what will you do, while they are fighting?" I asked, suddenly furious. "What can you do against the Black Dragon that they cannot? Where are your wings, to fly against it as your people will?" I cringed even as I said that. It was a cruel thing to throw in his face, but just at that moment I'd use any weapon I could reach. "Has it occurred to you that the nearer we come to Berys, the nearer I come to death?" I cried. "Why put Shikrar and Jamie to the bother of saving me if we are going to go back into the teeth of that evil? Will you throw even our children on the pyre of your loyalty to the Kantri?"

"Enough," Varien growled.

"No, it's not enough," I snarled in return. "We said we'd speak truth to each other, Varien, no matter what," I reminded him. "The Kantri five too long! You, even you lose track of how fleeting life can be." I could no longer control my voice, it shook so that I could barely speak. "I fear Berys to my bones, Akor. He wants me for a sacrifice. He said he'd take my soul, wed whatever is left— though I suppose he'd have to murder you first—and use my blood for Goddess knows what. By now Marik has surely told him of my pregnancy." I was shaking head to foot now, my arms wrapped about me as they had been in that terrible cell. "Goddess, how can you ask it of me?"

"I ask nothing of you," he said, his voice utterly calm, his gaze cold now and shuttered. "Wait here in safety. I will bespeak you when there is news, and if I survive I will return as swiftly as I may."

"Damn you!" I screamed. "Did you hear a word I said?"

"Of course. If you fear Berys, you need not be anywhere near him. Mirazhe will be glad of your company, as will young Sherok."

I reached out with my mind, but his was closed to me. I could not reach him. Oh Hells. Is he lost to me, so suddenly? I was shaking, whether with fear or anger I couldn't be certain. Just like that, to have him turn from me?

"You must do as your heart tells you," he said quietly. "So must I."

Thank the Goddess, just then he reached out to touch my cheek, and his hand trembled as well. "There are some things in this world, Lanen, that must take precedence even over the truest love that ever was. For all that I have the form of a child of the Gedri, I am yet the Lord of the Kantrishakrim, the King of my people. I have been so for more than seven hundred winters. How then? Shall I turn my back on my people in their hour of need? Even if I cannot fly into battle, yet I know them. I know their hearts. If I am with them, I may not make any real difference to the battle, but, Lanen"—he reached out for my hand and held it between his two as gently as if it were a rose—"if I am a thousand leagues from them and they facing the worst evil our race has ever known, how shall they have the heart for battle? The Kantri choose their King in each generation. It is a sacred I rust. I cannot break it, kadreshi," he said, and his voice shook just a little, "even if keeping faith with my people breaks my own heart and yours."

For a fleeting moment as I reached my own decision, I wished with all my soul that we had been willing just this once to stick to comforting lies; that just this once we might have done what we wished rather than what was right.

"Oh, Hells' teeth," I muttered, swearing rather more than that. "Come on, then, we have to catch Shikrar."

"But—" he said.

"Don't be stupid," I said. "I'm not letting you out of my sight. Shia only knows what you might get up to if I left you to your own devices."

"And what of Berys?" he asked quietly.

I lifted my chin and stared intently into his emerald-green eyes, so full of hurt and sorrow.

"Just don't bloody well lose."

When I landed in Verfaren I found the others ready to depart on my word. Of all of them, it was Aral alone who came forward to meet me, her eyes full of sorrow. "Varien told us, Shikrar," she said, reaching out to touch me. I took a strange comfort from the gesture, though I could not feel it. "I am so sorry to hear of Treshak's death. May the Winds and the Lady preserve us all. This is a terrible day."

"All hath gone ill this day, truly," I replied sadly. "Let us hope that our fortunes will improve."

"At least the Healers and the Lesser Kindred have made their peace," she said, doing her best to speak something of hope to me.

I nodded. "So much good at least is done. And you remind me, I would speak with Salera before we leave. Forgive me."

Aral nodded and hurried off to join Gyrentikh. The Healer Vilkas awaited her.

I bespoke Salera. She flew swiftly to meet me, showing me gleefully Mik's surprise at her abrupt departure aloft. She landed neatly before me. "How may I serve you, Eldest?" she asked.

"Lady, forgive that I am so abrupt, but time presses. Have you any knowledge of what lies before us away east?" I asked.

She bowed and closed her eyes. "It is desperately hard to tell, Eldest," she said apologetically, speaking with her eyes closed. "There are so many images, so many possible ways that the future might go. But a few things are surely to come. The battle will take place on a bright day, with clouds of smoke. Vilkas rises, but whether Sun God or Death of the World I cannot say, for he knows not. Lanen crushes that which was stone." She opened her eyes, and I felt a terrible sorrow pouring from her. "Many of us will never return, Eldest," she said, her voice suddenly rough. "Far too many. Forgive me. I have seen no more."

I bowed to her, my heart weighed down as with great stones. "It is enough, Lady. Thank you."

Lanen and Varien stood together outside the ruined wall of the College, their arms about one another, waiting for me. From a distance I could not be certain where the one ended and the other began, and it struck me as a good thing. The moment Salera left, they hurried up to me.

"Do you come to bid me farewell, my friends?" I asked, surprised.

"No, Shikrar. We come to beg you, of your kindness, to bear us eastwards," said Lanen.

"Lady, I thought you both meant to remain here," I began.

"How could we disappoint the ballad-singers?" said Lanen lightheartedly, but I had known her longer than any other Gedri, and I could see the dread that wrapped her round.

"Shikrar, how should I wait here when the Black Dragon is come?" said Varien, his words full of resolve, his heart awash with fear and sorrow. "It cannot be. I will not abandon my people."

"And if you think I'm going to let him leave me here," said Lanen as they climbed into the shelter of my hands, "think again. We've been apart long enough. What if Berys should have a de-monline ready to return here? No. Together. It's the only way." I noticed that she carefully did not meet my eyes, or use true-speech.

"It is well, then, my friends. Together," I said, crouching. I spread my wings and leapt into the sky. Idai, Gyrenrikh, and Alikirikh with their charges followed close behind.

The winds were behind us, for a blessing, blowing light rain away east. The moment I reached soaring height I let out the breath I had not realised I was holding. I could not really feel those I carried, as they were so Ught, but their minds were far more open to me than I think they realised.

Varien/Akhor felt a measure of joy to be aloft once more, riding the spring wind, studying the land as it passed below him— but that joy was tainted with fear for Lanen, fear that he should have tried harder to persuade her to stay behind, fear lest we should lose and Berys rise triumphant.

Lanen s thoughts were harder to read, but I caught them when they were wrapped about her babes. She, too, feared Berys to the depths of her soul and was terribly upset and unsure of her decision. She knew that she had made it based on sheer emotion, but even as we flew I felt her resolve strengthen. She was with her husband. Whatever else might happen they would not be parted again, and that was good.

I kept to myself the visions that Salera had spoken of. It was her sorrow that most moved me, and I had the very strong impression that she had lied when she declared she had seen no more. I have to say that I did not envy the Aiala that very strange ability. I would far rather go into battle with a heart full of hope.

I found an obscure source of comfort in the fact that I was ignorant of my own future as I rode the sky, with the wind and the sun behind me, eastwards.

Following the Black Dragon.