Redeeming the Lost

X A Brief Respite

I soon outdistanced the other three. I could not help but smile, and bespoke Gyrentikh with a small jest regarding the flying lessons I had given him so long ago. He laughed and suggested that perhaps the fact that I was half again his size with near twice his wingspan might have something to do with the matter. True enough, he did have a point.

The sun was nearly gone down in the west when my companions and I saw in the distance a great mass of the Kantrishakrim, flying slowly and wearily. I bespoke Kedra and learned they were seeking a place to land for the night, and indeed they began to descend even as we spoke. I caught a late updraft and wheeled, rising, as they all began to land upon a vast grassy plain.

"We are all desperately weary in body and in spirit, my father," Kedra said to me privately. "The strength of the Dhrenagan we cannot yet fathom—indeed, I am not certain that they yet know it themselves—but it seems that for this night at least they are willing to rest with us."

"Where is the creature?" I asked, resolutely ignoring the wash of sorrow that swept over me. Poor Treshak.

"Not far ahead. It looks neither left nor right, it has ignored us entirely. Eastwards, ever eastwards, in unbroken line. Forgive me, my father, I can do no more," he said, and I watched as the last of the small figures below went to land. The ground so far below was falling into shadow as I sped on. I sought greater height, that I might not come upon the thing in the darkness by accident. Twilight did not last so long here as on our vanished home, and the moon would not rise for many hours yet—wait! there!

Varien, Lanen, and I watched it, flying low to the ground, flapping stupidly—I wondered again that it could remain airborne. It flew like the veriest youngling, expending vastly more energy than it needed to. At the size, I had thought it must exhaust itself soon with such wild exertion—but no. We watched it as it flew and flew, in a straight line, working ten times as hard as it needed but showing no signs of weariness. I fell off a few points north, that I might not fly directly over the thing. The Raksha-stink was terrible, even so high up as I was, and I could not answer for my instincts if I came any closer. So I flew far around it, going some way north then turning back east. Now that I was not trying to keep it in sight, I fell into my normal rhythm. It was vastly easier than having to hang back at the pace of the evil thing. It was soon far behind us.

That in itself was a blessing.

"It is not alive, Shikrar, it cannot be," said Varien at last. "Nothing that breathes could fly like that. It would fall from the sky. It is a golem, it must be."

"Your thoughts echo mine. Animated by the Demonlord, given the energy to continue by who knows what obscene arrangement with Berys." As weariness overtook me I could not keep the plaintive note out of my mindvoice. "Akhor, what is there to do? It is made of molten rock! I cannot think how to defeat it."

I heard his mindvoice laugh a little. "Is this my old friend Hadreshikrar, come to despair so soon? I cannot believe it. We have only known of its existence for a few hours, my friend."

"It is no laughing matter, Akhor. You know yourself that time is short. It flies towards something with a singleness of purpose, and I expect that something is Berys. I cannot imagine what is going to happen to it when it finds him, my friend, but I would wager that things are only going to get worse for us all."

"I fear you have the right of it, Shikrar. But though it may be inanimate, you are not. How fare you?"

"I am weary, I must confess," I replied, though that was not the entire truth. I was exhausted.

"Then let us take our ease and go to land," he said. "The morrow will be time enough to pursue."

"Surely the best strategy is to get wherever it is going before it does?" I said, trying to sound as if I had the strength to fly all the night through.

He snorted. "Don't be an idiot, Shikrar. You need rest, and by all accounts it is a very long way to the East Mountains." More solemnly he added, "Lanen and I are weary as well, my friend, and it would be useful to spend some time in careful consideration. We must find some way to fight so fierce afire, where our own strength avails not."

I began to look for a landing site and discovered that there was a sizeable river below us, running northwest-southeast. I began to spiral downwards, faster than I would have liked, but the air here was very still and it was hard to keep altitude. I fear that my friends had a bit of a rough landing, but when they found their breath again they assured me that they were not injured.

We had came to ground in what appeared to be an uninhabited stretch of land beside a tributary of the great river that divides the north of Kolmar from the south. There was a small wood nearby from which Lanen and Varien gathered fuel for a large fire, and the river graciously provided both drink and food. The fish were much smaller than I was used to, but there were enough for all.

"Idai and Gyrentikh are together," I told Lanen and Varien. I lay curled around the fire, they sat together on the other side and ate. "Idai bespeaks me. They have not seen our blaze yet. I will build it a little higher, that it may be more readily seen from aloft. Alikfrikh comes also, but she despairs of finding us before dawn because of—oh!" I was pleased to find that even at such a time, I could still find amusement in the little things.

"What has delayed her?" asked Varien grimly.

"No, no, there is nothing amiss—it is only that she has had to deal with Will," I said, starting to hiss with amusement. "It seems that Will—well, Alikfrikh reports that he is a typical useless Gedri, and that he hates flying." I rejoiced to see a real smile cross Varien's face. "The poor soul grew ill and demanded to return to land after the first hour. I gather that after he rid himself of his last meal he felt a little better."

Blessed be the Winds, they both laughed. "Poor Will!" said Varien. "Is he still so convinced that he must come with us?"

"He is," I replied. "Though I cannot fathom his reasons."

"Can you not, Eldest?" asked Lanen quietly. "It seems clear enough to me." Varien and I stared at her blankly and she sighed. "Man or Kantri, it obviously doesn't matter, you are both blind as moles at noon. Have you not seen the way Will gazes at Aral when she's not looking?"

"I confess I had not noticed," I said, intrigued.

"It breaks my heart," she said sadly. "He's a good man. If only she could see past Vilkas. She desires to be warmed by that furnace that burns in her friend, and she will not turn and see the home fire and welcoming hearth that await her lightest word." She yawned then, hugely, and smiled up at me. "Forgive me, Eldest. I am weary beyond belief." She moved nearer Varien and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Alikfrikh says that Rella has mocked Will unmercifully," I reported, speaking quietly so as not to disturb Lanen. "Strangely, it seems to have given him comfort."

"Good for Rella," replied Varien, grinning. "Thank the Winds that she at least can keep her sense of perspective."

"I will confess that I am finding that difficult," I said slowly. "The legend..."

'The legend of the Black Dragon indeed!" Varien snorted.

"A story to frighten younglings into behaving. I am not a great believer in legends, Shikrar, and now that I have seen it—well, there may be a grain of truth in the centre of every old tale, but I do not think that our world is going to end."

I looked up, stretching my wings and my neck, working out the knots in the long muscles. "Perhaps you are right, and legend is ... exaggerated." I sighed. "The air here is sweeter than at home," I said wistfully. "Have you smelled the flowers on the night breeze, Akhor? Even so early in the year. They are intoxicating." I breathed deep, savouring the heavy scent of the blossoms, the clean smell of the river, the sparkling glory of the brilliant star field above us in the deep sky. "The water is good, the land is good, and I rejoice with all my soul to see you and your beloved together again."

"As do I, Hadreshikrar, as do I," he replied, kissing her hair lightly. She slept.

"I believe there is much of good in most of the Gedri, and much that may be done between our two races for the betterment of both." Another sigh escaped me. "Truth be told, Akhor-ishaan, I would prefer not to die just now."

"Surely you cannot believe that old nonsense?" he scoffed.

"Perhaps not—but my thoughts have been much concerned with death, of late." I could not stop myself from shuddering. "You did not see it, Akhor. Our home died in flames. That green gem of an island was covered in fire and molten rock, there was no hint of green left—it was black from side to side before it sank below the waves. There is a part of me that died with it, I fear. I cannot tell you how that image has burned into my heart."

Varien bowed his head for a moment, in deep thought, when I ,anen let out a snore. He grinned and gendy lowered her to the ground, covering her with his cloak and resting her head on his pack. I was faindy distracted by the shifting gleams of the firelight on his long silver hair, so different from his scales yet so "similar, and on his brilliant soulgem gleaming in the golden circlet I had made for it when he was new-made a man—but when he looked up from tending to his wife he astounded me, for there in Gedri eyes was shining the warrior soul of Akhor, my soulfriend of nearly a thousand winters.

"Do not let them win, Shikrar," he said, rising, his voice deep and powerful, defiance in every line of him. "You know what the Rakshasa use when force is not enough. Despair is their greatest weapon and our final defeat. The world, our lives, are changed, not over!" He stood and, moving away from Lanen, began to pace before the fire. 'Tou are right, you know. This is a good land, and surely with goodwill and a little assistance from those Gedri who know us, we will make a new homeland for ourselves." He glanced over towards his beloved, fast asleep, and lowered his voice. "I am already bound to this land by ties of marriage and blood, and I rejoice in it, but what future awaits my childer if they have not Grandfather Shikrar to teach them? And what of your own Sherok, our cherished youngest? Will you so easily desert your grandson, so new-come to this world?"

"Of course not," I snorted. 'Tou know me of old. I will fight with the last breath of my body and the last beat of my heart to protect my family and our people. But sometimes courage is not enough, old friend." I shivered, snout to tail-tip, and not from the cold. "My word on it, Akhor, that great black thing has shaken me to my core. My soul is more bleak than I have ever known it, and I begin to think of Yrais more and more."

Varien did not speak, but he walked around the fire and stood next to me. I lowered my head to his level to see him better, and for the only time in all our years of friendship, he leaned forward and touched my soulgem with his. I was shocked, for it is a delicate intimacy, more normal between a mother and child. I had not known such a contact, aside from Kedra, since my beloved mate Yrais left this life to sleep on the Winds, but at that moment, somehow, it was entirely appropriate. At the touch of his soulgem, the torrential river of his loving concern came pouring over my parched soul. True friendship, born of long knowledge, born of knowing all the faults and accepting them as part of the whole— such a thing is rare and precious, and that was the gift he gave me that night; the full knowledge of the depth of his love for me, as mentor, as friend, as father to him since his own went to sleep on the Winds.

For the most part, we are a reserved people, as befits those who can speak from mind to mind. I was staggered, and honoured beyond words.

He stepped back and stroked my faceplate with his soft Gedri hand, just once. "And so, Hadreshikrar," he said, smiling upon me, and his smile like his eyes was a thousand years old. "Let the Black Dragon shake that. I dare it."

"What Black Dragon?' I replied, my soul rising on wings of joy. "Akhor—I—"

"It is well, my friend," he said, smiling. "You have always known it in any case."

"Yes," I said, blinking at him in the firelight. "But sometimes it is well to be reminded. May the Winds bear you wherever you—I mean—"

He started laughing. "If the Winds bear me wherever I wish to fare, I hope you will be there to catch me when they let go!"

It was the fire of my laughter that guided the others to us.

Aral didn't so much sit down on the ground beside me as plop. Then she threw herself full onto her back with a great sigh and gazed up at the stars in a clear sky. I too looked up from our roaring fire into the deeps of the night. The brighter stars shone like candles on a distant hillside, beckoning weary travellers to warmth and rest. The fainter ones were little children, peeping shyly into the night sky, as if making sure that all was safe ere they came out to dance.

Astoundingly, Gyrentikh and Idai had found Shikrar and the others and we were told that Alikirikh was near. We were camped beside a good-sized river with a rocky shore and a little wood on the near side. Idai had gone upstream to look for fish or whatever else might appear. Gyrentikh, who had borne Jamie and me, had started a separate fire for us before disappearing into the wood, declaring that he sought "something larger than fish." I hoped he would be willing to share whatever he found. I was ravenous.

However, both Aral and I needed sleep even more than food and the others were likely to be awake for some time, so we stayed by this smaller fire. I was still thinking, stupidly, of offering to help Gyrentikh when I realised that he and Idai were already gone. To be honest, despite being so hungry, I wasn't exaggerating. I needed rest desperately. I felt like I hadn't stopped running for a fortnight. When I thought about it, Aral and I really had done an insane amount of work in the last few days. Healing Shikrar's wing, then a mere few hours later treating that terrible demon gash, and Goddess help us all, rescuing Rathen nearly killed me. Going but a little further back, I realise that mere days before we first helped Shikrar we had been up all night sealing the Lesser Kindred's soulgems; a few nights before that, I had done something that I still could not fully believe. I had changed a woman's blood, Lanen's blood, to match that of the babes beneath her heart. Half human, half dragon.

Goddess preserve us, I thought. In the mad rush I had almost forgotten. What in all the wide world is going to come of that?

And what kind of power dwells within me that I could do such a thing?

I had been running from my own power most of my life, for a very good reason. Since I first manifested as a Healer, very early, I have had recurring dreams. In them I—I fight my way to the top of a mountain and I can touch the sky. Really touch the sky, reach out and feel the soft blueness of it. I am the ruler of the world.

After that, the dream can go one of two ways. In some I become a kind of Sky God, or a Sun God, like the one 'tis said is worshipped by the tribes of the Far South. In these dreams I use my power to its fullest extent, the land is blessed and I help make the world a glorious place.

In the other dream I also use my full power, but I become the Death of the World. I am fighting a demon, and when it stabs me I do not die—instead I become a demon myself, a thousand times worse than the one I fought. I destroy it with a flick of my power, for I am grown strong as worlds, and then—I kill every living thing, joyfully, and at the last I reach out and crush the sun in my hand, and the world ends.

And I laugh. Every time. Sky God or Death of the World, I laugh. Because either way, it feels wonderful. The use of my full power is the ultimate release, complete fulfillment and complete self-indulgence—and it is my fate, inexorable as night following day. And I have been running from that fate ever since I was come to manhood. The single exception was that night when I saved Lanen. It was change her blood or let her die, and Aral challenged me, and I—well, it was hard, yes, but once I had started, I—I felt as if I had entered my dream. It was so obvious what had to be done. I did not think about it, I simply did it. My memories of that night are very strange and blurred, almost as if I were drunk at the time.

Or as if I had called at last on the power that lies within me, churning, roiling like Hellsfire, that it takes all my control to restrain. Every moment of every day.

I did manage to control it that one time I used it, because Aral was there to keep me in line. I don't know if I can restrain it without her. She keeps urging me to accept my power, even though I have told her the risk. She believes in me utterly. That is very ... seductive.

I often feel guilty about Aral. She is dearer to me than anyone, now that my family is gone, but I know she wants more. Damn it.

She is in love with me. I've seen it in her eyes. I've never done a thing to encourage that, but Hells, I don't know much about women, maybe she has just misunderstood. Of course I love her, if you want to use the word that way. But I am not in love with her. I value her friendship beyond words, beyond understanding, but it's friendship rather than anything else. I feel no unrequited longing, as I fear—as I know—she does.

Sometimes I think I should say something. In fact, before all of this madness broke out, I was on the point of telling her—but life has been moving at a dead run since we and Will barely escaped from Verfaren with our lives, and I really don't think she needs to hear this now. And to be honest, I don't think I want to deal with it right now either.

Mind you, there is a lot I don't want to deal with right now.

"Blessed Lady," said Aral eventually, still gazing at the night sky. "Did you ever, in your wildest dreams, think that you'd fly like that?"

"In my dreams, I fly all the time," I replied truthfully. "But no," I said, to her quiet ha! "No, I never imagined I would do it in real life. It was—"

"It was bloody terrifying, that's what it was," she interrupted, earnestly. "And horribly uncomfortable. And cold. And I've never been so scared as I was in those first few minutes."

"Right enough," I said, smiling. "No argument there. But the rest of it was more exhilarating than anything I have ever done, waking or sleeping—and that, my girl, is saying something." I held my hands before the fire, rubbing them together, in the earnest hope that I would soon be able to feel my fingers again. "I wish they had warned us how bloody freezing it was going to be up there," I added.

"Idai did warn us," she said, surprised. "Didn't Gy—Gy-what's-his-name tell you?"

"Gyrentikh, and no, I just told you he didn't."

"Mmm, sorry," she said, not really paying attention. "Anyway, it wouldn't have made much difference. All we could do was keep our hands under our cloaks. Idai was really nice about it, though, she held us right up against her chest, when she thought of it. It was a lot warmer that way."

"Who were you with?" I asked. "It was all such a scramble when we left, I didn't even notice."

"Lanen's mother, Maran," she replied.

"Did you get a chance to talk?"

"Not really. We tried yelling back and forth a few times, but the wind was so loud it wasn't worth it. We ended up pointing a lot." She gave a grunt and heaved herself with a great effort back into a sitting position. "Besides," she said rather more quiedy, "I'm not the one she wanted to talk to." She nodded in the direction of the riverbank, where two dark figures, some distance away, stood together in the moonlight.

I glanced at Aral. "I'm surprised you're not trying to he'ar that," I said quietly. "I know you're working on learning more about how people think and feel. I'd have thought that would be a master class, one way and another."

She gazed at me across her shoulder. The firelight flashed in her eyes. "You forget, Vil. You're the one with the good shields." She dropped her face into her hands for a moment, mumbling, "I don't need to hear what they're saying. I can feel it from here, Shia save us all." She inched nearer the fire, pulled up her hood, and wrapped her cloak more closely about her.

"Aral?" I asked. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, Vil," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. "Oh, Goddess. I can't bear it. Talk to me, please, now, about anything. Quick."

"You never could shield worth a tin ferthing," I sneered. "Honestly, all the time Magister Rikard spent with you, he might just as well have been teaching the desk."

"Ha, O Great Mage Vilkas," she shot back, rising to the challenge and desperately cheerful. "And you're just the same in the other direction." She did a decent imitation of Magister Rikard's slightly nasal voice. "No, Vilkas, you must feel the power, not just use it. Let it touch you as it passes through. That's what makes us hyooo-mn\"

We both managed a bit of a laugh, though it was fairly pathetic. "At least Rikard is still alive," she said.

'Thanks for reminding me," I said, feigning a snarl. "Have you any more gloom? I'll have it as well, as long as you're passing it around."

"Oh, Hells, Vil, I'm sorry," she said, instantly contrite. "I know. I can't bear to think about it, not in detail." To my astonishment she snorted. "But Stone Mik, of all people, to get out in one piece!"

I had to laugh. "Aye. Chalmik, indeed! Never heard his formal name. Poor bastard."

Aral grinned. "That and all. Can you believe it? And everybody who didn't call him Mik called him Stoneface. Some folk just can't enjoy themselves. I always thought he had a terrible time dealing with real people. I have to admit, I was amazed this morning. He handled that poor woman so well."

We fell silent again, just for a moment, then Aral piped up, "Did you see that town at the bend in the Kai? It was a long way down, but it looked huge! Was it Kaibar, do you think?"

"Must have been. It certainly looked like there was another river joining just there, and the Arlen meets the Kai at Kaibar, doesn't it?"

We spoke frantically about our trip, about flying—anything that would keep us from dwelling on the thought of our friends and colleagues, dead at the demons hands—but we could not sustain it for long. Silence fell again, and for a while neither of us could think of a way to lift it. Trust Aral, though, when she spoke she found a subject that would get me as rattled as she was.

"So, Great Mage Vilkas," she said, lightly mocking, "what are you going to do when the moment comes?"

'What moment?" I asked, because that was one of the chief things I didn't want to think about.

"Vil, I know they're following that bloody great black thing, but the truth is that these dragons are taking us as fast as they can fly towards Berys. He's a demon-master. Hells, he's probably the next best thing to the Demonlord himself, now. Whom he seems to have summoned, Goddess help us all, in the form of a Black Dragon, and don't you want to know how he did that."

"Not really, no," I replied sharply.

"Vil, you know what I mean," she said gently. "I know you fear demons . .."

"I don't damn well fear them," I snarled. Unfeigned this time.

"Eh?" she said, astounded. "But you can't fight them. I know you can't. I thought you said ..."

"I don't fear them, Aral. I hate them," I replied fervently, rising swiftly to my feet. "Being anywhere near any of them makes my skin crawl and my eyes itch." I was breathing hard, and my heart hammered in my chest as I spoke out the real truth at last. "I told you I feared them because the truth is so much worse. I hate them so hard it makes my gorge rise up and my throat close. I want to kill them all, Aral," I purred evilly, kneeling right beside her and dropping my voice to whisper the dark truth, finally, to her startled face. "Every one of them. Slowly. Squeezing, choking, crushing, making sure it suffers agonies before I grant it the mercy of death."

Aral used a word I didn't know she knew and stared up at me wide-eyed. "Damnation, Vilkas," she said at last, her voice shaking. "That's sick."

"I know," I snarled, rising and turning away. "Why do you think I hold back? If I kill one I'd feel the need to kill them all, and by Shia's toenails, I probably could."

Goddess. My own words were making my stomach chum.

"That doesn't change the fact that we're going to be facing them soon," she said flatly, getting to her feet and brushing off her clothes. "Day after tomorrow, if Shikrar is right."

"Damn it, Aral, don't you think I know that!" I shouted at the top of my voice.

"And what are you going to do when Berys summons a Lord of Hell, or we have to deal with the Demonlord?" she asked, her voice now harsh and unrelenting. "I don't care how loud you yell, Vilkas ta-Geryn. It's not going to go away. Tomorrow or the day after we're going to have to deal with Berys, and he's going to have emptied half the Hells to protect his precious skin. We need to think what to do. You need to think what to do."

I started to shake and swiftly crossed my arms to hide it.

She must have been weary, rattled, for she saw me tremble and against all sense she reached out to me as if to take me in her arms for comfort. I shrank from her proffered embrace as from hot iron. At that moment it would have been as welcome.

She closed arms and heart and mind and all, in the instant, for which I was profoundly grateful. "Just remember, Vil," she said, her voice calm and reassuringly normal. "Dreams are just dreams, no matter how powerful. They're not predictions."

I did not reply. I could not, I was still shaking, and it would have shown in my voice.

She reached up and laid a hand on my arm. That was bearable, though revealing. I could feel her shaking too. "I know you. I've watched you for two years, I've worked with you at a depth even you are hardly aware of." I looked at her then, and saw in the dim firelight that she was smiling, albeit rather crookedly. "Sweet Shia, I've opened my spirit-self to you more times than I can count. I know you can be trusted." In a moment of wild daring, in spite of the rejection I had thrown at her only moments before, she raised her fingertips swiftly to her lips, kissed them, and touched my cheek softly as a butterfly. "Maybe it's time you learned to trust yourself."

I could hear her voice shaking with emotion. I had told her long ago that I didn't like to be touched casually. Even putting her hand on my arm was greatly daring. Planting a once-removed kiss on my cheek was practically an invitation to share her bed.

I knew perfectly well that now would be a good time to take her in my arms for comfort's sake, to give her what she needed because I knew she needed it. We might both be dead soon, and dear Goddess, who was I to refuse her?

She didn't give me the chance. She felt me flinch from her hand on my face and turned away, to put a few more sticks on the fire and sit close to it, her arms about her knees. No matter what her heart was shouting at her, she was too good a friend to blame me for her own feelings. She had offered what I could not accept, and she knew it, and she closed in once again.

In the silence we could still hear the soft murmur of the voices by the river. Jamie and Maran.

"Damnation," sighed Aral from the heart, resting her head on her knees. "Idai, Lady, be quick, I beg you. I'm bloody starving and bloody exhausted and those two are breaking my heart."

I'd just started filling my waterskin at the river's edge when I heard someone on the shore behind me. Old habits die hard, don't they? I had my belt knife ready to throw when she spoke.

"It's just me, Jamie."

I put the knife away, but to be honest I wasn't any the less shaken. Worse, if anything. I knew what to do with a foe.

"Maran," I said, by way of greeting.

It was getting dark, but I could see her grin. "Aye, well, at least you remember my name."

I said nothing, and she sighed. "I see. You remember other things as well. So do I." When I didn't reply, she sighed again. "Ay me, here we go. Yes, it was my fault. No, I never sent word to you or to Lanen. And I never—" She stopped herself, and after a moment went on, more gently, "By all the leaves of spring, Jamie, did you ever in all your days think we'd meet again like this?"

"I never thought we'd meet again at all," I said. I hadn't meant my voice to be that harsh. I'd forgotten that rogue vein of poetry in her. It came out at the damnedest times, and it summoned our past together as nothing else could have done.

I heard the faintest grunt, as though she were in pain. "Aye, well, that's fair. Neither did I," she said. "I've had the easier part. I've been able to watch you both over the years. I wish the damned thing had sound as well as sight, I'd have given a lot to have heard some of those arguments," she said, a hint of lightness in her voice. It went warm and gentle again when she added, "I saw you teach her to use a sword, Jamie, in the middle of the night when Hadron couldn't see. I watched you when you held her as she cried. I saw the look in her eyes when she was learning how to ride and went over her first jump—and it wasn't Hadron she looked to with all the pride of her soul, it was you."

"She is not the child of my body," I growled. My heart was aching as though someone held it in their fist and was squeezing. If it had been daylight, perhaps I could have kept up my guard, but in the starlit darkness there was only Maran and me, and twenty years of pain.

"I only knew for certain when I saw Marik capture her on the Dragon Isle," she replied quietly. "She must be his firstborn. And mine." Her voice caught. "I swear, Jamie, I thought she was yours," she said. "I begged the Lady—"

"She is mine!" I cried, throwing down the waterskin. "Damn it, Maran! You think a few weeks' dalliance makes a difference to who her father is? Never!" I paced away from her, and swiftly back to stand before her. "He may have made her with you, the heartless bastard, but I'm her father!"

"I know," she said, her voice steady. The distant firelight gleamed on the tracks down her cheeks. "And never a day passes but I thank the Goddess that she had such a father as you."

"She needed a mother as well," I snarled. "You should have been there, Maran. What in the Hells is wrong with you? Why didn't you come back?" I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "She needed you, damn it!"

I needed you, damn it!

She just stood there, gazing down at me. I couldn't bear it, I turned and walked away before I was tempted to violence. I didn't get far, though. Her voice stopped me.

"Jamie. Jamie," she called softiy, as a lover calls her beloved, all her heart in her voice. "I know. My soul to Mother Shia, I know. I needed her too, and I needed you. Dear Lady. I needed you as a drowning man needs air." And she was starting to gasp a little, for air, to keep her voice under control. She stopped and just breathed—when she spoke again her voice was calm and steady and as inexorable as the water flowing down beside us, and my heart pounded to every word. "I thought the Farseer attracted demons, Jamie. The first ones came for me, and I fought them off, but then one hurt Lanen"—her voice faltered for an instant—"I couldn't take the chance."

"You never told me," I said, turning to her, shaken. "Maran, you never said there were demons come after you."

"I must admit, I wasn't exactly thinking clearly," she said. "I didn't know how to hold off demons then. I'm better at it now. But I swore that if the things were going to take whoever stood near that damned Farseer—then by the Lady, they weren't going to get either of you." Her voice grew thicker as she spoke, now, and her pauses for breath stopped my very heart within me. Her throat was so closed it seemed near to choking her. "I married

Hadron so that... that if they took my husband they wouldn't take you. When I left and for sixteen years after, I feared I would draw down death upon us all, Jamie, so I stayed ... I stayed as far away from you ... as I could."

Every part of me longed to go to her, to take her in my arms, the idiot, to make all our pain go away, to make those years disappear and make her mine again—but I stood where I was, and I knew it was right.

"You are the best man I have ever known, Jamie," she said, her voice forcing its way through her tight throat. "I know—I know you and Rella are together now, and I'm glad of it. She's a fine woman, and a good friend." She coughed, and turned it into a tortured laugh. "But if she ever loses her mind and tells you she's done with you, I'll be by your side in your next breath, and by every star that ever shone, I swear I'll never leave you again."

My head was swimming, my body shaking with a hundred memories. I could bear it no more, all my best intentions melted into air, I swear I could hear her heart beating with mine. "Maran—" I began, moving towards her.

"No!" she cried, and swiftly backed away. Her voice was shaking now, along with the rest of her, I guessed. "Goddess, no—" Her voice dropped to a whisper in the darkness. "If you touch me I am lost. Please, I beg you. I am holding true by a thread as it is."

"Come, Maran," I said, trying to speak lightly. "Do you tell me the men in Beskin are all blind? I cannot believe it. Surely you have someone to walk beside you, to keep you company in the long nights of the northern winter?"

There was a moment's silence, and she answered, "I have never loved another man, Jamie. Ever. In all my life, apart from that madness with Marik. By my life I swear it. And there is only one in all the world I love more than you, and she lies asleep by that fire yonder."

"Goddess, Maran—" I croaked, my heart wrung. All those years alone beat upon me worse than fists. I at least had known the love of my heart's daughter. She had had nothing.

"So now you know how I feel, and I won't say anything else about it again," she said, her voice growing stronger. The firelight was dying a little, I could see nothing but her shape in the starlight. "Let us meet only as friends, Jamie, working together with these others to finish Berys. Goddess knows, it's time the world was rid of him. I have done so many stupid things in my life," she said quietly. "Together let us do this one good thing. For Lanen. For you and Rella."

"And what of Maran?" I asked gently, but she had turned away and was drawing near to the large fire the dragons had built.

I stood in the darkness by the river, listening to the echoes of her voice in my heart, knowing that she was right and there was nothing else to do. I picked up my waterskin, knelt by the side of the water, leaned over and filled it, and wondered idly as I corked it if it would taste even slightly of salt.

I spent some years as an assassin. I learned long ago how to weep silently in the generous darkness.

I brought back the carcasses of the two deer I had found. Gyrentikh and I had a gracious plenty to eat, and there was easily enough left for the Gedri. They all came, some roused from sleep and yawning, and carved steaks for themselves and for the absent ones. That still left most of the meat for us.

"Where is the other dr—the other Kantri?" asked Jamie. "I thought he had only fallen behind a little. It's been more than an hour already."

"Alikfrikh has seen our fire, they will be here soon," I said. "Will did not take easily to flight, and he has delayed them."

"Is Rella with him?" Jamie asked.

"Alikirikh is a lady," I corrected gently. "And yes, Rella is with her. She is well and hearty, and laughing loudly at Will, as I understand it." I explained Will's difficulties with flight, and Jamie also laughed.

"Once they do arrive, I assume we're to have a council of war?" said Maran.

"Surely that can wait for the morning," said Vilkas, yawning.

"No, Mage Vilkas, it cannot," said Varien emphatically. "The Black Dragon appears to need neither food nor rest. It flies like nothing I have ever seen—like a creature that has seen flight but never learned how it is done—but for all that, it will arrive at its destination all the sooner." His voice grew heavier. "The Winds alone know what madness is brewing in the East Mountains, but my life on it, as soon as it arrives at its destination we will be the worse for it."

"Your pardon, Master Varien," said Aral meekly. "No disrespect to you, but can we not sleep until the others—arrive—oh," she ended quietly, as Alikirikh and her charges came to land.

Rella and Will were offered food, which she accepted and he did not at first. A brief blue healing glow from Aral, sent gently to Will, repaired his appetite.

Once we were all assembled, round a roaring fire in the deep night, we held the first Great Council of the new world. True enough, we never thought of it in those terms at the time, but that is what it was. A meeting of Kantri and Gedri together, to solve troubles that afflicted both. For all that we accomplished little, for all the awkwardness of it on both sides, there was a sense of rightness as well. It was at least an effort to plan, to work together to overcome a threat that faced us all. I believe we all found comfort in it, even Alikirikh. I had never been so long in her presence before without hearing a single complaint.

I was most pleased to see Shikrar come back to himself. I had been worried about him, and though I had tried to bespeak him, he would not hear me all day as we flew. I do not know what he and Akhor had spoken of while I sought food, but when I returned all awkwardness was past and Shikrar was himself once more. That yawning darkness that had been growing in his soul was healed now, by whatever means, and I was grateful for it.

We always assume that life will simply continue as it is. I have seen this same assumption among the Gedri, but for us it is worse, for we live so very long, and life for us can flow along unchanged for long years together. I did not believe that the coming of the Black Dragon was truly the end of the world, but I was absolutely convinced that it was the end of the world as we knew it, and that all the careful plans Shikrar and I had made for our people in Kolmar were going to have been so much wasted breath. My use-name means "She who knows without knowing." Sometimes I wish I didn't. I understand that ignorance can be a great comfort on occasion.

"The part I can't understand, Shikrar, is why you have to fight the Black Dragon? It goes against all reason," said Rella. "If it's that dangerous, why not just run? Scatter to the four winds! You can all talk to one another, distance isn't a problem. Go in a hundred different directions, make it do the work to seek you out while you think of a way to defeat it."

"It is the Demonlord," I said simply. "Even if we cared only for our own hides, even if we were willing to choose cowardice and let the Demonlord murder countless numbers of the Gedri while we sought only safety, we would only buy ourselves a little time. Perhaps your people do not remember, but we do. The Demonlord took great delight in death. He murdered hundreds of his own people before ever he killed Aidrishaan, and he could not be touched by our Fire, as true demons can."

"If that is indeed what animates that creature," muttered Rella. "I can well believe it a demon, but how did Treshak know? She could only see it pass overhead, at a distance. Surely—"

"Treshak was right," I said firmly. "Even if I had only her instinct to believe, I would trust that; but I have proof."

Varien looked up sharply. "What proof?"

"The Demonlord began life as a child of the Gedri," I said heavily. "He was human. I heard the Black Dragon today, when it looked up and saw Treshak diving towards it. The sounds it made—I think it was trying to laugh. As humans do. And I would swear on my soul that it said the word that created the Lost, but for some reason the spell did not work this time. My soul to the Winds, my friends. Treshak was right. It is the Demonlord returned, in the body of a golem of fire."

Perhaps we were all too weary, perhaps too much had happened that day, but not one of us could think how we might defeat a creature whose body was the fire of the earth itself. We all vowed to consider it while we were flying the next day, and the others went apart to sleep. The Gedri composed themselves around the two fires.

I watched, greeting the moon when it finally rose, singing in my heart with the stars that slowly wheeled overhead, making sure that no danger came nigh them.

Jamie and I spread our bedrolls, and he let me fie nearer the fire. What a gentleman.

We lay close and kept our voices low, that we might not disturb the others. There was a great deal to talk about, but in the end we were both too weary to say much about anything aside from the obvious. I was angry at myself, ignoring matters of great moment to deal with matters of the heart, until I realised that up until that time I had never had a matter of the heart that was so desperately important to me.

"I know you've spoken with her," I said, doing all in my power to keep my voice neutral.

"Yes, I have," he replied, his free arm about me. "And you were right. That kind of love is hugely flattering. Dear Goddess, Rella. I never dreamed that she was so true to me in her heart."

My own heart dropped like a stone. I must have stiffened, for Jamie leaned forward a little and kissed the back of my neck. "I said it was seductive, my lass, not that I was seduced."

I breathed again.

"I swear to you, Rella," he said, in that voice of utter truth that undoes me every time he uses it, "if I had been in any doubt about the two of us, if I loved you one whit less than I do, I'd have gone to her. Shia knows, I pity her with all my heart, and— well, you know I have never stopped caring for her."

"Then why are you here with me?" I asked. Of course I knew, I knew fine. I just had to hear it from him.

"Because you are my match, Rella my girl," he muttered into my ear. "I swear I can all but hear your thoughts. You complete me somehow." I smiled as his arm tightened around me. "My soul to the Lady, I never knew there was such an empty place in my heart until you came along and filled it." He sat up a little, leaned over, and kissed me sleepily. "I love you, Rella."

"Thank you for that, heart," I said, leaning back against his warmth. After a few moments I added, "I love you too. Can we go to sleep now."

For answer I heard his near-silent snore in my ear.

Good enough.

I thought I had pitched my bedroll far enough away not to hear them, but even around so large a fire there was only so much room.

I knew how it was. I had known before ever I caught up with them, and in my more rational moments I was happy for them both.

But, dear Lady, to hear his voice again, speaking such words to her! No dagger could be as sharp, or anywhere near as painful.

He asked me to wed him, all those years ago. Several times.

That was the worst of it, that fife could have been so different for me—for us. I curled up physically, as if around a wound, and I remained so for some time, when at last a quiet thought came to me.

If I had wed him, Lanen would never have come to be.

And that was it, finally. I had known for years, in my heart of hearts, that I could never truly reclaim the love Jamie and I had shared so long ago. Seeing him again had been so much agony— but I could not wish Lanen unmade. She was the best part of me, however that might have come about, and somehow that was enough to soothe my heart. I sighed one last time, for love long since lost, turned over, and fell deep into blessedly dreamless sleep.

My little sleep before supper had left me far more wakeful than I should have been. Varien lay beside me, but he couldn't sleep either. I heard Rella and Jamie talking quietly. Will and the Healers had their own smaller fire, leaving the five of us to take what comfort we could from the larger one. Maran was restless as well, but even she eventually lay still.

I found that the other two silent members of the party were also apparendy awake. There was nothing so obvious as a kick, the movements were far more subde. Hardly more than a flutter, but I felt it and gasped. Varien asked me if I was well and for answer I put his hand on my rounding belly. After a moment or two he sighed. "Alas, it is too soon for one so far removed to feel anything, even with Gedri hands," he said, a little sadly. "And yet, there are other ways." I felt his soft touch in my mind, and then— it was a most curious sensation. As if he were searching for other minds within me—which, I suspect, he was. After a moment he gave up and grinned at me. "Perhaps it is a touch too soon for that as well," he admitted.

"They're not even big enough to kick, you idiot dragon," I murmured. "Though whether I should expect to be kicked by four legs or eight, I haven't yet decided," I added ruefully.

"Lanen!"

I lay back, trying to find some comfortable place on the hard ground. "Well, don't you worry about that?" I drew my blanket about my shoulders and mourned, briefly, for the real bed we'd slept in the night before. I could have used the comfort of it. I was in a most peculiar mood, I remember—able to speak lightly of things that were desperately important to me. It was very odd.

"Dear one, does that fear haunt you, truly?" asked Varien, concerned at the genuine note of worry in my voice. Damn.

"Of course it bloody well haunts me," I said, exasperated. "Varien, even women married to normal men worry about their unborn babes. Will they be healthy? Will they grow strong in my womb, or do they wither within me? Will they have just the one head, and the two arms and two legs?" I snorted, torn between amusement and more than a drop of genuine horror. "Of course, in our case, Goddess only knows what grows in there. Hells, Varien, are they going to be born with wings?" Despite myself I shuddered. "Poor little scraps. Half Kantri, half Gedri. Alone in all the world."

Varien sat up and took my face gently between his hands. "La-nen, kadreshi, think. When Vilkas changed you, remember? He said then that they are perfectly human creatures. Human, and healthy." He smiled. 'Two arms, two legs, one head each, and not a wing in sight."

"But that was so long ago!" I moaned. Foolish, I know, but what would you? Pregnancy does awful things to a woman's feelings. Mine seemed to be changing with every breath.

Varien grinned and stroked my hair. "Kadreshi, it was but a se'ennight since. It may feel as though an age of the world hath come and gone, but my word upon it, no more than seven days have passed."

"A se'ennight! Are you certain?"

"Certain sure, as Jamie would say. My word upon it."

"Nonsense," I snorted. "I don't believe it. You're lying. It's been a full moon since then, at least."

"As you say, then," he responded placidly. 'Tour word is law, my wife." I giggled. "But you must not be surprised, dearling, if the moon hath foolishly lost track of time and thinks that only a quarter of her cycle has come and gone."

"You're humouring me. Stop it," I said, pleased at the banter.

"As you will," he said, bowing while seated, which is quite a trick. I batted at him, but he caught my hand and kissed it, and was suddenly more serious. "Lanen, I do most deeply apologise that I could not—humour you this morning." He sighed. "We are creatures of habit, we of the Kantri. I have reacted in a certain way for a very long time, and I can forget that old responses are not of necessity the correct ones." He sighed. "I heard your fears, my dear one, but I reacted as though I had never changed, as though I were yet Akor, and Akor alone." He forced himself to look into my eyes. "I very much fear that you were right—are right—and that by taking you within a thousand leagues of Berys I am putting at risk not only your life but the lives of our childer."

Ah, damn it. In my weary heart I had been hoping that we could just let this one go, but no. We had already sworn to speak only truth to each other, however spiky and unwelcome it might be.

"Yes, you are putting us all at risk. I told you that in Verfaren, and I wish to goodness we'd had more time to think about it. But Varien—I don't seem to recall you having to drag me kicking and howling away from Verfaren, or forcing me at knife point to go with Shikrar."

He looked confused. Poor dear. He was still a bit slow when it came to understanding heavy sarcasm.

"Love, it's true, you gave me very little choice," I said. "But that is not the same as 'no choice.' I could have decided to let you chase this damned Black Dragon with the rest of the Kantri and stayed safe and warm in a real bed in Verfaren. I didn't. I, of my own free will, chose to come with you. So both of us must bear the consequences."

He relaxed a bit at that.

"That doesn't mean that I'm not annoyed at you for putting your people before your family, by the way," I added, turning onto my side with my face to the fire and wrapping myself in my blanket. "I can understand it, and I'm here because in this one particular instance I agree with you, but it's not a habit of mine I'd care to encourage."

"As you say, kadreshi," he replied. He lay down alongside me and put his arm around me. Even on the cold hard ground, even in that lonely place, his presence was comfort and safety to me.

I lay wakeful only a little time, until the weight of Varien's arm assured me he slept, and I matched the rhythm of his even breathing until I too fell into sleep's kind embrace.

I heard my elder brother sing up the moon. I lay, as he, beside a fire, watching over a child of the Gedri, and I joined my heart's voice to his. I would have sung aloud, but I had already learned that the Gedri require far more sleep than do we of the Aiala. There was a little breeze, a fight spring wind, with the promise of warmth even in the night. The sap was rising all about us, pounding up the trunks of trees, whispering in the growing grass. Great changes coming, great changes all around us with every spring, but surely never before so many as in this spring that was changing the world.

There was much to ponder in the quiet of the night, beneath the shelter of a few trees. I still was teaching my heart that no others among the Kantri or the Gedri could sense the future rising before them. That Lord Shikrar had been so astounded at so simple a vision. That he could be facing that future and not have at least the shape of it to guide him surprised me.

Clearsight is not a gift of our Awakening. Even while we yet lived our half-lives before, I and others knew of this ability. We do not all have it—or perhaps it is more true to say that we have it to greater and lesser extents. I am not among the most gifted of us; Erliandr sees furthest and deepest, and there are many others whose Sight is clearer than mine. Still, like most I can see best when my own future forms a part of the vision. I knew I would not remain here in the west much longer, but I had yet one task to accomplish ere I might leave with the rest of my Kindred who were not partnered to Healers.

I would miss Mik. He and I had spoken long with Magister Rikard, and by sunset there were three hands—no, what were the words Mik taught me—five and ten—yes, fifteen pairs of Aiala and Gedri gone out to challenge the corrupted Healers. He had not objected when I asked him to accompany me, but he did seem confused when I asked that we leave immediately, ere the sun should set, and that we should go north as several others were planning to do. I had been forced to ask him to trust me.

That was when I realised that there was one aspect of clear-sight that I had brought forward with me, through my Awakening, and that it was right. I knew, deep down, that I must not speak of particulars to the individual soul. I had not told Lord Shikrar the full truth of what I had seen of his future, and I had not told Mik either. True, I was with him, and that might change things—I trusted that it would—but I must not speak of what I had seen.

The future is always in motion, like a flowing river or a branching path. The slightest thing can direct the flow or choose the branch a person takes. Speaking of specific events can—it is difficult to express this—can stop the river, freeze it like ice, into the one particular version that has been spoken of. Speaking the future can lead a soul down a particular path, even if that is not the best one for them to take, or the one they would have taken if nothing had been said.

The night was moving towards dawn before it came. I was lost in contemplation when I heard an incautious footstep, far too near.

Finally.

"Mik, you must waken," I said quietly. He did not stir. Too quiet, perhaps.

"Mik!" I shouted.

He was on his feet in a single movement, crying out, "What, what is it?" He looked around. There was nothing to see apart from me.

"What is it?" he asked. "What happened? Did you see something? Hear something?'

"Both," I said. " 'Ware, Mik. Something comes."

And so it did. An arrow flying towards Mik through the darkness, as I had seen in my vision. I batted it out of the air with my faceplate.

"Come," I hissed, and sped towards the source. It cursed when it saw me coming, which helped me find it. The creature tried to fire another arrow, but I moved quickly to the left, out of its path, and pulled my right wing close in. Then I was upon it.

My instincts told me to kill it, but that was not so easy as it once was. Instead I wrapped myself about it, holding it unmoving until Mik ran up, panting.

"What in all the Hells are you playing at, you idiot? Who the Hells are you, anyway, and why are you shooting arrows at— damn it! Gerthayn!" he cried.

"You know this man?" I asked.

"Of course I know him. He was in the year above me," said Mik, clearly confused. "He left at Midwinter Fest last year," he said, slowly. "Said he'd got himself a fine post." Suddenly Mik cursed. "Gerth, tell me you didn't take on with the House of Gundar."

"Gerth issn't here," hissed the creature.

"Damn it!" shouted Mik. He summoned his power to him, a clear blue glow, and sent it to cover his erstwhile friend. The creature writhed in my grip. Mik called his true name thrice, as Rikard had done, but the creature only laughed.

"I told you, he isn't here," the thing said. "His spirit ran away when I came to five here. I'm just as pleased."

Mik looked to me, pleading. "Salera, what can I do?" he asked softly.

"Call your friend once more," I suggested, but I held out little hope. The creature in my coils smelt purely of the Rakshasa, barely human at all, save for the shell it wore. Mik's summons was answered by a more determined writhing, but it changed not at all.

"I fear me your friend is truly fled," I said, as gently as I could. "He will not return."

Mik couldn't help his instincts. He sent his power to cover the Raksha, trying to let the Lady's healing drive the thing out. Certainly he made its life hard for the Raksha, but Mik swiftiy began to fail. He had not the vast resources that Vilkas possessed.

I sighed. "Forgive me, Mik," I said, "but I cannot allow you to throw yourself into death for one who has already departed."

And with that, I broke the Raksha's neck. It cried out and disappeared, leaving only the two of us in the company of the body of one who had been a friend to my companion.

Mik raged. He struck at me with his fists, he kicked me and shouted at me and cursed me. I let him do so. Had I been in his position, I would have been as hurt and angry at knowing that nothing else could be done for one I had cared for. When he finally stopped from sheer weariness, the sky was lighter than it had been.

"Forgive me, Mik," I said. "I share your sorrow that the Raksha have claimed your friend, but I could not allow you to destroy yourself to no purpose. Your friend died when the Raksha took over his body—I would guess that he fought it and perished in the attempt."

"Knowing Gerthayn, that's very likely," croaked Mik, his voice hoarse from yelling at me.

"Then honour his deed, and mourn him. And," I added dryly, "give thanks that you do not follow him."

He looked up at me, and in the growing light I could see clearly the deep pain that he bore. "Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad," he replied. "Damnation! It's all gone so wrong. So many dead, so many poor souls corrupted, just for being weak. Damn it. It's not fair. It's not fair!"

I could not help but hiss my sympathy. "Truly, we are not so different, your people and mine. I agree, it is not fair, but it is the truth." I reached out carefully and touched his jaw, making him look at me. "All that is left to us, Mik, is the way in which we decide to react to that truth."

He stared at me, pain and anger still raging.

"Throwing a life after a life is not the path of reason," I said gently. "Rejoice in the life that was, mourn its passing, honour the memory and live. Life is the greatest gift of the Winds, Mik. Do not dare to cast it away for no better reason than an excess of sorrow."

He swore again. "Damn it, Salera," he said, his voice unsteady now. "Gerth was a good man. He didn't deserve this."

"Berys has much to answer for," I agreed. "But I would have you take note: you did not summon your power instantly when you woke. If you had, you could have shielded yourself, and I would not have had to deflect the arrow. Next time such a thing threatens, do not hesitate to call upon your power. It will save your life."

"I'll remember," he said groggily.

"Do so, for I will not be here to remind you," I said. False dawn was swiftly giving way to true sunrise, and I heard the wings of the Aiala as they gathered upon the Winds. My own wings fluttered in sympathy, almost against my will. "I am called away east, Mik. I did not know it before, but I must go. The others who partner the Gedri will remain with them, but the rest of us must join the great battle. Not a mile away west of here you will find Er-liandr of the Aiala and Ferdik of the College of Mages. Go you safe and keep you safe," I said.

"Damn. I was looking forward to talking with you some more," said Mik, half a smile on his face.

"There will be long and long to talk, after all is done," I replied.

"Go well!" he shouted as I took to the air. "And kick the bastards twice for me!"

It was as good a benison as any. I met the rest of my Kindred, spiralling up on the Winds, and we struck out away west. We could not fly nearly as swiftly as the Kantri, but we would arrive when we were needed.

Of that I was certain.