[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (53 page)

I heard the chorus of their replies (along with
Idai’s curses at being too distant to aid me as
yet), heard Shikrar from the Chamber
of Souls and Kédra not five lengths away rising in
anger as I looked down on the
rakshadakh
and saw the last thing of
reason I can recall before I
threw myself at Marik.

It was Rishkaan, diving with wings folded from a
great height, straight at the demon master
Caderan. From the Gedri’s fingers
shot out a blinding gout of black flame, and I am certain
that Rishkaan
died even as he fell—but still he fell, all the size of him, falling like the
end of
the
world down upon the demon master.

Caderan screamed, like a beast that sees its
death come upon it, and tried to run. He might as
well have tried to outdistance the
dawn. He cried out only once as he died, and my heart
rejoiced in the sound.

My heart was afire, Fire rippled through me and
burst out of my throat with a roar. Rishkaan
may have been my adversary in Council
but in his dying he was my brother in blood, and I
would destroy this other of the Gedri
vermin or die trying.

Shikrar

When Kédra bespoke me, telling me that Marik and
his servant stood at bay before Akhor and
Rishkaan, I told him I would leave
that minor matter to them.

When Akhor cried out to me that a demon slave, a
rakshadakh
, was his enemy, I ran from
my chamber
and was in the air before I could think. So short a way, but once I was in the
air a
thought
did come to me. I bespoke Kédra.

“Khetrikharissdra,
I charge you as Keeper of Souls to stay out of this battle.”

“Father,
no!”
he cried, entreating.

”It is not
your father who speaks, it is the Eldest of the Greater Kindred and the Keeper
of
Souls,”
I
replied sternly.
“Should I be killed
in this battle you will become the next Keeper,
you alone beside myself have the gift
of the Kin-Summoning. You will not risk losing that in
battle.”

“Father,
I beg you!”
he cried, his heart in his voice. I knew how he
longed for vengeance, but
I could not permit.

“Obey me
in this, my son,”
I said, more kindly.
“I do not charge you by your fealty,
but by
your
love. I lost my beloved, I will not see my son die before me. And above all,
Kédra my
son,
you have a youngling newborn. He will need a father.”

And I was there.

Lanen

I couldn’t believe what I saw. Marik was
laughing, the bastard. He watched Shikrar arrive
even as Akor attacked him, and he was
laughing.

Dear Goddess.
Akor!

Even as I watched, Marik sent the deadly circles
flying from his hand, one after another, each
a little worse, each striking Akor in
a new place, wounding him more deeply than the last.

Four of them followed the first, striking Akor
unerringly even as he flew. He fell from the sky
before ever he came within reach,
streaming blood, great gouges in that glorious silver hide.

I ran towards Marik even as Shikrar thrust
himself between Marik and Akor and attacked. For
his pains he received the worst yet
of Marik’s circles, a terrible hole in his shoulder.

Marik’s mind was all on the Dragons.

I ran into him at full tilt, with no thought for
my safety until it was too late. I might have
saved myself the worry; whatever he
had to protect him from Dragons didn’t seem to apply to
his own kind. I did as Jamie had
taught me and it worked a treat, knocked him off his feet,
long enough
at least to give Shikrar and Akor a breathing space. In seconds I was sat on
his
chest
trying to slit his throat with his own dagger—but it did not bite. I tried
again, and again
the
blade slid harmlessly off his skin.

He laughed and started to gesture at me with the
ring he had been using on the others. I tried
to knock his hand aside, but he was
too quick. He pointed at me and said something in a foul
language I
had never heard before. We were both surprised when nothing happened.

I recovered just quickly enough to hit him, but I
didn’t have much leverage and it hardly
bothered him. Then I saw an idea
strike him harder than my fist had. He raised the hand with
the ring on
it and pointed towards Shikrar, who despite his pain stood now between Akor and
Marik.

“Choose who will die, Maran’s
daughter,” he cried in terrible delight. “For no matter what
you do they
cannot touch me, and no weapon of yours will bite any more than their useless
teeth and claws.”

And in that instant it came to me how he must be
defeated.

Thank the Lady for truespeech.

”Akor,
beloved, thus may he be stopped—”

Akhor

I heard her through my pain, through the fury
that still burned white-hot within me. I bespoke
Shikrar, who moved away to let me
see, and together we turned our thoughts to the figure that
struggled now
with Lanen on the ground.

Even against such a strange form of attack, never
so much as imagined in all the history of the
Kantri, Marik must have had some
defence, for his mind lasted long enough to work the last
evil from his
ring. As Shikrar and I together attempted to reach his mind with truespeech, to
stop him with
the sheer force of our wills, he managed to point the cursed thing at me and
send through
the air a final circle of dark fire that burned agony into my chest. I looked
down
in
shock to see a gaping wound.

My bones, I noted, were intact. I knew, for I
could see some of them.

Then, blessedly, as the pain began to sear
through me, my legs would not hold me up and I
fell insensible to the ground.

Marik

The gems sing louder, even in victory I cannot
stop them, that horrible noise invades my very
bones and shakes me. But Maran’s
daughter fails to save the silver one, and I have
defeated—

light white light voices screaming in my head
shut up get out get out GET OUT

FIRE

my head is on fire

it’s inside my head the gems are screaming

the Lost

Lostlostlost

Die in agony
rakshadakh

White flame inside my head

then darkness
     
all darkness
   
nolight noair allgone alllost

and
all is gone

all gone

all lost

lostlostlostlost

nononononooooo

……………………..

Kédra

My father called me to come when Akhor fell, for
he judged that Marik was no longer a
danger.

“Kédra, help me, we must bear him to his Weh
chamber,” Shikrar my father cried, his own
wound ignored, his voice struggling
to get past the tightness in his throat. I had to look away.

Could it be that Akhor still lived? I had never
seen, never imagined such wounds.

“Help me, Kédra, I cannot bear him
alone,” said my father. I braced myself and moved
towards them, wondering how we two
could lift him and Shikrar so hurt himself, when I
heard an unexpected voice.

”Kédra,
Shikrar, I am come. Where are you ?”

”In the
Gedri camp, Lady Idai,”
I replied with relief. Idai was
older than I, large and strong,
with her help we surely could lift Akhor.

”Be warned,
Idai, his wounds are grievous,”
said Shikrar as she
approached.
”We must carry
him to his
Weh chamber, and we desperately need your strength. Save grief for later, it is
action he
needs from us now.”

Nevertheless, she cried out when she saw him.
Lanen was beside him, bowed in what I
guessed was grief or despair, unable to do ought to
help.
“Who hass done this?”
Idai
demanded
in truespeech, even her mindvoice hissing with hatred.
”It iss the Gedri witch, it
iss
her doing,”
she said, and with all the power of her will she
shouted at Lanen. “Stand away
frrom him!”

“I will
not!”
Lanen screamed back at her, using the Language of
Truth now as one born to it.
She stood with her back to Akhor, looking for all the
world like a mother protecting her
youngling; her feet were planted in the ground (as
well as two feet can be), her knees bent to spring, her forearms raised and her
fury plain, and she all but hissed back at Idai
. ”Akor is
mine as I am his, I will stand with him if you kill me for it, damn
you.”
They stood thus
braced against one another for mere
seconds, when Lanen fell to her knees and I smelt seawater.
”Lady, he bleeds as we stand here. If it would heal him I would die
gladly. What can I
do? Dear Goddess, what can I do?”

Idai’s wrath abated somewhat, for she knew agony
when it stood before her defiant, defeated.
“Let
us lift him, child. He must go to his Weh chamber and sleep, there to heal or
to die. Move
away,
littling.”

Lanen hurried from Akhor’s side and spoke briefly
with Rella. The three of us turned him to
carry him on his back, when I stopped
for an instant and knelt.
“Come,
lady. I will bear you,”

I said to Lanen. She nodded at Rella and leapt up
onto my neck.
”Hold fast, this will be
difficult,”
I
warned her, and together we three Kindred gathered ourselves and, as one, leapt
into the air, beating our wings furiously, carrying
our King to his rest.

Lanen

I had just thought enough to spare to bespeak the
Council— well, everyone, actually—to let
them know that Rella would be
bringing the soulgems of the Lost in their cask as far as the
Boundary
fence at the place of Summoning. Then I forgot about it entirely.

I hope I never live through such a horrible time
again. I was terrified for Akor. Goddess, Dear
Shia, Mother of Us All, I could not
stop looking at him, borne senseless through the morning
by his
companions. Those great gaping wounds bled terribly. I had never imagined that
anything
could bring such destruction to so powerful a creature. Dear Goddess. It was
past
bearing,
it was unendurable, but I had no choice. Endure it I must.

I did not weep. I think I was beyond tears,
though my cheeks felt wet. I clutched at Kédra’s
horns when the flight of the three
was worst, begging the Winds, the Lady, whoever would
listen, to let Akor live. Nothing
else mattered.

Finally, beyond hope, I saw the hill and the
little pool below us. The three started to spiral
down, slowly, carefully. The landing
was rough, and I thanked years of hard work for the
strength in my arms to hold on. I let
go and dropped off as soon as I could, for Kédra had told
me that he
was the only one small enough to enter Akor’s cave and he would have to drag
him. I
followed behind, as one who is already dead but has forgot to lie down.

Kédra managed to get Akor to his floor of gold,
where he lay in a pool of sunlight from the
opening above. Akor lay on his back
with his wounds uppermost, and—I couldn’t believe my
eyes—Kédra was scraping gold from the
walls, breathing flame onto it until it glowed,
shaping it like clay with his great
claws into what could only be a bandage.

“Kédra?” I asked quietly.

“It will keep what blood he has left within
his body and speed the healing,” he said, not even
glancing at me. “It is our way,
Lanen. Let me finish.”

I backed away, both hands covering my mouth lest
I distract Kédra again, and watched, tears
unheeded washing my hands.

When he had finished, when the redstained, silver
wreck of Akor’s body was decently
covered with gleaming golden bindings, Kédra bowed his
great head, sorrow at last coming
into its own. “Lanen,” he said quietly,
“he will not hear me. I must know if there is aught he
desires. When
we are wounded our bodies have different needs and only the wounded know
what they
are. Bespeak him, I pray you, that he may be healed. You are his beloved, he
will
rouse
for you.”