The Lesser Kindred (ttolk-2) (35 page)

I heard it all. Everything the one called Shikrar said, no matter who he said it to. I heard all their debates, knew everything—well, nearly everything they said. Sometimes the other whispers were too loud, sometimes I was asleep and remembered things as in a dream, sometimes it was like speaking to someone in a large crowd; I would hear about every other word. I could make sense of some of it, though.

I wrote it all down, even that long unpronounceable name, shaking as I realised that they were coming. All of them, all the dragons, were coming to Kolmar.

Berys would be pleased. Maybe he could kill them. I knew that was what he was planning.

I hoped he was planning fast. I couldn't stop shaking.

"Rella!" I cried as I caught Lanen, barely. Rella returned at a canter; in the darkness she hadn't noticed right away that we'd stopped. Well, that Lanen had stopped.

I managed to hold on to Lanen until Varien got off his horse and took her weight from my arms. "Jameth," he said, his calm voice shaking only a little, "we must get her somewhere warm and safe, and find a Healer."

"Warm sounds good," came a quiet voice. Lanen had recovered, enough to speak at least. "And sooner sounds better," she added.

"We're almost at Verfaren," said Rella sharply. "We can make it—"

"No," I said, at exactly the same time as Varien. "She is too cold, lady," added Varien. "I fear for her. Should we make a fire here?"

"No," said Rella. "There's an inn somewhere near here— Wolfenden can't be far, and the inn there is good enough."

"How far away are the Mages?" asked Varien urgently as he helped Lanen back onto her horse for the moment. Damn, he was strong. He lifted the long weight of her up in the air with no trouble at all.

"A good hour," replied Rella. "But one of us can make the run to Verfaren once we get there if we can find a fresh mount. It's a good ten miles beyond Wolfenden."

"I'll go," I said, vowing that I would run on my own legs if I had to. Seeing Lanen like this was breaking my heart. My lovely girl, daughter of my heart if not my body, so weak and ill. I was on the way to cursing Varien for fathering a child on her when I realised she wouldn't take that very kindly. Still, it was hard to keep my mouth shut. I held her steady while Varien mounted his own horse, then he reached out and drew Lanen into his arms. He held her there, her head against his shoulder, and we set off again.

We rode slowly, Lanen lying motionless in her husband's arms. I hardly knew her in this dreadful condition, and despite my entire lack of faith in any god ever made I begged whatever powers might be watching to get us to this inn quickly, and her to a Healer who would be able to do more than relieve her pain for a day.

To my intense relief I smelled smoke after a very short while, and when we rounded the next bend in the road I smelled food as well and saw light ahead. As we drew nearer we saw clearly the open doorway and the glow of a fire shining through it on to the road. We were at the inn door a quarter of an hour after Lanen fainted.

Maybe there is something to these wretched gods after all.

I sent the Rikti hours, ago and they have not returned. I have badly miscalculated Vilkas's power. Damnation! Twenty of the Rikti I sent after him and not one survived to report to me!

Swearing will not help. I have two separate tasks before me this night. I shall begin with the simpler, sealing the fate of the fool Maikel. Then the last stroke of the knife, the last drop of blood, the last word of the spell, and I shall know how to control the Demonlord.

And when I have learned what that control is—ahh, I have worked these long years to bend the world to my will, these long months to learn how to summon and control the strongest demon master who ever lived. It will not be simple, for he is not strictly a demon, though if he accepts my offer to live again he will be bound under the terms we agree. When he knows I have Marik of Gundar's blood and bone in my power, he will be tempted. When he finds that I plan for him to dispense with the few remaining Kantri he will not be able to resist.

After I have recovered from the second of my tasks—it will take a few days—there lacks only the final summoning and sacrifice to set all in motion. Then he will rise again and serve me; the Demonlord, who sold his name and his soul for ultimate power, will be my servant, bound to come and go at my will!

It is good. He will accomplish for me the death of the Kantri. Ah, somehow I must arrange to see at least one of them die.

What would be the point, otherwise?

My robes await me in the anteroom to my hidden chamber. I have drawn my blood into a sealed vessel and healed the wound. I have the scrap of cloth from Kaibar, and the last of my Ian fruit in my scrip. Its worth is a thousand times the value of the dead and dried leaves, this living piece of the island of my foes. It is precisely the sacrifice I require.

Oh—and I must find a student along the way. Or a Magis-ter. I need a heart from a living body to sacrifice to the Lord of Hell for the control spell—but there are so many hearts walking around that it's not really worth planning in advance. I shall simply take what I can find.

Now for it.

A plain lantern to light my way this night, Durstan at my side. I passed no one on the way to my summoning chambers. I may have to go to All Comers and see who is available, but I have a minor task to accomplish before I require whoever it may be.

Once inside I renewed the spell that renders this room un-noticeable, for though I was still in need of a heart there was too much at stake to risk interruption.

While speaking die appropriate prayers and binding spells, I lit the seven candles placed on the boundary ring, each at the point sacred to one of the seven Lords, and with a word I charged the fire under die main brazier on the altar. In moments the coals began to glow red. I lit the incense from the candles and breathed deep. The familiar scent was like coming home.

Durstan, robed now and prepared to assist, helped me on with my robes and handed me my knife. I called my power about me and began the familiar words of the invocation, pierced my fingertip and offered seven drops of blood. They hissed on the coals. I had spoken the invocation so often I felt that I hardly needed to concentrate, but I knew that feeling so well I laughed at it. Ever the Rakshasa attempted to trap the unwary. I concentrated as usual, avoiding the stutter in the fourth Une that would have changed the meaning and left me open to instant attack.

In any case, this was a slightly different summoning. I had planted a demon in Maikel while he slept, drugged, at my mercy. It bore in its claws two ends of a demon Une, one out and one back, the other ends of which were in these very chambers. The spell on Maikel was subtle and had cost me dear, in time and blood and lansip, but it was worth it. Once I set the spell in motion Maikel, out wandering the world even now, would follow whoever I told the demon to follow, thinking that he had his own reasons for doing so, and when the prey had come to rest he would stop and build an altar. The instant it was built the demon would burst forth, plant the demon lines in the earth and disappear. I could then travel to wherever it was, take my prisoner and travel back in the bUnk of an eye. Maikel wiU most probably live long enough to watch me appear. I will enjoy that.

Above the altar, in the red air, a shadowy impression of the demon within Maikel took shape. "Sso, prey, you dare ssummon your death! Despair as you die, for I am—"

"I am MaUor, Master of the Sixth Hell. You have taken my blood, little Rikti. Serve me or die," I said, tightening the binding charm.

"Ssspeak, masster," it spat, tearing at the charm like a rope around its neck.

"I have your quarry," I said. 'Taste the blood on this cloth. Send your host to seek her and build an altar where she stops, but it must not be before three days' time."

I was proud of that detail. I had calculated that the summoning that would follow this minor one would leave me drained for two days, giving me one day to prepare for La-nen's arrival. The instant she was safely in my hands I would complete the summoning of the Demonlord, but it would be folly to attempt it until I had her safe. I knew she had Farspeech—Marik had warned me—so she would have to be silenced as swiftly as possible once I had her.

The creature objected and threatened, of course, but it had no choice. "Ass you command, masster," it hissed finally.

"When the altar is built, plant both of the Swiftlines you carry. When that is accomplished you will return to me and inform me that all is done. You will then be free to go."

"Ssoon, ssoon, masster," it begged.

"Three full days from this moment at the earliest. You submit?"

It cursed and hissed and struggled to escape, but I could hold such a creature captive in my sleep. "I ssubmit. Three daysss at the earliest, and when the prey iss at resst."

"Yes. Go now. You will return and tell me when all is done."

"Yesss," it hissed as its form dispersed into nothingness.

I threw lansip on to the altar to sweeten the air. The simpler of the two done, but I had known it would be easy. The smoke from the lansip leaves was pleasant enough.

Now for the second of my tasks. I renewed the incense and began to prepare myself for the ordeal ahead, but the truth was that I knew most of what I needed already.

There was a certain simplicity to it, overall. I had pondered long on the problem: How should anyone be burnt to powder by the Kantri and laugh all the while? Either he was completely insane—and I refuse to believe that one who could destroy True Dragons at will was mad—or he must have found a way to do in life what has only ever been heard of in legend. It was that thought that had led me to realise that the Demonlord had performed the spell of the Distant Heart.

There are many children's tales of such thing, the mythical wizard who removes his heart and hides it away, making himself invulnerable. The heart is always removed to a great distance, hidden and guarded: in the stories it is some variation on the theme of "inside an egg inside a duck inside a box hidden in the trunk of a hollow tree," guarded by fabulous beasts or simply by obscurity.

But I know where it is. Fabulous beasts and all.

For thousands of years the true death of the Demonlord was within the grasp of those who hated him most, and they never knew it.

The heart of the Demonlord was hidden on a green island in the west, inside a series of caves too small to admit any of the creatures who lived there. The final stroke of irony is that, vulnerable and without a body to use, his heart continued the destruction of the beasts he so longed to destroy. In their exile they thought they were so safe, so wise and strong, and all the while his heart beat in the mountains and poisoned the air, the water, the very land they lived upon. They are fewer now than they have ever been, barely enough to breed.

I must be sure to tell them before they die.

We sat as close to the fire as we could get. The inn was all but empty. I'd have preferred it to be full, that we might not be so obvious, but to be honest I was too tired to care, and I was the most wakeful of us three.

Vilkas and Aral slumped down on to the bench nearest the fire while I went to find Gair, but I noticed as I left that Aral still had her power about her. They were talking quietly.

Gair emerged carrying a steaming pie, and for two coppers I'd have taken it out of his hands, but he saw my face and pulled it out of my grasp.

"Ho, Will, it's that way is it? Well, there's another in the kitchen with your name to it, just let me serve these good folk and I'll be with you."

"We need food fast, Gair, these two are famished. Can I fetch beer and bread for now?"

"A moment, Will, I'll be right with you," he said, placing the pie before the only other people in the place, an older couple. I just stood and waited. Gair was like that.

I couldn't help taking note of the two he was serving, a sharp-featured man with dark hair sprinkled with grey, and a woman with a crooked back. They both looked done in, but while the man was slicing the pie into quarters the woman said, "I'll need something stronger than wine. What else have you got?"

"Is she in that much pain, then?" asked Gair kindly. "The poor lass! I've some Kygur, or there's a bottle of Kairhum wine."

"Stronger than wine, I said," the woman said sharply.

"No, mistress, you see—it's boiled down, like, and the water's drawn off and leaves the alcohol behind. It's strong, right enough."

The man barked a harsh laugh. "Kairhum is it. That stuff'11 take the shine off old leather, Rella, and Lanen's not used to spirits. Trust me, it'll help her until we can fetch a Healer from Verfaren."

"Bring it then, quickly," said the woman.

Gair turned to me. "Will, I—"

"Go. I'll get our beer, you help these folk."

I brought a brimming jug and three leather tankards to th table Vil and Aral had dragged over to the fire. "Did you hea any of that?" I asked quietly. I glanced at the older couple They were eating quickly, but more than half of the pie sa untouched in its dish.

"Not a thing," said Aral. She drank off a full tankard of Gair's best brown ale and sighed deeply. "Blessed Shia, that tastes wonderful. Where's the food? I'm starving."

"Coming. Gair's fetching strong spirits for those folk-seems there's more of their party and one of them's in a bad way." I lowered my voice. "They're heading for Verfaren to fetch a Healer."

To my astonishment, Vilkas rose instantly without saying a word and moved towards the corner where the others sat, Aral and I, of course, followed after. As always. I'll say this for the lad, he'd have made a fine player.

Vil stood before them and bowed. "Your pardon, my lord, my lady," he said. "My friend could not help but hear your conversation. You seek a Healer?"

The man just frowned at him, but the woman stared straight into his eyes. "Yes. We need the best Verfaren has and we need them quick. What has it to do with you?"

Vilkas drew himself to his full height. He was in a dreadful state, dishevelled and weary as he was, but there was a light in his eyes that would not be ignored. I think the day had been too long for him, too full of death and battle, too close to the dark places in his soul. He was at the same time exhausted and in that strange place beyond exhaustion where we are stronger than we ever imagine. Certainly, he risked a damn sight more than he should have.

"Everything, lady," he said. "At Verfaren today, one of the people I loved best in the world was killed by the head of the College because she dared stand up for me and mine. I would keep even a chance-met soul out of the clutches of that demon master lest the same fate befall them. I am a Healer, in the service of the Lady Shia, the mother of us all. It is my duty to serve those in pain. How can I help?"

"Hells' teeth, you puppy," muttered the woman, staring around her to be certain we were the only souls about. "How dare you say such things about the Archimage?"

"Because they are true," said Vilkas loudly. He was burning bright now, not with his corona but with a bone-deep anger that had at last found an outlet. "I am no fool, mis-tress," he said, his brilliant eyes alight with his fury. "I know all too well the powers ranged behind Berys the Bastard, but from this moment I refuse to support his lies. He is a demon master and a murderer and I will do all in my power as long as I live to bring about his downfall."

"And if I were to tell you that I am an assassin, and in his service?" said the woman harshly.

Vilkas wrapped a shield of power about her instantly and she was held motionless. The man beside her hardly moved, but he was watching carefully. "Aral," said Vilkas.

Aral moved forward and joined her corona to his, muttering,

"Great, thanks Vil, now we're both in it." She gazed closely at the woman through her corona. "It could be, Vil. She has killed before—but I'd swear she has not the slightest touch of Raksha-trace."

Vil released her and bowed. "If you are truly what you claim, I can only beg that you will drop your allegiance, else I will be forced to fight you and it would not be an equal contest. I am trained to healing, lady, and your death would weigh on my soul, but I cannot have you following me."

The woman smiled. It was a good smile. "Then be glad I'm not in his pay. My soul to the Lady, lad, it's good to see such courage, even if it is misplaced. I've hated Berys for years—but you should be more careful who you declare yourself to. Be glad there's no one else in here. How do you know about Berys?"

"I am his Enemy," said Vilkas simply. Cold, burning sim- plicity, like a new-forged blade plunged into the heart of ice. He might as well have shouted it. I shivered and felt Aral take my hand for simple comfort. I am afraid I found myself thinking that if the Death of the World were ever to speak, that would be its voice.

The woman stared at him, trying to take his measure. The man, however, stood and held out his hand. "Then you are welcome here, lad, but if you're going to call yourself Berys's Enemy you're going to have to stand in line. What's your name?"

Vil hesitated. The woman looked up at him. "Don't bother thinking up a false one," she said dryly. "I'm Rella, he's Jamie. Our real names. Who are you?"

"Vilkas," he said, taking the man's offered hand. "My soul to the Lady, I swear to you I am the strongest Healer you will find in or out of Verfaren who isn't demon-touched. How can I help?"

Well, that was enough of that.

"Your pardon, gentles," I said, coming up and putting a mug of beer in Vilkas's hand. "Drink," I told him, then turned to the couple. "His name is indeed Vilkas, he is what he claims, and before he can help anybody he needs food and a chair. Will you join us at the fire?"

They glanced at one another and the woman shrugged. The man, Jamie, got up and closed the door and latched it. Gair, who was just coming in with our food, put it down on the table and began to protest, but Jamie said, "If it means you lose custom I'll pay you for it. We need privacy."

Gair looked to me. "Up to you," I said with a shrug.

"Five silver will get you privacy and a closed door," said Gair decisively. Despite the atmosphere, I restrained a grin with great difficulty. He'd be lucky to make that much in a week. Obviously, Jamie knew as much, from his laugh. "Make it two, master, and I'll find it easier to believe!" he said.

"Don't bloody haggle," snarled Rella. She stood and Gair took a step back. There was that in her eyes that made me nervous as well. She drew out three silver coins. "There's for our beds, a closed door and food. Now where's that bottle of spirits?"

"Just coming, mistress," he said, taking the money and bowing his way out.

Aral and Vilkas were already eating like starveling waifs. Healing is a wearying business, I'm told, and they had walked ten miles on top of all that had beset them. Their youth was in their favour at least. Hard to believe that so much had happened in so few hours.

I should never think such things. Mother Shia seems to take it as a challenge.

A great cry came from somewhere beyond the kitchen. Before it had ceased we were all four on our way.

Lanen gripped my hands with all her strength while the pain swept through her. The moment the spasm relaxed I helped her to lie back against the wall. She could not lie flat, but at least this way she could relax a little. She closed her eyes as I covered her with a light blanket.

I tried to bespeak her but met only silence. It terrified me.

"Dearling, can you hear me?" I asked gently, and added in truespeech, "Oh, kadreshi, sleep not on the winds, not yet, I cannot bear it."

"Of course I can hear you," she said. She tried to keep her voice light, but it was taught with her pain. "I may be falling apart at the seams generally, but for the moment there's nothing wrong with my ears."

"Lanen, look at me." She opened her eyes wearily, and the agony behind them struck me like a blow.

"I'll admit the view is a fine one, Varien love, but I need to rest. Just let me close my eyes for a moment—"

She cried out then, in surprise as much as pain as another spasm seized her. "Akor! Oh Hells, it's worse!" She gave a great shudder. "Oh Hells," she said, and her voice sounded terribly distant. "Akor, help me—dear Shia it hurts—"

I happened to glance down from her face and saw a rapidly spreading bloodstain on the blanket. They tell me I shouted to bring down the roof tiles. I have no memory of it. All that remains to me of that moment is the memory of the bone-deep fear that I was going to lose Lanen, and the sickening knowledge that I could do absolutely nothing to help her.

I had never heard anyone yell like that. There were no words in it, but it was a command sure as life. Vilkas, already blazing blue and ahead of all, turned to Jamie and said "Where?"

Jamie pushed ahead of him and opened one of the many doors. Everyone else hurried in so I kept out of the way, but I caught a quick glimpse of the folk inside, for the bedroom was well lit and had a roaring fire in its own grate. There was a woman sat up in the bed, held in the arms of a silver-haired man, sitting in the middle of a spreading stain. I could smell the blood from the doorway.

Gair came rushing up. I sent him away again to fetch boiling water and soap and a fresh set of sheets, and told him to prepare food and drink for healers and healed after the work was done.

I only hoped the sheets wouldn't be needed to wrap a corpse in. The lady was so very white, and there was so very much blood.

It was a night of the young moon when I sensed him. I woke from my rest. All around lay my new companions, curled neatly around one another to share warmth and the comfort of another heartbeat. I had slept alone this night, and now though dawn was yet hours distant, I woke as to a voice calling me.

It was his voice, or the echo of it. In the deep heart of me I knew he was near and my heart rejoiced to think he drew nigh, lor the longing I had to see him again was stronger than ever. I was drawn east, walking away from the late-setting moon. I sought for any trace of him, drank in the wind: but his scent was not there. Still he drew me east—perhaps I would catch his scent higher up.

I climbed up one of the rock spurs that encircled much of the plain. It led soon to a ledge on the outer wall of the high rocks that might have been made for such a purpose. I leapt off and caught the air while my kinfolk lay sleeping. There was just enough lift to assist me, so I spiralled up and glided across the high meadow I had just left. It was a deep feeling, still and sacred, to be aloft when all the world was unaware. I saw distant lights to the north and much nearer lights south, and knew that he might be in either place, but still I was drawn eastward.

Not far in straight flight I noticed another light below and imelled smoke. I began to spiral down. Do not think I was using reason in any sense, for reason was not part of me then. Not yet. No, I followed some deeper instinct. How does a wolf find its mate in the deep forest, or a hawk its other half in the broad sky? There is a something that draws loved ones together that has no name and cannot be explained by reason.

I finally knew he was there as I came lower. Did I smell his trace on the air, catch the scent of his passing or of his footsteps grown cold on the frosty road? No.

But I knew he was there all the same.

It was an evil sight that met our eyes. Lanen was bleeding badly and Varien looked completely terrified. The lad Vilkas hurried in and with a curious gentleness sent his power to aid her.

"She lives yet," said Varien, "though I know not for how long." I think hearing that dead flat voice from him was the only thing that could make me take my eyes off Lanen. He stood beside the bed and held her close, as though daring death to come for her. I had never seen a living man so pale.

"My lord," said the Healer, Vilkas, never turning his face from Lanen, "make room, I pray you, I must come closer to the lady." Varien, with great difficulty, laid Lanen flat on the bed.

"I thank you, my lord. Be assured, she sleeps now, I have released her from the pain—"

Varien reached out and grasped the front of the Healer's robe and lifted him off the ground, all in one swift motion. Varien's eyes were blazing and his voice, far from flat now, echoed in the room. "I have heard these Gedri phrases for death before. If thou hast let her die, false healer, behold thine own death before thee!"

No one else moved but the lady Healer spoke softly. "Master, my friend speaks not of death but of the Healer's sleep. It is as if your lady had fainted, she does not feel pain. She is not dead, nor will be if you will let her healer get back to his work.""Forgive me," said Varien, putting the healer gently back on the ground. "I cannot hear her, I feared—Jameth, help me—"

I came and took him by the shoulders. Just for that moment he didn't resist. "Can we be of any assistance?" I asked the lady Healer.