Redeeming the Lost by Elizabeth Kerner
“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 softly, 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.
Idai
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.”
“Alikírikh 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.
“Alikírikh 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 Alikírikh 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 Alikírikh. I had never been so long in her presence before without hearing a single complaint.
I was most pleased to see
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.
Shikrar
“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 Tréshak know? She could only see it pass overhead, at a distance. Surely—”
“Tréshak 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 Tréshak 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. Tréshak 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.
Rella
Jamie and I spread our bedrolls, and he let me lie 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.
Maran
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 life 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.
Lanen
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 apparently awake. There was nothing so obvious as a kick, the movements were far more subtle. 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?
“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. “Lanen, 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. “Your 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.”