Redeeming the Lost by Elizabeth Kerner
“Ah, littling, forgive me!” replied Shikrar. “I never thought to tell you. The Gedri do not have truespeech, as a rule. Only the Lady Lanen in all of history is so blessed. I fear you will not be able to bespeak Willem.”
“The Silver One, Hfarian, he cannot speak so?”
“Varien is a separate case, littling,” said Shikrar. “He is—different.”
“And so my father is different,” answered Salera. “I have learned his tongue, can he not learn this one?”
“Alas, I fear he cannot,” said Shikrar, sadly. “Lord Varien is of our own blood, and has the soulgem he has borne for a thousand winters. The Lady Lanen has been blessed by the Winds and the Lady. You must not hope for this, Salera. It will not come to be.”
Salera hissed her frustration, her tail whipping round her. “That is—that is darkness in daylight! Why should this be? It is not hwell!”
“Alas, you are right, littlings, it is not well; but in all the lives of our peoples we have found nothing that may be done to change it.”
And she surprised us again. Still, perhaps I was the more taken off guard; Shikrar at least maintained the appearance of calm.
Clearly and angrily she bespoke us both, as she gave a great leap into the clear morning sky. “What use then is this speech, when I cannot use it with the one I love best? I go to find him.”
We both stood silent for some time, and Shikrar sighed. “Idai, my friend, I grow old,” he said wearily. “What world is this we have come to? That youngling just managed her first words of truespeech most beautifully—”
“I heard her, Shikrar. I expect everyone else did as well,” I said wryly. Younglings were not known for subtlety, and Salera’s people were apparently no different.
I had managed to raise the shadow from off him for an instant. “Truly,” said Shikrar, amused. “She is a delight, that one. And yet, alongside the gift of truespeech that should be so great a joy, she knows now a sorrow that did not afflict her but moments since.” He sighed again. “Idai, my friend, what is this place, where Gedri and Kantri are so oddly joined, even for the best of reasons, that the differences between us become a source of pain rather than of delight?”
“Perhaps it has ever been so, Shikrar,” said Varien, who had now drawn near with the other Gedri.
“And still, my friend,” answered Shikrar, curiously sad, “it leaves me wondering what we have come to in this green land.”
“Life, Shikrar,” said Varien quietly, his eyes steady. “Life and change. It is well. Perhaps it will be our task to add something unchanging to this mixture, but we ourselves arose in this place. Surely, in ages past, Kantri and Gedri have formed friendships, and the Kantri have grieved for the brief lives of those companions. Should we then seek to avoid the company of our fellow creatures?”
“Her first use of truespeech, Varien. It is a moment for great rejoicing, a step towards a deeper life, and it has brought her only frustration.”
“Shikrar, Shikrar,” said Varien, managing a lighter tone. “It has been too long since you have taught so young a kit! She will come around to joy soon enough, I promise you. She is very, very young yet.” He managed the turning up of the corners of his mouth that the Gedri name a smile. It looked well on him. “But I see you are up to your old ways. Name of the Winds, Hadreshikrar, could you not wait even an hour to instruct Salera?”
Shikrar glanced at me, and I was glad to see a hint of his usual self returning. “This once I cannot claim the honour, Akhor. Idai it was who first bespoke the youngling.”
Varien bowed to me. “It was well done, Lady. I never thought to—I have been—”
“You have had your own troubles, my friend. And Shikrar says you tried before and found no response.”
“True enough. Salera and her people are a joy and a wonder,” said Varien lightly enough, but I heard his voice fall back into sorrow as he added, “but they are not the Lost, my friends. Still our duty to those trapped souls lies unfulfilled. Salera’s people, the Lesser Kindred, descendants through five thousand winters of the beasts left when the Demonlord ravaged our people, were my great hope for restoring the Lost. I dreamed that somehow we might reunite the creatures with the soulgems of the Lost—I never thought that they would be developing on their own. They are a great blessing, but all my hope for the Lost is now foundered.” He shook his head and muttered, “As is so much else.”
“You never let up, do you?” said the Gedri female beside him. “Life is short, Varien, or whatever your name is. I know your heart aches, but can you not spare a moment to rejoice in the good when it comes your way?” She bent in half before me. The Gedri bow so awkwardly. “Forgive me, Lady—Idai, is it? I am Aral of Berún, a city far to the east of here.” She smiled. “Varien would probably introduce us in a few weeks, but I don’t think we have that long.”
I gazed now more closely at the two Gedri who stood with Varien. Young as he looked, they looked younger still. Mere children.
Until you saw their eyes.
The girl-child, Aral, had about her a kindly air, and a strange familiarity that I could not explain, but that spoke well of her—indeed, something about her altogether spoke of the Kantri and it inclined me to favour her, but it was the youth beside her who shook me from my complacency. For all his lack of years, for all that I knew so little of Gedri faces, when our gazes locked he seemed for an instant to vie with me. Perhaps he sought to test me in some way, as younglings do on occasion, but for that brief moment he was unguarded, and I drew back. In that instant I had seen a raging torment behind his eyes, as of a searing flame, and a deep sense of power that surprised me. I sniffed, but there was not the least Raksha-trace upon him. This one would need to be watched, though not by me. A thought arose in my deepest heart. Let his enemies beware.
“You shame me, Mistress Aral,” said Shikrar. “Your pardon. I am not yet accustomed to the swiftness of your kind. Mistress Aral, Master Vilkas, this is the Lady Idai, known among us for her wisdom. Idai, these two have taught me not to judge by appearances, for they are great Healers in this land.”
“Healing is a most noble use of power,” I said, gazing full at Vilkas. “I confess to astonishment, however, Master Vilkas, that you two are so at your ease among us.”
“We’ve had practice,” said Aral, while Vilkas returned my regard. “We chanced upon Lanen and the rest of them—Lady, was it only a week gone? We were escaping from Berys and his damned Rikti, and when we stopped for food and shelter there they all were, and she in dreadful need of healing.” Aral bared her teeth. “We’ve barely stopped for breath since, but we were there when the Lesser Kindred were awakened.” She stood taller. “We helped heal their soulgems.”
I listened to her, but I did not look away from Vilkas. “There is a great work behind your eyes, Healer,” I said. “It is not unseemly to take a just pride in accomplishment. And unless I am deeply mistaken, it has to do with Varien’s beloved.”
“How the Hells did you know that?” he asked, but his gaze did not waver either.
I hissed gently. “I am She who Knows without Knowing, littling. That is the meaning of part of my name.”
He drew himself up, the very image of the Attitude of Pride if he had had wings. I envied the Gedri their mobile faces, but found it interesting that they used Attitudes much like ours to convey emotions. “Lanen was dying,” he said simply. “Her babes are half Kantri, half Gedri. Her body could not support them, so I changed her blood to match theirs. She is altogether changed now, for you cannot change only the blood. The rest has to match.”
I dropped my jaw in astonishment and heard Shikrar draw in his breath sharply. “Do you tell me that Lanen is also half Kantri now?” I breathed. “Surely that is not possible!”
“It is done,” said Vilkas. “Whether I should have done it or no, I have.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “At least now they’ll match.”
“Name of the Winds, Varien, you never told me that!” exclaimed Shikrar. His eyes w
“I—to be honest, my friend, I cannot say it has been uppermost in my thoughts,” replied Varien. “So much has happened since, I—”
He broke off, for Shikrar had moved his wings into the Attitude of Surprise, with a touch of Accusation, and the movement had caused him pain. I glanced more keenly at Shikrar, for I had finally realised what it was that had so altered him in so short a time, aside from the taking of Lanen. “If these Healers are so great as all that, Shikrar, why have they not healed you?” I replied.
Vilkas—it is hard to explain—he seemed to sharpen, as if something had broken through the mist he kept about himself. “We did not know he was ill or injured. Have I your permission, Lord Shikrar, to see if I may learn what is amiss with you?”
“It is nothing,” said Shikrar swiftly, “I am well enough, I …”
“His right wing is damaged, in the first joint, and the wound he received in his left shoulder last autumn has not had the time to heal as it should,” I said, annoyed. “Don’t be a fool, Shikrar. Perhaps they can help.”
“In all the long ages when our people dwelt together, even the strongest Gedri Healers could do very little for the Kantri,” replied Shikrar indignantly. I judged that was better than dwelling on pain.
“Ah, but we have done better since,” said Aral, her smile broadening. “When Salera’s people were—becoming themselves, we healed every one of them. Mind you, there wasn’t much to do, but it did work.” She gazed up fearlessly into Shikrar’s eyes. “May we have your permission to help? Or would you rather be brave and in pain a bit longer?”
Shikrar threw his head back and a flicker of flame shot skyward. All of the Gedri but Varien stepped back, shocked. Well, perhaps they had never seen a real laugh before.
“Come, then, heal me an ye may,” he said, his eyes dancing. “Name of the Winds, these Gedri have no fear!”
“Say no sense, rather, and you’ll be closer,” said Aral, who had moved some distance away from Shikrar. “What was that all about?”
Varien smiled, banishing just for an instant the deep well of sorrow behind his eyes. “It was a laugh, Aral, no more. Lanen”—ah, and it was back—“I surprised Lanen so, the first time. It is nothing to fear.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I think I’m safe enough in fearing that,” said Vilkas dryly. “You may not burn readily, Varien, but I do.” Turning to Shikrar, he continued. “If you would be so kind as not to be amused while we treat you, Master Shikrar, I would be greatly obliged.”
His eyes gleamed, but Shikrar answered, “You have my word, Master Vilkas.”
“Do you want any help, Vil?” asked Aral.
“Yes, come on, we both need to learn this,” replied Vilkas, already distracted.
It was fascinating to watch him. He who had been all shifting mist, hidden even from himself as he strove to hide his inner self from others, became all in a moment a soul sharp and gleaming, edged and poised for use like a sword. It was extraordinary to behold. “It’s all new to me too, the more eyes here the better.”
“I will leave you to their tender mercies, my friend,” said Varien, and the ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “I expect to find you vastly improved when I return.” He bowed and wandered off to speak with Rella and they were soon deep in talk.
Vilkas and Aral began what looked like a swift set of ritual passes through the air. A gentle blue light surrounded them both, until they joined hands. The gentleness was still there, but the light was much stronger.
Vilkas
Aral and I sent our power towards Shikrar. It would be the largest of them we’d begin on, I thought. Why start by halves? I had no idea what we might find. Human anatomy we had learned. Dragon anatomy was a complete mystery.
Until now.
I was pleased to learn that injury was injury no matter what the vessel. Dragon blood and bone were not the same as in humans, but for all that they were still blood and bone. The wing joint was badly inflamed, and the shoulder was still badly damaged for all that I could see it had been worse. With Aral’s help, I had a long look at Shikrar’s healthy shoulder, and then we got permission from Idai to examine her, to be certain of what healthy tissue looked like.
“Remember, Vil,” said Aral, as with the Healer’s deep sight we gazed into the tissues of unwounded Idai, “all of these creatures are completely exhausted. You can see it in Shikrar, but at least he’s had a few days’ rest. This lady and all the rest of them have just pushed themselves to the very limit to survive—look at the buildup of the waste products in the muscles. At least”—and her voice faltered slightly—“it looks like something that shouldn’t be there. Drat.” She sighed. “I’m not sure we could find a normal example anywhere just at the moment.”
“Mmmm, that’s the problem, of course. I’m with you, that particulate in the muscle looks like fatigue poison of some kind. It’s clear enough, in any case.”
“Yes. The wing muscles are the worst, of course. I’d guess the leg muscles are probably the nearest to their normal state—not the ones that have been holding the legs close to the body, the other ones, between the two farthest joints.”
I started to move, without thinking, and a wing appeared before me. The muscles at the edge are not so badly affected, I thought stupidly, before I looked up, blinking away my Healer’s sight. Idai’s face was before me, and I glimpsed the covering of amazingly tough hide and the blood vessels beneath, stretched over the heavy bone of the mask, before my normal sight returned.
“Are you always so heedless of those whom you heal?” she said, and I was briefly surprised by the fact that I could hear the annoyance in a dragon’s voice as clearly as I would in anyone.
“Your pardon, Lady,” I said, nodding to her. “I—when we are so deep in the Healer’s sight, it is difficult to remember that there is a person—and with you, there is so much to learn—”
Aral appeared by my side and interrupted. “Lady Idai, please forgive my colleague. He concentrates harder than any three people I know. I’ve seen him get so immersed in what he’s doing he forgets to eat for days on end. And yes, he gets a bit heedless of his patients, but that’s what he needs me for.” She jabbed her elbow, surprisingly subtly, into my ribs. “May we have your permission to examine your—er—back legs?”
Idai obligingly extended a leg, glancing keenly at Aral. “I see. I have known others so lose themselves in their work. Somehow it does not surprise me that males of both our Kindreds have this in common,” she said. Aral grinned up at her before getting back to work.
It was clear in a moment when we saw the healthy muscle—we had to look deep, but there is something unmistakable about bodies that are working as they should. The deep tissue of the unused muscles still had that silver glow of health about it, though the bloodstream was carrying the fatigue poisons throughout the body.
“Well, Vil, I can see what needs done,” said Aral shortly. “You?”
“Yes. It looks easy enough.”
I felt another jab of Aral’s elbow, but I’m not stupid. I was just about to speak in any case.
“Our thanks, Lady. With your assistance, I think we can help Shikrar.”
Idai dipped her head and a sinuous wave followed down her long neck. Very odd indeed, but she seemed happy enough.
Aral is right. I do tend to lose track of the social graces when I’m working.
We moved back to Shikrar’s side. “We’ll do it as usual, eh?” I said. “You compress and provide the pain relief, I’ll shift the inflammation.”
I looked up at the vast form now above me. Truly, things could be easier.
“My lord Shikrar,” I said, not knowing if they used such titles. Better than nothing. “Will it please you to come closer?”
His head was suddenly very, very close to mine and I couldn’t help but flinch. Goddess, he was huge. “Have you any hope, truly, of healing me?”
I almost laughed. Honestly. Everyone always thought they were different. “The Lady’s
“But we do not worship the Lady of the Gedri,” he said.
“Maybe you should start,” said Aral, grinning. “Have we your permission to try, Shikrar?”
He lay right down then, putting his wing gingerly upon the ground. It was still going to be hard to reach that affected shoulder, but—first things first.
“You may try, Aralishaan,” he said kindly.
Aral
We moved together to the wing joint, getting it clear before our eyes, seeing exactly what needed to be done. We joined hands and sent our power forth.
At least, we tried to. I felt Vil increase his own strength until he glowed even in broad daylight, but it wasn’t going anywhere. Our power went no farther than the ends of our fingers.
Shikrar, watching closely, closed his eyes. “Alas. I feared it might be so. In all our history, there have been few of the Gedri who could help us to heal.” He sighed. “Perhaps it was too much to hope that the two of you might have been among them.”
“Don’t move!” I yelled angrily to Shikrar. “Don’t give up yet, Vil! We healed Salera’s people, I know we can—wait—wait, of course!”
I had felt a slight burning for the last few minutes, where the pouch around my neck touched my chest, and it had finally occurred to me that when we had healed Salera and her kin, I had held the gem in my hand. Perhaps that would do it.
I let go Vil’s left hand and fumbled with the pouch and finally managed to get out the large gem. I held it tight in my hand.
I wish someone had told me. That kind of thing shouldn’t happen to the unprepared.
Shikrar
The Kin-Summoning is a ritual among our people, requiring days of fasting and preparation and the burning of special herbs and leaves. As a part of our choice at the dawn of Time, we were given a way to remember all that has gone before. The soulgems of our ancestors allow us, when necessary, to speak to those who have died.