The Lesser Kindred (ttolk-2) (46 page)

I turned to Aral. "Can we protect them as well?" I shouted, pointing, for the noise of the battle was growing. She nodded. We strode over to them, Aral dispelling as many of the demons as she could as we went, but it was like trying to empty the sea with a cup.

We did not reach them an instant too soon. Just before my shield could defend Rella one of the creatures landed on her back and bit her neck. She cried out just once and fell. Aral destroyed the demon and in the next instant my shield protected the four of us, but Rella was badly injured.

"Vil, can you do two things at once?" asked Aral. I was shocked to hear the deadly weariness in her voice. "I'm about exhausted and she's in a bad way. I have stopped the bleeding but I haven't the strength to heal her."

Blessed be the Lady, I thought. At last, something I can do.

Keeping the shield raised all the while, I looked over at Rella, who measured her length on the grass. Aral was right, she was badly injured. Healing, simple healing, safe, blessed by the Lady—and the depth of my strength came to me, the fullness of it, as it had that night in Wolfenden. It was like cold water in my face, I roused and shook myself. I raised Rella with a thought to lie on the air before me. The demon had severed the great cord of her spine. It was a delicate task and required deep concentration to reconnect, and I had to maintain the shield to protect the four of us.

Do not think me boastful. I was useless against the Rikti; all I could do was keep a simple shield around myself and perhaps a few others. But healing—healing ran through me like warming fire. Even in the madness of the battle it was not hard for me. Rella was unconscious, for a blessing. I remembered first to cleanse the wound of Raksha-trace, cleaned the severed ends and reconnected them, forced the re-growth of the cord, of the muscles around it, of the skin above. When I finished and looked up there was but a thin red line on the back of her neck.

I was concerned at first by the expression on Jamie's face. He was astounded, plainly, but he seemed frightened as well, a disconcerting emotion for such an old campaigner.

"It isn't possible, surely—no one can heal such a wound so quickly, it's unbelievable."

Aral saved him. She put her hand on his arm for just a moment.

"Told you he was good," she said with a grin, and turned back to the battle.

I gave the Rikti a little while to wear them down, to keep their minds on the little individual battles that surrounded them. It worked well enough.

I prepared the second Swiftline and strode towards the pair in the centre. Lanen and the silver-haired man. Halfway there I stopped and broke the final disc, and a Rak-sha of the Third Hell stood before me. I interrupted the inevitable posturing.

"Behold, I provide you with a selection of prey, but you will take him first." I pointed. "The one with the silver hair. Kill him," I said, "then you may have the rest of them."

It flew on bat wings to obey me. I followed it.

The Rikti had learned that my sword was death, so that Lanen and I had a moment's rest. As I was renewing the blood on my sword, Lanen turned to me with tears of frustration in her eyes. "Damn it, Varien, I can't help you," she said. "I'm too slow with a sword and I can't hurt them otherwise. I hate being helpless."

I took her hand with my free one. "I know. Would it help to imagine for one last time that I am Akhor of old, defending you with tooth and claw against the Rikti?"

In the midst of the battle, she laughed. "It would indeed. I thank you, Akor," she said.

Then a movement away to the side caught our attention and held it. I committed my soul to the Winds and bespoke Lanen. "I fear our doom is come upon us. Find safety where you may, dearling. I will distract the creature. Go. Now." It was a Raksha, and it was flying straight toward us.

My plan was working beautifully. The silver-haired one wasted his time preparing to meet a Raksha with a sword and sending Lanen away to find cover. She had seen the other group of humans not far away and was making for them when I cast a simple Sleep charm upon her. It should have worked instantly, but something in her resisted long enough to discover who had sent the charm. When she saw me her eyes widened and she tried to cry out, but Silence is swiftly cast even from a distance, and it is very effective. However, Marik had warned me that she had Farspeech, so I called to two of the Rikti and had them bear her back with me as I ran to the Swiftlines. Speed would make all the difference.

I had not planned on having to deal with one of the Kantri so late in the battle.

I flew as fast as my wings would bear me. The strain in my injured wing threatened to give way, though, and I could not allow that. I was forced to fly more slowly than I would have wanted lest I fall from the sky altogether. I bespoke Varien to tell him that I was near but he did not answer. There again, I thought grimly, he would not reply from the midst of battle.

By the time I was near enough to hear what was happening I was frantic with the Raksha-smell and the silence from my soulfriend. I approached from above, sacrificing surprise that I might know what I faced. It was an evil sight—what looked like a legion of Rikti, and there to one side a Raksha, fighting—

Fighting Varien.

I could see blood on his face, and I heard Lanen crying out his name in my mind.

I came roaring and flaming from the sky, straight towards the Raksha. Varien dove out of the way as I came near. The Raksha turned to face me and raked my armour as I closed with it, but it only had that once chance. I was in a fury, and the Eldest and largest of our race. It was dead with one bite and I destroyed the body with cleansing flame the next instant:

Varien was gone.

I looked for Lanen the instant I heard Shikrar calling me, though I could not answer while my sword still defended my head. The Raksha was distracted—I am told that they can smell us as we can them—and it only fought with half its strength, for it knew that one of the Kantrishakrim was near and it began to fear for its life. From the corner of my eye I could see Lanen moving towards the others, towards the protection of me healers, when suddenly she fell. I was struggling to get away from the Raksha to help her when two of the Rikti caught her up and dragged her at a terrible speed across me field and away towards the wood at the far end.

She called out to me in truespeech. "Varien! I am be-spelled, I cannot fight back—help me! Shikrar, to me! "

"I come, Lanen! Shikrar, swiftly, she is taken!" I cried. I saw Shikrar diving at the Raksha. It turned its attention away from me, and like an arrow released from the bow I sped towards Lanen.

If the field had been empty I might have reached her, but ever me Rikti attacked me as I ran and I was forced to fight them off. "Shikrar, help her!" I screamed in the agony of my frustration, as my blood-soaked sword dispelled the last of the Rikti about me. Shikrar's vast shape ran past me then, scattering the Rikti as he went, and I followed after faster than I had thought I could run. I felt as though I were running through deep water. Every muscle, every beat of my heart threw me towards Lanen, but I felt a great darkness gather round about me with each step as I watched her carried away from me on demon wings.

All my strength, all my love, all that I was or ever had been I poured into my desperate need to be by her side, but to no avail.

The Rikti reached the wood. At its edge stood a man, young and strong, who stank of the Rakshasa as though he were one himself. "Shikrar, the Gedri, he is the source, destroy him for me I beg you!" I cried in truespeech, and spared the fraction of an instant to rejoice when cleansing flame surrounded that abomination.

It did not touch him.

The demon-master laughed and gestured to his tame Rikti, who dropped Lanen into his arms.

"NO!" The scream ripped from my throat, agony. "Stop him Shikrar!"

Too slow.

Too late.

I wake still at nights to the memory of those last moments. I see Lanen catching sight of me, struggling to get away from Berys, stretching out her arms to me, crying my name desperately in truespeech as bespelled silence holds her.

"Varien! Varien! AKOR!"

I threw down my sword and flung myself across the last few feet that separated us, but the bastard who held her captive took one step backwards and disappeared.

With her.

"NO!" I cried, falling to my knees, scrabbling insanely in the earth where he had stood. "LANEN! LANEN!" I screamed in truespeech and aloud.

Silence.

Shikrar went wild then, I think. Like me he followed instinct, but he dug stone like earth, as if Lanen had disappeared down a hole. When finally he realised that he could not follow her, he turned his incandescent anger on the remaining Rikti.

The Lesser Kindred had fought well, but they had not the flame nor the strength of a Lord of the Kantri in his wrath. I had never seen any of our people in a killing frenzy before. The Lesser Kindred drew back in awe as he roared and flamed until all the Rikti were dead, then he rent the bodies of the dead when there were no more to kill.

I bespoke him finally, from that small part of me that still lived. "Shikrar, it is done. They are dead. Burn them."

Great gouts of flame roared over the mangled bodies, burning the ground clean down to the rock. The cleansing flame seemed to rouse him out of his madness, for he shook his head and gazed about him, his glance finally coming to rest on me.

"Varien—Varien, I could not save her," said Shikrar brokenly. His voice in my mind was appalled. "/ tried with all my strength, I could not—Akhor—they were too far ahead." He bowed, shaking, and said aloud, "Akhor, Akhor, I cannot hear her."

I tried to answer him, but my voice was trapped in my throat and would not obey me. "Shikrar my brother," I groaned in truespeech, "/ cannot hear her either." I tried once more, calling into silent darkness, as I feared I would call for the rest of my days.

"Lanen! Lanen! Hear me, answer me—Lanen!"

There was no answer, and there was no more strength in me. I knelt there on the grass in that bright spring morning and stared helplessly, stupidly, at the place where she had disappeared.

I could not weep. My soul was lost in a desolation far beyond tears—but my heart kept up its litany long after my mind had fallen into darkness.

Lanen—Lanen—Lanen—

Once I had her safely in my chambers in Verfaren I cast yet another bespelled sleep upon her. She fought it, but I was too strong for her. I sent Durstan to put her in a demon-guarded chamber and hurried to begin the great summoning.

I did not wait for Durstan to return with my sacrifice for there was much to be done first. I moved surely but swiftly, rejoicing all the while—Marik of Gundar's blood and bone were in my power at last!

I drew forth and lit the incense I had made a year since from a fist of ingredients obtained from ancient sources. Mixed in with the rest was a rare and precious scrap of parchment the Demonlord himself had touched. It had taken me half a lifetime to find and a small fortune to purchase.

I threw more coals on to the fire, renewed the candles, sealed the seven sigils at the points each with their prescribed element. The circles were carven into the stone floor but I swept them again, ensuring that each was clear and complete. I opened a small chest against one side of the room and drew out the robes I had made for this work. Woven into the fabric of the cloth were the sealing symbols of spells of protection, binding, containment, control and mastery. I threw off my battle-stained garments and assumed the deep red robes. As I wrapped the cord around my waist I repeated each of the spells, sealing each with a touch to the symbol, that my very robes might act as protection and reinforcement of the spells I needed. I finished tying the cord with the binding spell.

Where in all the Hells was Durstan with my sacrifice?

I threw a handful of the priceless incense on to the coals. It instantly sent billows of pungent smoke into the air, a heavy cloud that seeped into the brain and made limbs heavy and speech slow—or would have if I had not taken the precautions I had. The symbol for protection glowed bright in the murky chamber.

Ah, the door at last! I had told Durstan to send in the sacrifice—I could not see who it was for the smoke, but it was alive and that was all I required. Durstan had not subdued it, however, so I had to cast Sleep upon it before I could drag it on the altar. The smoke was so thick I could barely see the shape as it lay not two feet from my eyes. Still, I could find its chest fast enough.

It was time. I called up my power and began the chant I had spent so long learning. Every word was a spell, weaving a full tapestry of spells to call and to bind.

From the moment I started I sensed a presence. There in the mist, somewhere in the cloud created by the incense that carried the single point of essence of the Demonlord, there was a mind watching mine. It was more intelligent than any demon and it was without fear that I could see.

I was delighted. At last, a kindred spirit.

I proceeded with the summoning, invoking the strictures that would keep it under my control.

"I'm not a demon, you know," said a quiet voice from the mist.

I continued with the spell.

"You're trying to bind me like a demon. It won't work.

I'm human, just like you. Well, no, not like you. I'm much brighter than you are." It giggled. "I know when to leave the dead alone."

There was a brief pause in the spell. "Forgotten it already? You are pathetic," it said, ending on a hiss. I felt a presence now, much nearer, above the altar.

The summoning was working. The words grew harder to say, sticking in my throat, but I bent all my will to speaking them aloud despite the pressure not to. My will prevailed.

It had stopped its inane comments when the binding took hold, but it did not writhe as the Rakshasa did. I had wondered if it would—but no, it was not embodied yet, I could inflict no pain. That would come in time.

I gathered my thoughts and ran quickly over the end of the spell.

"You'll never manage it, you know," it said loudly, confusing me. I had to begin again, going over the syllables, and again it interrupted. "It's too hard. You'll never do it. Give up now and I promise I won't hurt you."

I sent what was left of my Healer's aura to encompass the presence. Corrupt as my corona was with Raksha-trace, still there was enough in it of the Lady to injure the creature. The presence, to my satisfaction, screamed loudly. I went over me spell once more, tins time without interruption.

I took up my sacrificial knife and ripped open the garment the sacrifice wore. As I pronounced the final words of invocation it stirred, and when I plunged me razor-sharp blade into the chest of the victim it screamed. I had done this often enough that I hardly needed to look as I cut out the heart, but I usually enjoyed the look of horror on their faces when I held their still-beating hearts before their eyes. I glanced down just for a moment.

It was almost my undoing. My eyes met those of Durstan. Somehow I had mistaken him for whoever he had tried to supply, and of course, I had put the sacrifice to sleep instantly.

It is as well I never cared much for Durstan. I was annoyed that I would have to train up a new servant, but it was a small inconvenience. I showed him his heart and found that I felt my usual pleasure. That was all right, then.

I threw the beating heart on the coals. "Arise now, De-monlord, thou who didst surrender thy name in the service of darkness these long aeons since. Arise as my servant, that together we may destroy the Kantrishakrim once and for all, and have the whole of Kolmar for our own."

The voice became only a little louder. "You have not provided me with a body. How then shall I arise, you fool?"

"A body is prepared for you, ancient one. Look to the west, see there an island in its death throes."

"I see it," the voice answered. It sounded curious.

I explained the arrangement. The Demonlord laughed, long and loud.

"That is not enough!" he said. "Oh, you are such a clever fool! No, little demon caller, that is not enough. I must have you."

"I am not part of the bargain," I replied.

"Ah, but you are," he said. "Without a piece of your own body I am not bound. I told you, I am not a demon. I require a sacrifice from you, yourself. The heart of this man is good, it nourishes me, but it is not yours."

"I will make a sacrifice of blood," I began, but he interrupted me.

"No, not blood," he said, "that is too simple. No, I need something of you that you cannot replace." It stopped for a moment to ponder. "Your left hand, I think."

"You ask too much!" I cried, but I knew what its response would be.

"Those laws of what is too much or not enough only apply to demons. I told you, I'm not a demon." He smiled. "So, what happens now, little demon-spit? Do I eat you where you stand, or will you do as I bid?"

I was trapped, but those of my profession must ever consider the possibility that such things can happen. It was not that much to lose, after all.

"Once accepted and given, you are bound to me. Blood and bone binds deep, Demonlord. Once accepted and given, the sacrifice binds you to me."

"True. I'm waiting."

"On pain of perpetual servitude, do you accept this sacrifice of my left hand?"

"Damn," he said calmly. "I was hoping you'd cut it off first so I could refuse. Yes, I accept the sacrifice."

I did not stop to think or wonder if I dared. I took the bloody knife and brought it down with all my strength upon my wrist. I took the instant of shock to seal the wound with my Healer's corona and dispel the pain, for I had to keep my wits about me a little longer.

It was peculiar, though, lifting up my own hand and tossing it on to the coals. It hissed and was taken.

"Bound to me, Demonlord, bound and mastered!" I cried.

"It is well, Malior," he answered from the heart of the coals. The voice was much stronger now. "I go now to the island to take up that which arises, and I will come unto thee in the body thou hast prepared for me. It is fitting. I will aid thee in thanks for the sacrifice, and then—ah, then, we shall see, little demon-spit. At the least I will take joy in the death of the Kantri, and thy death thereafter."

"Arise, then, and come to me as swift as the wind will bear thee," I cried.

"I come, O Master," it said, its voice light and mocking.

And it was gone.

The spell was complete. I had done it.

I closed off the invocation, sealed the brazier and doused the coals, blew out the candles.

It was done. I was in a daze, for the shock was taking me, but I took the precaution of looking again at my hand—at the stump where my hand had been. As I suspected, it was hazy with infection. I would have to have it seen to.

Out of habit I called for Durstan to help me with my robes, but he lay on the altar most decidedly dead. I just managed to rouse balefire to consume him—it was a kind of swift and useful sacrifice I kept always ready by me. It al-lowed me to summon the Rikti at will, for they always received the leftovers of my sacrifices. This much fresh flesh would supply me with another small army of Rikti should I require one.

I dressed with difficulty in my usual robes, left the chambers and closed the door behind me. I staggered to All Comers with a tale of a demon attack. The Raksha infection was purged, my stump was examined and sealed carefully with a skin flap. I was carried back to my chambers to rest, amid general dismay.

I spent the journey to my chambers in quiet delight. My lost hand bothered me hardly at all. Now that I had in my grasp all I required for victory, the only question that remained was deciding which of the College servants I should choose as Durstan's replacement.

I had watched it all. I saw Berys under the trees, laughing, fifty years younger than he should be. I had tried to get to him while the demons were massed against us; thank the Lady, Vilkas and Aral restrained me. I'd have been killed instantly. It brought me up short, reminded me I was thinking with my heart not my head. Stupid.

But when he took Lanen, when he disappeared with her, I went cold from head to foot, felt my heart contract to an old and unwelcome ice. I fought it for the moment. There was too much to do first.

I waited until the last demon was dead, until Vilkas dropped his shield against the demons and healed the gash in my cheek. I thanked him for his kindness to me and to Rella, carried her gently to the fire we had been tending through the night and roused her from her healing sleep.

"Rella," I called softly. "Rella lass, coom nah, waken oop," I said, slipping for an instant into the thick accent of my youth. " 'Tis broad daylight, Rella. Come, lass, waken to me."

She stirred and opened an eye. "I'm weary, Jamie," she said sleepily, "go 'way—oh Hells." And between one breath and another she was awake and very aware of her last memory. "Oh Goddess, am I—but—how?" She lifted her hand to her face, then stood shakily with my help. "It can't be. How can I move, how can I stand? I felt that thing cut me down like a spider off its web, I dropped and couldn't feel a thing. How—?"

"Vilkas," I said. "Never seen the like." I took her hand. "You're right, lass. You were done for. I saw the cut. The lad has a blind spot about demons, but by all the Hells, he's the stuff of legend when it comes to healing."

"Amazing," she said, stunned.

Well, I'd best get it said and over so we could get on with things.

I took her by die shoulders and made her look me in the eye. "I must tell you, my girl. When I saw what had happened, before Vilkas said he could help, I had already drawn my sword. I was going to send you on ahead."

That was mere's cant, in such circumstances, for the merciful blow you give a comrade who will otherwise die a slow and painful death.

Rella drew me to her and kissed me soundly. "Thank the Goddess, you're neither fool nor coward," she said, her eyes locked with mine. "It's a long death, that one. I wouldn't wish it on anyone." She touched my cheek. "I'd have been grateful."

She released me and looked around. "What's happened to Varien? In fact, what's happened to—Lanen—" Her face changed and she looked appalled. "Oh Jamie, no, she isn't—"

"No, she's not dead, at least not yet," I said. "Berys came, I saw him, and he summoned a big bastard of a demon to take her. He's got her, Rella." I gazed into her eyes, into love so late found and so precarious still. "Berys stole her from under my nose. And I must go after as long as I have strength to try to get her back. I'm leaving, now you're awake."

"Just make sure you can keep up with me, old man," she said, smiling, her voice light, as if this was just another stage in our journey. If I hadn't seen the bright track down her cheek gleam in the sunlight, I'd never have known she wept. "But Jamie—I know it goes against your every instinct, but you must wait. There is too much we do not know."

"I have waited long enough!" I cried. "She could be dying!"

"And where would you run to, to find her?" Rella demanded. "And what would you do if she is protected by demons? Think, Master Jameth," she said. "We cannot rush after her like green recruits. We must plan this campaign. If he wanted her dead, why bother to take her away?"

"How should I stand here a moment longer when she is in his power?" I cried, even though I knew in my heart that Rella was right.

"Because you know you will be of no use to her dead. Come. We need to think, find out who is with us and how best to use our strength. How fares that young Healer—" she said, glancing around the field. There was certainly plenty to see. "Bright Lady! Jamie, you idiot, you didn't tell me there was a dragon come to call!"

I followed her slowly as she hurried to talk to it. Truth be told, I was a bit afraid. This creature's presence, its friendship with Varien—well, there, I'd been inclined to believe him of late in any case.

Varien. There he knelt in the grass, still in shock. He loved her, aye, true enough, I thought, gazing at his back. But I had the prior claim by more than twenty years.

I shivered as I felt it again, a cold wave sweeping over me, but this time I welcomed it. My heart was swept clean for that instant as I made my vow, as I declared my only purpose. I had always known, I suppose, but the time was now come.