Elfsorrow Part 38

She nodded. It had to be now. The pain smashed around her head and she knew there was only one source of help. She closed her eyes again and spoke to them with her mind, hoping it would be enough.

Are you there? she asked, knowing her tone was unfriendly but with no desire for it to be otherwise. They should know from the outset that this was not forgiveness for what they had done but acceptance of what she carried. Myriell? Cleress? Are you there?

Erienne, we have been waiting. Always near but never within your mind. Cleress's voice was like honey over a sore throat. It is a joy to hear you.

It is not a joy to be speaking to you but I must, said Erienne.

We understand that you still harbour anger and hatred, said Myriell. But please believe us that we just want to help you accept what you hold in your mind before it destroys you. And destroy you it will.

Don't threaten me like that, said Erienne, the pounding in her head excruciating. I am not some child you can control with scare stories.

I am simply informing you of reality and nothing more, said Myriell. You are in pain, I take it?

I have never experienced anything like it, conceded Erienne. It has been with me for days but it is suddenly so intense I can barely see or stand. It had better not be inspired by you.

Oh, Erienne, how could you think that? We have never sought to cause you harm, admonished Cleress gently.

Erienne all but laughed as the bitterness showered through her. You killed my daughter. How much more harm do you think you can possibly do?

We so wanted Lyanna to live. But the One was killing her; I wish you would believe that.

And now I have the One whether I like it or not, don't I? said Erienne, fighting back the throbbing agony a little longer. You didn't feel the need to give me a choice. Your arrogance is that great.

Erienne, your daughter couldn't contain the power because Dordover awoke it too early, said Cleress. You, being her mother and a Dordovan, were the only host capable of keeping it alive. Of keeping that part of Lyanna alive. And there was a battle going on. We had no time to discuss this and anyway you would have refused.

There was no hint of guilt in Cleress's voice. No real regret. Just an a.s.sumption of necessity. Erienne knew she should have been enraged by them. But though she hated what they had done, at least she could feel that the One magic that resided in her mind had been nurtured and grown by Lyanna. Beautiful Lyanna. She felt tears on her face and Denser's soothing hand on her brow and across her hair. He said nothing.

You have to take the pain away, she said. You have to.

We can, but for that you must let us into your mind all the way and you must accept that one of us will be with you always to guide you, said Cleress. We will be silent unless you ask something of us or if we believe your mind to be at risk. But you must know that once the process is started it cannot be stopped.

I don't want any process to start. I just want the pain to go.

That is the beginning of the process, said Myriell.

So be it. But don't push me where I don't want to go. Don't presume to control me or anything about me or I will fight you. Do nothing without my express agreement.

Both Al-Drechar laughed. Erienne, we know you well enough not to presume anything ever again.

It is no laughing matter, snapped Erienne.

No, it isn't, said Myriell. Now, are you ready? Just relax your mind.

Begin, said Erienne.

And, with the most gentle of probing feelings, her pain vanished and she saw for the first time the well of power that was the One magic, hers to control if she had the strength. It was a force for good or evil far more comprehensive than any single college's magic. It drew on the energies of land, sky, mana and sea. Its scope was endless. With it at her beck and call, there was so much she could do.

The s.h.i.+p had sailed in under cover of darkness, and before dawn much of the loading had been done. Sha-Kaan had woken to the sounds of Xeteskians preparing to leave on the next tide and he took to the air, anger surging within him, powering his tired wings.

Stay and rest, Nos-Kaan, he pulsed, as he swooped down on the house from which Sytkan, the lead Xeteskian mage, was emerging. I will call should I need you.

The mage knew he was coming. The boughs of nearby trees bent under the downdraught, dust and sand were whipped into the air and the noise of each beat of his wings drowned out any speech on the ground. To his credit the Xeteskian faced him squarely, having picked himself up and dusted himself down. Others of his order were not so calm, haring off down the path to the landing beach.

Sha-Kaan glowered down at Sytkan, choosing to sit up on his hind legs and angle his neck down, noting the ten Protectors who stood in a defensive circle around him.

'Was I to be privy to your decision to leave these sh.o.r.es or were you hoping we would sleep until your s.h.i.+p was out of sight?'

'Our work is done here, Sha-Kaan. Aside from the defence force we will leave to guard the Al-Drechar and their people, we must all return to Xetesk to validate our research.'

Sha-Kaan bent his neck further, moving his mouth close to Sytkan and sighting along his snout at the mage, whose eyes widened. Protectors drew weapons.

'Tell them to sheathe those things. They cannot harm me.'

Sytkan gestured and blades were lowered.

'What is it you want of me?' asked Sytkan, a superior and rather bored tone to his voice.

'Finish what you started,' said Sha-Kaan. 'You need go nowhere to validate your research. Indeed, I forbid it. You will free us to return to our own dimension before I free you to return to your petty squabbles on Balaia.'

'You are in no position to forbid anything, Great Kaan,' said Sytkan, clearly unaware of his own vulnerability. 'We are in charge here, and I suggest that if you do want to return to Beshara, you let us set the timetable. That means we leave to employ our research in a practical fas.h.i.+on before turning to lesser matters.'

Sha-Kaan almost swatted him then and there but refrained, Hirad's caution echoing in his mind.

'You tread delicate ground, frail human,' he said. 'The timetable as you call it states that we do not have the luxury of waiting on your whim. And, as you will discover if you choose otherwise, there are no greater matters than completing your work to send us home.'

'Don't threaten me, Sha-Kaan,' said Sytkan. 'We have foreseen your reaction and taken appropriate steps. Without your fire you are much weakened, as the Dordovans discovered. Don't think we will hesitate to defend ourselves. Together, we are very strong.'

'But individually, very weak,' said Sha-Kaan.

His head snapped forwards and he scooped Sytkan into his jaws, wings unfurling to project him into the sky and away from danger.

Nos-Kaan, take to the air. The Xeteskians have to be stopped.

In his jaws, Sytkan struggled. Sha-Kaan brought his head to a foreclaw and deposited the mage in it, bringing it in line with an eye.

'You have very little time,' growled Sha-Kaan. 'Remove your work from your s.h.i.+p before we sink it.'

'And lose everything for which we have worked and that could benefit you?' shouted Sytkan into the wind. 'It stays there. You don't dare touch it. Set me down.'

'You think me a foolish reptile, I am sure. Ignorant. But I hear much and am told more. I know the exact.i.tude of a Xeteskian mage. All your papers are in watertight containers, are they not? And I am a very good swimmer.'

He watched Sytkan's fragile confidence disappear and proper fear replace it. But the mage was not done.

'Release me or Nos-Kaan dies now.'

Sha-Kaan swept round to face the hillside. Nos-Kaan was hovering, waiting for him. Below, hidden by the curve of the slope, a dozen mages. Nos hadn't seen them and they were casting.

Sha-Kaan bellowed in rage and arrowed down towards them, pulsing alarm at his Brood brother.

Fly! They are below you. Fly!

Nos-Kaan moved as the mages cast their spell. An orb of fire thirty feet across raced from their position, catching Nos-Kaan's left wing on the downbeat and rolling along its length to scour his back. Flame ate at his scales and burned the wing membrane. Nos roared pain and, smoke trailing from his savaged wing, spiralled into the sky, heading for the quenching ocean.

Sha-Kaan powered on, Sytkan forgotten in his claw. The Xeteskian mages could not react fast enough. The huge dragon landed just upslope and slid down on them, his great hind claws tearing up the ground as he came, his wings beating again, his weight shuddering the earth. His head launched forward, his fangs slicing through human flesh, jaws snapping open and shut to crush puny bodies. His claws scythed through torso and limb, dug up stones and dirt and flung them down.

With the next beat of his wings he took to the air again, banking sharply to check for any survivors. One was running, the rest either dead or dying. He powered in again and seized the running mage in his other foreclaw before chasing out to sea after Nos-Kaan.

The dragon's entry point was clear and the smell of burning scale and membrane hung in the air. Sha-Kaan put Sytkan to his eye once again, seeing the mage shaken but still just conscious.

'Weak am I? Pray to your false G.o.ds that Nos is still alive. Pray that your lungs can hold and your body does not break.'

With that he dived into the ocean, tucking his foreclaws in to protect the mages from the impact. He might have need of them. His eyes pierced the clear blue waters easily and he didn't have to swim deep before he saw Nos-Kaan struggling to the surface, his left wing dragging him back, his tail stroking weakly.

Nos-Kaan, I am here.

Sink the s.h.i.+p, Great Kaan. I will survive. But his thoughts were feeble. They must not escape.

They cannot outpace me. I will be back.

Sha-Kaan stormed back to the surface and broke into the air. In his claw Sytkan gasped a lungful of air. The other mage hung limp. Sha-Kaan discarded him. He flew towards the s.h.i.+p, which still lay at anchor, keeping high to avoid the spells. On deck he saw two groups of mages crouching together, spells no doubt on their lips.

'So anxious to get on board,' he said, Sytkan once again large in his vision. 'Let me help you.'

He threw the mage down, watching him cartwheel as he fell. The human prayed he hit the water. His G.o.ds did not hear him. Sha-Kaan turned from the splayed mess far below on the deck and dived back after Nos-Kaan.

The wounded dragon was close to the surface now. Sha-Kaan swam under him and pushed him from below, moving him fast towards a nearby island with a beach on which he could rest. He could feel the pain through Nos-Kaan's mind. The dragon, who had never fully recovered from attack by Dordovan mages out in the Southern Ocean two seasons before, was dreadfully injured.

He heaved Nos-Kaan from the waves. The stricken Kaan laid his neck out on the sand, leaving his tortured burned body in the salty water.

Tell me, Nos. Your injuries, can they heal?

But he already knew the answer. Nos-Kaan's wing lay on the surface of the sea, outstretched, membrane ruined in so many places. And the scales along his back were puckered and oozing.

It has been a great adventure, Great Kaan. And I would have loved to rest back in our Brood lands, but it was ever a dream I feared I would never realise.

Then rest now, my brother. Rest now. You will be avenged.

But Nos-Kaan couldn't hear him.

Sha-Kaan rose up on his hind legs, beat his wings and bellowed grief, rage and torment. Birds took flight and lizards scattered on the beach. Back at anchor, the Xeteskian s.h.i.+p lay waiting. He decided not to keep them any longer.

But even as he rushed into the air to revenge himself upon them, a voice sounded in his mind. It spoke reason and sympathy and it took the edge from his rage. It told him that he must live. That the Brood Kaan would wane without him, that there were other places to fight the battle. It told him it loved him and that it would see the research into the hands that would help.

The voice was that of Hirad Coldheart, his Dragonene, and it surely saved his life.

Chapter 35.

Dystran, Lord of the Mount of Xetesk, was in excellent spirits. He had enjoyed his lunch enormously and took the remains of his wine out of the dining room he had shared with the rest of the Circle Seven into the Corridor of the Ancients. Looking along the impressive line of portraits in the brightly lit corridor, he reminded himself to organise his own. Every other master on the walls was very old. A dash of youth would be just the job.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned. Ranyl was walking slowly towards him, pain obvious on his face but defiantly upright despite the natural desire to stoop to try and relax the pain from the cancer in his stomach. He smiled as he approached.

'My Lord Dystran, I have more news,' he said, 'concerning the search on Calaius.'

'Really?' Dystran's pulse quickened slightly. 'Good I hope?'

'I would welcome a seat and a gla.s.s of whatever it is you have.' Ranyl smiled.

Dystran raised a hand. 'I'm sorry, my manners.'

He led the old and dying master back to the dining room, where they sat at the end of the cavernous chamber away from the inquisitive ears of the rest of the Seven. Servants were clearing plates and gla.s.ses from the long rectangular table on which seven candelabra supported strong white flames. In the wood-panelled room, voices echoed loud so Dystran lowered his voice as he poured wine and sat down with his adviser.

'You'll be glad to hear, old friend, that our key researchers are even now returning to Balaia from Herendeneth. There was trouble with the Kaan dragons but they escaped intact. They'll land in approximately nine days and be in the college inside twenty. Fifty Protectors are with them. The answers are close, Ranyl. Very, very close. If we can hold our borders for just that little bit longer.'

'Well, Heryst's caution still plays into our hands though Rusau's unfortunate demise was regrettable. Intelligence indicates he is mobilising his forces. His strength could yet be pivotal. We should consider talks of some kind,' said Ranyl. He smiled as he drank from his gla.s.s.

'About what?'

'It hardly matters,' said Ranyl. 'As long as it stops any concerted invasion for long enough. Why not discuss the dispersal of the Herendeneth research? It won't stop Vuldaroq but it might give Heryst pause, and that is all we need to see our people home.'

'The timing will be important,' said Dystran, a warm feeling creeping into his bones as he saw the sense of Ranyl's plan.

'Indeed. We should act as soon as possible. You might try personal Communion with Heryst. Soothe his pain, so to speak.'

'My dear Ranyl, I will never find another to replace you,' Dystran said, and squeezed the old man's free hand. 'But this isn't what you wanted to tell me about. Calaius.'

'Ah, my Lord, the G.o.ds are organising everything to speed your ascension,' rumbled Ranyl through a cough. 'I have had Communion from our fleet. They are on their way back from Calaius. They have the writings we need.'

'Are you sure?' said Dystran. He felt elation rush through his body.

'It was a difficult operation. We lost many lives but both Erys and Yron survived. Erys is as sure as he can be that what they have is the text you had in mind.'

'How difficult?'

'We lost almost one hundred and ninety people,' said Ranyl quietly.

'What!' Dystran's voice echoed across the dining room and stilled the hum of conversation from the remainder of the Seven. His next words were an angry whisper. 'What in all the h.e.l.ls happened? Did they run into a storm or something?'