Andrea Höst - Voice of the Lost

All eyes were on the bright triangle of sunlight marking the curving cave entrance. First there was a hint of movement, then a shadow which preceded a woman holding a sword at ready. Her braid of pure white hair caught the light as it swung about her ankles. She was as Ibisian as Cor-Ibis, had even a family resemblance, and moved with the grace of the best swordswomen. The clothing she wore was very similar to Liak ar Haedrin’s uniform, that of a warrior in Cor-Ibis' private guard. Cool eyes swept the cave, stopping at Cor-Ibis' face.

"'Lukar!" Relieved and pleased, the woman lowered her sword, and hurried forward at a less cautious pace. "I was afraid I had missed you."

"Ileaha." Cor-Ibis said the name slowly. Medair stared.

"Avahn and Heleise and one of the kaschen have been taken," the woman said, her voice admittedly very like Ileaha’s. "A patrol of ten from the castle caught them just as they came out of a cave." She shook her head, the ankle-length braid swinging. "They were no more than fifty feet from me the entire night, if only I had known it. Who would have thought a tree would prove the safer?"

"This just happened?" Cor-Ibis asked, ignoring any surprise he might be feeling in favour of more pressing concerns.

"No. Shortly after dawn. I followed them in case there was any chance of breaking them free before they were taken into the castle, but the patrol was alert." The woman took a step forward. "But, 'Lukar, the most important thing: they took them into one of the caves, not the castle. I followed them in and was nearly captured myself when the patrol split, with two remaining with Avahn and the others. Once the rest had resumed circling the castle, I went back into the cave, and found a gate, quite far in. The lock was not one which could be forced, so I came here as quickly as I could."

"The AlKier favours us," Cor-Ibis said. "When the patrol goes past again, we will make our way to this cave, rather than attempt a frontal assault." He gestured to the hidden kaschen, who emerged and returned to the cave entrance to watch, his curiosity and disappointment poorly disguised.

"Ileaha." Medair gave up hiding as well. She searched a stranger’s face as she approached. Leaner than the Ileaha she had travelled with to Athere, and the colouring was dramatically different, as perfectly pale as the purest Ibisian. Her thick, silken rope of hair swayed with her every movement. But it was Ileaha.

"Medair!" The woman embraced her, much to Medair’s discomposure. "I feared we had lost you as well."

"Not quite." Medair glanced at Cor-Ibis, who was watching expressionlessly. "Ileaha, do you remember the Conflagration?"

A frown touched pale blue eyes. "Conflagration?"

"Do you remember the fire surrounding Athere?"

"Estarion’s army?" Ileaha was grave, puzzled by the question but answering obediently. "I have never before seen such a display of bale-fire. Tens of thousands of weapons raised against us."

"Do you remember when you met me?"

Ileaha paused, eyes narrowing. "Do you think me an imposter, Medair? Yes, of course I remember when I met you. It was at the Caraway Seed Inn on Thrence Island. Do you have any other questions?"

"Do you recall our departure from Thrence, when we rode north toward Farash?"

The woman who had once been Ileaha stared. "You can’t ride off an island," she pointed out. "The Alshem took us to the north shore of the Shimmerlan."

Medair touched the warrior woman’s arm, more tentatively than she would have the original Ileaha’s. "You don’t recall the night we stayed in the Whistling Hills? When Avahn recited Faron’s Lament ? The Lady of the Hills ?"

"Avahn is forever repeating some fragment of Telsen," Ileaha said, with a shrug which went awry half-way through. She stared at nothing for a long moment, eyes wide and frightened, raised a hand to her head, and then collapsed. Medair went to her knees as the rest of their small company came out of hiding.

"The transformations of the Conflagration haven’t ceased?" Islantar murmured, looking down at the tangle of limbs and braid and Medair attempting to cradle Ileaha’s head. "If it has done this, what other unpredictable changes might we face?" Catching Medair’s eye, he raised a hand apologetically even as he continued. "And yet, she has not forgotten as completely as N’Taive, who has yet to be brought to recall anything of the person she was before she became the Herald of Tir’arlea."

"Between two worlds." Cor-Ibis helped Medair straighten Ileaha’s crumpled form. The woman began to revive as he touched her, but was obviously no longer the warrior who had entered the cave, confident in her past. Her face was slack with horror, and she turned it from Cor-Ibis as if she did not want to look at him.

"Here," Medair said, unsealing her satchel and handing it to him. "Leave me alone with her a while. To locate the objects I described, think of them and reach into the satchel."

"Of course." Cor-Ibis paused, then added gently: "I give you use of my name, Ileaha." He rose smoothly and drew Kel ar Haedrin and Islantar further into the cave.

"Do you want to sit up?" Medair asked. She applied slight pressure to Ileaha’s shoulder and started when the woman jerked forward, then struggled quickly to her feet. Taking a few short steps, she clutched at the rough stone wall, eyes pressed tightly shut.

Medair did not immediately disturb her. Then, when it seemed Ileaha would not move, she said, "You remember who you were?"

"I remember who I am ," Ileaha replied harshly, glaring down at herself. The tip of her braid, clasped by an ornate band of silver, swung mockingly through the shadows. "Who I am, not what has been made of me."

"Is it–?" Medair hesitated. "Maybe you should sit down."

"And that will make it better?" But she did as Medair suggested, staring back into the cave, where Cor-Ibis had summoned a mageglow, since his internal illumination was not enough to offset the gloom.

"Do you remember two lives now?"

"I remember my life. And that of a person who doesn’t exist." Ileaha squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them, taking a deep breath. The lines of despair on her face eased as she fought for some measure of self-control.

Medair searched for something useful to say, and tried: "You are probably the only person in all Farakkan who knows and understands the world left by the Conflagration, as well as the one it replaced. That is not…unenviable."

"Hardly."

"Are your two lives so very different?" Medair asked. "You seem to have become what you planned to be, a little sooner perhaps."

Ileaha shook her head. "Don’t you see? Medair, if you thought the war which broke the Palladian Empire had been prevented, that the Ibis-lar had accepted the rule of Corminevar, but one day you were among your friends and they said to you something which made you realise that your memories were false, that all you knew were dead, that you were – wrong?"

"An extreme example," Medair said, wishing very much that someone would reveal to her that the past year and five hundred were a figment of her imagination. But – that would mean Cor-Ibis would never have touched her. She backed away from the thought. "Your two lives can’t be so unlike as that , Ileaha."

"No." Ileaha reached out and clasped Medair’s shoulder briefly. "That was thoughtless, Medair. Forgive me."

"There was no offence," Medair said, wondering how close a friendship this new Ileaha remembered them sharing.

"Twenty-three years of being alone, Medair. That is what I have. Of being unworthy, of being one of Cor-Ibis' wards, half-breed in a pure family, unwanted, without value. And this is what I am in the Conflagration’s version of Farakkan, where the cold blood does not readily dilute when it mixes with Farakkian heat, and children born of Ibis-lar and Farak-lar show nothing at all of the blood of this land."