Elizabeth Kerner - Redeeming the Lost

It is a way to atone, my conscience said. Traitor that it was, siding with her. You have done a terrible thing. It is a way to redeem yourself.

I sighed. "Damn." I looked at Lanen out of the corner of my eye. "You sure you're not a Mage? I had no intention of helping you."

"I was tested years ago," she said, grinning up at me. She was nearly pretty when she smiled like that. "Not a trace of power anywhere."

"Oh, get up," I said, giving her a hand and helping her back to her feet. "Very well. Where shall I start?"

"A moment," she said. Her gaze lost focus. I was beginning to recognise that as an indication that she was using Farspeech.

"Idai comes," she said, even as Idai landed heavily a hundred paces away. She hurried to meet us, despite her injuries. I could not help myself, my power rose up in the face of pain, and I reached out to heal.

Nothing happened.

I tapped into that fire within, now banked a little, but there when I needed it. Nothing.

I poured my strength into her like a river, even a creature her size should have been restored from head to foot with that much assistance. I would have done better with a roll of bandages.

"Damn it," I muttered. "I can't do it."

"Are you well, Mage Vilkas?" asked Idai. She was concerned for me. I was beginning to feel a little ashamed.

'Your pardon, Lady, I can do nothing for you by myself," I admitted. It galled me, but I couldn't get away from the truth. Damn, blast and damn. "I need Aral."

Truespeech is an astounding thing. In moments Gyrentikh was aloft—I think it was he—and a very short while after, he landed by the lake with Aral.

She walked towards me tentatively, as though she trod barefoot on broken glass. When she came near enough in the failing light, I could see that her eyes were still red and swollen. She must have been weeping again.

Or still. You are not the only one who has lost something beyond measure this day.

She could not look at me. Aral, who had soundly berated me any number of times for any number of reasons, whose cheerful abuse had kept me from getting too full of myself for two years, could not raise her eyes to meet my glance.

"Have you treated yourself for shock yet, woman?" I asked, aiming for the tone of banter we had been used to use. It sounded brittle and angry. Ah, well.

"Didn't bloody well do any good," she replied. I could tell from her breathing that she was holding back tears. She knew I hated seeing women cry.

I have always enjoyed surprising Aral. I stepped up to her, took her by the shoulders, and kissed her forehead. "Vilkas, don't," she began, but I immediately let her go. She stared at me, uncomprehending.

"Now is not the time, Aral," I said gently. "We can address other things later. You were right. I was right. We were both very, very wrong. Come on. There is an awful lot of suffering going on that we can stop. I can't do it without you."

She nodded. We both turned to Idai, and Aral drew out the soulgem of Loriakeris. This time, though, she said quiedy aloud, "Lady Loriakeris, will it please you to assist us?"

For answer the soulgem blazed once, briefly, in the darkness. Aral turned to me and grinned. I'll take that as a 'yes'," she said. Holding the soulgem in one hand, calling her Healer's strength to her, she gingerly placed her other hand in mine. I gathered my Power about me, allowing the stream of that inner fire to fill me, grasped Aral's hand firmly, and sent the focus through the soulgem.

We found out later that we made quite a vision, Aral and Lori-akeris and I. The evening star, turned blue and come to rest.

Idai's physical wounds were healed in minutes. Even I was astonished. It would take time, of course, for the new tissue to strengthen its bonds with the old, but she was healed.

"Don't get in any more fights for a few days, will you, Lady?" I said, and was rewarded by a blessedly warm hiss.

We went to treat Kedra next, but he refused. "There are others who need you more," he said.

"Take us to the worst," I replied. I kept hold of Aral's hand as we were borne through the air, in token of friendship, of apology. Of trust. We might never be able to rebuild that which had been, that first absolute trust, but there again, perhaps the new friendship would be based rather more strongly on truth.

We worked through the night. At first we were borne by Kedra or Idai to the worst injured, and we worked by the light of bonfires hastily provided by our escorts. Despite our best efforts another three of the Restored died, and another of the Kantri, but we saved ten who had been on the brink. We ate what we could in between.

When those in danger of imminent death had been seen to, when we were near dropping with hunger and weariness, Kedra whisked us away to a level field on the northwest shore of Lake Gand. Some blessedly practical soul had built a rough shelter, no more than a lean-to of branches but better than nothing, with a fire before it and a little more substantial food and drink laid out for us—fresh bread and butter, a gorgeous collop of venison stewed in wine, with cheese and dried fruit after. And some blessed soul had thought to send along both chelan and sweet water to wash it down. We fell on it as though we hadn't eaten in a hundred years.

Just as we were drinking the last of the chelan, Lanen stepped into the firelight and went down on one knee before us. "How fare you both?" she asked. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were filled with concern.

"I think we'll live, Mistress Lanen, thank you," said Aral. "Bless you for the food."

"Have you strength now to continue, or do you require rest?" she asked.

So that was it. She was afraid we had stopped for the night.

I rose on weary legs and clapped her on the shoulder. "Fear not, Lady. We have supped and drunk." I looked to Aral. "Can you go on?"

She stood slowly, brushing off crumbs, saying, "I could sleep for a week, to tell the truth, but not until we're finished." She smiled. "Come then, Lanen, call Idai and take us to the next."

To my surprise, Lanen rose and grinned. "We are better organised than that." She raised her chin and called out, "Now!"

In the instant the nighttime landscape changed. We beheld a field ringed with bonfires, set alight by the Kantri we had healed, who then wandered around the circle lighting yet more. At last we could see what we were doing, and I wasn't going to complain about the warmth either. Our next patient lay wearily in the fire-fight, Jamie beside it.

"Who has done this?" I asked, all astonishment, as we reached the bright centre of the field.

Jamie grinned. "It was Bella's idea. You're not the only ones who've been busy, you know. Lanen has even had the Kantri working away, bringing enough wood and ferrying her back and forth from the castle."

"The castle?" said Aral in wonder. Then her expression changed. "Bloody hellsfire! That's where the food came from!"

Jamie's grin grew wider. "Indeed. Seems there's a woman there who knew Marik as a child and can see the resemblance in bis daughter." He laughed. "Of course, the fact that she arrived in the courtyard in the hands of a bloody great dragon almost certainly helped her case along."

We treated one after another, barely stopping save to admit the next to the circle of fire. Lanen stayed with us to translate, for many of the Kantri had no human speech. The Dhrenagan, to my astonishment, spoke more fluently even than had Shikrar, though their speech was terribly archaic;—I learned later that in their day, Gedri and Kantri lived together in peace. It struck me that their experience in this might be desperately needed soon.

Shadowy figures kept the bonfires burning bright, and Will and Maran, Rella and Jamie, kept us supplied with food and drink. Towards the end of the night, when we could no longer stand, they watched over us as we rested for the half of an hour here, a few minutes there.