Elizabeth Kerner: Redeeming the Lost

"Oh, no!" I cried, in mock dismay. "Oh, Jamie, you didn't!"

He looked up and grinned, and my heart near stopped. I had never seen him so happy in all my life. "I did, and then some," he said smugly.

"You'll be wanting to leave again soon, then?" I said jestingly to Maran.

She laughed. "What, and miss the chance of seeing you lose your temper? I couldn't."

I smiled. "Shia save us, what has he been telling you? I'm a sweet, patient soul, gentle as the day is long. You'd go far to find anyone more softly spoken and even-tempered than I!"

I don't think anyone heard those last few words. Jamie, for one, was laughing too hard.

By the time we had all eaten, most of us were ready for more sleep. Aral never had helped heal my wounds, and they ached. The good folk at the castle had helped me clean and bind them the night before, and I knew no more than time and rest were needed to put them right.

I bade the company good night and wandered, replete, into the torch-lit courtyard of the castle, with some vague thought of a quiet walk before bed. To my surprise I found Kedra there. "Good even, my friend," I greeted him.

"Good even, Lady," he replied. "How fare you?"

"I'm well enough, thank you, Kedra," I said. "We saw you all dancing on the Winds. It was—extraordinary."

"And for us," said Kedra. "The first sky-dance of the Three Branches of the Kantri was a dance to end the life of the Evil One. The second we danced for our own dead. Tonight, without a word being spoken, we all rose up aloft for a dance of life and rejoicing. It is well."

"It was a wonder," I said. "Though that word is a lame horse with much to bear." I smiled. "However, I cannot believe that you have come here only to be complimented on your music." I composed myself and asked, quite calmly, "Where is Akor?" Why is he not here, Kedra, instead of you?

Kedra bowed, a short bob of his head followed by a little ripple of his long neck. "You have the right of it, Lady. Lord Akhor begged me to await you here, for answer to that very question. He bids me tell you that he is tending to his people." Keclra sighed. "We are all weary and wounded in body and spirit, Lanen Kaelar," he said. "Lord Akhor moves among us speaking reassurance, soothing wounded hearts, and letting all see that there is order yet to cling to. He sends his greetings by me, and begs that you will forgive him for not spending time with you this day." Kedra's voice was quite dry. "Truth to tell, Lanen, he is greatly weary himself, and I believe you would do him a kindness not to bespeak fatal until the morrow." To my surprise, Keclra dropped his jaw and hissed his amusement. I welcomed the warmth on my cold ankles. "Indeed, he has by now told the tale of his transformation to each individual soul, I believe, and thereby has accomplished the most important task of all. We now have something to think about."

"What, exactly?" I asked, faintly amused. "Whether he's truly a dragon or no? Whether having given up the Kingship he can now reclaim it?"

Keclra snorted. "Far simpler than that, Lady. The great question is, who is Eldest?"

"Idai, surely," I said, confused. "She was next after—oh!"

Yes, you see it," he said. "Akhor is not in the body he was born to, but neither does he inhabit my father's remains, although his present form is the size my father's was. Idai has lived longer, of course—but we none of us are certain what to make of Lord Akhor anymore."

I barked a laugh. "Ha! You're in good company. Goddess knows I haven't the faintest idea."

Kedra hissed. "I think perhaps he does not know either, Lanen. He appears to be—stunned, by his new shape." He sighed. "At the least, let us be thankful that he is obviously Akhor, the Silver King, and not some dreadful hybrid of himself and my father."

I shuddered. "Kedra, I—I am so sorry..."

"Do not fear to speak of Shikrar," said Kedra kindly. He gazed at me. "He took me aside the night before the battle, Lanen. He told me of his Weh dreams, and that he believed that his time was come to sleep upon the Winds."

"Oh, Kedra!" I said softly. "I am so sorry that your dear father was taken from us. I knew him so very short a time, but he was always just and always kind to me, and I will miss him."

"It is considered a great gift among us, Lanen Kaelar, to know when your life is about to end," said Kedra, and his voice and his heart were calm, if sad. "My father lived a long and worthy life. His use-name was Hadreshikrar, Teacher-Shikrar, for he taught nearly every one of the Kantri now alive how to fly." Kedra paused a moment, and stood in what I eventually learned was the Attitude of Recollection. "I am told that he was a wild spirit in his younger days, always in the air, trying new and different ways to fly, to manoeuvre, to test his own skills in flight, and to try them against those of his companions who dared try to match him." His Attitude shifted a little, to include elements of Pride. "None ever did, not after bis second kell. He served as Eldest of the Kantri-shakrim for nearly three kells, as Keeper of Souls for seven, and in his last days he led us in our great return, flying home across the Great Sea to Kolmar." Kedra's voice quavered a little, then. "He was ridiculously proud of me, you know. I found it embarrassing, but that is who he was. And he was set fair to be even worse about his grandson."

Kedra looked into my eyes then. "I know not what happens to the Gedri soul after death, but we believe that the departing spirit is met by those who have died before, to welcome the traveller home. My father Shikrar"—he had to clear his throat, and I felt my own tighten in response—"my father Shikrar loved my mother Yrais with a love exceeding deep. She was taken from him so early. I barely remember her, only as a soft loving voice and a dear presence." He bowed his head for a moment, and when he looked up there was a peace in his eyes that I envied. "I mourn him, Lanen. I loved him dearly and I will miss him as long as I breathe, but I know in my deepest heart, as surely as I know that the sun will rise on the morrow, that he and my mother are together again in joy, where no pain or sorrow can touch them. It is well, Lanen Kaelar."

"It is well, Kedra," I responded. My heart could rest now, though I too would miss Shikrar's great soul.

I bade K6dra good night and returned to my chambers, with but a single thought before me that followed me into sleep.

Akor, Akor, my dearling. We have survived the most dreadful test of our marriage, short of death—but now that the light of day shines upon our lives, now that the dread of battle and its aftermath are over—what is to become of us, my husband? Whatever in all the world is to become of us?

There was much to be done and decided before we all left Castle Gundar.

The matter of my patrimony was eventually established on a more solid foundation. Mistress Kiri, who had known my father since he was a child, began by being terrified of the dragons and deeply suspicious of me and my claim. After she spent half a day closeted with Maran, discussing Goddess only knows what, she was forced to admit that I was indeed the only known child of Marik of Gundar. It seemed that he had told her once, in his cups, that he had a daughter, but she had never managed to learn any further details. Maran, seemingly, supplied sufficient details of her own to content Mistress Kiri, who then became my staunch ally and introduced me to the entire household as the right and legal heir.

It was very peculiar indeed to realise that these people, some of whom had been kind and considerate even when they believed our company to be complete strangers, had known of my existence for several years, while I had lived in complete ignorance of theirs.