Elizabeth Kerner - Song in the Silence

I did as Lanen asked and returned the gems to the Dragons, along with one of a different kind I found in the ashes of the Dragon that died. It seemed the right thing to do; at least, the Dragon that met me at the Boundary accepted it along with the others. It wavered its head at me—I suppose it was a kind of bow—and left.

I returned to the clearing and looked down at Marik's body. It lay without movement, save that his wide staring eyes blinked occasionally. I left him as he lay—I remember hoping that the son of a bitch would die while I was fetching help— but no such luck. I trudged down to the shore and, waving and shouting, called out the boat. It took some time, but I managed to have his body taken aboard. He was not dead, though I thought death might be preferable. His mind was gone. I watched it happen.

He had something from Caderan that protected him against the Dragons, against flame and claw, but they destroyed his mind. He lies like an infant now, with as much life and as little thought. Maikel was with him for hours, and he says that it might be possible to recover some of what has been lost, but it will take years. It is frightful.

I find that, despite their leaving Marik alive (it would have been kinder to kill him), I quite like the Dragons. I am surprised. Shikrar, the Keeper of Souls, seems to be a kindred spirit.

He reminds me of my grandfather. His son Kédra is a good soul and looked after me well through mat cold night—I think I even made him laugh once or twice. Certainly I will never forget his "Lady Rella."

They seem too old and too deep to be casual companions, but in such an adventure as this one—ah, the Silent Service can go whistle. I will think on my report on the voyage back, surely in all that time I will find a way to tell them as little as possible about the creatures.

On a more practical note, I do not know how long I can make them hold the ship for Lanen.

As long as their fear of the Dragons lasts, I suspect. If all else fails I will go back to the island myself tomorrow morning—the Master of the ship was willing to wait that long—but I hope she will somehow come to us. Despite all, I have seen enough of that island for one lifetime, and if I never step again on its shores I will die happy.

I bespoke Kédra, telling him of my soulfriend's death as gently as I could. The calm after the song held me still, my mindvoice was steady enough. He replied soon afterwards, saying that Rella had come to him again, wondering if Lanen was coming to take ship, and that the Master was anxious to be gone.

I decided such a thing could wait until all was done that must be done.

The song was finished. I was not at peace—I did not believe that I would ever be at peace again—but at least I could move and act.

I knelt to Idai and Shikrar, in thanks, in friendship. They stood silent until I rose, then bowed to me as one. We stood together unmoving, unspeaking, in shared grief that went beyond tears, beyond words to the silence of souls.

Until, finally, there came a moment when we stirred, when life made its demands heard once again. I looked about me.

"Is there anything yet to be done?" I asked. "What are the customs of your people?''

"We have sung him to rest, there is only his soulgem to bring forth, that it may join his ancestors' in the Chamber of the Souls," said Hadreshikrar. He was beginning to show signs of weariness, and it seemed to me that his wound pained him deeply. "I will do that service for you, if you so desire."

"It is my place as his mate to do so, then?" I asked.

"Yes."

''Then I will. I thank you for your offer, Shikrar, but I think I must do this. I can understand the meaning. I must see his ashes and bid him farewell. I was his mate."

I turned towards the cave. The body that had insisted I live was reluctant now to carry me there.

This time I won.

It was dark in the chamber, dark and very warm. The walls had taken up the heat Akor had given off; it would be warm in there for days.

It was fairly dark, but I could see my way. The sun was no more than an hour risen, but even that much light coming through the smoke-hole above allowed me to see, if not very clearly. I looked slowly towards the place where Akor had lain. Having seen I had to look away, horrified, sickened. That vision haunts my dreams yet. Fool, fool, he tried to spare you.

Akor had told me but I had forgotten. At death the fire that sustains the Greater Kindred is let loose and, unchecked, destroys the body from within. All that lay on the floor of khaadish were a few charred remains of his ash-covered bones.

I forced myself to look again.

I should find his soulgem close by what was left of the skull.

Taking my courage in both hands I moved slowly, reverently, towards the huge pile of bones.

In the faint light I thought I saw something move.

I ignored my traitor eyes. "Lanen, come, it is only bone," I said aloud, to steady myself. As I finished speaking I heard a small sound, like a sleeper makes at the edge of waking. Surely there was something there?

No, there could be nothing, nothing but ash. And one green gem the size of my hand, that I must steel myself to take out to Hadreshikrar.

I was nearly on top of the skeleton now, and this close I could see that there was something, a large pale something lying still within the protective circle of bone.

My first instinct was to run towards it yelling, to chase away whatever pale creature had crept here for warmth, dared so swiftly to desecrate the remains of the one I loved. But even blurred in the darkness, half-seen, it was somehow a familiar shape.

It stirred.

The sun climbed higher, sending more light into the chamber.

No. This could not happen. This was insane. I had lost my mind.

For there before me, surrounded by the charred, ash-covered ribs that crumbled as I watched, was the figure of a man. He lay naked in that warm place, curled on his side in his cradle of bone. One arm pillowed his head, the other hand clutched something near his forehead. Long silver hair spread gently over broad shoulders pale as new snow.

Song whispered wild and distant in my heart, the song that Akor and I had made for each other in this place, but I dared not hear it. I could not speak, I feared to breathe lest this spell should break.

For in that place lay the form of the Akor of my dreams, the silver-haired man that was Akor in human form.

Not dragon.

Man.

My legs failed me and I fell to my knees, my heart scarcely beating as I knelt, shaking, lost in terror and wonder. This could not be. I must be mad. Had my mind in desperation made this phantom for heart's ease?

Was he real?

I forced myself to speak.

"Akor?" I breathed, reaching towards him through the cage of dead ribs. "Akor?"

He did not stir and I could not. I knelt there captive, trembling, lost. What then, if not flesh and blood? Waking dream? Demon-sending? Insanity?

Still he did not move.

With a vast effort of will I got to my feet and turned to go, to call Shikrar and Idai to come and see, when behind me I heard a rustling of movement and a clear voice saying sleepily, "Lanen?"

I turned in a dream, slowly, as against a strong current.

He stood before me, still within the high circle of bone, shaky on his two legs, gloriously alive in a body new-made. I could not speak, only look with all my soul.

"Lanen? What has happened?" he asked, his voice slurring slightly. I reached out to him. He tried to walk towards me, but he was still accustomed to four legs. He stumbled.

I caught him before he fell, held him up, helped him back onto his feet. I moved without thought, lost in wonder at the touch of him, skin against skin. My love alive, healed of his grievous wounds, made whole—made human.