I began to understand for the first time the actions of my people against the Demonlord.
Foolish as it had seemed, at least they did not stand still and wait to be wounded. I longed to launch myself at the rakshadakh again—instead I leapt into the air, seeking height, calling out to my dearest companions, to Shikrar, to Kédra, even to Idai as she flew: " 'Ware, my Kindred, the demons are among us! The Rakshasa have sent their slaves and our doom is upon us. To me, my friends, to me!''
I heard the chorus of their replies (along with Idai's curses at being too distant to aid me as yet), heard Shikrar from the Chamber of Souls and Kédra not five lengths away rising in anger as I looked down on the rakshadakh and saw the last thing of reason I can recall before I threw myself at Marik.
It was Rishkaan, diving with wings folded from a great height, straight at the demon master Caderan. From the Gedri's fingers shot out a blinding gout of black flame, and I am certain that Rishkaan died even as he fell—but still he fell, all the size of him, falling like the end of the world down upon the demon master.
Caderan screamed, like a beast that sees its death come upon it, and tried to run. He might as well have tried to outdistance the dawn. He cried out only once as he died, and my heart rejoiced in the sound.
My heart was afire, Fire rippled through me and burst out of my throat with a roar. Rishkaan may have been my adversary in Council but in his dying he was my brother in blood, and I would destroy this other of the Gedri vermin or die trying.
When Kédra bespoke me, telling me that Marik and his servant stood at bay before Akhor and Rishkaan, I told him I would leave that minor matter to them.
When Akhor cried out to me that a demon slave, a rakshadakh, was his enemy, I ran from my chamber and was in the air before I could think. So short a way, but once I was in the air a thought did come to me. I bespoke Kédra.
"Khetrikharissdra, I charge you as Keeper of Souls to stay out of this battle.''
"Father, no!" he cried, entreating.
''It is not your father who speaks, it is the Eldest of the Greater Kindred and the Keeper of Souls," I replied sternly. "Should I be killed in this battle you will become the next Keeper, you alone beside myself have the gift of the Kin-Summoning. You will not risk losing that in battle.''
"Father, I beg you!" he cried, his heart in his voice. I knew how he longed for vengeance, but I could not permit.
"Obey me in this, my son," I said, more kindly. "I do not charge you by your fealty, but by your love. I lost my beloved, I will not see my son die before me. And above all, Kédra my son, you have a youngling newborn. He will need a father.''
And I was there.
I couldn't believe what I saw. Marik was laughing, the bastard. He watched Shikrar arrive even as Akor attacked him, and he was laughing.
Dear Goddess. Akor!
Even as I watched, Marik sent the deadly circles flying from his hand, one after another, each a little worse, each striking Akor in a new place, wounding him more deeply than the last.
Four of them followed the first, striking Akor unerringly even as he flew. He fell from the sky before ever he came within reach, streaming blood, great gouges in that glorious silver hide.
I ran towards Marik even as Shikrar thrust himself between Marik and Akor and attacked. For his pains he received the worst yet of Marik's circles, a terrible hole in his shoulder.
Marik's mind was all on the Dragons.
I ran into him at full tilt, with no thought for my safety until it was too late. I might have saved myself the worry; whatever he had to protect him from Dragons didn't seem to apply to his own kind. I did as Jamie had taught me and it worked a treat, knocked him off his feet, long enough at least to give Shikrar and Akor a breathing space. In seconds I was sat on his chest trying to slit his throat with his own dagger—but it did not bite. I tried again, and again the blade slid harmlessly off his skin.
He laughed and started to gesture at me with the ring he had been using on the others. I tried to knock his hand aside, but he was too quick. He pointed at me and said something in a foul language I had never heard before. We were both surprised when nothing happened.
I recovered just quickly enough to hit him, but I didn't have much leverage and it hardly bothered him. Then I saw an idea strike him harder than my fist had. He raised the hand with the ring on it and pointed towards Shikrar, who despite his pain stood now between Akor and Marik.
"Choose who will die, Maran's daughter," he cried in terrible delight. "For no matter what you do they cannot touch me, and no weapon of yours will bite any more than their useless teeth and claws."
And in that instant it came to me how he must be defeated.
Thank the Lady for truespeech.
''Akor, beloved, thus may he be stopped—''
I heard her through my pain, through the fury that still burned white-hot within me. I bespoke Shikrar, who moved away to let me see, and together we turned our thoughts to the figure that struggled now with Lanen on the ground.
Even against such a strange form of attack, never so much as imagined in all the history of the Kantri, Marik must have had some defence, for his mind lasted long enough to work the last evil from his ring. As Shikrar and I together attempted to reach his mind with truespeech, to stop him with the sheer force of our wills, he managed to point the cursed thing at me and send through the air a final circle of dark fire that burned agony into my chest. I looked down in shock to see a gaping wound.
My bones, I noted, were intact. I knew, for I could see some of them.
Then, blessedly, as the pain began to sear through me, my legs would not hold me up and I fell insensible to the ground.
The gems sing louder, even in victory I cannot stop them, that horrible noise invades my very bones and shakes me. But Maran's daughter fails to save the silver one, and I have defeated—
light white light voices screaming in my head shut up get out get out GET OUT
FIRE
my head is on fire
it's inside my head the gems are screaming
the Lost
Lostlostlost
Die in agony rakshadakh
White flame inside my head
then darkness all darkness nolight noair allgone alllost
and all is gone
all gone
all lost
lostlostlostlost
nononononooooo
……………………..
My father called me to come when Akhor fell, for he judged that Marik was no longer a danger.
"Kédra, help me, we must bear him to his Weh chamber," Shikrar my father cried, his own wound ignored, his voice struggling to get past the tightness in his throat. I had to look away.
Could it be that Akhor still lived? I had never seen, never imagined such wounds.
"Help me, Kédra, I cannot bear him alone," said my father. I braced myself and moved towards them, wondering how we two could lift him and Shikrar so hurt himself, when I heard an unexpected voice.
''Kédra, Shikrar, I am come. Where are you ?''
''In the Gedri camp, Lady Idai,'' I replied with relief. Idai was older than I, large and strong, with her help we surely could lift Akhor.
''Be warned, Idai, his wounds are grievous,'' said Shikrar as she approached. ''We must carry him to his Weh chamber, and we desperately need your strength. Save grief for later, it is action he needs from us now.''