However, at that particular moment I would have exchanged all the generosity in the world for a body beside me in the air. Two can read the currents better than one and I felt very alone, high above the wind-whipped seas. Every muscle was aching from carrying Nikis the Weary—I had heard her so referred to by others now, the poor soul—but thus far they all served me still.
I had left at dawn and encountered the Storms only an hour from the Isle of Rest. It had been a long day of effort, followed by an endless night of work, striving to keep high enough that when the air dropped suddenly away it did not bring me too near the water. I was weary beyond belief, which would explain why I was so foolish as to relax my vigilance when the headwind dropped for a moment. I let out my breath and allowed my wings to lock, just for a moment's rest—
—when a wall of air rose up like a wall of stone before me. I was thrown on to my back, and though I managed to turn over and glide up and out of the drop, my right wing was throbbing in the main joint. It had not broken, thank the Winds, but the pain ran deep. I had no choice, days from land in any direction, I had to use it.
I was most fortunate. I found that the wall of air I had hit was the trailing edge of the Storms. I forced myself higher, every beat of my wings sending out a jolt of pain.
I was glad then that Idai was not there, for I could not restrain myself. With no other soul near me to pity or assist, I cried out with every downbeat. It made it a little easier to bear, but I began genuinely to wonder if, injured, I could go so far alone.
There is no choice, Teacher-Shikrar, I told myself. You have taken this task to yourself on behalf of the Kantri and you are hours from land in any direction. Wind and life or sea and a slow cold death, Shikrar!
That choice was simple enough. I drew in a great breath and roared out my pain to the Winds as I forced myself higher. Kolmar lies ahead, Kolmar and Akhor and a new life. It is well. I stopped talking to myself long enough to adjust my angle of rise. Besides, I told myself, if you think Nikis faces years of laughter at her expense, imagine what would come your way should you fail in this flight. Name of the Winds! You would give every soul you ever lectured about flying the chance to taunt you for the rest of your days.
It seemed to take years to reach the High Air, but it was my only chance. Every time I had to lower my wing I cried out. Eventually I fell silent, for me air was growing thin, but the pain did not lessen.
I knew that my life depended on gaining altitude. I would have given ten years of my future for a rising thermal, but the cold sea ran below me unfeeling, uncaring, cold watery death awaiting me.
We can swim, of course. In the summer we enjoy the water, and in truth it was known that flying very close to the surface took less effort—but I dared not risk it, for it is impossible to take to the air from the water's clutches. If once I touched the sea, I was dead.
The thought sent me higher yet. I may be the Eldest of the Kantri, but in the normal way of things I had still before me a good two more kells of life, and I had a strong desire to see my grandson fly.
When at last I found the broad river on high, when at the end of my strength I caught the edge of that strong wave and could ride it with locked wings, I learned what I needed to know. It led me swiftly and easily over the top of the Storms and that terrible wall of air. I bespoke Idai and told her, that she might guide the others through more gently than I had managed.
Ahead in a clearing sky the winds dropped and the wave in the High Air disappeared, but as I glided down I found another current leading eastwards that was strong enough to bear me. I rode it, wings locked, giving thanks, breathing again. My injured wing throbbed but I was better able to bear it when I could glide and did not have to stroke the air.
The absence of pain seems a simple thing until you possess it no longer.
Once I started allowing myself to glide, however, I found it desperately hard to think. I held on to the little that I knew—according to the Ancestors, I had just over a day's flying yet to accomplish. I was weary to the bone, but I knew I would have to seek height again as soon as I had rested. Just a little rest, just a little, now that the pain was gone—
"Shikrar? Hadreshikrar, it is Idai who speaks. How fare you, my friend?"
I woke with a start to Idai's voice. I was flying through a cloud and was terribly disoriented, but from the pressure I feared that I was far lower than I should be. In the few moments it took me to rouse, the air had grown a great deal rougher. Strange, I thought, this feels like the turbulence you get when water meets—
I came out of the cloud and hit first a powerful updraft that carried me safely up and over the cliff that rose high above the water's edge, and then encountered the downdraft on the other side which threw me unceremoniously to the ground.
Not the welcome I was expecting, I thought briefly as the darkness took me.
I found them halfway up the mountain. They were a long way ahead of me, down a valley and up another hillside from where I stood, and there were more of them than I expected. I saw one that I assumed was Varien, for his silver hair was hard to miss in sunlight, but I knew Lanen the instant I saw her even from that far away.
At last, at last, that stopped me where I stood.
How in the Lady's name could I possibly be certain of that distant moving speck being Lanen?
I looked again. I could not tell how many people there were—more than four. There were at least three horses, but there might have been four or five. There was a strange creature with them at first, though it left as the sun was going down. It moved very fast. It might have been a light chestnut horse, I couldn't really tell. But I knew Lanen was mere, and which of the tiny dots she was.
That was not possible.
I tried to think what might make me feel so certain. I felt pity for the girl, certainly, but there was no bond between us. I had asked for Lady Shia's aid but this did not feel like divine guidance. My gut wrenched at the thought of the goddess and I could not think clearly.
I drew food from my pack, for it was growing dark and I would have to stop. From what I could see the others were setting up their camp; I saw fire spring forth, friendly and welcoming on mat far hillside. The longing grew in me to go there, to speak to Lanen again, to warn her, to be with good people again—to warm my hands and my heart at that fire.
At the very thought I was doubled over with cramp. I could not stand or walk long enough to gamer wood for my own fire. The cold food helped, but my gut was dreadfully painful. Enough, I thought, I must do something about this. After I had eaten and rested a while, I sent a prayer to the Lady and summoned my healer's power to me.
There is a kind of half-trance that accompanies healing. I was so weak that my own corona made me dizzy, but I fought the feeling and called in my power. Only the faintest nimbus answered me. I drew on it, weak as I was, to help heal the pain in my belly, but the slightest effort swiftly exhausted me. The pain was as bad or worse after I had finished.
I sat propped against a stone with thin blankets wrapped about me to keep out the night, but the cold and the pain were sharpening my mind.
Finally.
The very things that beset me were making me realise that all was wrong. All. Everything I had done since I left Ver-faren made no sense. I had meant to go east and north, and I had done that, but at a snail's pace and towards no destination. I hadn't eaten for days—foolishness. And the sudden urge, no, the need to find Lanen and warn her—how in the name of the Mother had I had even the slightest idea of where to go?
I shivered, not with cold. For I had found her, in all the great world I had found her in a matter of days. That was sickeningly not right. What was guiding me? What was pushing me, and why?