We did not reach them an instant too soon. Just before my shield could defend Rella one of the creatures landed on her back and bit her neck. She cried out just once and fell. Aral destroyed the demon and in the next instant my shield protected the four of us, but Rella was badly injured.
"Vil, can you do two things at once?" asked Aral. I was shocked to hear the deadly weariness in her voice. "I'm about exhausted and she's in a bad way. I have stopped the bleeding but I haven't the strength to heal her."
Blessed be the Lady, I thought. At last, something I can do.
Keeping the shield raised all the while, I looked over at Rella, who measured her length on the grass. Aral was right, she was badly injured. Healing, simple healing, safe, blessed by the Lady—and the depth of my strength came to me, the fullness of it, as it had that night in Wolfenden. It was like cold water in my face, I roused and shook myself. I raised Rella with a thought to lie on the air before me. The demon had severed the great cord of her spine. It was a delicate task and required deep concentration to reconnect, and I had to maintain the shield to protect the four of us.
Do not think me boastful. I was useless against the Rikti; all I could do was keep a simple shield around myself and perhaps a few others. But healing—healing ran through me like warming fire. Even in the madness of the battle it was not hard for me. Rella was unconscious, for a blessing. I remembered first to cleanse the wound of Raksha-trace, cleaned the severed ends and reconnected them, forced the re-growth of the cord, of the muscles around it, of the skin above. When I finished and looked up there was but a thin red line on the back of her neck.
I was concerned at first by the expression on Jamie's face. He was astounded, plainly, but he seemed frightened as well, a disconcerting emotion for such an old campaigner.
"It isn't possible, surely—no one can heal such a wound so quickly, it's unbelievable."
Aral saved him. She put her hand on his arm for just a moment.
"Told you he was good," she said with a grin, and turned back to the battle.
I gave the Rikti a little while to wear them down, to keep their minds on the little individual battles that surrounded them. It worked well enough.
I prepared the second Swiftline and strode towards the pair in the centre. Lanen and the silver-haired man. Halfway there I stopped and broke the final disc, and a Rak-sha of the Third Hell stood before me. I interrupted the inevitable posturing.
"Behold, I provide you with a selection of prey, but you will take him first." I pointed. "The one with the silver hair. Kill him," I said, "then you may have the rest of them."
It flew on bat wings to obey me. I followed it.
The Rikti had learned that my sword was death, so that Lanen and I had a moment's rest. As I was renewing the blood on my sword, Lanen turned to me with tears of frustration in her eyes. "Damn it, Varien, I can't help you," she said. "I'm too slow with a sword and I can't hurt them otherwise. I hate being helpless."
I took her hand with my free one. "I know. Would it help to imagine for one last time that I am Akhor of old, defending you with tooth and claw against the Rikti?"
In the midst of the battle, she laughed. "It would indeed. I thank you, Akor," she said.
Then a movement away to the side caught our attention and held it. I committed my soul to the Winds and bespoke Lanen. "I fear our doom is come upon us. Find safety where you may, dearling. I will distract the creature. Go. Now." It was a Raksha, and it was flying straight toward us.
My plan was working beautifully. The silver-haired one wasted his time preparing to meet a Raksha with a sword and sending Lanen away to find cover. She had seen the other group of humans not far away and was making for them when I cast a simple Sleep charm upon her. It should have worked instantly, but something in her resisted long enough to discover who had sent the charm. When she saw me her eyes widened and she tried to cry out, but Silence is swiftly cast even from a distance, and it is very effective. However, Marik had warned me that she had Farspeech, so I called to two of the Rikti and had them bear her back with me as I ran to the Swiftlines. Speed would make all the difference.
I had not planned on having to deal with one of the Kantri so late in the battle.
I flew as fast as my wings would bear me. The strain in my injured wing threatened to give way, though, and I could not allow that. I was forced to fly more slowly than I would have wanted lest I fall from the sky altogether. I bespoke Varien to tell him that I was near but he did not answer. There again, I thought grimly, he would not reply from the midst of battle.
By the time I was near enough to hear what was happening I was frantic with the Raksha-smell and the silence from my soulfriend. I approached from above, sacrificing surprise that I might know what I faced. It was an evil sight—what looked like a legion of Rikti, and there to one side a Raksha, fighting—
Fighting Varien.
I could see blood on his face, and I heard Lanen crying out his name in my mind.
I came roaring and flaming from the sky, straight towards the Raksha. Varien dove out of the way as I came near. The Raksha turned to face me and raked my armour as I closed with it, but it only had that once chance. I was in a fury, and the Eldest and largest of our race. It was dead with one bite and I destroyed the body with cleansing flame the next instant:
Varien was gone.
I looked for Lanen the instant I heard Shikrar calling me, though I could not answer while my sword still defended my head. The Raksha was distracted—I am told that they can smell us as we can them—and it only fought with half its strength, for it knew that one of the Kantrishakrim was near and it began to fear for its life. From the corner of my eye I could see Lanen moving towards the others, towards the protection of me healers, when suddenly she fell. I was struggling to get away from the Raksha to help her when two of the Rikti caught her up and dragged her at a terrible speed across me field and away towards the wood at the far end.
She called out to me in truespeech. "Varien! I am be-spelled, I cannot fight back—help me! Shikrar, to me! "
"I come, Lanen! Shikrar, swiftly, she is taken!" I cried. I saw Shikrar diving at the Raksha. It turned its attention away from me, and like an arrow released from the bow I sped towards Lanen.
If the field had been empty I might have reached her, but ever me Rikti attacked me as I ran and I was forced to fight them off. "Shikrar, help her!" I screamed in the agony of my frustration, as my blood-soaked sword dispelled the last of the Rikti about me. Shikrar's vast shape ran past me then, scattering the Rikti as he went, and I followed after faster than I had thought I could run. I felt as though I were running through deep water. Every muscle, every beat of my heart threw me towards Lanen, but I felt a great darkness gather round about me with each step as I watched her carried away from me on demon wings.
All my strength, all my love, all that I was or ever had been I poured into my desperate need to be by her side, but to no avail.
The Rikti reached the wood. At its edge stood a man, young and strong, who stank of the Rakshasa as though he were one himself. "Shikrar, the Gedri, he is the source, destroy him for me I beg you!" I cried in truespeech, and spared the fraction of an instant to rejoice when cleansing flame surrounded that abomination.
It did not touch him.
The demon-master laughed and gestured to his tame Rikti, who dropped Lanen into his arms.
"NO!" The scream ripped from my throat, agony. "Stop him Shikrar!"
Too slow.
Too late.
I wake still at nights to the memory of those last moments. I see Lanen catching sight of me, struggling to get away from Berys, stretching out her arms to me, crying my name desperately in truespeech as bespelled silence holds her.