"Varien! Varien! AKOR!"
I threw down my sword and flung myself across the last few feet that separated us, but the bastard who held her captive took one step backwards and disappeared.
With her.
"NO!" I cried, falling to my knees, scrabbling insanely in the earth where he had stood. "LANEN! LANEN!" I screamed in truespeech and aloud.
Silence.
Shikrar went wild then, I think. Like me he followed instinct, but he dug stone like earth, as if Lanen had disappeared down a hole. When finally he realised that he could not follow her, he turned his incandescent anger on the remaining Rikti.
The Lesser Kindred had fought well, but they had not the flame nor the strength of a Lord of the Kantri in his wrath. I had never seen any of our people in a killing frenzy before. The Lesser Kindred drew back in awe as he roared and flamed until all the Rikti were dead, then he rent the bodies of the dead when there were no more to kill.
I bespoke him finally, from that small part of me that still lived. "Shikrar, it is done. They are dead. Burn them."
Great gouts of flame roared over the mangled bodies, burning the ground clean down to the rock. The cleansing flame seemed to rouse him out of his madness, for he shook his head and gazed about him, his glance finally coming to rest on me.
"Varien—Varien, I could not save her," said Shikrar brokenly. His voice in my mind was appalled. "/ tried with all my strength, I could not—Akhor—they were too far ahead." He bowed, shaking, and said aloud, "Akhor, Akhor, I cannot hear her."
I tried to answer him, but my voice was trapped in my throat and would not obey me. "Shikrar my brother," I groaned in truespeech, "/ cannot hear her either." I tried once more, calling into silent darkness, as I feared I would call for the rest of my days.
"Lanen! Lanen! Hear me, answer me—Lanen!"
There was no answer, and there was no more strength in me. I knelt there on the grass in that bright spring morning and stared helplessly, stupidly, at the place where she had disappeared.
I could not weep. My soul was lost in a desolation far beyond tears—but my heart kept up its litany long after my mind had fallen into darkness.
Lanen—Lanen—Lanen—
XVI The Nameless One
Once I had her safely in my chambers in Verfaren I cast yet another bespelled sleep upon her. She fought it, but I was too strong for her. I sent Durstan to put her in a demon-guarded chamber and hurried to begin the great summoning.
I did not wait for Durstan to return with my sacrifice for there was much to be done first. I moved surely but swiftly, rejoicing all the while—Marik of Gundar's blood and bone were in my power at last!
I drew forth and lit the incense I had made a year since from a fist of ingredients obtained from ancient sources. Mixed in with the rest was a rare and precious scrap of parchment the Demonlord himself had touched. It had taken me half a lifetime to find and a small fortune to purchase.
I threw more coals on to the fire, renewed the candles, sealed the seven sigils at the points each with their prescribed element. The circles were carven into the stone floor but I swept them again, ensuring that each was clear and complete. I opened a small chest against one side of the room and drew out the robes I had made for this work. Woven into the fabric of the cloth were the sealing symbols of spells of protection, binding, containment, control and mastery. I threw off my battle-stained garments and assumed the deep red robes. As I wrapped the cord around my waist I repeated each of the spells, sealing each with a touch to the symbol, that my very robes might act as protection and reinforcement of the spells I needed. I finished tying the cord with the binding spell.
Where in all the Hells was Durstan with my sacrifice?
I threw a handful of the priceless incense on to the coals. It instantly sent billows of pungent smoke into the air, a heavy cloud that seeped into the brain and made limbs heavy and speech slow—or would have if I had not taken the precautions I had. The symbol for protection glowed bright in the murky chamber.
Ah, the door at last! I had told Durstan to send in the sacrifice—I could not see who it was for the smoke, but it was alive and that was all I required. Durstan had not subdued it, however, so I had to cast Sleep upon it before I could drag it on the altar. The smoke was so thick I could barely see the shape as it lay not two feet from my eyes. Still, I could find its chest fast enough.
It was time. I called up my power and began the chant I had spent so long learning. Every word was a spell, weaving a full tapestry of spells to call and to bind.
From the moment I started I sensed a presence. There in the mist, somewhere in the cloud created by the incense that carried the single point of essence of the Demonlord, there was a mind watching mine. It was more intelligent than any demon and it was without fear that I could see.
I was delighted. At last, a kindred spirit.
I proceeded with the summoning, invoking the strictures that would keep it under my control.
"I'm not a demon, you know," said a quiet voice from the mist.
I continued with the spell.
"You're trying to bind me like a demon. It won't work.
I'm human, just like you. Well, no, not like you. I'm much brighter than you are." It giggled. "I know when to leave the dead alone."
There was a brief pause in the spell. "Forgotten it already? You are pathetic," it said, ending on a hiss. I felt a presence now, much nearer, above the altar.
The summoning was working. The words grew harder to say, sticking in my throat, but I bent all my will to speaking them aloud despite the pressure not to. My will prevailed.
It had stopped its inane comments when the binding took hold, but it did not writhe as the Rakshasa did. I had wondered if it would—but no, it was not embodied yet, I could inflict no pain. That would come in time.
I gathered my thoughts and ran quickly over the end of the spell.
"You'll never manage it, you know," it said loudly, confusing me. I had to begin again, going over the syllables, and again it interrupted. "It's too hard. You'll never do it. Give up now and I promise I won't hurt you."
I sent what was left of my Healer's aura to encompass the presence. Corrupt as my corona was with Raksha-trace, still there was enough in it of the Lady to injure the creature. The presence, to my satisfaction, screamed loudly. I went over me spell once more, tins time without interruption.
I took up my sacrificial knife and ripped open the garment the sacrifice wore. As I pronounced the final words of invocation it stirred, and when I plunged me razor-sharp blade into the chest of the victim it screamed. I had done this often enough that I hardly needed to look as I cut out the heart, but I usually enjoyed the look of horror on their faces when I held their still-beating hearts before their eyes. I glanced down just for a moment.
It was almost my undoing. My eyes met those of Durstan. Somehow I had mistaken him for whoever he had tried to supply, and of course, I had put the sacrifice to sleep instantly.
It is as well I never cared much for Durstan. I was annoyed that I would have to train up a new servant, but it was a small inconvenience. I showed him his heart and found that I felt my usual pleasure. That was all right, then.
I threw the beating heart on the coals. "Arise now, De-monlord, thou who didst surrender thy name in the service of darkness these long aeons since. Arise as my servant, that together we may destroy the Kantrishakrim once and for all, and have the whole of Kolmar for our own."
The voice became only a little louder. "You have not provided me with a body. How then shall I arise, you fool?"