Disclaimer - Valdemar, Heralds and Companions are the works of Mercedes Lackey, and remain her sole and personal property. Firechild Legacy is a derivative fanfiction work not intended for publication or profit. Kahlen belongs to me.
Chapter 16 – Fire Demon's Get?
Alberich stared in disbelief at his empty hands, then at the spot where Orwen had knelt scant seconds before. Gone. Both of them. The bright, half-mad smile on Orwen's face had not hidden the fear he'd glimpsed in the younger man's dark, amber eyes. Fear for himself, or for Josseran?
"Josseran." He said hoarsely, not daring to hope.
:Alive.: His Companion, Kantor, knelt next to the boy's Companion, willing her to stay with them, feeding energy into the big mare. Alberich struggled to his knees and staggered to the stricken Companion, hands moving gently over her throat. The pulse was there, but thready. Kantor nudged him firmly, then threw his head up, looking toward the Field and the sound of silver hoofbeats.
Alberich saw Gwena running toward them, then turned back at the pale, wild-eyed young woman who'd moments before had been – something else. "Orwen, the boy – what happened to them?" His voice was calm, despite the tears that ran down his scarred, seamed face.
Tears, Kahlen thought numbly. The weaponsmaster had abandoned Josseran to death, had ordered the healer to tend to the adept instead, yet he wept for the boy. A terrible grief welled up in her. She'd sacrificed Zethren, her hope of healing him, for these people – how could they so swiftly abandon a child? "How could you -" Her voice trembled. Violence and a terrible grief simmered in those amethyst eyes, and her form seemed to shift and waver in the air. "You would have let Josseran -"
"My gift is foresight." The man said heavily, the grey eyes dull and flat. "If the adept had died… I saw Valdemar fall, eaten up with disease…and fire. Now…the future is hidden, twisting in many paths. Many still lead to that fate, yet now at least there are other paths, whose ends to see I cannot. What were those creatures, Kahlen?"
"Fire elementals, mayhap demons." Darkwind answered, coming to the weaponmaster's side. "I have not seen their like before, nor sensed such power. Adept class, yet… not human."
"They were children." Kahlen whispered. "Mage-bred, as I am, made by the I'nadazi, to serve their purposes. Bred as weapons, as I was. I have tried to tell you!" Her voice shook with fatigue. "I cannot speak any plainer. We are not human. We were never human!" She turned to Darkwind in frustration. "You are an adept, m'hada. When will you open your eyes?" Abruptly her form paled, glowed white hot, and vanished in a burst of flame. The slender, fire winged creature that appeared in her place swept back narrow featherless wings that burnt the air with each furious stroke, then rose and swept toward the palace complex. It darted to the ground and vanished into the Healer's Collegium before the startled guards near the palace entrance could do more than shout.
Josseran woke in the dark, his head pounding with pain, afraid to open his eyes. Familiar hands swept back his hair, and warmth flowed into his temples, easing the throbbing ache.
"Keep still, Joss." Kevren? The boy tried the speak, but only a thin moan emerged. The warmth grew, made him drowsy, and pushed him back into dark.
Kevren eased back from the boy, then glanced uneasily at Lord Orwen. "He'll live." The healer said cautiously. "No promises beyond that." He was not so sure about the young lord. Orwen didn't look quite… sane. Neither did the young woman sitting silent and rigid in the chair next to his. As she had for hours. Kevren sighed and stretched. His back felt brittle with fatigue.
"You need to rest." The healer said quietly. "Both of you." He walked slowly to the door, opened it. Kahlen ignored him, going instead to the grey-faced boy lying bonelessly on the bed. Her hands shook as she brushed back the thick, jet-black hair. "He'll live, Kahlen." The healer said heavily. "He'll recover, I think. Right now he needs rest and healing. I promise you, he'll get it. Now go take your own."
Orwen sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "Come, child. We'll be no good to the boy – or our young healer – if we both pass out at his feet." Impossibly, his eyes still held a mischievous gleam as they turned toward her, despite the grey pallor of his face.
Kahlen searched Josseran's face one more time, then felt carefully for his mage channels. Drained, seared, but not destroyed. And she could sense the tentative beginnings of healing. A sob of relief escaped her, then she straightened and held out her hands to Kevren. The healer took them uncertainly, then sighed as she leaned into him, her face muffled against his greens. "Thank you." She eased back a bit, searching his face. "You have it too, now." She murmured softly. Her hand traced a light pattern over his heart. "You, Josseran, Firesong, Orwen." Her breath quivered uncertainly. "God grant it may be enough."
She did not resist when Orwen reached for her, and drew her slowly out of the room. They leaned on each other, moving slowly toward the doors of the Healer's Hall. Kahlen stumbled at the threshold, and lacked the energy to protest when Orwen swung her up into his arms and moved through the doors. "He's in the best care," the young Councilor murmured against her hair. He took several steps forward, and almost fell when something nudged his back. A warm white muzzle touched his neck. :You're neither of you fit to walk, and if Deven catches you here, in this condition, you'll be back in Healer's Hall and in separate beds before you can think. Best come with me. You are both summoned.:
The Council chamber was full, though only a few councilors were present. Lord Varrant she recognized from serving Council duty a few weeks ago. Another councilor, Lord Marchon, stood next to Varrant, his face pale and nervous,. Both gryphons stood in the open pit at the chamber's center. Darkwind and Elspeth, and the Royal Consort stood near their own seats, but the Queen's Own sat in Selenay's chair, her hands held still by force of will. Alberich stood behind her. All were tense and more than tense. Several showed open fear. Kahlen moved to the table and dropped wearily into an empty chair, one reserved for witnesses. Orwen moved to stand protectively beside her. Two herald-trainees stood fearfully near the door, flanked by armsmen. She recognized Julia, and managed a brief smile.
"May I have some water, please?" Julia glanced for permission to Prince Daren, then moved swiftly to fetch glasses and pitchers from the sideboard. Kahlen's eyes met Alberich's. "Firesong?" She asked softly.
"Well enough. Devan's moving him to the Healer's Hall, where they can tend him." The weaponsmaster answered, them moved slowly to take his own seat. "The boy?" Kahlen swallowed hard, and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
"He's resting." Orwen replied." Drained and mage-shock. He should recover." His arm moved comfortingly around Kahlen's shoulder as he slide into the chair next to hers. For a wonder, she did not pull away. Instead she leaned toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. The amethyst eyes were closed, marked with dark shadows. Her face, always pale, looked drawn and translucent.
"He won't." The girl said quietly. "He's been marked, as have Firesong and Healer Kevren, and – and you, my Lord." Sighing, she pushed herself upright and turned to face Orwen. "All of you are mages, or had mage potential. All of you have been marked with my blood – you through combat, Firesong, Josseran and Kevren through blood or mind-touch. I'm so sorry...Rand should never have Chosen me and I should have -" Her voice broke. "I should have died with Zethren."
:We do not make mistakes, Chosen, at least not in our Choosing. You are where you are meant to be.: Rand walked into the chamber, and at the surprise on some of the gathered faces, more than Kahlen was hearing him. The Companion turned a cool gaze on Prince Daren. :Where is Selenay?:
Rand walked into the chamber, and at the surprise on some of the gathered faces, more than Kahlen was hearing him. The Companion turned a cool gaze on Prince Daren."I – we kept her out, until we knew what we were dealing with." He inclined his head to Kahlen, his eyes uncertain and troubled.
Rand moved to her chair and brought his head protectively over her. :Call her, then.: The Companion answered shortly, then to Daren only. :And for Master-mage Sejanes. Tell Selenay that a King of Valdemar wishes to speak with her.: Daren's eyes widened in shock.
Selenay's arrival showed that she hadn't had far to come, and her eyes flashed angrily at the people gathered before her, coming finally to rest on the Queen's Own. Apparently, the Queen had not taken well to being denied access to her own Council Chamber. "What happened in the Field." Her words were harsh as she stopped pointedly beside Talia. The Queen's Own merely rose and stepped aside, yielding the chair to Selenay.
Kahlen sighed, then stood up and bowed to the Monarch. "Two of my I'nazadan – my kindred – confronted me near Master Firesong's e'kele, your Highness. They came in battle form. If Josseran hadn't held them - If Master Firesong hadn't intervened, we would have all died."
"They came in battle form." Selenay glanced uncertainly at her consort, then at the mage, Sejanes. One of the gathered Heralds stepped forward, his eyes going uncertainly to Kahlen. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword and stayed there.
"The guardsmen on duty saw two – creatures, your Highness. We took them for changebeasts at first, but they appeared through a kind of - a ripple in the air. It shimmered like that shield Herald-trainee Kahlen had about her the first day she arrived in Valdemar." The man, Herald Evan, looked at Kahlen again, and relaxed a bit at her nod of agreement. "The creatures were large and winged, Majesty, but they were not gryphons. No feathers. They were scaled, one in black jet, one in green. Whether fire or flesh, we could not tell. Herald-trainee Josseran threw a shield around them, then fell when they attacked him. His shield held. Herald-trainee Kahlen -" He stared and her and clenched his hands "Changed into something. It looked like they did, like fire-drakes, the lot of them – or demons. They fought, then Master Firesong came and." He drew a deep, uneven breath. "Master Firesong changed as well, into a flying creature. I took it for a gryphon at first, from its size, but only the head and wings were similar. It had talons, more like an eagle. And it was white, and streaming fire..." He shook his head and stepped back, hands clasped behind his back.
Kahlen sighed, pushed slowly to her feet, and faced the Queen to whom she'd sworn allegiance. Selenay gave a brief nod. "Two of my crechemates, Majesty. Hakan and Chenoj. The I'nazadan have three forms. This, the form we are born in." She gestured at her own body. "The battleform, which is chosen and shaped by our I'nadazi masters." She glanced uncertainly around the room. "Too small, here, with so many." She staggered a bit, then dropped back into her chair and scrubbed a shaking hand across her face. "Your pardon, please." Selenay nodded to the pages, who came forward with glasses and flagons of wine and water. Kahlen shook her head at the wine, but accepted a mug of heavily sweetened tea. It helped clear her head. She looked back at the Queen and gathered Council members, who were clearly waiting for her to continue. "I can't describe the third form. Call it gateform, for moving between the planes. The "I'nadazi have been trying to breed a form that can move them to the home plane for many years."
"I... see." Selenay glanced helplessly at Sejanes. The old mage looked troubled and uncertain. The members of the Council merely stared from the Queen to her newest herald, fear apparent on many faces.
Master Sejanes shifted forward in his seat, peering at her anxiously. "They are not native to this land, then, these I'nadazi?"
"No, Master Sejanes. They have been trapped here, for many lifetimes. They took a form that would let them move about in this world, seeking the means to return to their own. They have served the Eastern emperors for centuries." Kahlen leaned back, felt Rand behind her, and realized suddenly that the Companion was feeding her energy. She touched his muzzle in wordless gratitude.
"Since the mage storms, then." The Prince-Consort murmured grimly.
"No, my lord." Kahlen sighed, and rubbed her temples dispiritedly. "Since the First Cataclysm. They were close, very close, to finding their way home when the storms returned and disrupted their work." She looked plaintively around the room, willing these people to believe her. "They believe Valdemar has rediscovered the Adept magics that trapped them here, and brought the new storms that denied them a way home. The I'nadazan were bred to create gates that could reach, and guard, their passage home. But they are very old, old and powerful, and not quite sane. And they are desperate. They sought weapons that could stop your interference, or so they deemed it to be. They created the plague that ravaged Granite."
"Where, child? Where are they from, these I'nadazi?" Sejanes asked softly.
Kahlen hesitated a moment, then raised her hands, clasped them tightly together, then opened them in a wide, casting gesture. Several people cried out and stumbled back as flames blasted into the chamber and formed a searing ball in front of the girl. Both gryphons screamed challenge and leapt backward, away from the flames. But no heat came from them, only light and a blurred edge in the wavering air that made clear this was a vision, not actual flames. The flames wavered and died, leaving a dark image of a barren, wasted plain under a cold grey moon. Fire crawled on the ground, and the faint, mournful cry of a winged creature spiraled down from the night sky. The image shimmered, then abruptly vanished.
"The fires are dying." Kahlen murmured softly. "Not much to save, now, with none to tend them."
"Master Sejanes," Prince Daren interrupted, thoroughly shaken. "Do you know that place?"
The mage nodded reluctantly. "I studied it. I never thought to see it. The greater Adepts used it for a source of power, centuries ago, before it was sealed off. Little is known of it now. It is... a different plane." His eyes went to the Queen. He nodded tersely to Kahlen. The girl was no fool, at least. She swept her hands together, banishing the vision of the dark, burned plain. Several within the chamber sighed in relief, and more than one murmured a warding against evil.
The councilor next to Lord Varrant shifted nervously, his eyes flicking from to old mage to Kahlen, his fright verging on panic. "Come, come, Master Sejanes. What are we dealing with here?"
Several other councilors began murmuring, their level of alarm rising. Both guards shifted uneasily. Talia frowned, then laid a hand briefly on the Queen's arm. The rising tension in the room was palpable. The Queen nodded tersely to the old mage. Better to face it squarely, rather than let tension rise to the level of hysteria.
Sejanes nodded reluctantly, then pushed himself to his feet. "In the time of the greater adepts, they were called the Varrir. They are creatures of air and light and –"
"Fire." The councilor, Lord Marchon, interrupted. "Fire demons." The man dropped into his seat, staring at Kahlen in mounting horror, his voice rose to a pitch that bordered on hysteria. "Fire Demons. Gods help us..." He raised a shaking hand and pointed it at her. "She's ... she was made by..."
Orwen sighed and leaned forward, his arm protectively around Kahlen'a shoulders. "We don't always get to choose our families, Lord Marchon." He said, forcing amusement into his voice. "Wherever she came from, Kahlen has proved herself. She has protected the people of Valdemar not once but four times – twice at great personal risk. She is a Herald."
"But if – if she's demon-bred -"
"The Varrir are not demons." Sejanes interjected, with just the right tone of exasperation in his voice. "They are kindred to the elementals, and intelligent beings, much as our allies the gryphons." He nodded cordially to Treyvan and Hydona, who gravely returned the courtesy, but his voice was troubled. "And they've apparently been trapped here for... centuries." He turned troubled eyes to Kahlen, who spread her hands in wordless agreement.
The old mage turned back to Selenay, his eyes dark with worry. "They are also the elite of Melles' imperial mage corps, your Majesty. It is true that the eastern emperors have kept them for time beyond thought, but I do not think that that even Melles truly knows what he inherited from the Emperor Charliss." He folded his hands carefully. "If plague has been loosed in the empire, Melles will be desperate to find a cure. And he is not mad enough to use such a weapon, unless he was sure of a cure beforehand."
"The empire is not our concern, Master Sejanes. Valdemar, and the safety of her people, must come first." Lord Marchon stood up, his eyes darting fearfully back to Kahlen. "Your Majesty, if I may be excused? I – I need to think." At Selenay's nod he bowed, then strode swiftly out of the Council Chambers.
Selenay rose, her eyes troubled. "I think we all need time to... absorb what we've learned today." It was a clear dismissal. Her eyes went to Rand, who'd remained oddly silent throughout this exchange. The Companion bowed gracefully, his eyes unreadable. He did not leave as the assembled councilors and courtiers filed out. Finally only Selenay, Prince Daren, Kahlen, Orwen and Alberich remained.
"Your message was... unsettling, Companion Rand." Selenay cocked her head to one side.
:It was meant to be.: Rand dropped his muzzle against Kahlen's hair. :It got you here, before that fool Marchon did too much damage. He's going to give you trouble.:
Rand dropped his muzzle against Kahlen's hair.Selenay sighed. "It won't be the first time." She hesitated a moment, her eyes anxious and hopeful. :Do – I know you, Sire?:
:No.: The Companion replied. :I ruled – long before your time, or your father's time, Selenay. We may not return thus until long after those we knew are in the Havens. I only spoke to get you here quickly, distant daughter. And because...there are things you must know, that only I can tell you.:
He nudged Kahlen gently. :Go rest, child. Lord Orwen, if you would...:
Orwen needed no further urging. He pulled Kahlen to her feet, and leaned his forehead wearily against her own. :My chambers are closer.: She only nodded wordlessly, and followed him slowly out of the Council chamber.
Rand moved closer to the Queen, his blue eyes moving from face to face. :Do not ask.: His mindvoice was soft and melancholy. :I cannot tell you of your own dead, even if I would, child. But those who die in service to Valdemar are honored in the Havens. In time they may choose the Companion's way, but only when it does not interfere with the living.:
Selenay closed her eyes, then nodded, not sure of what feelings roiled in her head and heart. Perhaps – gratitude? :What must I do, then?:
:Trust my Chosen, distant daughter. Protect her. Do not let the fears of your Council or Court prevent her from doing what we – what she must.: The tall Companion bowed his head. :We will not fail you. No more than Vanyel Ashkevron failed me, at the last.: The Companion stepped back carefully, turned, and stepped silently from the hall.
Selenay turned to her heralds, her throat tight with emotion. "You heard?" They nodded cautiously. Daren moved and placed an arm around her shoulders. It was almost unheard of, for a Companion to speak to any but their Chosen. Fewer still were those who knew that many Companions were themselves former heralds from the distant past. None had ever revealed their past names or service – until now. The Queen sighed, and her voice shook slightly when she spoke again. "Trust Kahlen. An empire mage, and herald-trainee for less than a year. So. What can we do to prove our trust – to make it clear to Marchon, and the others who are going to go wild with this news?"
She hadn't expected an answer. She got one anyway. "I call the Circle." Alberich's voice was weary, but firm. "A matter for the Heralds, this is."