Lokant

by Charlotte E. English

  At last his onward flight stopped and he hurtled downwards so fast that she feared he would drive himself nose-first into the ground. But he landed, successfully if ungracefully.

  Here, he told her. Here!

  He was right. A grave lay beneath the soil, a web of draykon bones pulsing faintly with energy. Scanning the area, she found no holes in the pattern. To all appearances, this skeleton was complete.

  They had travelled so far into the realm of Iskyr that Llandry recognised nothing. Gone were the glissenwol trees of her homeland; they were far beyond those parts of the realm that corresponded geographically with Glinnery. She and Pensould stood within a wide plain, carpeted in feathery silvered grass. Two suns shone in skies stained a deeper shade of purple than the lavender she often saw. A tiny scaled creature ran over one of her feet, its long tail lashing with fright when her head moved. Sigwide bounced down from his station between her shoulders and ran after it.

  Fun, he observed. She left him to it. Pensould was aloft again, circling the plain with powerful strokes of his sweeping wings.

  No intruders, he reported to her. We go to work. He settled near to her again and turned his attention to the sleeping draykon that rested beneath their feet. Llandry did the same.

  At first she sensed nothing but the faintest pulse of energy flowing through the bones. It was enough; some trace of life remained in this somnolent beast. It was a spark that could be fanned back into a roaring blaze.

  But she had to go much deeper before she felt a flicker of consciousness. Some peripheral trace of awareness remained as well, not really awareness but something that had the potential to be. Pensould began calling to it, plucking and nudging at this whisper of consciousness, trying to draw it out. She joined her efforts to his, celebrating as gradually, slowly, she began to sense echoes of the beast’s mind.

  Pensould began pouring his own energy into the sleeping draykon, turning its faint life force into a steady flow. Llandry felt its mind snap open. It recognised their efforts, understood and consented in what they were trying to do. And it - she - was ferocious in her desire to awaken.

  That was when the pain began. It gripped Llandry’s body, relentless, the same pain she had felt when Pensould had awakened near to her. Now she understood what was happening: the draykon was drawing away her life force, channelling it into its own regeneration. Beneath her feet, bones were disappearing under muscle, under scaled hide; a renewed body was being formed from the vitality of Llandry’s own.

  It hurt worse even than it had last time. At first she couldn’t understand this; she shared this burden with Pensould, so how could the pain be so shattering? But then she remembered. Pensould’s regeneration had already been largely complete when she had arrived; this draykon was rebuilding herself entirely.

  She gritted her teeth, trying not to scream. She failed. The scream emerged as an animal roar, her voice joining Pensould’s, though she heard as much elation as pain in his cry. An extreme pulse of energy set the earth shuddering; it cracked under her feet, the earth loosening itself, preparing to expunge the beast that fought to escape.

  The ground erupted and the draykon rose, shrieking. She was larger than Llandry, her hide wine-red traced with black. The pain eased now as the draykon separated herself from the tangled life forces of Llandry and Pensould. Llandry crouched, panting, waiting for the trembling in her limbs to stop.

  Thank you, the new draykon said, her mind-voice crisp. How long have I been under?

  I am unsure, Wing-Friend, but that the years number in the thousands I have no doubt.

  Llandry felt the draykon’s shock. What? That cannot be. Her tone became suspicious. I do not recognise you, either of you. Are you of Eterna’s people?

  I do not know that word.

  Nor I, Llandry added weakly, wishing she had Pensould’s ability to recover.

  The war! The draykon shrieked the word, her voice rising to a pitch that beat painfully in Llandry’s brain. Is it over, then? Is it won? Why was I not returned sooner?

  Llandry felt that Pensould was as puzzled as she. What war?

  The human war! The war Eterna swore to win, and we swore to support her until death. And so I did. The words were spoken with a ferocity that chilled Llandry to the core. This was not what she had expected.

  Wing-Friend, Pensould said at last. Things are not as they were when you and I last flew. If there was war, it occurred after the day when I went into the Long Rest. And if the war was with humans as you say, then it appears that that war was lost by our kind.

  Llandry waited, tense, as Pensould explained the nature of the new world - a world that, until recently, had not seen draykons in many generations. When Pensould came to relate the circumstances of Llandry’s own transformation, the new draykon’s mood changed from disbelieving dismay to anger.

  Half-breed? Abomination! How could such a thing come to pass?

  That is not known, Pensould said, his tone placating. However it happened, it was not of Llandry’s making. And it is to her that we owe our renewed existence.

  The red draykon circled Llandry, her hostility still strong. She lashed out with her teeth, landing a deep bite on Llandry’s shoulder. Screaming with pain and surprise and anger, Llandry fought back, sinking teeth and claws deeply into the other draykon’s flesh.

  Enough! Pensould beat the red draykon back, forcing her aside with sheer size and muscle. She hissed at him, but at length she subsided.

  There remains a greater enemy, she conceded. She looked Llandry over appraisingly. If this one is in truth a human, she will know their ways well. She can teach us their weaknesses.

  Llandry backed away, alarmed. I will do no such thing. Why should you wish to revive a long-dead war? What is your complaint with humans?

  Everything! Your loyalties are misplaced, fledgling, if you think to defend them. Do you think them the victims? The war was begun by them, and they did not stop until they had taken precious Arvale.

  This word was unfamiliar. She was about to say so when a picture formed in her mind, placed there by the newly-awakened draykon. With a gasp, she recognised Glinnery.

  And then they took Everum. Next came an image of a forest Llandry recognised as Glour.

  When they began to look to Iskyr and Ayrien - when they PRESUMED to impinge on our sacred spaces - we swore to destroy them all. ETERNA SWORE IT!

  Pensould was trying to soothe her, bathing her with the gentlest of healing energies. Wing-Friend-

  MY NAME IS ISAND, she yelled. AND I AM NOT YOUR WING-FRIEND.

  Isand. Calm yourself. Pensould kept his voice cool but a note of menace lurked beneath. You cannot revive this war. We are too few: there are but the three of us at present.

  At present, Isand repeated. We will wake others! We will find Eterna herself! Arvale and Everum must be taken back! If you will not help me, I will do it alone. She bared her teeth. And deal with you later.

  Isand did not wait for a response to this. She launched herself into the air and with several powerful beats of her wings, she was gone.

  No! Unthinking, Llandry threw herself into the sky after her. She had barely begun her pursuit before Pensould was on her, driving her back to the ground.

  Minchu, what are you doing?

  What does it look like? I’m going after her!

  To do what?

  To stop her! She’s going to attack Glinnery!

  Pensould bit her, not hard but enough to bring her up short. How are you going to stop her?

  Llandry flailed, raging. You’re going to help me and somehow we’ll persuade her to give up the idea. She knew as she spoke that it was hopeless. Fury like Isand’s could not simply be explained or persuaded away.

  We will think of something, but for now you must leave her alone. She is not going to attack Arvale now; she is going to wake more draykon-kind.

  More like her. Llandry hung her head, despairing.

  Perhaps. Perhaps also more like you and me.

  Llandry c
urled herself up, trying to hide from the world and the problem she now faced. Her rage and fear cooled quickly; anger did not suit her. She fell to thinking instead.

  Pensould?

  He twitched. Yes.

  Why weren’t you upset about it? About Glinnery. Arvale, I mean. Wouldn’t it have been draykon territory when you lived?

  Pensould didn’t reply immediately. She felt his sadness as he thought her question through.

  Much changes over time, he said at last. I was sad at the fate of Arvale - of draykon-kind as a whole - but I accepted it as the result of many long years passing. I had no way of knowing that it had once been taken by force.

  I find it so hard to believe, she returned. My people are not warmongers. How could our ancestors have been so different?

  Pensould nuzzled her affectionately. Things change, Minchu. It can’t be prevented.

  Somebody heaved a sigh. The sound - undoubtedly a human utterance - came from behind Llandry.

  ‘What a mess,’ said a regretful male voice. She jumped to her feet and spun, bristling. An elderly man was standing on the edge of the crater that had once held Isand. His pale blue eyes wandered from Llandry to Pensould.

  ‘Miss Sanfaer?’ he asked, his gaze coming to rest on her. ‘I admit these are not the circumstances under which I had hoped to meet you, but I am nonetheless delighted to make your acquaintance.’

  Who is this? Pensould’s voice in her thoughts was sharp.

  Not somebody I recognise.

  The man smiled encouragingly. ‘Perhaps if you put your human shape back on, we could talk. I take it I am too late to prevent your waking another draykon?’

  Llandry studied him. He did not seem threatening, but his appearance troubled her. How had she failed to sense his approach? Nor had Pensould apparently noticed anything. He had appeared as abruptly and as noiselessly as the man who had tried to take her. That thought made her shiver.

  She hesitated, then allowed her body to reform into her human shape. The process still felt odd to her; almost as if her bones and muscles and skin melted and then moulded themselves into the new shape. It was unpleasant. She blinked her human eyes at the man and took a few steps backwards.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Limbane,’ he said with a bow.

  ‘Limbane? What is your first name?’

  ‘Just call me Limbane. May I address you as Llandry, or do you prefer Miss Sanfaer?’

  ‘Until I understand who you are and what you want, I am unconcerned with what you call me.’

  Limbane nodded. ‘I’ve been looking for you for some time, but you mustn’t let that alarm you. I have nothing to do with the man who tried to abduct you. His name is Krays, by the way.’

  Llandry started. ‘How do you know about him?’

  ‘Because I have spoken to your friend Mr Kant.’

  Fear gripped her at that name. ‘Did you hurt him? Is he all right?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t hurt him. I met him in a library at Draetre. We had a perfectly civilised conversation. I would like to have the same with you, but I must suggest we hold it elsewhere. You’ve created a disturbance here that I could feel a long way off; and if I could feel it then I imagine Krays will soon be along as well.’

  She shuddered at that prospect. ‘Is that how you found me?’

  ‘Yes. Pulling a draykon out of the ground tends to create some waves. I imagine even your friends in Glinnery will feel the effects.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You do, I think. You saw the effects of last moon’s events. When the draykon bones began to be disturbed, all the worlds felt it. All the beasts felt it. I imagine we’ll be seeing more of those pesky rogue gates making a nuisance of themselves, and a lot of confused beasts wandering between the worlds. I might suggest you refrain from waking any more draykons at present.’

  ‘I don’t-’ she began, but then she stopped. Another figure blinked into existence, one with white hair, a colourless face and a cold expression.

  ‘Limbane,’ said Krays, without an ounce of warmth.

  ‘Ah, Krays. I had a feeling we would be seeing you.’ He eyed the younger man with no sign either of surprise or trepidation. He turned back to Llandry.

  ‘I would urge you and your companion to consider my offer fairly urgently,’ he said.

  The presence of Krays decided her. Pensould, come with me.

  He bristled with suspicion. Are you sure?

  No. But I’m going to trust him.

  Pensould replied only with a snarl of annoyance, but he rapidly adopted his human shape.

  ‘Excellent,’ Limbane said. He took Llandry’s arm in one hand and gripped Pensould’s wrist with the other. With a cool nod to Krays, he disappeared. Llandry had just time enough to grab Sigwide before she was whirled away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Eva arrived at the tower in the Lowers, it had the unpromising air of abandonment about it. Not a whisper of sound or movement reached her as she walked around the base of the narrow building. Her heart thumped oddly with suppressed anxiety at the thought that Tren might not be here after all.

  It still hadn’t developed a discernible door, so she took the other route. Her practiced fingers sank easily into the stone; working it like clay, she moulded the first few rungs of a ladder in the side of the stonework. To a strong magical practitioner like herself, it was a simple matter to reform parts of the realm of Ayrien according to her needs, though it was only recently that she had begun to learn how far it was possible to take the technique.

  Urgency lent her speed, and she was up the side of the tower and through the window at the top within a matter of minutes. Inside she found the round chamber that she’d visited before, only it didn’t look the same. Someone had tidied up. She wondered who; had Ana been back here?

  That prospect made her wary in spite of the silence. Finding a door partially hidden behind a curtain, she eased it open and listened for a moment. Nothing. She stepped softly down the stone stairs that wound down into the depths of the tower. Finding another door halfway down, she went through it.

  Light-globes flared into life as soon as she stepped into the room. The sudden flash made her blink, and for a few moments she couldn’t see. She stood still until her sight cleared. The presence of the charged globes suggested that somebody still used the tower, and she didn’t want to blunder into Ana.

  The room proved to be empty. It appeared to be a reading chamber, and for a single occupant. A lone wing-backed chair was placed before a cold, dark hearth. Rugs covered the floor to ward off the chill, and bookcases lined the walls. Eva gave them a cursory perusal, but no titles caught her eye as significant.

  She returned to the staircase and descended another storey. The next chamber down was some kind of laboratory. Eva lingered here rather longer, examining the instruments that sat atop the high counters. She recognised tools for magnification among them, but most were beyond her comprehension.

  The stairs went on and on, descending further than seemed possible given the apparent height of the building. Eva was standing with her hand on the doorknob of the next room down when she caught the sound of slow footsteps coming towards her. She froze, her heart picking up speed. The stairwell was bare of hiding places; her only option was to conceal herself in the room ahead and hope to remain undiscovered.

  But then a voice began speaking and she realised that her presence was already known.

  ‘It’s only recently that I have taken the trouble of installing wards in this building. I never needed to before, because your kind tend to be shy about wandering about down here and the Others never took much interest in Ayrien. But here again, more of you.’ The voice was female, low in tone and authoritative. And unmistakeably annoyed. It was certainly not Ana’s voice.

  ‘Then again, you’re a bit more elusive than some of the others. Harder to pinpoint your location. And that’s unusual.’

  Eva turned to face the stairs. The woman�
�s legs appeared and then the rest of her, not quickly for she apparently did not think it worth hurrying her pace. She was wearing trousers, Eva was interested to note; not absolutely unheard of but certainly uncommon in Orstwych and Glour. She had abundant chestnut hair and an ageless face. Her expression was annoyed, but when she saw Eva it changed to something closer to shock.

  ‘Ah,’ she said after a moment. ‘That explains it.’

  Eva blinked. ‘What?’

  ‘Lokant heritage,’ the woman replied with a speculative smile. ‘Trained, it would appear, which must mean you’re one of Theirs.’ She circled Eva, her posture full of menace. Her fingers closed around Eva’s wrist in a harsh grip.

  ‘Lokant,’ Eva said, keeping her voice steady. ‘I’ve seen that word before, though I don’t know what it means.’ She tried to withdraw her arm, but the woman’s grip only tightened further.

  ‘Is that a denial?’

  ‘Of what?’ Eva retorted. ‘I don’t know who you mean by “they”, if that’s what you are asking.’

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve seen the word, you say. Where?’

  ‘Here. In a book. Or on it, actually.’

  The woman’s face registered sudden comprehension. ‘You wouldn’t be Lady Glostrum, by chance?’

  ‘I am.’ Eva yanked her arm, sharply, and the hand that gripped it fell away.

  ‘Still more interesting,’ said the other woman, then she smiled. ‘Your pardon for my rudeness then, your ladyship. How curious that Pitren did not speak more of you.’

  ‘Tren?’ Eva advanced on the woman, elated and alarmed by turns. ‘You’ve seen him? Where is he? Have you taken him somewhere? Who are you anyway?’

  ‘My name is Andraly Winnier,’ she replied, her eyes sparkling with some emotion that looked offensively like amusement.

  ‘Ahh,’ said Eva slowly. ‘That makes sense.’

  ‘Yes, I have taken your friend somewhere, but no, he isn’t hurt. Worry not; you’ll be coming along too.’