Read Online [Lanen Kaelar 03] - Redeeming the Lost by Elizabeth Kerner - Free Book Online Page A

straighter and looked into my eyes. The Healer’s glow about her
was reduced to a flicker.
    “What are you called, my kitling?” she asked,
and her voice was as near to the voice of a Lady of our Kindred as a human
could manage it.
    I could think of nothing to say, though my
mind began to race. Kitling, indeed! I was the Eldest of the Kantri alive at
that time.
    “Come, come, what are you called? I hight
Loriavaitriakeris, daughter of Kai the Old and my dear mother Tethrik. You may
call me Loriakeris.” Aral smiled. “So you see, there is no need to be rude.
What is your use-name?”
    “I hight Shikrar,” I said, entranced. “Lady, I
know of you. My soulfriend Akhor is of your lineage, but—but we thought you
lost these many ages past!”
    “Not lost, young Shikrar, no, no, not lost.
Just… spending my time with the Gedri.” Aral’s smile softened. “This is not
the time for this discussion. I believe that with my help, these Healers can do
their work. Do you permit?”
    “Yes,” I stammered, and in the instant Aral
was back, with her Healer’s aura deep blue about her, and the soulgem in her
hand glowing brilliant ruby.
     
    “Hells’ teeth, what was that?” she cried.
    “Later, Aral,” said Vilkas, his voice stony,
his gaze still locked deep in my injuries. “Are you well?”
    “How should I be well? Some dead dragon just
took over my body, how in all the Hells could I be well!” she yelled.
    Vilkas wrenched himself away from studying me
and took Aral by the shoulders. “Aral, not now. We need to work. Are you
injured?”
    “No,” she said sullenly, shaking off his
grasp. “Just angry.”
    ‘Then help me. I need you, and we need
that—Loria-whats-her-name. Now.”
    “I’ll do what I can, but don’t ask me to work,
I’m far too angry.”
    “That’s fine for now,” said Vilkas, turning
back to stare into my wing. “Just you open that door and let me in …”
    Aral, mumbling, laid her left hand on his
shoulder. Her right still held Loriakeris’s soulgem—and in the moment, I felt a
wave of power, and blessedly, there was no more pain. “You’ve damaged this
ligament,” muttered Vilkas as he worked, “shouldn’t take long to—there, that’s
it—now the inflammation …”
    It was fascinating, the link that was forged.
Not that he could hear truespeech, or that I could hear him precisely, but
there was most certainly a connection. I wondered if other Gedri were aware of
it when they were being healed.
    And then, as I was concentrating on the fink
between us, I noticed for the first time a strange undercurrent to my thought.
There was something of truespeech in it, but there did not seem to be many
words. It was more like a distant murmuring. I wondered briefly if Salera was
teaching all her people about true-speech, but that did not seem right—as I
have said, younglings cannot normally keep their early truespeech under such
control. However, a swift sharp pain, like a stiff muscle unlocking, brought my
thought suddenly back to those who were working to assist me.
    This Vilkas, I noted, was a most extraordinary
soul. I had never heard of such a man. For all his usual reserve, for all that
he fought the very essence of himself with every breath, he could yet give of
his gifts without stint and without restraint to accomplish this healing. A
gift indeed. It was over in mere minutes, but in those minutes, what a change!
By the time he had finished, Vilkas was sweating and breathing like prey
running from a hunter. He was moving towards my shoulder, but I stretched out
my forearm and stopped him. “Enough for now, Master Vilkas,” I said quietly.
    “No, that’s just the easy part, I need to—”
    I did not let him move. “It is enough for now.
You will exhaust yourself, and that will serve no one.”
    Vilkas opened his mouth to argue, but Aral
interrupted. “Quite right. Thank you, Shikrar,” she responded loudly. Then she
quietly muttered something to Vilkas that I could