Lokant (2 page)

‘For the stone that
Llandry called
istore
is not a gem at all, clearly not. She
actually discovered the grave of a long-dead draykon. Those stones
are draykon bones. You’ll have heard the legends.’

Ynara nodded. Many of
the stories about draykons were not commonly known anymore; they
had disappeared from the realms far too long ago. They were the
stuff of long-buried books and obscure theses. Ynara, however, was
a sorcerer herself and a highly educated woman. She would know that
the draykon was said to be the most powerful creature in the
realms, that they were vast, unstoppable beasts. She would also
have heard that they were extinct, if they had ever truly existed.
Eva herself had been sceptical on that score until recently, but
Ynara was speedily convinced. Had she truly heard the draykon?

‘I am aware of the end
to your tale, though without the details,’ said Ynara. ‘I can guess
that the bones must have been reassembled and the draykon
successfully restored to life, though I cannot imagine how. What I
do not grasp is how Llandry is involved.’

Eva winced inwardly.
Now came the most difficult part of this conversation.

‘It’s hard to know how
to explain this to you when I barely understand it myself,’ Eva
began. ‘But I think you may have seen Llandry more recently than I
have.’ She recounted the finale to her tale. She and Tren had been
in the night-shrouded Lower Realm, but when Eva had been in
physical contact with the waking draykon, she’d seen straight
through the fabric of the worlds: into the Middle realms where most
of humankind lived, and further, all the way into the sun-drenched
Uppers. She’d realised that the separations between those realms
were far flimsier than was readily supposed. She’d seen Llandry
Sanfaer kneeling in the moss of the Upper Realm, sunlight glinting
off her deep black hair.

Moments later, Llandry
had been pulled bodily through the layers into the Lower Realms.
The experience had obviously been painful for her: watching Ynara’s
quiet daughter screaming in pain had been deeply distressing.

Then she had changed.
Her small, winged human body had stretched, expanded and ultimately
transformed; when the process was complete, a second, smaller
draykon had joined the first. Eva had only been able to watch as
they flew into the skies and then, abruptly, vanished.

Silence fell as Eva
finished her story. Ynara appeared to be unable to speak at all. At
last she managed, ‘How is that possible?’

‘I don’t know,’ Eva
said honestly.

‘Was she - was she
changed by those two...?’

‘No. It was certainly
no part of their plan. If Ana had been able to effect such a
transformation, she would have turned herself into a draykon. Her
plan was actually to dominate it, to make it her companion. She,
and her husband Griel, were obviously as astonished as we were.
Personally I do not believe it was effected from outside at all. It
had more to do with Llandry herself.’

‘You think she did that
to
herself
?’

‘Not exactly. Not
consciously anyway. I think it was inherent within her and brought
forward because of her proximity to the other draykon. Otherwise
why was she alone metamorphosed? Why not me? Why not Ana?’

Ynara nodded, more out
of habit than real understanding as her face revealed a profound
confusion. ‘Her proximity? But she was in the Uppers, wasn’t she?
That is a completely different world.’

‘I don’t think that it
is. Our three “worlds” are much closer to each other than we ever
realised. They’re virtually sharing the same space. I think she
felt the draykon waking from the Uppers, and she was drawn to it.
And she herself may have inadvertently aided the process by her
presence.’ Eva shrugged. ‘Without speaking to Llandry herself,
though, I can’t be sure about any of this.’

‘Several days ago Aysun
and I heard a terrific cry from somewhere overhead,’ Ynara said
slowly. ‘It was like nothing I’d heard before. We ran outside, but
there was nothing to be seen. Except for Dev, lying injured outside
my house.’

‘Dev?’

‘I mentioned him to you
before, though not by name. He is an old friend of mine. Llandry
went with him to Nimdre, though without his knowledge. He says they
were attacked, and he was wounded trying to defend Llandry. Since
he arrived - or I should say, appeared - he has been raving about
beasts the size of houses and being carried here by one of them. I
thought he was delirious. But I cannot disbelieve you.’ Ynara
sighed, her head drooping with tiredness. ‘So Llan found Devary and
brought him here. Then - what? She vanished again.’

‘I don’t believe
anybody knows where Llandry is now. I’m sorry. I wish I had more
information to give you on that point.’

Ynara gripped her hand.
‘Don’t apologise. You can’t know how much I appreciate your coming
here to tell me these things. Though I don’t deny they are hard to
hear. How can I even begin to believe that my daughter is not - not
human?’

‘Oh, she is,’ said Eva.
‘She’s both.’

Devary Kant was abed in
Ynara’s house. His wounds were evidently severe, though he suffered
no delirium. He glanced only briefly at Eva, then fixed his dull
gaze on Ynara as she relayed the news to him.

‘That was Llandry?’ His
words emerged weakly, and when he tried to sit up he gasped and
fell back.

‘Don’t try to move,
Dev,’ said Ynara wearily. ‘Apparently it was, yes. She saved your
life, I think.’

Devary said nothing.
His gaze had returned to Eva’s face, and he frowned slightly.

‘Eva Glostrum,’ she
said. ‘From Glour.’ It was probably too dark for him to see her
clearly, but he continued to try.

She, on the other hand,
could see him quite well. Her sharp night eyes filled in strongly
defined, Nimdren features, a long, thin nose and Darklands-pale
skin. Under normal circumstances his hair must be a fairly light
shade of brown, though at present it was splayed out on his pillow,
dark with the sweat of fever.

Ynara leaned forward.
‘Dev, it seems you were the last person to see the draykon.
Llandry, if it was her. Do you remember where she went?’

‘There were two beasts.
Two draykons, then. I thought they vanished, but I may have been
hallucinating.’

‘Probably you were
not,’ Eva put in. ‘I have seen them do the same thing. I think they
can cross between worlds without needing to open gates.’

‘Then my Llandry - if
it was my Llandry - could be anywhere. Anywhere in the worlds.’
Ynara fell silent, but Eva could hear her unsettled breathing as
she struggled to master her emotion.

Devary bestirred
himself enough to grip Ynara’s hand. ‘When I’m well,’ he said with
difficulty, ‘I will find her. I promise it.’

Ynara gave him a stare
of disdain. ‘My husband will bring her home.’

‘Aysun has gone after
her?’ Eva was surprised at that. She had heard something before of
the deep suspicion he held for the Upper Realm.

Ynara nodded. ‘Nearly
two weeks ago. He said he won’t come home until he can bring Llan
with him.’

This was poor news. She
had counted on Ynara’s having her husband’s support as she waited
for her daughter to come home. Instead, her friend had been alone
all this time, and in a state of anxiety about both members of her
family.

‘I’m sorry, Ynara,’ she
said with real regret. ‘I wish I could stay until Llan returns to
you, but I can’t.’

Ynara tried a smile. ‘I
know. I understand. Thank you for coming to me now.’

Eva nodded, unsure of
what else to say.

‘I’ll be here,’ said
Devary.

‘You’re the one who
lost her!’ The words burst from Ynara as if she couldn’t hold them
back anymore. She swept a hand over her face, dashing away the
dampness that glittered on her cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ Devary
said, watching helplessly as Ynara fought to regain her composure.
‘I’m sorry.’

Eva stayed as long as
she could with Ynara, but she knew it wasn’t enough. It took all of
her will to leave her friend alone again after a mere day’s stay,
but she knew she had no choice. She began the walk back to the
border with grave reluctance.

Yna’s strong,
she told herself.
Strong enough for this.

As long as Llandry
comes back.

Mr. Pitren Warvel -
Tren, to his many friends - sat alone and disconsolate in the vast
library of Glour City. To be precise, he was sitting in a small
reading chamber reserved for those with official access to Glour’s
hidden store of books: those texts deemed inappropriate for general
public borrowing. Fat, musty tomes were stacked in towering piles
around his desk, concealing him behind a wall of knowledge. It felt
appropriate, for instead of mastering that mountain of academic
records and theses, he had been smothered by it.

Sighing, Tren pushed
back his chair and turned his head from side to side, trying to
loosen the tension in his neck. Two weeks of work, and he, the
experienced scholar and able student, had found virtually nothing
about the draykons of the past. So little had he uncovered, in
fact, that he would be inclined to categorise them as mere legend -
if he had not recently seen two such beasts with his own eyes.

The whole experience
was intensely dispiriting. Lady Glostrum herself had arranged
access to this collection; it was not something a young sorcerer
like himself could expect to receive without patronage. The fact
that she had assigned the research to him was proof of her faith in
his ability, and he had failed. If there was any relevant
information within this hidden library, he couldn’t find it.

He plucked absently at
the cuffs of his shirt, dissatisfied. His clothes were shabby, his
hair unbrushed and he was covered in book dust from head to foot.
For two weeks he had barely slept or eaten, aware of the urgency of
his task. That dedication having availed him nothing, perhaps it
was time to go home and attend to his own comfort. The prospect was
a tempting one, but he resisted. He wanted to see Lady Glostrum,
and without something to report he felt that he could not impose on
her. His pride would not allow it.

She, of course, seemed
to have no particular desire to see him. A few weeks had passed
since their excursion to the Lowers; three weeks since the draykons
had risen and subsequently vanished. He had assisted her in making
her reports to Glour’s government - she felt that she needed his
corroboration in order to be believed, though he doubted it - and
that was the last time he had seen her. Since then he had been
locked in here moonrise to moonset and he had neither seen nor
heard from her. The reflection hurt. Did she remember to think of
him, wherever she was? Doubtful. She was a peer of the realm and a
member of the government; she had many more important things to
think about.

‘That’s enough,’ he
muttered, dismissing the negative reflections from his thoughts. He
bent his head once more over the book that lay before him, but as
he readied his pen for the note-taking he heard the scrape of a key
in the door and somebody’s footsteps rang on the stone floor.
Somebody female, he concluded, and felt a surge of hope.

‘Tren?’ Eva’s voice. He
felt a momentary wild happiness which quickly deteriorated into
dismay. He had nothing to give her, nothing to show for his
efforts. She must undoubtedly conclude that he was useless for the
task at hand, just as he had been useless in the Lowers. For an
instant he entertained absurd notions of concealing himself from
her and somehow making his escape. Shaking his head at his own
folly, he stood up, looking over the towers of books behind which
he had been sitting.

‘Here,’ he said,
putting on a smile. She crossed quickly to him, offering a warm
smile in return which gave him an odd flutter. Belatedly he
realised he ought to have addressed her in some more appropriate
manner, but it was too late now.

‘I admire your
dedication,’ she offered, stopping in front of his desk. Her gaze
flicked quickly over him, no doubt taking in the deplorable state
of his appearance. Uncomfortable, he tried to brush down his
clothes but only succeeded in spreading more dust over them.

‘A perfectly pointless
dedication, unfortunately,’ he said, trying to speak lightly. ‘If
draykons were ever a common sight in any of our worlds, there’s no
real record of it that I can find.’

Her brows lifted.
‘Nothing at all?’

‘A few children’s
tales. They lived (always in the past tense) far in the depths of
the Off-Worlds, collecting hordes of treasure and sort of randomly
breathing fire at things. None of it is particularly credible.’

Eva stood in thought
for a moment. ‘How curious,’ she finally said.

He hesitated, then
spoke again. ‘Of course, that doesn’t mean the information isn’t
there. I’m sure there must be something. I’ve probably missed
it.’

She shook her head. ‘I
doubt that. You’ve been far too thorough.’ She smiled at his
expression of surprise. ‘I’ve been checking the visitor books
whenever I pass through. You’ve been here for an average of
fourteen hours a day, every day, for the last two weeks. Were you
aware of that?’

‘I’ve been here for
eternity, as far as I can judge,’ he said wryly. He couldn’t help
but be pleased that she had noticed. They had travelled together on
the hunt for his friend, Edwae Geslin, and after that she had
insisted on accompanying him further - all the way into the Lower
Realms in a search for Edwae’s killer and erstwhile employer. Had
she done it because she cared about him, or because she knew he
could not accomplish the task on his own? If the latter (and he
suspected it was so), she had been right. Inexperienced as he was,
he would have floundered hopelessly in the Lowers without her aid.
He might even have perished. The whole endeavour had been directed
and largely accomplished by her; his own contribution, he felt, had
been minimal. Now he was anxious to make amends.