It came from just outside the cabin.

I was frantic. I could not find her. My people can smell the Rakshasa if they are anywhere near, and in truth the stench from the camp had been heavy of late, but now it was gone. I could not find the place Rella had spoken of, I could not find my dearling, though the Fire within me knew well that she was in deadly peril. I flew in circles around and about the camp, lost, maddened—

And her scream tore the night, rent my heart, brought me arrowing down to a structure I had passed fifty times. I roared once, Fire preceding me as I came to land, for I found myself surrounded by Rikti. I would have laughed, were my Lanen's terror not ringing still in my brain. My Fire swept them ef-fortlessly from the air, from the ground, cleansed the sigils I could now see dimly scratched into the very earth. But they were many, and all took time.

I had no time.

"Lanen, I am here, I come." I cried, as I swept the Rikti from my path.

Her answer was the merest whisper in my mind. "Now, Akor, or it is too late.''

Despite his arrival I was still before the altar, and though I struggled with all my might, Marik thrust me forward towards the demon with a grip of iron. ''Take her, dread lord, take the offering swiftly. A Lord of the Kantri rages nearby and would keep her from you."

"That shall not be," said that dead voice. "Come, offering," it said, stretching out its redblack arms for me. Marik released me, and as I tried to run it grasped me by my shoulder.

I tried to scream. I tried to run. I had no will, no voice, barely a flicker of my own self remained. ''You are given as sacrifice," the thing said. "Now you—"

''Lanen, I am here, I come!''

I summoned the last of my strength and shouted in true-speech, ''Now, Akor, or it is too late.''

It was barely a whisper.

"—belong to me," it finished, and a red veil fell before my eyes—

The splintering of wood behind me shook me even from that cold, dead place. I still had no volition, but I could tell from the sound and the feel of air at my back that the wall behind me was gone.

Caderan and Marik had turned to look.

Marik screamed and ran. Caderan was cooler—he turned where he stood and spoke to the demon, even as Akor was making the hole large enough for him to enter.

"The offering will be made later. For the price that was paid, I charge you now, destroy the Kantri lord." And before my eyes, Caderan vanished.

The thing said something I could not hear, but in that instant I was restored to myself. I ran from the circle, past Akor and away as he hunched into that cramped space, breathing fire and swiping a clawful of daggers at the demon. I knew that the only thing I could do in this fight was to get out of the way.

I learned then what Akor meant when he called the Rakshasa "life-enemies." The demon grew in stature until it rose high above where the roof of the cabin had been. It

was now nearly of a size with Akor, though it was still bound within the circles Caderan had drawn. Akor did not even pause in his attack. He flamed it, dragonfire searing the face and body of the creature, and raked at it with both front claws leaving great gashes behind. The thing spat at him, its essence scoring his silver armour, and, reaching out with its mangled and flame-scorched arms, took him by base of the throat and squeezed.

Those hands were near to stopping my breath, but even in that moment I blessed the Winds for its stupidity. If it had grasped my throat near the jaw, things might have gone ill, but our long necks are very flexible and I kept my head well out of range of its arms. As it was, I drew my head back, pulled in what air I could and spat a great gout of Fire at its face. It burst into flame, and while it was thus distracted I turned my own head sideways and snapped at its neck once, twice. Again. Again. Its blood burned my tongue, and the taste nearly made me stop. Nearly.

It took several bites, but these jaws the Winds gave us are made for such battles as these. The burning head dropped from the shoulders; the thing gave a drawn-out scream and vanished.

The only traces of its presence were dark stains on the ground where the head had rolled, and in the cabin where it had been bound.

I flamed them clean with Fire, and burned what was left of that building to ashes. I stood watching the fire scorch all clean, when I heard a soft voice behind me.

"Akor. You're hurt."

It was Lanen.

I was afraid to speak to him. I was in awe. When I finally got up the courage to say something, I could only think of his wounds.

"They do not pain me, dearling. A moment, though," he said, and proceeded to cleanse each of his gashes with Fire "There. All is done."

I had begun to shake with reaction, but somehow I managed to look around me. I shouldn't have been surprised. They weren't coming any too close, but the noise and the flames had drawn a crowd. One finally got up the courage to speak— it sounded like one of Marik's guards.

"What happened?" He was addressing me. I nearly laughed. Here was this wonder, this figure of legend standing before them, and this man was talking to me. Best they know the truth, I thought. If Marik is still alive, at the very least he isn't going to have many friends.

"Marik and Caderan summoned a major demon, a Lord of the Rakshasa, and he was going to give me to it. The Dragons"— "Forgive me, Akor, it is the word they know"— "do I not tolerate demons on their island. The Guardian has destroyed it."

"Come," he said to me, and turning to the people said calmly, ''There is no need to fear. I have delivered both you and my own people from a great evil. I will not harm you." ''Let us leave them, dearling,'' he said in the Language of Truth. ''It seems your people are no more prepared for our friendship than are mine. Will you come with me?"

"With all my heart," I answered. "Is there somewhere we can go to rest?"

''We shall go to my chambers near the Great Hall. Come.''

He gathered me in his hands and leapt into the night. I held tight for the very few moments of flight until we came to land outside his chambers. He brought wood and lit a fire, then curled around it and let me sit against him.

I thought I was doing well until I sat down against his warmth. It was as though someone had suddenly cut the strings that had held me up, for I began to shake and to babble about nothing, and finally to weep in earnest. I sat huddled against his neck with his head beside me and his wings soft about me. and I told him as I sobbed of the haunted dreams and tortured wakings, of the demon and the dread sinking in my soul when it touched me, of the horror of helplessness in the face of so great an evil. He had the wisdom to say nothing, but when I had finished talking and had only tears left, he kept repeating, "It is gone, Lanen, back to its dwelling place. It is destroyed in this world, it cannot return until it has recovered so far as to enflesh itself again, and that will not be in your lifetime."

My lifetime. So short a time we had together. As long as a Weh sleep, no more—"Dear Goddess, no!" I cried.

She seemed so fragile in that moment. I had not been prepared for her storm of tears, though when it came I understood. In times of great stress my own people take to the air, and flame and sing to the sun or the stars until the madness has left them.

"What is it, dearling?" I asked gently in truespeech. "I am here, I will let no harm come nigh you.''

"Not me, you," she said, and I felt her fear. "Akor, your wounds—" She dropped her voice. "Blessed Shia—will the Weh sleep come on you?"