Medalon by Jennifer Fallon

it, knowing that as soon as he did, he would undo almost two decades of hard work, forgetting who he was. Forgetting what he had done.
    With a sigh, Brak closed his eyes. He reached for the river of power that nestled within his mind which he had tried so hard not to touch for so long. As he dipped into it, the power leapt at him with frightening intensity, as if it was anxious to escape the bonds he had so carefully placed around it. He opened his eyes, which had changed completely now. No longer were they a faded shade of blue, weathered and disillusioned. They were totally black. The whites of his eyes were consumed by the power that coursed through him. Brak reached forward, placed his hands on the cool crystal surface of the Seeing Stone, and sent his mind out to his king.
    Brakandaran .
    It seemed hours before the voice filled his mind, although he knew it could only have been minutes since he laid his hand on the magical stone.Korandellen’s face appeared in the surface of the Stone—no longer a lump of polished crystal, but a milky backdrop for the proud face of the king. He wore his kingship a little uncomfortably. He had not wanted to be king. First Lorandranek’s insanity and then Brak’s own hand had forced him into it. Until now, Brak had thought he was doing a reasonable job.
    “Your Majesty,” Brak replied silently. Although the High Arrion had vanished from sight, he didn’t put it past her to be listening in. She was human, after all. Better this conversation be of the mind. Brak was out of practice, but his telepathic ability was merely rusty, not forgotten. It was frightening how easily it all came back to him.
    “I wasn’t sure you would answer my call,” Korandellen said.
    “Your minions left me little choice,” Brak retorted. “Have you any idea what you’ve started by suddenly appearing in the Stone after two centuries of silence?” He realised this was hardly the way to address one’s monarch after a twenty year absence, but he couldn’t help himself. His temper got the better of him. It always did.
    Korandellen looked unrepentant. “I would not have called on you unless the matter was urgent. I know how you feel.”
    “You have no idea at all how I feel, Korandellen. You cannot kill. You cannot even contemplate the thought. You cannot know what it is to live with what I have done.”
    “But you are forgiven,” Korandellen assured him generously.
    “By you, perhaps,” Brak said. “But I will never forgive myself.”
    Korandellen shook his head sadly. “You were not to blame, Brak. You took a life to save a life. Lorandranek was insane. What you did could be viewed as a kindness. You put an end to his pain.”
    “I killed my King. I took his life to save a miserable human.” Brak closed his eyes for a moment as the long buried memories threatened to overwhelm him. He could still recall every detail as if it had happened only yesterday.
    Brak had gone looking for Lorandranek té Ortyn at Korandellen’s request. The mad king disappeared quite often from Sanctuary, sometimes for months at a time. The Sanctuary Mountains seemed to soothe his tortured mind in a way that not even the magical halls of the Harshini could and nobody had the heart to deny him that peace. But summer was drawing to a close and they were worried about him. Lord Dranymire and his demon brethren could feel the king through the bond they shared with the té Ortyn family, but Lorandranek was too close to human settlement for the demons to risk going after him. Brak was half-human. He could move among humans without the need for disguise. He had promised Korandellen he would bring his uncle home.
    He had followed the Harshini king for weeks, through mountains painted a riotous blend of autumn colours, although the trail was almost cold by the time Brak was given the task of tracking down the king. He knew Lorandranek had a fascination for humans that bordered on dangerous. It did not surprise Brak to find