CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“We’ve got to go. The Eld have found a way to send chemar into the forest.” Farel’s grim pronouncement brought Rain and Ellysetta to their feet. He explained quickly about the birdlike creatures. “They’re still twenty miles out, but closing fast. The scouts are going to try to destroy them.”

“Can we outrun them?” Rain asked.

“Nei. Even in an open field at our top speed, we’d still run slower than these creatures fly. They’ll be upon us within the bell. I’ve already asked for thirty-six volunteers to build a Wall of Steel. That should buy us at least some time.”

“Even thirty-six won’t be enough against five Mharog and scores of Mages.”

“I know, but when the first Wall falls, we build another, and another. As many as it takes until you’re clear of the Verlaine and able to Change.”

“What’s a Wall of Steel?” Ellysetta asked.

Rain supplied the answer. “It is a line of warriors who will stand and fight to the death before allowing a single enemy to pass. Once they make their Wall, the only way they’ll leave it is through victory or death.”

“What?” Ellie couldn’t believe she’d heard right. “But that’s suicide!”

“It is the only option.” Farel didn’t meet Ellysetta’s horrified gaze but instead kept his eyes fixed steadily on Rain’s. “I’ve called more dahl’reisen from the borders, but the closest are still three bells out.”

“We’ve got to go. The Eld have found a way to send chemar into the forest.” Farel’s grim pronouncement brought Rain and Ellysetta to their feet. He explained quickly about the birdlike creatures. “They’re still twenty miles out, but closing fast. The scouts are going to try to destroy them.”

“Can we outrun them?” Rain asked.

“Nei. Even in an open field at our top speed, we’d still run slower than these creatures fly. They’ll be upon us within the bell. I’ve already asked for thirty-six volunteers to build a Wall of Steel. That should buy us at least some time.”

“Even thirty-six won’t be enough against five Mharog and scores of Mages.”

“I know, but when the first Wall falls, we build another, and another. As many as it takes until you’re clear of the Verlaine and able to Change.”

“What’s a Wall of Steel?” Ellysetta asked.

Rain supplied the answer. “It is a line of warriors who will stand and fight to the death before allowing a single enemy to pass. Once they make their Wall, the only way they’ll leave it is through victory or death.”

“What?” Ellie couldn’t believe she’d heard right. “But that’s suicide!”

“It is the only option.” Farel didn’t meet Ellysetta’s horrified gaze but instead kept his eyes fixed steadily on Rain’s. “I’ve called more dahl’reisen from the borders, but the closest are still three bells out.”

“No!” Ellysetta stepped directly in front of Farel, forcing him to look at her. “I will not allow it. Do you hear me? We all go, or we all stay. But none of you will be left behind to die. I will not permit it.” Her furious voice rang out, bringing scores of dahl’reisen heads around in surprise.

Farel bowed. “Your concern is appreciated, kem’falla, but we who are the Brotherhood of Shadows no longer live within the glory of the Fading Lands nor answer to her laws. Though we serve her still, we rule ourselves.”

“Rain…”

“Nei, shei’tani. He is correct. No duty or oath binds him to your command, nor even mine. Besides, this is an honorable death.” He met Farel’s gaze. “Choose your men.”

“This is senseless!” she protested. “Let’s at least try to outrun the Mharog before condemning thirty-six men to death!”

But Farel was already walking away, calling his warriors together to ask for volunteers.

Ellysetta spun to confront her mate. “The Fey cannot afford to keep losing its warriors, Rain.”

“These men are already lost, shei’tani, but this is a chance for some of them to regain their honor.”

“Scorch honor! Rain, they can bear children—Fey children. They can bring life back to the Fading Lands.”

“Aiyah, they can bear children, and that is blessing from the gods. But it is you, shei’tani—not these dahl’reisen—who are the true hope of the Fading Lands.” When she made a face and started to turn away, he caught her shoulders in a firm grip and gave her a small shake. “Listen to me. You are the one the Eye of Truth sent me to find. You saved the tairen and brought fertility back to the Fey. Gaelen was right to tell them to protect your life even if it cost the lives of every man, woman, and child in their village. And they are right to abide by his command.”

Ellysetta scowled and pulled free to stalk away. All her life she’d read about the glorious history of the Fey, and she’d wept over histories that detailed the courageous deaths of noble Fey heroes who’d given their lives to hold back the Dark. But it didn’t feel the same when it was her they were dying for.

She knew she couldn’t stop them. When Fey warriors were honor-bound on a course of action, they let nothing stand in their way. Noble, rock-headed idiots. If she didn’t love them so much for their valor, she’d be tempted to kill them herself for their stubbornness.

She spun back to glower at Rain, jaw set, arms crossed. «So be it. But if they can die for me, then I can bless them before they go.»

Rain couldn’t have looked more surprised if she’d slammed a fist in his face. «Ellysetta, nei. You know you cannot touch them.»

Her lips tightened. «They live with their pain day in and day out, for centuries. Surely I can bear it for a few moments.»

«You have no concept of how terrible their true pain is. They’ve been shielding you all this time. You’ve only sensed a fraction of it.»

«You forget I touched Gaelen.»

«And nearly killed us both,» he reminded her grimly. «The hurt they carry is too great for any Fey woman to bear»

She almost faltered then. She remembered the shattering torment of Gaelen’s lost soul. But then she glanced at the stoic faces of the dahl’reisen who had suffered so much, who had been reviled and outcast by the very people they’d lost their souls to protect yet still, nobly, strove to protect them, and determination bloomed anew. «Then help me bear it. Give me your strength.»

«Shei’tani, I am so close to madness, I doubt I could withstand you healing a single rasa right now.»

She bit her lip. She remembered what healing the rasa had done to Rain, how close he’d come to shredding his mental barriers—and he’d not been in the grip of bond madness then. She couldn’t do that to him again. But she couldn’t let the dahl’reisen just walk towards their deaths and do nothing, either.

«Then I will bless them without laying hands upon them. Because, one way or another, I will do this. We owe them that much.»

*   *   *

Many more than thirty-six dahl’reisen came forward to offer their lives for her. So many more that Ellysetta nearly wept to see it. They looked at her with such determination and pride. Despite Rain’s assurances, it did not seem right that so many immortal lives should be sacrificed for hers.

She made no further attempt to dissuade them except to refuse the service of any dahl’reisen with a living mate or child. “No woman will be widowed, no child orphaned, on my behalf,” she declared. Something in her voice, or perhaps the light of battle in her eyes, must have convinced them to heed her word, because two dozen of the volunteers bowed their heads and stepped back, withdrawing as she requested.

From those remaining, Farel selected thirty-six tall, fierce men, all of whom seemed to grow taller and fiercer when Farel chose them. They ringed around him as he gave them their final commands and farewells. When he was finished, each dahl’reisen removed his Soul Quest crystal from around his neck and handed it to Farel. The gesture pierced Ellysetta’s heart. She knew, without asking, why they did it: Warriors heading for certain death would not give the Eld more Tairen’s Eye to pervert into selkahr.

“Wait,” she commanded when the thirty-six would have departed. “Is it not customary for shei’dalins to bless Fey warriors before they head into battle? “

Shock rippled across the dahl’reisens’ faces, and when she approached them, they fell back, casting alarmed looks at Farel first, then Rain. Ellysetta halted. She would not chase these men around like a girl threatening boys with kisses in a schoolyard. “Rain, tell them.”

With a face carved of pure stone, Rain said, “The Feyreisa will bless you before you leave.”

The dahl’reisen stopped in their tracks. Around them, their brethren murmured amongst themselves with a mixture of shock, awe, and disapproval.

“Come here, to me,” she ordered.

The warriors shared uncertain glances, then reluctantly approached her, stopping a man length away and dropping to one knee.

With Rain at her side, she approached the first warrior. “For my shei’tan’s sake, I cannot touch you,” she said. “But I ask that you drop your shields.”

The dahl’reisen lurched back in horror. “Teska, kem’falla,” he pleaded, “I bear shame enough for choosing the Shadowed Path instead of the honor of sheisan’dahlein. Do not blacken my soul further by forcing me to share the evil in my heart with you. Just speaking the words of the blessing is enough—and more than I deserve.”

Anger blossomed in her heart. It was an abomination to her that this man was about to die on her behalf, yet still he thought himself evil and unworthy of a simple kindness. “What is your name?”

The dahl’reisen looked up. His eyes were lavender, almost the same shade as Rain’s. “Varian, kem’falla.”

“Varian, if there were evil in your heart, you would not be trying so hard to spare me from it.” She lifted her chin and glared at them all, her eyes hot with righteous anger. “You are worthy. All of you are worthy. Never doubt it.”

Fierce anger burned inside her at the thought of these proud, brave men fighting and suffering for their people, only to receive banishment and a life of torment as their reward. And even then they continued to defend the very people who had rejected them.

She would not reject them. She would not allow them to flinch from her in shame. She could not stop them from their course, but she would not allow them to face their deaths believing themselves unloved and unworthy.

Ellie reached out and placed her hands on either side of Varian’s face. She did not touch him, but even so his pain and despair screamed up her nerves, radiating from his unshielded body in palpable waves. She gave a choked cry. The agony of his soul was intense, like putting her hand on a hot griddle and willing it to stay there as the flesh seared away. But when Varian started to raise his shields again, she barked “Do not!” and spun a fierce web of Spirit to stop him. She had fought and won the battle to save the tairen kitlings. She would fight and win this battle, too.

Rain’s hands gripped her shoulders. Love and strength poured into her. «Weave your blessing, shei’tani. I am with you.»

At his touch, peace settled over her raging emotions and muted the dahl’reisen’s despair. She closed her eyes, gathering her emotions and summoning the shining golden magic of her shei’dalin’s love. Fierce love. Unwavering acceptance. Belonging. Family. Ellysetta wove those emotions and memories into her thoughts and sent them arrowing into the mind of the warrior whose face she held between her hovering palms.

“You honor me, Varian. May the gods watch over you and keep you safe. Go with my blessing and my love, and come back to me if you can.” Instead of delivering the traditional shei’dalin’s kiss to his brow, she poured upon him a small, radiant burst of her essence, absorbing his terrible sorrow and returning love in its stead.

When she released him, he bent his head and clumsily reformed his shields. Though his dahl’reisen eyes, incapable of tears, remained dry, his shoulders quaked with the force of his emotions. He fumbled with his Fey’cha belts, pulling free one of the many black-handled daggers. Both his hands and his voice shook as he sliced his palm and let six drops of blood fall upon the small blade and spoke the vow of blood-swearing. “I know a dahl’reisen has no right to this honor,” he declared, staring up at Rain, “but I do ask that this pledge be witnessed.”

“Witnessed,” Rain agreed. He glanced at Farel. “The bond requires a second.”

“I do not understand you at all, Tairen Soul,” the dahl’reisen general muttered, his expression wavering between disapproval and disbelief. Then he turned to Varian and barked, “Witnessed. And may the gods have mercy on all our blighted souls.”

Varian’s blade flashed briefly, sealing the bond, and he held it out to Ellysetta, hilt first.

She took the Fey’cha and Rain spun a quick Earth weave to add Varian’s steel alongside the other lu’tan steel woven into her studded scarlet leathers. “Do you have family in the Fading Lands, Varian?”

Startled, the dahl’reisen looked to Rain as if for guidance before answering, “Aiyah, kem’falla. I have two younger brothers—at least I did when the Wars ended.”

“And your parents? “

“They died in the Wars.”

“What are you brothers’ names?”

“I am dahl’reisen. I do not speak their names.”

“Then weave them to me in Spirit. Your brothers should know that dahl’reisen or not, you remain, in your heart, a warrior of honor and a champion of Light. I want their names so that I may tell them.”

After a final, brief hesitation, Varian gave her the names on a wispy thread of Spirit, whispering them as if he feared dread repercussions for speaking them even in his mind. «They are Silvannis and Moren vel Chera, of Lissilin.»

«Beylah vo, Varian vel Chera.»

Rain’s hand touched the small of her back. «Well done, shei’tani.»

She took a deep breath and exhaled the remnant pain from standing so close to an unshielded dahl’reisen. «You were right about his pain. I don’t think I could have borne it without you.»

With Rain at her side, Ellysetta repeated her blessing for each of the remaining warriors. One by one, they hunched over, sobbing as her shei’dalin’s love tore through the numb, emotionless barrier that blanketed their dahl’reisen souls. One by one, they bloodswore themselves to her and gave her the names of any family who’d still been living when they left the Fading Lands.

And when they rose to their feet, one by one they retrieved their Soul Quest crystals from Farel and presented them to Ellysetta.

She did not immediately accept the proffered crystals. All she could think of was the Fey custom of giving a shei’dalin the crystals of the warriors who died on her behalf. Though she had blessed them, though she knew she could not stop them, she was still horrified that they would sacrifice themselves to save her.

«Ellysetta,» Rain’s Spirit voice whispered in her mind. «Look in their faces. Look in their eyes. You have given them back their honor and their hope. This is not a sacrifice to them. This is their salvation.»

Ellysetta looked at her newest lu’tan and realized that Rain was right. The dahl’reisens’ eyes—normally so shadowed and grim—seemed lighter, all but glittering with eagerness. These were not innocent boys, rushing off to their first battle with false expectations of glory and heroism. These were battle-hardened warriors who knew the bitter truth about what they were about to face. And still they embraced their fate willingly, even joyfully.

She held out her hand and accepted their sorreisu’kiyr. “I will hold these for you until your return.”

The lu’tan stepped back. One of them wove Earth, and their leathers changed colors from black to vivid flame, the chest blazoned with a golden tairen rampant whose green eyes glowed with a magical light.

As one, they cried, “Miora felah ti’Feyreisa!“

Before the last echoes of their cheer faded, a familiar, icy tingle ran up Ellysetta’s spine. Her knees went weak, and she had to clutch Rain’s arm to keep from falling. “Rain—” Her voice broke off on a groan as a blanket of agonizing foulness engulfed her.

“What’s wrong?” Farel asked.

Rain turned a grim gaze in his direction. “Not all the chemar were destroyed. The Well is open. The Mharog are here.” «Shei’tani, can you run?»

She inhaled, trying to breathe through the sick agony twisting in her belly. The dahl’reisen were shielded. The Mharog were not, and the cloying horror of them was worse than anything she’d ever felt before. “I’ll manage,” she rasped. “Let’s go.”

Farel gestured, and the dahl’reisen began to run.

The thirty-six who had volunteered for death ran in the opposite direction, the joy in their eyes replaced by lethal determination.

“What’s this?” Primage Dur squinted at the glow of magic in the forest before them. Twelve shining warriors in red leather stood interspaced between a line of gnarled trees, blocking the advance of the Eld. “Who are they?”

“Dahl’reisen,” Azurel hissed.

“Are they… singing? “

“It is a Fey warriors’ song called ‘Ten Thousand Swords.’” The Mharog spat on the ground. “No dahl’reisen sings that song.”

But singing they were. What had the Feyreisen’s mate done that dahl’reisen would sing with all the fierce pride and joy of the Fey?

They continued to sing even as the glow of their magic began to coalesce into thick, powerful ropes. Fire, Earth, Air, Water, Spirit… and then Azrahn. “They use Azrahn freely.” Even at this distance, the sweet chill of the forbidden mystic made the back of his teeth ache and his own power rise in response. “One of them, at least, is a master of it. Or close enough so it makes little difference.”

“Foolish, foolish Fey. Do they not learn?” The Primage sneered, closed his eyes, and sent a whip of Azrahn arrowing across the distance to Mark the fools who wove Azrahn in the presence of a Mage. A moment later, his sneer faded. His brow furrowed. His Mark had found no target. “What’s this?” The Mage spun Azrahn again, and again the dahl’reisen eluded his claiming. “They’ve somehow shielded themselves against my Marks.”

“Just as well.” Azurel closed his fists around hilts of the long, black-bladed knives at his waist that had replaced the curved meicha scimitars he’d once worn. He smiled with eager bloodlust. “I prefer to wet my blades in a fight.”

Beside him, the other Mharog growled deep in their throat, and Azurel could sense they were as eager as he to spill the blood of these dahl’reisen who sang as if they were still Fey. The song, once so beloved, seemed a symbol of all that the Mharog had lost, all that they now reviled.

Without warning, the Eld soldiers behind them gave choked gasps and crumpled. Even as they fell, a red Fey’cha glanced off Azurel’s own, ever-present shields and sliced the unprotected hand of the Eld captain standing beside him. The captain’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of his bleeding hand. His fingers spasmed. Then his arm began to shake as the tairen venom spread rapidly through his veins. Within moments he was gasping for air and clutching at his throat as a white froth bubbled at the corners of his mouth. The poison reached his brain, and he dropped to the ground, stone dead, eyes staring.

Azurel nudged the body aside with one foot and scanned the trees around them. Another barrage of Fey’cha ricocheted off the Mages’ hastily erected shields, followed by a concussive blast as a twelve-fold weave from the first group of dahl’reisen slammed into the forward shields.

“These twelve are not alone. Have your archers clear our flanks.” Azurel directed the attention of the Mages to the dense forest on either side of them. He could sense nothing, but dahl’reisen weren’t fools enough to send a mere twelve blades against five Mharog and so many Mages.

Dur snapped the command on a whip of Azrahn. «Archers, fire. Rain sel’dor on our flanks!»

The air turned black with flying arrows. Azurel watched closely, looking for the telltale energy flares of sel’dor hitting Fey shields. He would be very surprised if the dahl’reisen’s admittedly impressive invisibility weaves could completely hide shields strong enough to block sel’dor.

«One in the large fireoak there, another near that tumble of rocks. Two more in the trees to our left. Earth, on my command. Shake them out of the trees. Now!»

Green Earth arced outward from two of the Mharog, with Azurel directing rippling flows of it both to his left and his right. The ground bucked and heaved. The tumbled pile of boulders shuddered, massive rocks shifting and falling, and the dahl’reisen taking cover there gave a sharp cry, quickly silenced. Nearby, the large oak that sheltered the second dahl’reisen shook wildly from the force of the powerful quake. With a mighty groan, the tree toppled, and as the dahl’reisen in the branches tumbled to the ground, two of the Mharog broke his shields with a six-fold weave, and Dur followed with a blast of Mage Fire that sliced the warrior in half.

The line of trees to the right shivered but stood firm beneath the attack of the two Mharog as a masterful counteractive weave of Earth dispelled the rippling force. The Eld bowmen released another hail of barbed arrows while Mages peppered the woods with globes of blue-white Mage Fire. Beneath the Mharogs’ feet, the earth gave a sudden, heaving lurch that knocked them off-balance.

A shout rose from the back of the infantry formation, and Azurel turned to see the Eld soldiers falling upon themselves, teeth bared in feral snarls as they sliced and hacked at one another. A heavy black-and-lavender weave lay over the Eld like a shroud. He tracked the weave back to its source—more dahl’reisen hidden by their admittedly impressive invisibility weaves—and flung a blistering combination of Fire, Air, and Azrahn at them, but that blast exploded harmlessly against another six-fold shield.

From the front, another brutal, twelve-fold hammer cracked the forward shields. An intense Spirit and Azrahn weave shot through the breech, plowing into two Mages, who suddenly turned and began to throw Mage Fire at their own brothers—incinerating half a dozen Mages and enough of Azurel’s shields to crisp his hair and singe the side of his face before his own red Fey’cha dispatched them.

Azurel touched his scorched flesh. His eyes narrowed.

“Time for you Mages to earn your jewels, Dur,” Azurel snarled to the Mage. “Take out the Spirit masters before all your soldiers slaughter themselves and your weak-minded Mages kill the rest of us. And send something with a kick, not your easily diverted little fireballs. The ones spinning Spirit are directing most of their energy into the illusion weaves, but the others are shielding them. The Mharog will take care of the blades in front.”

Dur nodded grimly. “Mages!” Blue-white Mage Fire gathered in Mage hands, a glowing ball that grew larger and brighter, illuminating the concentration and strain on the Mage’s face as he fed power into it. The massive fireballs shot out of the Mages’ hands straight at the Spirit master. The Mharog spun a four-fold weave to box in the Spirit master so he couldn’t leap clear of the Mage Fire’s path.

Trapped, the dahl’reisen dropped his invisibility weave. He faced, unflinching, the approaching fire and screamed defiance into its consuming maw, “Miora felah ti’Feyreisa! “

The Mage Fire plowed into him and flared with a thunderous boom. When it dissipated, the dahl’reisen Spirit master was gone. Without his energy to sustain it, his weave dissolved, and the Eld soldiers under its control came to their senses, shaking themselves and looking about in shock.

Dur took out the other Spirit masters in the same manner, and after that the air filled with flying Fey’cha, Mage Fire, arrows, and magic. The remaining dahl’reisen fell after a brief but intense battle.

The last to die was a lavender-eyed dahl’reisen. He lay mortally wounded, the lower half of his body in ruins. As Azurel approached, the fallen man gave a bloody, triumphant smile and plunged a red Fey’cha into his own chest.

“Miora felah ti’Feyreisa,” he whispered as his body spasmed. A moment later, his eyes went blank, and his head lolled to one side. The smile remained on his face even in death.

Azurel knelt beside the corpse. Azrahn came to his call, whirling in his palm as he tried to summon the dead man’s soul.

But for the first time in his five hundred years of being Mharog, something blocked him.

Frowning, he fed more energy into his Azrahn weave, trying to force the dahl’reisen’s soul to answer his call.

Still, it did not come.

Instead, a great blinding light rushed up at him. Furious, defiant love, so hot it made the ice of his soul crack and shudder. In sudden, breathless terror, he ripped apart his Azrahn weave and threw himself back away from the dahl’reisen‘s corpse.

“What’s the matter?” Dur asked.

Azurel bit back a sharp curse and rose to his feet. “His soul is bound. It cannot be summoned.”

“What do you mean ‘bound’? Bound to what?”

“To her, you idiot. His soul is bound to her. Bloodsworn.”

Azurel stalked to the next closest dahl’reisen corpse. Steeling himself to confront the white light, he tried to summon the second dahl’reisen’s soul. It, too, defied his call. As did the next, and the next, and the next. “They’re all bloodsworn. Every scorching one of them. That’s why you could not Mark them when they wove Azrahn.” Azurel’s fists clenched, and his teeth ground together. “Never would I have believed Rainier vel’En Daris would allow dahl’reisen to bloodswear themselves to his truemate.”

Dur eyed him skeptically. “The Mages bind the souls of all their followers, but those souls can still be summoned after death.”

“Bloodswearing is different. It is more like shei’tanitsa than your soul-binding. They have willingly tied their souls to hers, dedicated themselves to serve only her in life and in death. It is a compact that cannot be broken or perverted.” Through a combination of Magecraft, Feraz black magic, and Merellian demon sorcery, the High Mage had managed to tie a tairen’s soul to Shannisorran v’En Celay’s but never had he succeeded in calling v’En Celay’s soul to his service. Nor had he ever have been able to claim a bloodsworn soul. “Step aside and let me try.”

Azurel’s eyes narrowed, but he stepped back and allowed the prideful Primage to approach the dahl’reisen’s corpse. He watched as Dur summoned Azrahn and called to the dead man’s soul, watched him feed more power into his summons, and almost smiled as the Mage swore and threw himself away from the body.

“What was that?” Dur gasped.

“That was Rain Tairen Soul’s mate—or rather, the power of her bloodsworn bond. It defends the souls in her keeping.” “It felt like… love.”

Azurel’s lips curled. “Of course. Love is the greatest power of a shei’dalin. With it, she could break you completely. Every evil you have ever worked, she could force you to relive through the eyes of those who loved your victims. You would shred your own flesh from your bones in self-loathing.”

“I never believed the stories were true.”

“Now you know differently.” Few of the Mages who’d earned their blue robes after the Wars had ever seen a shei’dalin at work. Most had only ever known those broken creatures captured by the Mages, bound with sel’dor, and tortured to insanity. And so they thought shei’dalins were weak and insignificant. They forgot that the truemate bond did not form between uneven halves. The truemate of a powerful Fey Lord would have her own power, vastly different but nonetheless equal in strength to her mate’s.

Azurel called Fire to incinerate the dahl’reisen dead. “There were only thirty-six dahl’reisen. This ambush was not meant to stop us, only slow us down.” He held out a hand. “Give me more chemar.”

This time, Dur didn’t hesitate before handing over another ten stones. Azurel dumped them on the ground. A chime later, another flock of deadwood birds winged skyward, chemar clutched in their talons.

Tears blinded Ellysetta, but she ran without slowing.

The ones who’d gone to hold back the Mharog were dead. She’d felt each one of them as they perished, Varian the last. They’d died not in fear, but in joy.

She’d felt that, too.

Rain ran close at her side. His soul sang to hers with love and pride, and he wrapped her in supporting weaves, feeding her his strength as they ran.

The bloodsworn dahl’reisen had slain scores of Eld soldiers, more than a dozen of the Mages, and even one Mharog. Still, she wept. They had been strangers to her until today, yet each had willingly died to prevent her from falling into Mage hands. She wept because somewhere—either in this world or the next—there were mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers who had loved them. She wept because those men had not died as strangers but as her friends. In giving her blessing and accepting their oaths in return, she had taken a little bit of each warrior into herself, and it lived there still. It always would.

The dahl’reisen around her sang a warrior’s lament on weaves of Spirit.

She answered with her own, an elegy Celierian women sang when their men returned from war not in glory but in caskets. She wept as she sang. It was a song meant for weeping.

«Enough, shei’tani,» Rain said, when the last note died away. «You will have us all on our knees if you do not stop.»

Surprised by Rain’s remark, she wiped her eyes and turned to find tears streaming down his own face. The dahl’reisen ringed closest around them were white-faced, their eyes dark with the torment of tears they could not shed.

«You wove your sorrow as you sang.»

«Sieks’ta.»

«Nei, do not apologize. It is good to mourn them. They died with honor, as Fey should die.»

«I would mourn them even if they did not.»

«Aiyah, but it is better that they are deserving of your tears. And it will ease their families’ sorrow to know they died with honor. If we survive this war and are allowed to return to the Fading Lands, I will accompany you to visit the families of the ones who died today.»

She nodded. «Do you think Varian and the others bought us enough time?»

Rain met her gaze, his eyes bleak. He shook his head.

Celieria ~ Dahl’reisen Village
8^th day of Seledos

Outside the bedroom window of the dahl’reisen house perched high in the treetops, the skies over the Verlaine had lightened with the first blush of the coming dawn.

Sheyl smoothed a damp cloth over Carina’s forehead, brushing back tangles of sweat-darkened hair and weaving what relief she could to ease the woman’s pain. She’d tried for bells yesterday to keep the child from coming, but the birth would not be stopped. Sheyl wasn’t sure she was a powerful enough healer to keep either mother or child alive—the child was coming months too soon, and the labor was not an easy one. Throughout the night, she’d spun healing weaves on the child in the womb, hoping to mature its lungs and heart enough that it could breathe on its own after birth. Sheyl knew her own death would come today, but she hoped to spare Carina and her child.

“Arin…” Carina whimpered, calling once more for the dead father of her child. “I want Arin…”

“I know, dearling. I know. Shh. Save your strength for yourself and your baby. That’s what he would want.” She moved down to the foot of the bed to check the baby’s progress.

“The child is coming. I can see the baby’s head. Push now, Carina.”

The woman’s teeth clenched, a strangled cry rising in her throat as she strained to push the child from her womb. A few chimes later, Carina’s son greeted the world with his first, weak squall. Sheyl handed the child into his mother’s arms then swiftly went to work delivering the afterbirth and spinning a healing weave to seal off ruptured blood vessels that threatened to hemorrhage Carina’s life away.

The door to the chamber opened. One of the warriors who’d stayed behind to guard Sheyl and Carina poked his head in. “The Eld are here. We’ve got to go.”

“She still too weak. She’ll die if we move her.”

“She’ll die if we don’t.” He pushed into the room and bent to scoop Carina up from the blood-soaked sheets. “I’ll carry her. You run. Now.”

The barked command left Sheyl little desire to argue. She ran.

Outside the bedroom, away from the privacy weave the dahl’reisen had spun to silence Carina’s labor cries, the cacophony of war was deafening. Mage Fire had shattered the village shields and now bombarded the village without pause. Felled trees toppled like slain giants, crashing down upon one another. Fire burned all around, its orange flames devouring the autumn bracken on the forest floor, licking hungrily at the trunks of trees, climbing the vine ladders and hanging stairs with ferocious speed.

This was her vision—the death and destruction she’d seen. The world seemed to slow as she turned her head to the left, looking for the death strike she knew was coming. She saw the Mage archers break through the thicket wall, arrows nocked, bowstrings taut. She saw the gloved fingers release, and the black, barbed arrows fly like deadly, soaring birds. One of the dahl’reisen shouted and spun a fiery wind to intercept the arrows’ flight, but he was too late.

The arrow slammed into her breast with enough force to propel her backward. She lay on the ground, staring up, breathless and dazed, as the top of a nearby tree crashed down upon her.

The Fading Lands ~ Dharsa

“Why did Kieran and Kiel have to leave again? I’m worried, Lorelle. I’ve got a bad feeling. Like maybe we’ll never see them again.”

Lillis frowned as she rolled the small jingle ball across the beautifully woven carpet in the center of the even-more-beautiful bedroom she and Lorelle had been assigned in the Fey palace. The twin golden bells tied to the pretty white stone at the center of the mesh ball chimed merrily as the ball rolled. The same man who had given Lillis and Lorelle their kittens had also given them the jingle balls. Though most had been crushed by their fall on the mountain, this one had miraculously survived.

Snowfoot, her kitten, pounced on the ball and batted it between his small paws with pure, kittenish delight, and while normally that would make Lillis laugh and want to cuddle her adorable pet, at the moment she barely even noticed the kitten’s antics. Her mind was somewhere else. Somewhere troubling.

Lorelle scowled. “Honestly, Lillis, what’s wrong with you? We’re here in a beautiful, Fey-tale palace, in a beautiful, Fey-tale room. Papa’s here, and happier than I’ve seen him in ages—did you see that workshop Lord Dax had set up for him? When this war is over, Ellie and Rain and Kieran and Kiel and Bel and everybody are going to come home, and we’ll all be happier than ever.”

“I’m just worried, that’s all.”

Lorelle jumped up. “Well, don’t be! Kiel and Kieran are going to be fine. They are!” She stamped a foot for emphasis. She stalked over to the arched doorway leading to the balcony outside their room and stood beside the sheer drape billowing gently in the breeze. Her arms crossed over her thin chest. “We’re all going to be fine,” she insisted again, as if to convince herself as much as Lillis.

A knock on the door made them both turn.

“Come in,” Lillis called.

The crystal doorknob turned, and the door pushed inward. A beautiful Fey lady—was there any other kind?—stood on the threshold. She had lovely long, black hair hanging in ringlets down her back, and the prettiest eyes Lillis had ever seen, deep blue-green and as bright as gems. She looked like she’d stepped from the pages of a Fey tale, clad in a gown of flowing green fabric embroidered with tiny golden leaves, flowers, and birds.

“Hello,” Lillis greeted. “Who are you?”

“My name is Tealah. I was—am—a friend of your sister, the Feyreisa.”

With a spurt of sudden eagerness, Lillis clambered to her feet. “You know Ellie?”

“Ellie.” For a moment Tealah looked confused. “Ah, you mean Ellysetta Feyreisa. Aiyah. We spent many bells together when she was here. I am the Keeper of the Hall of Scrolls, and she liked to read very much.” Slender black brows arched in inquiry. “Do you girls like to read, too?”

“I do.” Lillis cast a despairing glance over her shoulder at her twin. “Lorelle prefers to play Pirates and Damsels.”

“That’s not true.” Lorelle uncrossed her arms to put her hands on her hips. “I like to read. I just don’t like to read all those mushy lovey-lovey stories you like.”

“She likes reading about sword fights,” Lillis said with a sigh. “And about all the battles in the Mage Wars. As long as there’s blood and violence, and someone dies, she’s happy.”

“I see.” With a smile that suddenly looked a little nervous, Tealah said, “Well, I thought perhaps you might like to spend some time with me today at the Hall of Scrolls. I’m sure we can find something to… ah… entertain both of you.”

Lillis snatched up Snowfoot, and a flailing paw sent the jingle-ball rolling. “Can we bring our kittens?”

Tealah looked from Lillis to Lorelle, who had bent to pick up Pounce. The twins both smiled as sweet and innocent as young Lightmaidens and made their eyes very large and pleading.

“I… I suppose so.” Tealah nodded. “Aiyah, why not?”

Twin smiles beamed bright as the Great Sun. Clutching their kittens to their chests, the girls skipped out of their bedroom, out of the palace, and down the hillside as Tealah led the way to the Hall of Scrolls.

In their bedroom, the small jingle ball with its white stone came to rest out of sight beneath a large chest of drawers.

Celieria ~ Verlaine Forest

“We’re surrounded.” Farel delivered the news without a hint of emotion. They’d been on the run all night and into the morning. Several more Walls of Steel had stood—and perished—but the Mages and Mharog kept coming.

Rain’s arms tightened around Ellysetta. She’d sensed the opening of the Well half a bell ago, and Farel’s scouts had traced the sickly sweet odor of Azrahn back to four portals ringing their current position. “So we make our stand here,” Rain said.

“Nei. We’re only thirty miles from the forest’s edge. The reinforcements I sent for are attempting to flank the Eld blocking our path. Our best hope is to push forward.” His fingers closed around the hilts of his meicha in a tight grip. “Sieks’ta. I thought traveling through the Verlaine was the safest route, but it seems I’ve only endangered your lives by slowing our escape.”

“You owe us no apology,” Ellysetta said. “If not for you, we’d already either be dead or prisoners of the High Mage.”

“I spoke with the reinforcements I sent to the village. The Eld beat them there by half a bell, but the Brotherhood was able to rout them. The Mharog and a dozen Mages escaped—I expect they’ll join the others here shortly—but the rest perished. The dahl’reisen have already Fired the village and gone to escort the women and children safely to the Garreval.”

Something about Farel’s expression made her stomach clench with dread. “But everyone got out safely before the Eld arrived… didn’t they?”

“Almost everyone. A woman and her newborn son perished, along with ten of the dahl’reisen who stayed behind to protect her while she gave birth. Sheyl was wounded.”

“Is she going to be all right?”

“Aiyah. The warriors found her unconscious and trapped beneath a fallen tree, but once they were able to free her and revive her, she was able to heal herself. She’s running with them now to catch the others up.”

Ellysetta watched him closely. “You don’t look happy at the news.”

“I’m happy she’s alive—especially as that gives me the chance to wring her neck when I see her again.” His lips compressed in a thin line, and a hint of anger lit his eyes. “She admitted to me she’d seen her death. The night you came to our village, she told me she’d had a vision of me escorting you both out of the Verlaine, but that was a lie. The only vision she saw was of her own death, and she sent me away with you because she didn’t want me to die trying to protect her from a death she knew couldn’t be stopped.”

“But she’s alive,” Ellysetta pointed out. “So clearly her vision was wrong.”

“Her visions are never wrong. She was supposed to die, just as she saw.” Farel straightened and met her gaze full on. “But you changed that. You gave her a gift—a sorreisu’kiyr pendant. It stopped the arrow meant for her heart. You changed her fate, Feyreisa. You saved her life, in a way no one but the gods could have done, and for that I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

“I will not hear any more talk of debts owed,” Ellysetta said. “You saved our lives. Any possible debt has already been paid in kind.”

“Nei, we rescued you from Eld for Gaelen, for all the times he sacrificed for us. My debt to you still stands.” He shifted his gaze to Rain. “I have spoken with the dahl’reisen and told them how your mate saved Sheyl. Many of them have been thinking about Varian and the others. About how like Fey they looked when they left. They died with joy—and with more honor than a dahl’reisen has a right to expect.”

“They died with the honor of a lu’tan,” Rain corrected. “No matter what Dark choices they may have made in the past, today they chose sheisan’dahlein.”

Farel’s fingers plucked one of his Fey’cha from its sheath, and he bent his head to polish a nonexistent spot on the gleaming steel. “We are also prepared to die for the Feyreisa today, but we want…” He broke off, cleared his throat, and rephrased. “That is to say, my brothers and I would humbly ask…”

Rain cut him off. “You wish to bloodswear yourselves to Ellysetta.”

The dahl’reisen leader looked up, making a visible effort to meet and hold Rain’s gaze. “I know that you have no reason to offer us a salvation we do not deserve… and in all honesty, I must tell you we intend to weave Azrahn in her defense.”

“Aiyah.”

Farel continued in a rush. “Six-fold weaves are much more effective than five, and we could do more to defend her with them if we were free to weave Azrahn without fear of Mage Marks.”

“Aiyah.”

“Bloodsworn to a shei’dalin as bright as the Feyreisa, we might even—” Farel broke off, blinking in shock at Rain’s swift, unequivocal assent. “Aiyah? You mean… you agree?”

“Aiyah.” Rain covered Ellysetta’s hand with his and threaded his fingers through hers. “I agree it is the best solution.”

“I—” Farel’s mouth opened and closed. “Just like that?”

Rain gave a weary smile. “Just like that.”

The last few bells, with the torment of the dahl’reisen and the foul presence of the Mharog beating at Ellysetta, forcing her to divert more of her energy to shield herself, he’d begun to feel the effects of the bond madness more strongly. His thoughts were becoming cloudy and confused. Rage simmered just below the paper-thin surface of his control, and he knew that open battle with Mages and Mharog would quickly shred what semblance of sanity he still retained. When that happened, Ellysetta would need as many protectors as she could get—including ones willing and able to slay him.

Even if he did survive this battle, he had no illusions about surviving the war. Without him, all hope of erasing Ellysetta’s Mage Marks through shei’tanitsa would be lost, and the Massan would never let her return to the Fading Lands. These dahl’reisen, so unafraid of spinning Azrahn, were no strangers to protecting those Marked by the Mages. Perhaps, after his death, they would be able to find a way to free her of her Marks as he had not.

It was a risk. A scorching triple tairen-sized risk. If Ellysetta did fall to the Dark, a bloodsworn army of dahl’reisen would make her even more dangerous. But, then, Hawks-heart had already said if Ellysetta fell to the Dark, all Light in the world would fall with her. Whether she went with the dahl’reisen at her side or without them, the end result would be the same.

“Gather your men. She will not bless them—I don’t think either of us could survive her blessing four hundred dahl’reisen—but they can swear their bonds, and I will stand witness.”

“I—” Farel closed his gaping mouth and snapped into a deep bow. “Beylah vo, Feyreisen. For my men and I, I thank you.” Farel started to leave, then turned back. “I almost forgot. Sheyl gave me a message for you, Feyreisa. She had another vision while she lay trapped beneath that tree. A vision about you. She said to tell you that when all seems lost, let love, not fear, be your guide.”

Ellysetta looked surprised. “Hawksheart said almost the exact same thing to me when we were leaving Navahele.”

“I would say it was coincidence,” Rain answered, frowning, “but when it comes to Elves and their portents, there’s no such thing.”

“At least the message sounds more hopeful than ominous,” Farel said. “I hope it serves you well.” And with that, he gave a final bow and strode away to gather his men.

The bloodswearing went quickly. With the enemy approaching, there was no time for pomp or ceremony. The dahl’reisen knelt in groups, and in unison each group of warriors swore on their life’s blood and black Fey’cha steel to protect and defend Ellysetta Feyreisa in this life and the death that followed. Farel was among the last to pledge his bond.

When they were done, the pile of steel at Ellysetta’s feet was too large to even contemplate weaving into her leathers. Instead, dahl’reisen Earth masters gathered and spun her leathers and bloodsworn blades into a gleaming, more feminine steel replica of Rain’s golden armor, complete with its own full complement of blades and a scarlet-plumed helm.

The dahl’reisen formed a circular Wall of Steel twelve dahl’reisen deep around Rain and Ellysetta. Earth magic pulsed with sudden energy, and black leathers flashed to vivid scarlet, emblazoned with a golden tairen rampant with green eyes. The shout rang up from hundreds of dahl’reisen throats, a joyful, defiant cry: “Miora felah ti’Feyreisa!“

And they began to sing.