by C. L. Wilson
“Anything, Annoura?” he asked. “Will you give yourself to me, heart and soul, willingly and without reservation? Will you surrender everything you are to me? “
Annoura hesitated. Something in Dorian’s voice didn’t sound right, and for a moment she could swear his hazel eyes had turned dark—almost black.
Her hesitation must have convinced him she was insincere, because he started to fade again. She could feel him growing insubstantial in her hands, dissolving like mist.
“Wait!” she cried. If she let him go, she would wake and find herself alone again. And the pain of that aloneness was more than she could bear. She’d do anything to keep him with her, even just as a dream. “Yes. Yes, of course. Anything, Dorian. Only don’t leave me.”
His hand caressed her face. “Then say it, dearest. You must say the words, so I can stay with you.”
She didn’t know the words he meant, but suddenly they were there, on her tongue, tumbling past her lips. “I surrender myself to you without reservation. My body and soul are yours to command.” The moment she said the words, it was like some bubble of pressure burst inside her, and she drew a sobbing breath. “Now please, Dorian, please stay with me. Please.”
Dorian smiled. “Of course, darling.” He bent to claim her mouth in a deep and passionate kiss.
As he did, a sudden, piercing coldness stabbed Annoura’s heart. She cried out in surprise, and began to struggle against him. Her eyes opened in sudden fear, and her mouth opened to scream.
In the bedchamber of the late King Dorian X, Kolis Manza blew another puff of somulus powder into the waking queen’s face. Instantly, the scream died silent in her throat, and her beautiful blue eyes went hazy once more. Her naked, struggling body went lax and pliable against his.
“I’m here, darling,” he whispered reassuringly. “I’ll never leave you again.” His tongue thrust deep into her mouth as his sex plunged deep into her body.
And on the satiny, alabaster skin of Annoura’s left breast, the shadow of Kolis Manza’s first Mark lay like a bruise over her heart.
Elvia ~ Navahele
In the heart of Elvia’s ancient Deep Woods, the Sentinel tree called Grandfather, a colossal arboreal giant planted in the Time Before Memory, spread his branches wide across the mossy glens and misty silver pools of the great Elvish city of Navahele. Far, far beneath the surface of Grandfather’s island, burrowed into the heartwood of his mile-deep taproot, the Elf king Galad Hawksheart floated in the phosphorescent blue glow of his Mirror pool. Long strands of golden hair floated about his face and shoulders. The cream-colored fabric of his full leggings floated, too, transparent and weightless in the water of the pool. His eyes were closed, their piercing green vision turned inward, as his mind and his soul traveled through the complex webs of the Dance, seeking answers, revelation. Understanding.
For the first time in his ten thousand years, Galad Hawks-heart was blind. The Song—Ellysetta Erimea’s Song, to which he had dedicated his entire life and sacrificed countless others—was singing, but he could not See its Verses clearly.
And so he submerged himself in the magical waters of his Mirror, and every chime of the day and night, he searched the Dance for the answers that eluded him.
A familiar sentience brushed his consciousness. Cool and ageless. He recognized her instantly, of course.
His sister, his twin, Illona Brighthand, the Lady of Silvermist. Queen and coruler of Elvia, though she had long ago left Navahele—and, with it, him. She had secluded herself in her palace in the cloud-forests of the Silvermist mountains, leaving the rule of all Elvia east of those mountains to him—along with all interaction in the world on behalf of the Dance. She had never spoken to him again after leaving.
And so they had lived the last two thousand years.
Until now.
Galad. She spoke his name, and her voice was like a crystal chime upon the wind. So pure, so beautiful. Gentle, yet so fiercely unyielding.
Sister. He included no warmth, no surprise, in the voice he sent soaring across time and space, but she would not be fooled. Of all creatures in the world, she knew him better than anyone, even Grandfather.
Erimea’s Song confounds you.
Of course she knew. She had her own Mirror in Silvermist. She left the interpretation of the Dance to him, but that did not mean she did not watch, as he did. She also knew how to follow the faint ethereal traces of his presence, to know which Verses of the Song he had Seen, which he had returned to time and time again.
Most of all, she knew which Verses should have been certain, fixed, unchangeable—and which, now, were not.
She is leinah thaniel. Illona’s cool voice whispered across his mind.
You don’t know that, he retorted. The Dark One may simply have chosen to play a different Verse. That was the one limitation of Elvish Sight. They could never See Shadow clearly except where there was Light. He could watch his cousin Elfeya’s torture in Eld because she was of the Light, but Eld activities that involved only other Shadowfolk appeared only sporadically, and then only as murky, constantly-shifting possibilities instead of certainties. Past events were easier to see, but to Shadow-Sung futures, he remained dangerously blind.
You know I am right.
Bayas.
All the denial in the world won’t change the truth, Galad. She is what she is. Bayas, he denied.
Anio. She is leinah thaniel. The Elves must go to war. No matter the cost, we cannot let Shadow win.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eld ~ Boura Fell
“Master Maur!” Primage Vargus stood at attention as the High Mage strode into the war room in a swirl of purple silk and visible purpose. “Your orders, Most High?”
“It is time. Tell the generals to prepare their men. They attack on my signal.”
“Yes, Most High. I’ll contact them immediately.”
Vadim leaned against the map table, with its glowing vertical display of the armies and battlefields stretched across Celieria’s northern border. “And tell Horan to release his pets.”
Celieria ~ Orest
“Lord Teleos!” The armored soldier raced from the battlements of Upper Orest into what had once been a lush conservatory overlooking the magnificent falls of Kierya’s Veil and Maiden’s Gate. The building now served as Lord Teleos’s command center, and the soaring glass walls and ceilings provided a perfect panoramic view of Upper Orest and the vast stretch of Eld and Celieria to the east, separated by the wide dark ribbon of the Heras River.
Devron Teleos looked up from the table where he and his generals were reviewing the defense plans for Upper Orest and the hastily rebuilt lower city. The look on the approaching soldier’s face brought Lord Teleos to his feet, his spine stiffening with a mix of dread and grim resolve. “What is it?”
“Something approaches in the skies to the north, my lord,” the soldier gasped.
Teleos headed to the glass walls of the conservatory. One of the Celierian generals was already there, spyglass raised and pointed north. “What in the Bright Lord’s name is that?”
Teleos followed the man’s gaze and saw tiny black specks on the horizon. What appeared to be a flock of dark birds was flying towards them across the forests of Eld. The Fey blood in Lord Teleos’s veins had blessed him with a variety of gifts, including the ability to see much greater distances than mortal eyes could. His eyes narrowed, bringing the distant shapes into closer focus. He saw the barbed and taloned wings, the long white fangs, the iridescent sheen of black scales, and the bottom dropped out of his stomach.
“Bright Lord save us,” he breathed. “Dragons. Dragons are coming.” To the gathered Celierian military leaders, he issued a spate of orders. “Captain Morrow, sound the alarm. Get the women and children to Maiden’s Gate. Order every able-bodied man and boy capable of wielding a bow to report to the armories. And light the signal fires. We’re going to need all the help we can get before this is over. General Arlon, tell the cannoneers to arm the bowcannon with i
ce shot.”
To the Fey general who had led his men to Dharsa to defend Orest from the Eld, Dev said, “General vel Shevahn, we’ll need every Fey you can spare on the wizard’s wall.”
The Fey bowed his head. “Already done, Lord Teleos. We’ll shield as much of the city as we can against dragon fire, but be aware that whatever we do to keep out the dragons will keep the tairen out, too. And we’ll have to lower the wall shields each time we fire, or the ice shot will be useless. “
“Understood. Do what you can.” On threads of Spirit spun intentionally too weak to travel far, he added, «And call the Feyreisen. I count twenty dragons coming in. The tairen are outnumbered.»
Celieria ~ Kreppes
Rain and Ellysetta raced for the clearing just south of their encampment. The defenders of Orest were in trouble. Four tairen didn’t stand a chance against twenty dragons, even with the Mists to aid them.
Torasul had already sung the call to Sybharukai, and except for two of the great cats remaining behind to watch over the kits, Fey’Bahren had emptied. The entire pride was winging towards Orest to protect their kin and fight alongside the Fey and Lord Teleos’s men.
Rain wished he could say the same for the Fey, but a frantic weave to the Massan had proved that blind idiocy still reigned supreme in the Fading Lands’ governing council. They were convinced that Rain, not the Eld, were to blame for the war and that Rain’s devotion to Ellysetta had blinded him to the danger she posed.
«lf not for you, there would be no war!» Tenn accused. «From the moment you arrived in Celieria, you convinced yourself the Eld were a threat to the world, and you refused to hear a single voice of reason. You beat the drums of war without cease. You convinced Dorian to build up his troops. You built Fey garrisons at Orest and Teleon, built up Fey and Celierian military presence on the borders. Is it any wonder the Eld attacked?
«You, Tairen Soul, made Celieria the target. You—not the Eld—ordered thousands of fine Fey warriors to their deaths! But the Massan will not endanger more Fey lives by condoning your madness and your senseless war of aggression against Eld.»
«You are a fool, Tenn,» Rain replied. «I am not the enemy. Perhaps you think I don’t deserve to wear the crown your brother once did. But Johr Feyreisen would never have condoned your actions. You bring shame to your family line.»
«How dare you!»
«I give you fair warning, v’En Eilan. When this is over, and Ellysetta and I have completed our bond, I intend to claim my throne. I suggest you do not stand in the way.»
Magic exploded in a billowing cloud of gray mist as Rain Changed on the run and soared into the sky. He wheeled back and dipped low over the field. Ellysetta timed her mount perfectly, leaping up on a jet of Air and landing in the saddle as he dove past.
«Bel, Gaelen, gather the Fey and as many Celierians as can be spared and follow us,» Rain commanded. «The Massan have refused their support. We’re on our own, but we can’t let the Eld take the Veil.»
«We’ll be right behind you, Rain,» Bel vowed.
«Steli-chakai, we’ll be flying fast. Come when you can—and fly high to keep out of bowcannon range.»
With a roar, Rain banked in a tight circle, and with a burst of magic-powered speed, rocketed high into the sky, heading west, towards Orest and the gateway to the Fading Lands.
The Faering Mists
“Lorelle, I don’t think I like it here anymore.” Lillis clutched Snowfoot to her chest so tight, the little kitten mewed a protest and scratched her hand trying to get free. Lillis barely even noticed. The scratch didn’t hurt and almost as soon as it appeared, it disappeared again, healed by the magic that filled everything and everyone in this valley.
She wanted for nothing. She and Lorelle had a beautiful bedroom of their own filled with all the treasures and toys they could ever wish for. They had an entire roomful of beautiful dresses to wear and delicious foods to eat—including so many rich, powdery chocolate comfits that they’d practically made themselves sick gorging on them.
But despite her joy at being reunited with Mama, something about this place didn’t feel right.
No matter how many sweets they ate, Mama never objected. And Lorelle, who could be so irritating sometimes, had been inexplicably pleasant and good-natured.
Lillis asked about Kieran and Kiel several times now, but each time the beautiful Fey lady Eiliss—or one of the dozens of other beautiful Fey lords and ladies with her—would smile gently, and say, “Patience, kitling. If they survived the battle, they would want you to remain here, where you are safe.”
Papa and Mama seemed in no rush to find Kieran either. Or to leave.
“But it’s so peaceful and beautiful here,” Papa said, when she talked to him about it. “We’re all together and we’re all safe here. Isn’t that enough, Lillipet?”
At first it had seemed so. At first it had seemed perfect. But now, even though only a few days had passed, the perfection was beginning to wear thin. Part of the problem was, they weren’t all together. Ellysetta wasn’t with them. Kieran and Kiel weren’t with them.
And no one but Lillis seemed the slightest bit interested in finding them.
Lillis stroked Snowfoot, then knelt on the floor to nuzzle the kitten’s tiny nose and roll one of the pretty latticework jingle balls across the carpet. Snowfoot leapt upon the ball and swatted it with a tiny paw, sending it rolling across the floor. The bells chimed merrily against the pretty white stone in the ball’s center.
“Maybe we should try to find Kieran and Kiel on our own,” she told Lorelle.
Beside her, Lorelle looked up with a frown, then tossed her own jingle ball for her kitten, Pounce. “Mama and Papa would never allow it. We don’t have any idea where we are or how to find our way back. We’d get lost.” Pounce leapt for the ball, missed, and went sliding across the polished marble floor with his limbs splayed and an expression of pure bewilderment on his fuzzy face. “Besides, you heard Lady Eiliss yesterday. We should stay put until they find Kieran and Kiel, or Kieran and Kiel find us. It’s much too dangerous to go wandering around.”
Lillis frowned. “I don’t think anyone is looking for Kieran or Kiel at all. If they were, why wouldn’t they have found them?”
“We’re in the middle of the Faering Mists,” Lorelle replied. “It’s hard to find anything in here.”
“Lady Eiliss found us easily enough. And Papa. And how can Mama really be here?” Snowfoot pounced on his jingle ball again, sending it skittering, and Lillis caught the toy with an idle hand. Her brows knit together. The worry that had been preying on her mind roused again, and this time it would not be brushed aside. “Lorelle… do you think maybe we’re all”—she bit her lip and whispered her growing fear aloud—“dead? And this is really the Haven of Light? Eiliss looks beautiful enough to be a Lightmaiden.”
“Of course not.” Lorelle rejected the idea immediately, and for the first time since Lillis had come to this city in the Mists, Lorelle’s brows furrowed in a very Lorelle-like scowl. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Lillis lunged for her twin and threw her arms around her throat in a fervent hug.
“Hey!” Lorelle exclaimed in surprise. “What was that for?”
“Nothing. Everything.” Tears sprang to Lillis’s eyes. She swiped at them with backs of her hands. “It’s just that’s the first time you’ve really seemed like you since I got here.”
“You ninnywit.” Lorelle gave her a shove.
Lillis rocked back, laughed, then hugged her again, even tighter this time. “Oh, Lorelle, I’ve been so worried. Everything seemed so perfect, so wonderful. More like a dream than anything real.”
“Why is that so bad?”
“It’s not.” Lillis frowned. “It’s just that…”
“Aren’t you happy here?”
“Yes… but…” She couldn’t put her fears into words. The sense of… not exactly wrongness, but more of a not-rightness. She frowned. Lorelle usually knew wh
at she was feeling even before she did. Why didn’t she now?
“Just be happy, Lillis, and enjoy this place. We’re safe here. Nothing can hurt us. We’re with Mama and Papa. We have everything we need—and everything we’ve ever wanted.”
“But not Ellie. And not Kieran and Kiel either.”
Before Lorelle could answer, a knock sounded on the door.
Lillis put a finger to her lips and signaled Lorelle not to answer. Lorelle ignored her and called out, “Come in.”
The door opened, and Eiliss, the tall, shining woman who had found Lillis, stood in the threshold. She wore a gown that sparkled like snow in sunlight, and her long, golden brown hair tumbled down her back in lustrous ringlets. A circlet of fragrant white Amarynth crowned her head, and her warm amber eyes made Lillis want to laugh with joy and forget all about silly things like whether or not this—and she—were real.
“Come, ajianas,” Eiliss said. “We have visitors. I think you will both be pleased to see them.”
With a cry of excitement, Lorelle bounced to her feet and bounded out. Lillis paused to pick up Snowfoot, then followed more slowly. Eiliss led the way down the corridors of the beautiful building out into the verdant town square, where fingers of mist swirled and eddied around soaring conifers and evergreens, and a central fountain splashed like the melody of a peaceful song.
There, at the center of a cluster of Fey villagers, stood two Fey warriors clad in black leather: one with flowing, waist-length blond hair, the other with shining chestnut. At the sound of Lorelle’s excited squeal, they turned in unison, their beautiful Fey faces breaking into smiles of welcome.
“Little Fey’cha,” laughed Kiel as Lorelle raced across the square and leapt into his arms. He swung her around in exuberant circles.
“Ajiana.” Kieran walked towards Lillis, a dazzling smile upon his beloved face, his Fey-bright eyes as blue as sky-flowers.
Lillis stood frozen in place. Her heart pounded like one of Papa’s hammers in her chest. Kieran looked exactly the way she pictured him from her most treasured memories. Exactly. Tall, handsome, his skin luminescent, his eyes Fey-bright…