by C. L. Wilson
“We’re glad to see you alive and well,” the captain of the gate said. “I’m sure Marissya-falla will make the Feyreisa’s family feel right at home.” «Despite the current circumstances,» he added on the Warrior’s Path.
Kieran and Kiel shared a frown. «What circumstances?» Kieran asked.
The Forests of Eld
Eld surrounded Rain and Ellysetta on all sides, swords drawn, sel’dor-barbed arrows nocked and aimed. And with them were Mages. Scores of them. Yellow-robed Apprentices, red-robed Sulimages, and twelve of the most dangerous, the blue-robed Primages. The Mages’ eyes were alight with the unholy red-sparked black of Azrahn, and each of them held globes of lethal Mage Fire at his fingertips.
“Throw down your weapons, Tairen Soul,” one of the red-robed Sulimages ordered, “or we’ll see how your mate likes dancing with our Fire.”
Rain sneered at the threat. “Harm her, and the High Mage will roast your liver and eat it from your still-living body,” he reminded them in fluent, perfectly accented Elden.
To the right, the blue-robed Primage gave a wry laugh. “Very true,” he acknowledged pleasantly in equally fluent Feyan. “You have good ears, and a wonderful command of our language.” Suddenly, his eyes blazed black with red lights, and the line of Eld bowmen behind Ellysetta let their arrows fly.
Ellysetta cried out as half a dozen arrows plowed into her back and shoulders, dropping her to the ground and pinning her there. The red Fey’cha in her hands fell harmlessly to the dirt.
Rain let out a choked snarl of fury and reached for his own red Fey’cha, but five more bowmen shifted their stance to aim directly at Ellysetta.
“But,” the Primage continued calmly, “there are degrees of harm. The High Mage wants her brought to him alive, but he won’t mind a scratch or two. And I’m quite expert at knowing how to bring a Fey close to death while keeping her chained to life.” All pretense of warmth left his voice, and his smile vanished. Eyes swirling with Azrahn threatened from the hard, cold face of an unforgiving enemy. “Now drop your weapons, or we’ll see how much more sel’dor your mate can take before she cannot stop herself from screaming.”
Rain dropped the sword and Fey’cha still clutched in his hands, then began to unbuckle the straps that held the rest of his weapons.
“Nei, Rain,” Ellysetta moaned. Her face turned towards him, her eyes glazed with pain. “Don’t do it!”
He shook his head. «I have no choice, shei’tani, and they know it.» He’d given her the red Fey’cha to take her own life if he was slain. But fighting would only ensure her torture and his certain death, and she would be left alone and vulnerable in the hands of the Eld.
When all his steel lay in the dirt at his feet, two soldiers and one of the apprentice Mages approached. Two of them gathered his weapons and retreated out of reach.
“Hold out your hands,” the yellow-robed Mage ordered.
Rain extended his arms.
The Mage nodded, and the soldier beside him pulled a pair of black metal manacles from a large leather pouch. Long, sharp black spikes drove inward from the metal cuff, and thick, heavy metal chains joined the manacles together.
“We run across dahl’reisen from time to time,” the apprentice Mage informed him, “so we’ve learned to always be prepared.”
Rain shuddered and dropped to one knee as the Eld clapped the manacles over his wrists and drove the sel’dor spikes into his bones. The dark metal, poisonous to the Fey, burned where it touched him, making his skin redden and blister, short-circuiting his body’s natural self-healing abilities. His wrists, like every burning wound where sel’dor shrapnel still lodged, would remain unhealed and in constant pain until the foul metal was removed.
The Eld stripped off his boots and drove a second set of spiked manacles into his ankles. The raw, searing pain left him breathless and dazed. Ellysetta wept openly, sobbing his name.
“What about her, Master Keldo?” the Apprentice Mage asked.
“Bind her hard,” the Primage answered. “Wrists, ankles, and throat. Master Maur said this one is dangerous.”
The apprentice Mage approached Ellysetta with heavy black manacles and chains.
“Leave her alone!” Rain ordered. He strained against his chains. “Do not dare to touch her.”
“The bindings will cause no permanent injury,” the Primage assured him. “But her magic will be contained.” He issued a sharp command, and several soldiers rushed to hold Ellysetta down as the apprentice clapped the spiked manacles into place around her wrists and ankles.
Ellysetta screamed and began to struggle. Panic grabbed Rain by the throat. He lunged forward, trying to reach her, dragging the four Eld soldiers holding his chains off their feet. Someone cracked him hard over the back of his head, and he collapsed facedown on the ground.
The Fading Lands ~ Chatok
Kieran could scarcely believe the “circumstances” that the captain of the gate had been referring to. Once again, Orest was under attack. This time with dragons to combat the tairen. Once again Rain had called for every warrior in Dharsa to head for the Veil.
And once again, proving that his incalculable stupidity knew no bounds, Tenn v’En Eilan had countermanded that order just as he had countermanded Rain’s order to defend Orest and the Garreval this summer.
To justify his command, Tenn had reminded the Fey that Rain was an outcast, a dahl’reisen stripped of his crown and banished for spinning Azrahn. He’d even gone so far as to warn that any Fey who chose to fight alongside their deposed king did so at his own peril and should expect no aid from the Fading Lands.
Kieran met Kiel’s gaze in grim silence. «That scorch-brained fool,» he hissed to Kiel on a private weave. «Teleon was destroyed, Orest nearly taken, and Tenn’s still hiding behind the Mists, thinking that will save us? How can he think dividing us will make us stronger?»
«We could head for Orest now,» Kiel suggested. «The shei’dalins can take Master Baristani and the girls the rest of the way to Dharsa without us. If we hurry, we could make the Veil in a little over two days. From the sounds of it, the Fey at Orest need every blade they can get.»
Kieran glanced at the girls standing alongside their father and the two shei’dalins. He wanted to head for Orest. His hands itched to hold his blades and feel the razor-sharp steel slice through Eld flesh and bone. He could almost hear the voices of his slain blade brothers at Teleon crying out for him to avenge their deaths.
He clenched his jaw and silenced them. «Nei,» he said. «Nei, the Feyreisa entrusted her family’s safety to us. I will not abandon that duty to another. We see them safe to Dharsa, and into my parents’ care. And then we head for Orest.»
«Agreed, but we need to move quickly. The sooner we reach Dharsa, the better.»
Kieran tugged at his lower lip. Where was a ba’houda steed when a Fey needed one? Celierians couldn’t run even half the speed of a Fey for more than a few chimes, and they tired much too easily. Kieran and Kiel didn’t have the strength to carry all three of them—and with a war on, the Garreval couldn’t spare a single warrior to help them.
A gust of sandy wind whipped a long scarlet veil off one of the shei’dalins. Kieran watched it swirl and tumble through the air, with the shei’dalin running in pursuit, and his lips curved in a slow smile.
«I think I have an idea. Wait here.» Turning, Kieran jogged back into Chatok, returning a few chimes later with a pile of blankets he’d filched from the barracks. He set the blankets on the ground and summoned his Earth magic.
Lillis watched his weave with interest. “A carpet?”
Kieran gave her a grin. “Lillis, kem’alia, haven’t you ever heard the story about the Feraz desert boy and his magic, flying carpet?”
Her eyes widened. “Oooh. We’re going to fly?”
He laughed. “Aiyah, you are. Hop aboard. You, too, Master Baristani and Lorelle. Kabei. Now, hold on.” Kiel and he combined their powers in an Air weave strong enough to lift the carpet several han
dspans above the sand. Another simple weave propelled the levitating carpet through the air. Soon, the flying carpet and its riders were racing across the sands towards Dharsa, with Kieran, Kiel, and the shei’dalins sprinting swiftly alongside.
Eld ~ North of the Heras
When Rain awoke, he was collared as well as manacled. The heavy metal yoke around his neck wasn’t spiked like the manacles, but it blistered his skin, constricted his airway, and made breathing an effort. Even if he managed to break free of the Eld, there was no way he could run or fight with the collar limiting each breath to shallow, hard-won gasps.
Ellysetta lay beside him in the dirt, curled into a small, trembling ball. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and labored. Both her wrists and ankles were bound in heavy sel’dor and a matching collar circled her neck, attached to a thick chain. Rain’s gaze followed the length of hated black metal links to the Eld soldier holding the other end of the chain.
He couldn’t have been out for very long. They were still in the forest. If much time had passed, he and Ellysetta would already be halfway to whatever foul den the High Mage called home.
Half a tairen length away, the Mages stood together, arguing over something. After a furtive but thorough look around, Rain estimated there were about five hundred Eld soldiers and bowmen gathered in the surrounding trees, weapons in hand but not aimed. Rain turned his attention back to the Mages, focusing on the blue-robed Primages. They were the greatest threat, the strongest source of enemy power. The other Mages were powerful—no Mage advanced beyond green robes without mastering the ability to wield dangerous levels of his own innate magic—but they were only apprentices to the darkest secrets of Azrahn.
The Primage called Keldo was the obvious leader. There was both arrogance and temper in the haughty arch of his blond brow and the unmistakable snap of command in his voice. A sash bedecked with sparkling jewels attested to his many victories, and rings of power gleamed on each of his fingers, including two thumb rings set with large black selkahr the size of Soul Quest crystals. Which Fey, Rain wondered, had died—or worse—so this Mage could wear those rings?
The Mages were still arguing. Keldo scowled and said something, but he kept his voice too low to carry far. Rain strained his ears to catch the tail end of what Keldo was saying.
“… You think Primage Garok could ever have conceived—let alone carried out—the capture of the Tairen Soul and his mate? Don’t be such fools. Master Maur is the greatest Mage in the history of Eld, and thanks to his vision and leadership, we stand on the eve of the greatest victory Eld has ever known.” Keldo made a slashing gesture. “No. We deliver Master Maur’s prize to Boura Fell, as ordered. If Garok believes he is the better Mage, let him issue challenge. I, for one, will never bet against Master Maur.”
So… there was apparently dissension in the Eld ranks. Rain wished there was some way to put that knowledge to use, but once the High Mage had Ellysetta in his control, he’d be able to put his last Marks on her, and there would be nothing and no one with the power to defeat him.
He dragged himself closer to Ellysetta and reached out for her hand, but before his fingers could touch hers, the soldier holding Rain’s chain gave his collar a vicious yank. Rain fell backward, choking and grabbing at the collar.
The Eld soldier smirked. “Not so almighty without your magic, are you, Tairen Soul?”
Rain narrowed his eyes. Even with all the sel’dor in him, he could still summon enough magic to weave the Air out of a pair of lungs.
The sight of the man’s shocked, bulging eyes and sudden terror was worth the vicious beating Rain received as half a dozen soldiers leapt on him and bludgeoned him mercilessly until he released their comrade.
The choking soldier fell to his knees in the dirt, coughing and wheezing. Rain flung his hair out of his bruised and bloodied face and sneered. “Not so arrogant with no air in your lungs, are you, Eld rultshart?”
“Ah, you’ve awakened,” the Primage observed in a cool voice. “And still full of defiance, though I’m sure the High Mage will rid you of that soon enough.” His eyes went cold as he turned them on the still-wheezing Eld soldier. “Get up. You are a fool to taunt a Tairen Soul, even if he is sel’dorpierced and bound. Unlike your friends I would not have intervened while he killed you. If you bait him again, I’ll kill you myself, and I promise you, your death at my hands will be far more painful than mere suffocation.”
The choking man blanched and lurched to his feet. “Understood, Primage Keldo.” He saluted briskly and resumed his station, standing stiffly at attention.
“As for you,” the Primage continued, piercing Rain with a cold stare, “bringing you back alive will add a substantial jewel to my sash, but your mate is the true prize. Cause me trouble, and I’ll slit your throat without a second thought. Captain!” An Eld officer snapped to attention along with several of his men. “Prepare him.” As the soldiers moved forward, the Mage told Rain, “These men are going to clean your wounds and pack them with sel’dor powder. We’re all going to take a trip to the High Mage’s palace, but in your current condition you’d never survive a journey through the Well of Souls. The smell of your blood would drive the demons mad with hunger.”
Rain suffered the ungentle ministrations of the Eld as they doused him in water to wash away the blood, then rubbed his wounds with powdered sel’dor to soak up any fresh blood that might ooze from them. Keldo himself cleansed and packed Ellysetta’s wounds, then stroked a hand over her cheek when he was done.
Rain’s chains rattled. “Do not,” he hissed.
The Primage arched a brow. For a moment, Rain thought he might dare some other, graver indecency, but apparently he remembered his own warning about baiting Tairen Souls. The Primage removed his hand, and Rain crawled over to pull Ellysetta into his arms. This time, the soldier holding his leash did not try to stop him.
At his touch, Ellysetta’s trembling lessened. One arm crept up around his neck, and she turned her face into the hollow of his throat, flinching back when her skin touched his sel’dor collar, then settling against a spot on his chest instead.
His embrace seemed to draw her back from whatever nightmare had gripped her mind, and he felt her return to full consciousness. “Rain…”
“Shh. Las, shei’tani. I am here.” He feathered a kiss on her pale brow, another in her bright hair, and kept his wary gaze on the enemy that surrounded them.
“Touching,” the Primage sneered, but he made no move to separate the pair of them. Instead, he turned sharply to two of the yellow-robed apprentice Mages. “Gelvis, Harryl, open the portal.”
“Yes, Master Keldo.” The two apprentices raised their arms. The cuffs of their saffron robes fell back, and the air around their hands began to glow as they gathered their energies. Rain clutched Ellysetta close as the sickly sweet odor of Azrahn filled the air, and the temperature dropped several degrees.
He watched the patterns of the weave form, dark ropes of red-tinged black writhing like snakes, looping and intertwining, undulating, pulsing like blood through veins. The chill of Azrahn grew colder until Rain felt his skin tingle with false warmth. The weave outlined a wide rectangle and began to bleed inward upon itself, forming an impenetrable, pulsating darkness in the late-afternoon shadows of the forest. As the edges of the weave touched and the last light shining through was blotted out, Ellysetta began to moan. Her limbs trembled violently.
Bright shafts of white blazed out from the edges of the weave, and it fell inward, like a cloth falling down an abyss. Sheer, inky blackness loomed in the middle of the forest. A low, keening cry issued from deep within the darkness. Whispers, insidious, hungry, frightening, snuck into the world.
“Rain…” Ellysetta clutched at him, her skin gone clammy, her eyes open and unfocused.
“Interesting,” the Primage observed. “She feels the Well open, just like a demon.”
At last Rain’s mind made the connection that had been eluding him for months. The wandering sou
ls that occasionally sent shivers through Ellysetta and made her legs go weak. The whispering voices that had so terrified her when the tairen sang the Fire Song to cut the invisible bonds that tied Cahlah and Merdrahl to the earth and freed their souls to dance the stars. The pieces of the puzzle finally began to fall into place. When the Well of Souls opened, Ellysetta sensed it. The opening of the portal sapped her strength, leaving her weak and trembling. As if some part of her were being drawn back into the Well each time it opened.
Could the infant tairen whose soul had been stolen from the Well and tied to hers be trying to get back where it belonged? Or had whatever black magic the Mage had spun on her in the womb left her somehow uniquely connected to the things that dwelled in the Well?
“Rain…” she whispered. Her body went limp, and she slumped against him, unconscious.
Rough hands grabbed Rain’s arms and hauled him to his feet. Ellysetta dangled from his arms, her head back, her curls spilling to the ground like a waterfall of flame. “Wait!” he snapped. “Something’s wrong with her!”
Primage Keldo sneered. “Perhaps the fact that she’s carrying her weight in sel’dor?” His expression hardened. “Pick her up and carry her, or we’ll do it for you. The High Mage is expecting us, and he doesn’t like delays. You two”—he jabbed a finger at two armored soldiers standing nearby, then jabbed again to the swords, Fey’cha, and weapons’ belts piled a short distance away—“bring their weapons.”
As the two soldiers rushed to gather the Fey steel, Rain lifted Ellysetta into his arms. The Primage nodded, and the soldiers standing behind Rain shoved him towards the gaping maw of the Well of Souls.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Soul stained black by darkness
I’ve been banished to this half life.
All I have left is remembered honor
And for this I now must fight.
I’ll protect those that I left behind