by C. L. Wilson
“How could I not have known?” Sol Baristani paced the parlor’s stone floor. The girls had gone outside to play with their new kittens under the watchful eye of Ravel’s quintet. “They are my children. How could I not have known?”
“They are both very adept at hiding their magic,” Kiel suggested. “Perhaps they learned to do it from observing the Feyreisa.”
Sol shook his head. He’d never felt so dazed…so…lost. As if the foundation of his world had been suddenly upturned and he was tumbling helplessly, with no idea which way was up or down. “And Laurie—if they’re right, she had magic too.”
“I confess we are as surprised as you, Master Baristani,” Kieran said, “though perhaps we should not be. The Feyreisa is such a marvel, it seems only natural that your family would have its own share of unexpected secrets.”
“Secrets, yes, but…magic…” He shook his head.
“They’re my daughters—and not adopted, as Ellie was. They’re my own flesh and bone. Celierian—and mortal—just like their mother and me.”
“Your wife was from the north, from an area where vast amounts of very powerful magic were released during the Mage Wars. Such a great concentration of magic would not dissipate without leaving its mark—as your wife reminded us many times. Hearth witches, hedge wizards, and many far more unpleasant mutations are common in those parts.”
“Yes, but—”
“We knew your wife had a fierce aversion to magic, but to have spent her whole life hiding her own magic…Did she never mention anything about it?”
“No. Of course not. Lillis and Lorelle must be mistaken. They were only children. Who’s to say that what they remember really happened?”
“They managed to hide their own magic all their lives,” Kiel reminded him. “And they did it without the magical barriers the Feyreisa had holding back her powers. Disbelieve them if it eases your fears, Master Baristani, but Kieran and I cannot. Your wife must have possessed considerable magic to have passed on so strong a gift.”
“I…” Sol looked from one Fey to another, his heart still struggling to reject the truth while his mind began fitting together the clues he’d seen but never recognized all his life. They slid into place like the perfectly carved pieces of a wooden puzzle box. “Laurie’s young sister, Bess, was winded as a child in Dolan. When she was two years old, she set the neighbors’ house on fire with magic, and her parents had no choice but to take her to the woods and abandon her. Laurie never forgave her parents for that—nor ever forgot the terrible price of magic.”
Kieran’s expression went grim. “Lady Darramon is nearly healed. The shei’dalins will be returning to the Fading Lands tomorrow. I urge you to go with them. Your daughters’ gifts make them a treasure many will covet—and not just the Mages.”
“Even if they could live safely here,” Kiel added gently to forestall any objections, “they should be trained in the use and control of their gifts. As your wife’s young sister proved, wild magic can be a danger. Your daughters are already both very strong, and if their magic rises the same way it does in the Fey, they have yet to come into their full power.”
Sol had denied the truth about Ellie for so long, not wanting to see it. Not wanting to accept it. He could not continue to blind himself about Lillis and Lorelle.
Nor would he continue to risk their safety—not even to honor the last wishes of his dead wife.
“Kabei,” Kieran said when Sol nodded in defeated acquiescence. “You and the girls should pack what essentials you wish to take with you. We’ll leave as soon as the shei’dalins finish tomorrow. The Fey will bring the rest of your belongings later.” He paused, then reached out to lay a hand on Sol’s arm. “You are making the right decision, Master Baristani.”
Sol met his gaze. “I pray to the gods you’re right.”
The Fading Lands ~ Plains of Corunn
Belliard vel Jelani ran faster than he ever had. He all but flew across the rolling, grass-covered landscape. Footfalls were but brief instants of impact launching him in long airborne leaps. Air powered his steps, and the Fey skin that never broke a sweat was beaded with perspiration.
Ellysetta was heading for Fey’Bahren with Gaelen, learning to weave Azrahn. He’d reached her on a private weave, and though she didn’t want to admit it at first, she’d eventually confessed the truth. She’d confronted the Eye, and it had told her that only Azrahn could save the kitlings. And Gaelen—that infuriating, rock-headed, rules-defying rultshart!—had agreed to teach her how to spin it!
«Are you mad?» he’d railed at her. «Do you know what will happen if you’re caught? You’ll be banished! Rain will have to leave the Fading Lands with you or die from bond madness! Ellysetta, you cannot do this. Nei! It’s insanity!»
She’d cut off his weaves and refused to answer him since. Gaelen had too.
Bel contemplated calling Rain. He wanted to. As the First General of the Fading Lands, he was duty-bound to do so. But Bel was also Ellysetta’s lu’tan, and no matter how loyal he was to Rain, his bloodsworn bond came before all others.
And, frankly, Bel was terrified of what Rain would do if he learned Gaelen was teaching Ellysetta to weave the forbidden magic.
Blood would be spilled. Gaelen’s, most likely, and lots of it. Rain might even kill him, which would cast Rain down the Shadowed Path, and then where would that leave Ellysetta and the Fey?
Nei, Bel couldn’t tell Rain. What he would do, however, was go to Fey’Bahren himself and put a stop to their insanity. Once he’d beaten Gaelen senseless and curbed Ellysetta’s foolishness, then Bel would call Rain to come chastise his truemate and impress upon her the insupportable madness of what she’d been trying to do.
The Fading Lands ~ in the Forests Northeast of Dharsa
“Vel Jelani is heading for Fey’Bahren, but he’s running too fast for our warriors to keep up. I’ve told our force to fall back.”
Sitting on the stump of a fallen tree while he and his companions took a brief respite from their run, Tenn stared at the signet ring he’d worn as leader of the Massan for the last thousand years. A mortal might have felt satisfaction to learn that his enemy was finally making the mistake he’d been waiting for, but Tenn felt only a growing sense of doom that had begun the moment Tael, shaking and pale and clearly distraught, had come to see him.
There was no way what was coming could end well.
Not for anyone.
“Am I doing the right thing?”
Leather swished softly. Venarra came up behind him and bent over him. “You saw the vision in the Eye. You know what is at stake.”
Aiyah, he had, though now he wished he hadn’t looked. “I know…I know, but—”
“You did not initiate this weave, shei’tan. Do not blame yourself for its consequences. I warned her what would happen if she chose the wrong path.”
Tenn frowned. He couldn’t shake the sense of wrongness…a roiling sickness in the pit of his belly. “I keep thinking there must be another way. Vel Serranis I could never trust…but Belliard’s honor has always been above reproach.” He stood and pulled Venarra into his arms, hoping her touch would bring him a measure of peace. “I still cannot believe he would condone such evil.”
“Perhaps he has not,” she soothed. “Perhaps he hopes to stop them.”
Tenn rested his chin on Venarra’s head. He hoped Bel was trying to stop them—and some part of him also hoped Bel succeeded. “Do you think there’s any possibility she and the Eye could be right about Azrahn being the only way to save the tairen?”
Venarra tilted her head back. “Shei’tan.” She cupped his face in her hands. “It doesn’t matter. Azrahn is the forbidden magic, tool of the Corrupter. It must never be woven, no matter the purpose. But even if that were not true,” she added, “you heard what vel Serranis said. The High Mage can claim more of her soul each time she weaves Azrahn. We cannot afford to let that happen.”
Tenn nodded and stared bleakly into the heavily wooded forest. Fi
fty Fey loyal to the Massan were following Belliard to Fey’Bahren. When they got there, they would bind vel Serranis, Belliard, and the Feyreisa until the Massan and the Shei’dalin arrived to Truthspeak them. If Ellysetta had indeed woven the forbidden magic, they would banish her from the Fading Lands.
What choice did they have? They’d all seen the same dread vision in Shei’Kess the day after Ellysetta’s arrival in Dharsa, seen how the High Mage and the Dark God he served would use her to wipe Light from the world. So long as Ellysetta Baristani remained in the Fading Lands, she was a danger to the Fey. She’d already built a private army of bloodsworn lu’tans, had convinced even honorable Fey to accept the tutelage of the world’s most infamous dahl’reisen, and now she was planning to weave the forbidden magic.
All of her actions seemed perfectly reasonable, perfectly well-intentioned, yet bit by bit, she was chipping away at the foundations of honor and sacrifice that had made the Fading Lands strong and kept the Fey holding fast to the Light. Bit by bit, she was corrupting the very people she was supposed to save—even Tael, who’d been heartbroken by his discovery.
She must be stopped. Now, before she brought the Fading Lands to ruin.
He stood up and gestured to Yulan and Nurian. Eimar was not with them. He’d become too enamored of Gaelen vel Serranis and the Feyreisa to be trusted. “We’ve rested long enough. If we hope to reach Fey’Bahren by morning, we need to keep going.”
The Fading Lands ~ Fey’Bahren
Gaelen walked the perimeter of the Su Reisu plateav and spun a shimmering dome of five-fold magic around himself and Ellysetta.
“Why do you need those weaves if you’re going to teach me using only Spirit?” Ellysetta asked.
“The silence will help you to stay focused.” He tied off the last threads of his weave. “Besides, if at any time I sense you summoning Azrahn in truth, I’m hoping my five-fold weaves will keep the High Mage from Marking you, as they did the first day you met the Eye.”
On the way to Fey’Bahren—even before Bel’s outraged call—they’d both agreed neither would actually weave the forbidden magic during the training. Instead, Gaelen would use Spirit to show her how to summon and spin the Azrahn weaves, and she would spin Spirit back to show she understood. The solution not only protected her from receiving another Mage Mark while she learned to spin the weaves the Eye had shown her, it also shielded Gaelen from the Massan’s wrath in the event they discovered what she and Gaelen were up to.
She wanted to know the weaves, to know that she could spin them, before she revealed her plans to Rain. They would decide what to do next together, because she was through making decisions for him. Especially such dangerous ones as this.
“No protection in the world will be enough when you spin the weaves for real,” Gaelen reminded her again. “You bear the High Mage’s Marks. You’ll be weaving Azrahn long enough for him to sense it and gain access to your soul. He’ll Mark you again. There’s no avoiding it. You do realize that.”
She nodded grimly. She knew. The Eye had shown her what would happen. “This is the kitlings’ only chance. The healing weaves aren’t enough.”
His ice blue eyes met hers for one piercing moment; then he nodded. “Bas’ka, then have a seat and open your mind to me. My Spirit weaves need to feel as close to the reality of summoning and weaving Azrahn as possible, which means I need control of your thoughts and senses.”
Drawing a deep breath, Ellysetta sat down on the hard, rocky surface of Su Reisu and tore down the strong barriers that encircled her mind. “I am ready. Show me the weaves.”
Gaelen sat before her, legs crossed, his hands covering hers in skin-to-skin contact. Spirit gathered and swirled around him in lavender flows. The weave enveloped her, and with a silent whoosh, Gaelen’s magic sank into her skin, and his consciousness joined her own in a way she’d never trusted the shei’dalins enough to allow.
«Azrahn exists in us all,» he whispered in her mind. «It is the soul magic, the Unmaker, the source and the destruction of all life’s essence. It is a power far greater than the Fey allow themselves to wield. It is not, as the Fey believe, inherently evil, but it is beyond a doubt the most dangerous magic there is.»
«I understand,» she assured him.
«Then let us begin.»
Celieria ~ Orest
Rain stood on the battlements of Upper Orest, looking northward across the falls of Maiden’s Gate and the Heras River into Eld. A grayish haze hung over the dark-forested land of his enemies. The cooler months of fall always covered Eld in rain and mist, but the sight still made him uneasy. The last time he’d seen Eld, it had been shrouded in a similar gray haze, only weather hadn’t been to blame. The fires of Koderas—the great sel’dor forge of the Eld—had belched smoke into the air day and night as the Eld war machine churned out weapons and armor for its soldiers and allies.
He sniffed the air. The breeze carried no hint of smoke, but he still couldn’t shake the sense of unease. His tairen instincts were roused. He could feel its claws unsheathing inside him, digging deep in preparation for attack.
«Ellysetta…» He spun her name on a thread of Spirit. They’d spoken last night, but he needed to hear her voice again.
When she didn’t answer, he frowned and called her on their bond threads, but she still didn’t respond. Growing concerned, Rain sent a private weave to Bel. «Bel? I cannot reach Ellysetta.»
There was a silence. Then, «Ellysetta’s in Fey’Bahren, Rain.» Hope flickered in Rain’s breast. «She has found a way to save the kits?»
There was another silence, longer this time. «She thinks she has.»
Rain closed his eyes in relief. It was the best news he’d heard in days. «Thank the gods. What is it? Some long-forgotten healing weave? How did she find it?» Bel’s third long silence made Rain frown. «Bel?» he prodded.
The Fading Lands ~ The Feyls
Rain raced across the peaks of the Feyls like a dark comet streaking against the twilight sky. He flew parallel to the northern section of the Faering Mists, careful to avoid dipping even a wing tip into the radiant cloud of magic.
The Mists had challenged him again when he’d flown through over the Veil, but this time he’d been in no mood to stand for their torment. After a brief, unpleasant few chimes, he’d answered the challenge the way any aggravated tairen would: with a blast of tairen fire. The spirits in the Mists had gone silent then. Perhaps because they’d realized that if they’d tried to stop him, he would have scorched them out of existence. Whether a single Tairen Soul could destroy the Faering Mists was not at all certain, but if they’d continued to stand in his way, he would have found out.
Screaming ropes of Spirit shot out ahead of him, calling to Ellysetta on their private path. When she did not answer, he nearly set the threads of their bond afire with his furious shout. «Ellysetta! By the gods, you will answer me now!»
At last, she did, and her voice sounded hesitant. Startled.
«Rain, beloved, what is it?»
Fire exploded from his muzzle. «You are weaving Azrahn? You would do that to us? To me?»
Shock rippled across their bond. And guilt. «How did you kn—» Her voice broke off. «Bel.»
He didn’t bother to confirm it. «You will stop this madness immediately! I’m coming to Fey’Bahren. If Gaelen is still there when I arrive, I will kill him.»
«Rain! Wait! It’s not what you think. I’m not weaving Azrahn. I wouldn’t do that to you. I learned my lesson at Chakai. What choices we make, we make together, shei’tan. Please, you’ve got to believe me. I’m only—»
Whatever else she had to say was lost when he cut the connection of their bond threads. He powered the energy of his Rage into his flight, and he raced across the sky faster than he ever had before.
It was full night when he reached Fey’Bahren, and the campfire on Su Reisu shone like a beacon in the night, illuminating the slender figure of Ellysetta and the tall, dark warrior in her company.
Ve
l Serranis.
Rain’s wings tucked in tight. He put on a last, powerful burst of speed and shot towards the ground like a meteor.
Ellysetta must have sensed both his presence and his intent, because she leapt in front of vel Serranis and flung her arms out protectively. “Rain, wait!”
He didn’t slow a bit. He simply Changed. The rainbow mist of his magic swept over Ellysetta and Gaelen like a hard wind and gathered together into his Fey body behind them. He hit the ground in a tucked roll and came up in attack stance, teeth bared and snarling.
“Rain!” Ellysetta cried again. “It’s not what you think!” He shoved her back with a puff of Air and bound her in place with a five-fold weave. To Gaelen, he growled, “Defend yourself,” just before his fist shot out, plowing into the underside of Gaelen’s jaw. Vel Serranis went flying. Rain leapt on him and began pummeling.
The fight didn’t last long. Rain had not spent those weeks of training under Gaelen’s tutelage without learning a great deal about how the other Fey fought and how best to defeat him. And Gaelen, cocky rultshart though he was, knew he had it coming. When vel Serranis was groaning and breathless and his pretty face was sufficiently bruised and bloodied, Rain shoved him aside, got to his feet, and released Ellysetta from his weave.
“We weren’t weaving Azrahn, Rain,” Ellysetta protested.
“We only used Spirit. I wouldn’t make a choice so grave without you.”
“I know.” He wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of one hand. “I realized the truth not long after we spoke. You asked me to believe you. Once I shook off the worst of my Rage, I realized you were right. I did need to believe you, to trust that you would never intentionally bring us to harm. Then I realized what Bel believed had to be wrong. That there had to be some other explanation.”
Her jaw dropped. “Then why…?” She gestured to Gaelen, who had rolled into a sitting position and was massaging his dislocated jaw.
“Because he deserved it.” Rain nudged Gaelen’s thigh with the toe of his boot. “You need to accept the laws of this pride, vel Serranis. You may be her lu’tan, but I am her mate. Endanger her again—even by her command—and you will answer to me.”