King of Sword and Sky
“Celieria has always been only a stepping-stone to the Eld,” Rain said instead. “We all know their ultimate destination.”
“Let them come,” Yulan scoffed. “The Mists will devour them.”
“Will they?” That Rain did not let pass unchallenged.
“For how long? How much Mage Fire will the Mists withstand before failing? And if the Mists fall, what then? Celierians outnumber us two hundred to one. Can we afford to let the Mages claim so many? They may be only mortals, but even ants can bring down a lion if they attack in large enough numbers.”
Rain saw consternation cross their faces, as if the thought had not occurred to them. “We have to assume the Eld will come. We have to assume the Mists will fail. We have to plan for that and take steps to protect ourselves in every way possible.”
He turned back to the map. “I’ve already spoken with Eren Thoress at Blade’s Point. I will fly there later this week to light another two of the forges.” All Fey steel was made at Blade’s Point in the great forges that could be ignited only by tairen flame. There were six forges in all, and he hoped he would not need all of them working day and night, as they had during the Mage Wars. “I promised Teleos I would come to Orest by month’s end, to bring him a thousand more blades to defend the Veil and enough swords and armor to outfit his own warriors. Our best defense is to help the Celierians defend themselves.”
He turned back to the map and continued marching Spirit weapons and troops to key strategic positions throughout the Fading Lands and Celieria’s northern border, but when he was finished, his main concern became easily discernible.
“As you can see, our defenses are thin. We’ll need the Elves.” He turned back to the Massan. “Hawksheart’s ambassador in Celieria extended an invitation for me and Ellysetta to visit Deep Woods. I was going to send Marissya and Dax in my stead, but with the child, we cannot risk her safety outside the Mists.”
His gaze fell upon Loris. Of all the Massan, the Water master was the one Rain had always trusted most after Marissya. He wasn’t a hothead like Tenn, or a stubborn rock like Yulan. He was…adaptable…yet steady and relentless, like the element he mastered. A perfect ambassador.
“Loris, how long has it been since you and Nalia last dined with the Elves?”
The corner of the Water master’s mouth curved up. “Too long, my king. My mate and I would enjoy a chance to dine again with our southern cousins.”
“Good.” Much as he hated losing Loris’s support on the council, there was no other Fey better suited to negotiate the terms of an alliance. “Meet with me after we’re through here.”
Tenn leaned forward. “Until the Elvish troops set foot on Fading Lands soil, we’ll need every one of those six thousand blades you’re planning to send to Celieria for ourselves.”
Rain frowned. “But I need those six thousand on the borders, if we’re to give Celieria any hope of holding back even a tenth of the army that attacked during the Mage Wars.”
“Again, you’ve just proved my point. We should be worried about Fey lives, not Celierian.” Tenn crossed his arms.
“You’ve already committed one thousand to the borders, another thousand to Orest, and the five hundred in Teleon. Two thousand more perhaps we could spare, but no more than that or we might as well tear down the Mists ourselves and welcome the Eld within.”
Rain regarded the map with a frown. Two thousand was too few, but Tenn had a point. Until the Elves arrived, he could not afford to send more without weakening the Fading Lands’ own defenses. He needed more warriors. Or a way to make the ones he had more effective.
Sequestered in the Hall of Scrolls, Ellysetta pored over book after book, scroll after scroll, until the stack of texts she’d read began to outnumber the dwindling piles she hadn’t. She lost all track of time, until a pair of booted feet entered her field of vision and she looked up to find Rain standing beside her, his lavender eyes filled with amusement and affection and a hint of scolding.
“I was beginning to worry you’d gotten lost in the city, but now I see you’ve never moved from this spot.”
“I’ve been reading.”
“So I see.”
“You told me about the Hall of Scrolls, but you never mentioned how big it was. There are millions of scrolls and books here.” Her Fey-lore-hungry mind still boggled at the thought. Histories lost to the world, tales and legends no living man had ever heard. Who knew what she might yet find? “Millions!”
Rain’s mouth curved up at the corner. “Aiyah, shei’tani, but you needn’t read them all in one sitting.” He put a hand beneath her arm, helping her to her feet. “Come. It’s late. Have you eaten?” His gaze drifted to an untouched plate on the neighboring desk.
“Tealah, Venarra’s assistant, brought me something, but I wasn’t hungry.”
His expression turned stern. “Here all day, with no food to sustain you?”
“I could eat something now,” she offered to appease him.
“I imagine so. Night has fallen.”
Only then did Ellysetta realized that the daylight streaming in from the glass roof above had been supplanted by the bright glow of myriad orbs now shining overhead like stars plucked from the sky. When had that happened? Who cared?
“I found some interesting possibilities.”
“You can tell me all about it—over dinner.”
“I can’t leave now! I’ve still got all the rest of those books left to read.” She pointed to the stacks she hadn’t yet touched. “Venarra told me the books will all be returned to their places if I leave, and I don’t want to lose count of which ones I’ve already read.”
“She didn’t tell you how to set aside the books you want for your next visit?”
“I can do that?”
His lips compressed. “Of course. Here.” He walked to the blue circle around the mirror and said, “Mirror, set aside the books Ellysetta Feyreisa requested but has not yet read. Put them back on the table when she returns.”
The face in the Mirror murmured in a low voice, “Doreh shabeila de.” So shall it be. The stacks of texts Ellysetta had already read disappeared in a flurry of green sparks that shot out in all directions.
“There,” Rain said. “The others will be awaiting you when you come back. Now, come with me to the palace and we’ll find you some food.”
Outside, the sky was dark, the stars abundant and bright, and the Mother and Daughter were waxing cresents riding low on the western horizon. The scent of honeyblossoms and jasmine perfumed the air as Rain and Ellysetta climbed back up the mount towards the gleaming white-and-gold brilliance of the palace. Fairy-flies danced in the shadows of the surrounding gardens.
“How did your meeting with the Massan go?” she asked as they walked.
He shrugged. “As well as could be expected. Tenn and Yulan think I am a fool for risking Fey lives in defense of Celieria. They think I should leave Celieria to its fate and concentrate our efforts and strength on protecting our own. How can I blame them? I felt the same until you reminded me that Celieria’s fate is but a preview of our own.”
“But you are Defender of the Fey. Command of the Fey army is yours. They cannot interfere with your decisions, can they?”
“Nei, but they can cause distractions and delays I cannot afford. The Eld will move quickly to establish a foothold in Celieria, and they won’t be gentle about it. You’ve seen how well the Mages turn doubt and fear to their advantage. If our warriors go into battle with even the smallest doubt in their minds, the Mages will use it against them. We must be united. It is our only hope of victory.”
“Surely the Massan know that.”
“They know, and I am counting on their honor to keep our differences private. Tenn thinks I am acting rashly, but so far he does not distrust me enough to risk open Challenge.”
She glanced at him, alarmed. “Would he do that? Challenge you?”
They turned down a dimly lit path bordered by scented hedges and rows of blooming fl
owers. Glimmering fairy-flies darted and whirled from flower to flower, leaving trails of sparkling light in their wake.
“A thousand years ago, no member of the Massan would even have considered it. The Tairen Soul was king, and the Massan only offered guidance and counsel. But this Massan has spent the last thousand years directing our defenses in my stead. It does not sit well with some of them that Rain the mad Feyreisen may actually expect to rule.” He gave a brief huff of humorless laughter. “And I criticized Dorian for letting his council usurp his power.”
“What will you do?”
“What I must. See to the defense of the Fading Lands as the gods have tasked me to do. The Massan will not like my methods, but I have neither the time nor the temperament to lead by consensus.” A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he admitted in a low voice, “I have asked Gaelen to teach the Fey his dahl’reisen skills.”
“You—” She broke off, already envisioning the heated scene that would erupt when the Massan learned what he had done. If there was anything those Fey lords would consider more of an affront than a Mage-claimed shei’tani, it would be the idea of a former dahl’reisen—a Fey who’d surrendered his honor—acting as mentor to the warriors who had stood fast against the call of the Dark Path when he had not. “You don’t look very happy about the idea.”
His mouth twisted. “I confess, I am not.” He dragged a hand through his hair, a gesture of distraction that showed more plainly than words how unsettled he was. “Like most Fey, I do not embrace change easily, shei’tani. In part because stability and routine were what I clung to as I fought my way back to sanity, but also because rules and discipline make life…less dangerous. The Fey live by a strict code of honor, because honor is what binds us together and shields us from the lure of the Dark Path. It is a good way—and a just way—because it keeps us a force of good in the world.”
“Do you truly think that even without that code the Fey could ever become truly evil?”
The dimly lit walk cast flickering shadows across his face, revealing his bleak expression. “Every chadin who passes through the Warriors’ Gate at the Academy learns the cautionary tales of once-great Fey warriors who abandoned their honor and fell from the Light, just as the Eld have done. Those Fey, who once walked the streets of Dharsa as heroes of the Fading Lands, became dahl’reisen and eventually mharog, monstrous, corrupt creatures of evil who have extinguished every glimmer of goodness in their souls.”
“But dahl’reisen aren’t all evil,” she pointed out. “Some simply chose life over sheisan’dahlein. Is that so bad?”
“Every journey starts with the first step, and the first step down the Dark Path is choosing self over sacrifice.” He turned to her, his eyes shadowed. “Our strict code of honor is what allows Fey warriors to trust themselves and the blades at their backs—and that can mean the difference between life and death, victory and defeat. Especially when the enemy is the Eld, and doubt is a weapon they use to claim and destroy souls.”
“If you still feel so strongly about it, then why do you want Gaelen to teach the Fey?”
“Because I have no other choice. The Fey are dying. Our numbers are too few…and will grow fewer still once the Eld unleash their armies. If Gaelen can teach a Fey to last even a few chimes longer in battle, that could well mean the difference between victory and defeat.”
They came to a small, exquisitely carved bridge that crossed one of the gently burbling streams winding through the palace’s hillside gardens. Rain’s steps slowed as they crossed the bridge, and he paused to look down at the lights of the city below.
“I keep telling myself that perhaps the gods set Gaelen in your path and gave you the power to restore his soul for this very reason. That perhaps he chose self over sacrifice because this—his presence here, now, with us—was the pattern the gods spun into his weave all along.” He gave a humorless laugh. “I’m not sure I believe it. The Fey in me will probably always think he should have chosen sheisan’dahlein. But no matter what I think of his choices or his honor, the one thing I cannot deny is that Gaelen has spent most of the last thousand years defending Celieria against Eld incursions. There’s no one more capable of teaching this generation of Fey warriors how to fight the Eld and win.”
Ellysetta could feel how torn he was. “Well, at least you’ll have Marissya on your side to help smooth things over with the Massan.”
“She probably could—she has a way with them—but she has already stepped down from her service in council.”
“What?” Her jaw dropped. “But why?”
“Because of the child. Don’t look so outraged, shei’tani. She will continue to serve the Fey…just not as our Shei’dalin. Until her child is born, she will walk the Fading Lands to sow Amarynth and hold back the desert. Venarra has agreed to serve as the Shei’dalin in Marissya’s stead and continue the training you began with Marissya.”
“Oh.” Ellysetta bit her lip.
“This does not please you.” His brows drew together and his eyes sparked with lavender fire. “Venarra was dis-courteous?”
“No, of course not.” Good gods, the last thing she needed was to cause further ill feeling between Rain and the Massan. “She wasn’t rude….” Fury and rudeness were not the same. “It’s just that…well, Rain, you know how hard it is for me to trust shei’dalins. It took me weeks to warm up to Marissya. Now I have to start all over again? With a woman who thinks the High Mage is going to take over my mind and use me to destroy the Fading Lands at any moment?”
His brief flare of temper subsided. “Ah, well…” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and they resumed walking. “Give yourself and Venarra time to get to know each other, shei’tani. The Eye deliberately sowed discord among us. I do not know why. At the moment, all the Massan are wary, but once they come to know you, they will love you as I do.”
Would they? Ellie wasn’t so sure. She’d spent a lifetime as an outcast—and no matter how hard she’d tried, she had never managed to win most people over. And for all Rain’s talk about sacrificing self for the good of the many and choosing death rather than risking corruption, he didn’t seem to see the parallels between herself and the dahl’reisen.
The dahl’reisen scar was a visible mark of the former Fey warrior’s slow slide towards corruption. How were the Mage Marks she bore any less condemning, even if they were impossible to see except in the presence of Azrahn? If sheisan’dahlein was the only honorable choice for dahl’reisen, then what did that say about her?
Ellysetta looked up at the stars shining over the palace and followed Rain slowly up the hill.
Celieria City ~ Royal Palace
Half a continent away, the flames of a thousand candles gleamed like stars from the chandeliers overhead, and the sparkle of ten thousand jewels glittered from the resplendent raiment of the courtiers gathered in the gilded ballroom of Celieria’s Royal Palace.
A voice called out in ringing tones, “Lord Geris Bolor,” and the members of the court watched with interest as the broad-shouldered and handsome newcomer to the court made his entrance to bow before their royal majesties, King Dorian and Queen Annoura of Celieria. Despite the titillating scandal of the prior Lord diBolor’s disinheritance, the royals welcomed the new Lord Bolor warmly enough. Moments later, one of Queen Annoura’s own favorites, Lady Jiarine Montevero, was escorting the new lord about the ballroom and introducing him to the nobles gathered there.
Nour’s gaze scanned the ballroom, then stopped abruptly. His spine stiffened and his shields instinctively locked into place. “And who, my dear, is that lovely young lady there in the rose and the gentleman in bronze beside her?”
Jiarine followed his gaze and arched a brow. “You have a good eye, my lord. That is Great Lord Barrial and his daughter Talisa diSebourne. One of the Fey who accompanied the Tairen Soul claimed she was his truemate.”
“But she’s married to Sebourne’s heir?”
“Yes, that’s why she has such a tragic, melancholy air about
her. The king upheld Lord diSebourne’s marriage claim, and the Fey who tried to claim her left with the rest of his countrymen two weeks ago. She’s been quite distraught ever since.” Jiarine heaved an exaggerated sigh, and then her red lips curled.
Nour’s eyes flickered with faint irritation. “You may understand the court, my dear, but you have much to learn about the Fey.” He directed his attention back to the very beautiful and indeed quite melancholy Lady diSebourne and let his gaze sweep across the section of ballroom surrounding her, counting the faint telltale glow of Fey invisibility weaves. A full quintet, to guard the precious shei’tani, plus another two off to one side. The unfortunate suitor, no doubt, with a friend to keep him from doing something rash like starting a war.
The corner of his lip curled up. The possibilities of that situation bore careful consideration. For now, however, he had other work to do.
“Where is this Great Lord Darramon you were telling me about?”
“Over there, just approaching Queen Annoura.” Jiarine nodded her head in the direction of Celieria’s beautiful queen. “As I told you, his wife is very ill, and from what Fanette was able to pry out of his servants, the Fey have offered to heal her. He’s preparing a caravan to take her to the Garreval. Fanette tells me they’re scheduled to leave tomorrow.”
“Then we must move quickly.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We are the steel no enemy can shatter.
We are the magic no Dark power can defeat.
We are the rock upon which evil breaks like waves.
We are Fey, warriors of honor, champions of Light.
Fey Warriors’ Creed
The Warriors’ Academy of Dharsa was an imposing structure perched on the crest of Anas Mena, the city’s northernmost hilltop. Like all other buildings in the city, the Academy was built of gleaming white stone, but the golden spires on its roof were great seyani blades stabbing up into the sky, and all along the rooftop, silverstone Fey warriors crouched in battle stance, arms extended, curved meicha gripped in silverstone fists.