CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
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!?