CHAPTER TWENTY
Come fly with me my love
Spread your wings with glee
Into the skies above
Together we will fly free
Come fly with me my mate
The one that fills my heart
Together passion we will sate
And never will we part
Flight of the Tairen Lovers,
a poem by Rainier v’En Daris, Tairen Soul
Shan’s most infamous chadin dodged and deflected with a skill that would do any chatok proud, but he still didn’t manage to escape all of Shan’s blades.
One Fey’cha caught him in the shoulder and one in the back of the right thigh as he spun away, before a cry on the vel Celay family path brought Shan up short.
?Parei, Shan! Parei! Gaelen and Farel are friends.?
“Tajik?” Elfeya rose from behind the overturned table, whispering her brother’s name.
?Elfeya, get down!? Fearing a trap, Shan thrust the dahl’reisen away from him and backed towards his mate, blades drawn. He’d never betrayed the vel Celay family path—at least not that he remembered—and he didn’t think Elfeya had either. But after a thousand years of torture, anything was possible.
And yet, there he was, Tajik vel Sibboreh, Elfeya’s youngest brother, appearing inside the room as he shed his invisibility weave.
He looked older—much harder and world-worn—than Shan remembered him, but he was still, unmistakably Tajik.
Blue-eyed, fire-haired, and staring at his sister like she was the sun and he was a man who’d spent a lifetime in darkness.
Elfeya’s empathic senses could never have been fooled by an imposter posing as her brother, so when she abandoned all caution and ran around the table to throw herself into Tajik’s arms, Shan knew his eyes must be seeing true.
“Tajik!” Wrapping her arms around her brother’s neck, Elfeya wept and laughed in a show of joy too great to be contained. “You are here. It’s really you.”
Tajik’s arms tightened around her. “I thought you were dead,” he told her. “I would have ripped Eld apart to find you if I’d known you were still alive. Sieks’ta. Forgive me for not coming sooner. I didn’t know. I came as soon as I could.”
“Las, las, kem’jeto. Ssh.” She stroked his hair and kissed him, then drew back to cup his face between her hands. “There is nothing to forgive. I am here, and you are here, and we are together once more. Today, the gods are kind, and my heart is full of joy.”
“I don’t understand.” Shan looked around the room in confusion.
He was beginning to think the madness that had haunted him all these centuries had taken fresh root in his brain.
Three more Fey had appeared inside the room.
Two of them were very distinctive Fey he recognized and remembered.
Like Tajik and vel Serranis, Gillandaris vel Sendar and Rijonn vel Ahriman had been his chadins at the Warriors’ Academy in Tehlas.
The third warrior, a Fey with black hair and cobalt eyes, he did not know.
Nor did he recognize the two young, unshadowed warriors shrouded in Mage robes who slipped in after the others and closed the door behind them.
After spending the last thousand years in solitary confinement, the sudden appearance of so many Fey—and so many familiar faces—left Shan feeling overwhelmed.
And the fact that these Fey could all be standing there, without a shred of concern for the dahl’reisen among them, confused and stunned him.
He shook his head, trying to still all the thoughts and questions whirling about in his mind, and fixed his gaze on Gaelen vel Serranis.
“You were dahl’reisen,” he said bluntly. “Why aren’t you still? And why are Fey warriors keeping company with dahl’reisen?”
A ghost of a smile played about Gaelen’s mouth. “You always were direct, kem’chatok.” He gestured to the Fey’cha still embedded in his shoulder and thigh. “Do you mind?”
Shan spoke his return word, and the blades he’d sunk into both Gaelen and the dahl’reisen returned to their sheaths.
“Ve ku’jian vallar, Gaelen,” Elfeya said. Allow me to help you. Withdrawing gently from her brother’s embrace, she crossed the room to vel Serranis’s side and laid glowing hands upon his wounds.
“Beylah vo, Elfeya-falla,” Gaelen said, as the torn blood vessels and flesh knit back together.
Elfeya glanced uncertainly at the dahl’reisen, who had already spun an Earth weave to staunch his wounds and seal the torn flesh until his body’s natural healing properties could repair the damage.
The dahl’reisen cleared his throat, and said, “I’ll go scout the rest of the hall.
Forgive me, ki’falla’sheisan, for causing you pain.
” He bowed to her with grave respect before cloaking himself in the best invisibility weave Shan had ever seen.
The chamber door opened and closed to mark his departure.
When he was gone, Shan ordered Gaelen to spin a privacy weave on the room and fixed a stern eye on the remaining warriors.
“All right, Fey,” he declared in a voice that had commanded armies and snapped countless unruly chadins to order.
“I want answers. How is it that Gaelen vel Serranis is dahl’reisen no more…
and why are Fey warriors keeping company with a Shadowed blade? ”
Explanations tumbled out from several of them at once. Time was short, so Shan just let his mind process the overlapping voices, separating and interpreting the individual inputs instantly in his mind—much the way he processed the overload of chaotic information on a battlefield.
“So let me get this straight,” he said when they were done.
“Our daughter restored vel Serranis’s soul.
Her mate has allowed dahl’reisen to bloodswear themselves to her.
And you five”—he gestured to all but the two youngest Fey—“are her bloodsworn quintet, who accompanied her to Boura Fell to rescue Elfeya and me and our daughter’s young Celierian sisters. Is that correct? “
Heads nodded, but he could see the four who knew him growing wary at his calm tone. It was a good thing he’d insisted on a privacy weave around the room.
“Then I have only two other questions for you fine warriors of the Fey.” Shan straightened to his full height, squared his shoulders and drew a deep breath that expanded his chest. “What the scorching flames of the Seven Hells do you think you were doing letting her come here?
“ he roared. “And how the flaming Hells is it that you’re standing here, still breathing, while my daughter—the woman you swore your souls to protect with your lives—is in the hands of Vadim Maur, the evilest jaffing son of an Elden rultshart ever to be born?”
“That last part’s not their fault,” said the young, brown-haired Fey named Kieran. “The Eld knocked them out when they arrived. The High Mage must have used his connection to Ellysetta to—“
Shan pierced him with a glare as sharp as a blade. “The questions, vel Solande, were rhetorical.”
Kieran snapped his mouth shut.
Shan turned his focus back to his daughter’s quintet. “If we survive this, each one of you five owes me a year’s time on the training field. I suggest you come prepared for pain.”
Expelling an agitated breath, Shan pivoted on his heel and forced himself to channel his anger, focusing it into grim determination. “For now, however, the only thing that matters is getting our daughter out of this place. Elfeya, can you stand the dahl’reisen’s presence a while longer?”
“Aiyah. The dahl’reisen’s pain was terrible, but bearable.
I think the old saying is true: That which does not kill you, does makes you stronger.
” She met Shan’s eyes in a moment of communion.
?I could not have stood in his presence before these centuries in Boura Fell.
But now, I think I could even heal him if he were in need. ?
He nodded. He and pain were old friends. And one of that old friend’s harshest but truest lessons was that suffering bred strength.
“All right,” he said. “Did you Fey have a plan, or should we adjust ours?”
The seven warriors shared silent looks amongst themselves.
“Lord Shan,” Gaelen said, “you and Elfeya-falla should get to safety. There is a gateway to the Well of Souls on the level above this one, and it’s under Fey control. Go there, and get out of this place. We will find Ellysetta and Rain and bring them home.”
Shan exchanged a look with Elfeya. Both their expressions turned to stone.
“If you think we are leaving this place without our daughter, vel Serranis,” Shan said, “you are greatly mistaken. We have a good idea of where she’s being kept.
We know all the possible routes we could take and how many guards and wards to expect along the way.
You can come with us if you like, but we are going to get our child.
” Shan’s voice dropped to a lethal growl.
“And just so we’re clear, the High Mage is mine to kill. ”
“Well,” Gil said, slapping his hands on his thighs, “I’m glad that’s settled. Can we get on with the slaughter?”
“Look how your mate is suffering, Ellysetta.” Vadim Maur crouched beside her and grabbed her hair, forcing her to head in Rain’s direction. “Look at him!” he barked.
His icy voiced throbbed with compulsion, and no matter how hard she tried to defy him and keep her eyes averted, she could not.
Rain was displayed, spread-eagled, on a wooden form shaped like two overlapping crescent moons, his body held in place by a series of sel’dor stakes that Den Brodson had hammered through his limbs with grim relish.
Every handspan of his once-shining white skin bore signs of brutal abuse.
Strips of flesh flayed from his bones. Blistered black char where red-hot brands had scorched deep.
Countless sel’dor barbs jabbed into his skin and left to fester. Bones broken. Fingers severed.
She’d felt each moment of Rain’s torment, each scream, each breathless gasp of stunning pain, just as he’d felt each moment of her helpless horror.