Chapter Eight #2
could see there was only barren, sandy earth dotted with succulent shrubs like the kaddah, and an occasional, stunted tree determinedly clinging to life in the harsh environment. “The Fey poetry I’ve read talks about
sweetgrass glades and gentle streams bordered by shade trees taller than tairen.”
A much larger kaddah lay in Rain’s path. He cleared it with an effortless leap. “Once all the Fading Lands were as you describe, but after the
Mage Wars, when we lost so many of our mated women, our lands began reverting to desert.”
“You think the loss of the women caused the land to turn to desert?”
“I know it did.” He smiled at her surprise. “Fellana, the Fey word for woman, derives from the old tongue, felah’naveth, which means bringer of life, because when a Fey woman is with child, life literally blooms in her footsteps.”
Ellysetta was so surprised, her gait slowed. Rain, Marissya, and Dax passed her, and with a burst of speed, she caught up to them. “You mean . . . pregnant Fey women can make grass bloom in the desert?”
“Technically, they make Amarynth bloom in whatever soil they tread upon. All other life is seeded from that.”
“Amarynth? The undying flower?” Ellysetta had seen mention of Amarynth in the ancient tales and Fey poetry she’d read all
her life. Supposedly, the flowers bloomed for a hundred years and had special magical properties. “I always thought they were
just a legend.”
“So they have seemed even to the Fey for most of these last thousand years. We call them the flower of life. They bloom only
in the footsteps of a fellana who is with child.”
“The gift is a great one,” Marissya said, “but it can be exhausting.” At Ellysetta’s blank look, she explained, “When a Fey
woman is with child, her gifts are the strongest they will ever be. The ground around her literally blooms with life. To share
that magic, she walks the land. It wasn’t so bad before the Mage Wars—Amarynth grew abundantly—but after the Wars, there were
no births. The Amarynth faded. By the time I became pregnant with Kieran . . . Well, let’s just say I had plenty of exercise
for twelve months.”
Beside her, Dax made a haggard face. “We,” he interjected. “We had plenty of exercise. I measured it. Four thousand miles we walked, and that’s not counting the miles spent going from
house to house blessing all the other matepairs who were hoping some of Marissya’s fellana magic would spread to them.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Best you and Rain pray for a sudden epidemic of fertility
among the Fey before the gods shower their gifts upon you. By my reckoning, the first matepair to carry will need to run,
not walk, the Fading Lands even to make a dent.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Ellysetta leapt over another kaddah plant, spreading her arms as her body momentarily took flight. “I’ve discovered I like to run.”
Rain smiled.
Eld ~ Boura Fell
His hand was trembling again.
Vadim Maur clasped his palms together, squeezing his fingers tight, and looked across his desk at Gethen Nour, one of the
Mage’s most promising former apprentices who had long ago joined the rank of Primages. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Kolis has
recently disappointed me.”
Though he tried to hide it, Gethen couldn’t completely restrain his instinctive flinch. Kolis’s fate had become common talk
in the Mage Halls upstairs.
“He still lives,” Vadim assured him. Then he smiled. “Unfortunately for him.”
Gethen managed to keep his gaze steady. “I hope never to disappoint you, master.”
The High Mage nodded. “That is my hope, too, Gethen. And now you have an opportunity to remind me how skillfully you can serve
me.” Three stripes adorned the cuffs of Gethen’s blue Mage robes, only two less than those Primages who served on the Mage
Council. Vadim wasn’t going to make the same mistake he’d made with Kolis. This time, his envoy would be a full-ranked Mage,
as experienced as he was powerful.
Nour gave a quiet cough to clear his throat. “Master?”
“You will take Kolis’s place in Celieria.” He eyed the younger man critically. Nour wasn’t half as pretty as Kolis had been,
but his body was tall and firm, his features appealing enough that he had no shortage of willing bed partners. His hair was
thick and dark, his eyes a shrewd forest green. That was a plus. Queen Annoura preferred brunettes, the better to set off
her own fair beauty. “Kolis’s umagi in the court will smooth your path into the queen’s inner circle.”
“Forgive me, master,” Nour ventured cautiously, “but I thought the Fey had left Celieria City and our plans there were uncovered.”
“We suffered a setback, yes, but our work in Celieria City is not done. Dorian still sits on the throne, and after all these years, it appears he’s finally grown steel in his spine.
He is arming the keeps along the borders.
That doesn’t suit my plans. I’ll take Celieria by force if I must, but I prefer to save our strength and resources for the Fey. ”
The Primage bowed his head. “Of course, master. When do you wish me to depart?”
“Tonight. Kolis’s umagi will gain you entrance to the court and access to the queen. Dorian must be controlled, rendered ineffective, or removed.
One way or another, I want the hand of Eld guilding Celieria’s throne four months hence, before the night of the new moons.”
“I will not fail you, master.”
“If you do, you will do so only once.” Vadim’s left hand began to tremble again. The Mage rose to his feet and clasped the
shaking hand behind his back. “There is one other thing, Nour.”
Gethen’s face settled into an expression of mild curiosity. “Master?”
“You will find a way to bring the Tairen Soul’s truemate to me. Alive. Before she completes the matebond with him.”
The Primage’s jaw went slack, and for one brief moment alarm flashed openly in his eyes. He tried to rally, dropping his gaze
and covering his gape with a forced cough. “Forgive me, master, but every Mage in Boura Fell knows the Fey have taken the
girl through the Faering Mists. No Mage can reach her now. Such a feat is beyond even your vast power, great one.”
“We will see about that,” Vadim snapped. He took a breath and forcibly calmed his temper. “I am not asking you to reach her
in the Fading Lands, Nour. I’m telling you to find a way to draw her out. The girl’s family has still not been found. They’ve
not entered Orest, but the same scouts who spotted the Tairen Soul reported a powerful redirection weave spun around the Garreval.
I find myself wondering why the Fey would trouble to spin such a weave if they were just passing through to the Fading Lands.”
“You think the girl’s family is there?”
“I think something is there, and I want to know what.” Vadim opened a drawer by his desk and pulled out the black velvet bag
of chemar left by Fezaiina Rael. “Here. I want these planted around the Garreval, inside whatever is hidden behind that redirection
weave. They are like selkahr but have no magical signature. Leave them where they will be most useful as gateways for invading forces. If Ellysetta Baristani’s
family is there by the Garreval, find a way to bring them to me.”
Nour picked up the bag and glanced inside before depositing the pouch in the pocket of his robe. “Yes, master.”
“You will take my newest umagi with you. He knew Ellysetta Baristani and her mortal family, and he has a few scores he wishes to settle. He is eager to
help you find them, and he has many ties among the rabble that may come in useful.” A door opened to Vadim’s left, and the
thick-muscled, brutishly handsome Celierian stepped into the room.
Despite the debatable wisdom of claiming Den Brodson, Vadim Maur still felt a surge of pride at the sight of him. It took
a very powerful Mage to deliver six full-strength Marks in six days, but it also took a very strong umagi to survive the process. Brodson had, though not easily. The Celierian’s ruddy face was pale beneath its tan, his dark hair
now streaked with white, and his thick muscles were still twiching from the memory of his torment and subjugation.
“This is Master Nour, umagi. You will serve him as you would me.” Vadim held Den Brodson’s gaze and summoned the icy, dark sweetness of Azrahn. “Do not
disappoint me, mortal. As you know, I deal harshly with those who fail me.”
Brodson’s face blanched three shades whiter, and a muscle in his jaw began a rapid tic. He bowed and moved to Nour’s side
like an obedient dog.
“Go. You depart at nightfall. You will use Kolis’s entrance to the inn. Have his umagi bring a sacrifice for the guardians of the Well. There must be no hint of Azrahn to alert anyone to your presence.”
“Understood, master. It shall be as you command.” Gethen bowed, snapped his fingers in a wordless command for the Celierian
to follow, and exited the room.
When the two men were gone, the High Mage lifted his trembling hands and examined them. The shaking had grown worse again,
despite Elfeya’s obediently diligent efforts to heal him, and much as he wanted to, he could no longer deny the truth.
The tremors hadn’t started because he’d spent too much energy claiming Den Brodson’s soul. They hadn’t started because Shannisorran
v’En Celay landed a lucky blow. He’d been weakening steadily since the night two weeks ago when he’d found Ellysetta Baristani
in the realm of dreams and tried to force his second Mark upon her. She’d fought back with a ferocity he hadn’t anticipated.
The Fire she’d summoned had reached across the barriers of the dream-world and scorched him in the physical realm.
And mixed in with that Fire had been something else. Something that struck deeper than a few layers of scorched flesh.
Despite his multiple visits to Elfeya v’En Celay and the daily ministrations of her healing hands, he had yet to completely
recover. He was finally coming to realize he never would . . . at least, not in this form.