Chapter Thirteen #2
see the faces of the thousands gathered to greet her. Never had she dared to dream of such a welcome.
?Meivelei, shei’tani.? Rain’s Spirit whisper sounded oddly choked. ?Meivelei ti’Dharsa.?
Somehow she kept walking, though her knees were quaking so hard she thought she would crumple in a puddle to the paving stones.
The outpouring of love drew out her own magic, lighting her from within until she glowed bright as the star the lu’tans had named her.
Behind them, Ellysetta’s bloodsworn quintet followed in a protective semicircle, while Steli paced at the rear as the self-appointed
sixth member of the quintet. The tairen strode like the chakai she was, proud, stately, her eyes gleaming sapphires in the pure white of her face. Her claws, half extended, clicked on
the paving stones as she walked, and she held her wings unfurled in a show of protective might.
The procession halted at the base of Dharsa’s central mount, where the five lords of the Massan and their shei’dalin truemates stood waiting. The warriors burst into their final song: a booming, joy-filled rendition of “Ten Thousand Swords.”
As the Fey voices built to a soaring crescendo, Fahreeta, Torasul, and Steli reared up on their hind legs, pawing the sky,
roaring, and shooting jets of searing flame upward as their great wings beat the air: tairen rampant, the symbol of the Feyreisen’s
power. The three held their pose as the lu’tan sang in perfect, stirring pitch the song’s final verse: “Ten thousand swords protect you, beloved of us all.”
With a final roar that shook the ground like thunder, all three tairen leapt into the air. Mighty wings beat hard and fast,
gaining speed and altitude until the tairen were circling the city overhead, the first true tairen to do so in a thousand
years. They filled the skies with roars and flame, then soared north and disappeared from view.
Rain lifted his arms and called out both aloud and in a Spirit weave that carried to every corner of the city, “Mioralas, Fey! Mioralas, kem’ilanis! With pride, this Fey presents Ellysetta Feyreisa, truemate of the Tairen Soul, she who shines light on shadowed souls, restores
hope where none remains, and brings fertility back to the Fey.” He lifted her hand and raised it high. “Miora felah ti’Feyreisa!”
The former rasa took up his cry: “Miora felah ti’Feyreisa! Miora felah ti’Feyreisen!”
The crowd burst into explosive cheers and applause, and thousands more Fey added their own voices to the exuberant cries.
Rain let his gaze sweep over the crowd, finding dozens of faces he knew, seeing the subtle nods that told him the message
of this carefully orchestrated show had not gone unnoticed. And as his eyes met and held the gazes of the five Massan and
their mates on the podium, he knew they had not misunderstood either.
If they had truly been considering Challenge, they’d just realized they were outmatched.
Ellysetta had saved the rasa and been accepted by the tairen and, thanks to her powerful fertility weave, had brought the promise of life back to the Fading Lands in the form of Marissya v’En Solande’s unborn Tairen Soul son.
Despite the looming threat of war, the gods were clearly smiling on the Fey once more. Thanks to Ellysetta Feyreisa, the Star
of Chakai.
With a faint, deliberate smile, Rain leapt into the air, his body dissolving in a swirling cloud of rainbow-shot mist. Moments
later, pure black, magnificent and deadly, his tairen form wheeled overhead. He swooped low over the crowds, and Ellysetta’s
lu’tans spun a whirling jet of Air that lifted her high and deposited her smoothly onto his back as he passed overhead.
?Hold on, shei’tani.?
?Rain, wait. What about the Massan? Are we not going to meet them??
?They will join us in the palace in a few bells, before the banquet to celebrate your arrival begins. For now, let them celebrate
Marissya’s joy and the return of the rasa, and let us enjoy what I fear will be the last chimes we will have alone for many
days. I have a feeling all of Dharsa will want to greet you personally and ask for your blessing.?
Rain circled one final time over the crowds before soaring towards the palace at the top of the city’s central hill to give
Ellie an unimpeded view of her new home.
Wider than several Celierian city blocks, the five-sided white marble hall rose up from lush, manicured gardens. Gilded tairen
rampant crouched on the rooftop at all five corners, and in their great jaws, each cat clutched a gleaming globe of Tairen’s
Eye crystal. A large tower capped with a golden dome rose above the center of the complex, and at its apex stood a silverstone
Fey shei’dalin draped in rippling golden robes. Her face was upturned, her arms raised over her head, holding aloft a sixth crystal globe,
larger than all the rest, that shone pure white and radiant as the sun.
?Legend says the white stone is the kiyr of Lissallukai, the tairen who breathed magic into the world,? Rain told her as they circled. ?The tairen at the corners of the building represent the five makai who led their prides to follow her here.?
?And the shei’dalin and five warriors?? Below the shei’dalin holding Lissallukai’s soul crystal, five statues of fierce Fey warriors ringed the base of the dome. They leaned out over
the edges of the tower roof into the winds, silver seyani swords unsheathed and clutched in their pale stone hands. Each warrior wore finely scaled armor gilded gold and silver and
covered with tabards enameled in rich shades of scarlet, silvery white, rich purple, cobalt, or verdant green.
?The five branches of Fey magic, of course, and the love that gives us hope and holds Fey warriors to the Bright Path. They
guard and bless the Hall of Tairen, throne room of the Feyreisen.?
On the northeast side of the dome lay a large, open courtyard sown with a green expanse of grass. They descended onto the
thick grass, and Rain Changed back into the Feyreisen’s ceremonial garb.
“This is beautiful,” she said, looking around.
“When the prides were many, and the makais came to Dharsa to meet with the Feyreisen, this is where they would gather before entering the Hall of Tairen. Steli and
the others will join us here tomorrow when they return to sing to the Eye.”
The walls of the courtyard were covered with a mural of mosaic tiles that depicted various scenes: tairen soaring the blue
skies above Fey’Bahren and Dharsa, hunting on the Plains of Corunn, stalking through verdant forests, and swimming in aqua
waters beside silver-sand beaches. The tiles shimmered with magic, and Rain showed her how to make the scenes come alive by
turning her head. Ellysetta laughed in delight and turned her head from side to side to watch the tairen stalk and the trees
rustle in a breeze.
He led her to the south wall of the courtyard, where a shimmering pool lay waiting under the southern eave.
A silverstone maiden and warrior poured continuous streams of water from crystal urns into the pool, while on the wall, mosaic tairen crouched on either side and appeared to drink.
Rain plucked a golden cup from a small niche beside the pool, held it under the stream of water, then offered it to Ellysetta.
The moment the water touched her lips, her eyes went wide. One small sip erased every hint of weariness and filled her with
vibrant energy. “Faerilas.” She sipped again, then drained the cup, shuddering a little at the rush of refreshing power. “But much stronger than any
I’ve tasted yet.”
“The pool is fed directly from Dharsa’s Source,” he told her. He filled the cup for himself when she was done. “There is no
more potent faerilas to be found in all the Fading Lands.”
“What makes it so much stronger?” She watched his throat work as he swallowed and saw the glow of his skin grow brighter as
the faerilas renewed his magic.
“No one knows,” he admitted.
Her brows rose. “Well, where do Sources get their magic?”
“No one knows that either.” He drained the cup and returned it to the niche. “We do know that Tairen’s Eye crystals lie at the heart of each Source—we discovered that when we tried to repair Lissilin—but just
replacing the crystals does not rejuvenate a failed Source. There must be some other factor, some great old magic now lost
to the Fey.”
“Sybharukai said she smelled old magic in me.”
His mouth curved up at the corner. “That did not escape me.” He held out a wrist. “Come. Let me show you your new home.”
Ellysetta started to put her hand on his wrist, then smiled and threaded her fingers through his instead. Fey did not hold
hands. It was considered unsafe in a world where a warrior needed instant, unfettered access to his magic or steel.
“We are safe enough here,” she said when he raised his brows. “There aren’t many Celierian customs I prefer to Feyan, but
this is one of them.”
He smiled, curled his fingers loosely around hers in the Celierian way, and led her into the palace.
The palace of the Fey king was a marvel, more beautiful than anything Ellysetta had seen yet in this most wondrous of all
Fey cities. Golden doors, white marble stone floors, soaring cathedral-like ceilings, walls covered with bright tapestries
that depicted Fey wars and legends long lost to the rest of the world. Long drapes of rich fabric framed glassless windows
that opened to terraces overlooking breathtaking city vistas.
Everywhere there was magic, from the shimmering mosaics of the tairen courtyard, to the fountains of faerilas splashing in every courtyard within the palace walls, to the cleaning weaves that whisked away the slightest smudge of grime
or dust, leaving every inch of the palace gleaming with Fey perfection.
Ellysetta was actually surprised to find that the palace had kitchens. Quite large ones, too, and filled with dozens of real,
live Fey women and even Fey lords, industriously baking, chopping, and kneading a staggering array of food in preparation