Chapter Fifteen #4
“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 realize 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 flowers. 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.”