Chapter Seventeen
The Fading Lands ~ Dharsa
By month’s end, the number of warriors training at the Academy had increased to sixteen thousand. The Spirit masters among
them could weave invisibility without a trace and extend the weave to mask a full quintet from detection. Certain of those
Fey had also discovered the near-unlimited potential true invisibility offered to the practical jokers amongst them. They
and their traps for the unwary popped in and out of sight with gleeful abandon until Gaelen threatened to skewer the next
idiot who annoyed him. (That didn’t stop their pranks; the culprits just became more selective of their victims.)
Spirit masters weren’t the only ones to benefit from Gaelen’s experience. The Earth masters had learned a little trick that,
while not effective for long, could block an oncoming rush of sel’dor missiles or blade strikes. All the warriors could fire the Fey’cha in their chest straps half a chime faster than before,
and Gaelen promised that with additional practice, their speed would increase even more.
All told, Gaelen’s training was a resounding success. And though Loris had sent word from Elvia that an emergency in South
Elvia had prevented him from even meeting with the Elf King yet, Rain was pleased with the month’s progress. The warriors
were ready and spirits were high.
Ellysetta wished she could say the same for herself. Each passing day brought Rain’s departure nearer, but she was no closer to discovering what was killing the tairen.
“What in the name of all the gods made me believe I could find answers that have eluded Fey who’ve been searching for a thousand years?” she groused to Rain after reading what
seemed the millionth scroll. They were sitting on the chairs overlooking the Academy’s training grounds, the remains of their
midday meal sitting nearby. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to find. For all I know, the answer could have stared me in
the face a hundred times and I’m just too blind to see it.”
She slumped in her chair in dispirited frustration. “I haven’t found any answers. I haven’t found my tairen song, and I don’t
even know how to complete our bond.” She covered her face in her hands. “Maybe Tenn and Venarra are right. Maybe I have already done all I was meant to do.”
Rain’s hands closed around hers in a firm grip. Emotion flooded her senses: trust, belief, reassurance, all riding on a rumbling
undercurrent of irritation. “Venarra should never have shared that with you. All it did was make you doubt yourself even more
than you already do.” His lips thinned. “Sieks’ta, shei’tani. I have been too preoccupied to look after you as I should. I have not even been courting you properly since we reached Dharsa.”
Ellie sighed and leaned against him. “You’ve been busy. We both have.” She had a growing collection of courtship gifts tucked
away in glass cases in their room, but once their training had begun, the only real time they’d spent alone was when they
flew to and from Fey’Bahren to tend the kits, or the few bells of restless sleep they snatched each night.
“A Fey should never be so busy he cannot see to his mate.” He rose and pulled her to her feet. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere I should have taken you weeks ago.” Rain tracked down Gaelen and informed him that the Feyreisen and the Feyreisa
would be leaving Dharsa for a few days.
Gaelen eyed the pair of them, smirked, and said, “About time, Feyreisen.”
Rain’s response was to shoot back a string of Feyan words Ellysetta had never heard before, but several of the warriors nearby
laughed and cheered their king so robustly she was certain whatever he’d said didn’t bear repeating amongst the women. Gaelen
whirled on the chadins and barked with such ferocity they snapped back to instant, stone-faced order. Leaving the Fey to Gaelen’s gleefully merciless
instruction, Rain cleared a spot to Change, and a few chimes later, he and Ellysetta were winging west, away from Dharsa.
Celieria ~ Teleon
?Lord Darramon has arrived.?
Leaning against the stone wall of Teleon’s highest guard tower, Kieran sent the message arrowing into the Mists to the warriors
and shei’dalins waiting in the war castles of Chatok and Chakai. To the west, a caravan of carriages, wagons, and mounted riders crossed
the hilltop and started down the sloping grade.
?We come.? The voice of the returning weave was distorted by the energy of the Mists.
“He took his time, considering he’s here to have his wife cured of a deadly illness,” Kiel murmured. “I was beginning to think
he wouldn’t show.”
“Those mounts are mortal-bred, not ba’houda.” Kieran counted three dozen outriders and two more wagons carrying servants and provisions. “I doubt they’ve been on the
road less than three weeks.”
“Shall we head down to meet them?”
Kieran straightened up from the wall. “Aiyah, but let’s stay clear of the Stones grid.” Lillis and Lorelle were playing Stones with the quintet assigned to guard them
today—and soundly beating them, by all accounts Kieran had been receiving throughout the morning. ?Ravel.? He spun a quick Spirit weave to the leader of the quintet currently watching over the twins. ?Lord Darramon has arrived. Kiel and I are going down to greet them. Keep the girls out of sight.?
Though the twins understood how vital it was that they remain within the Spirit-weave-concealed confines of Teleon, lately
they’d been showing signs of boredom, which translated into a proportionally increased propensity for wandering. Only yesterday,
Kieran had found them playing Princess in the Tower in the lower-level guard towers, and he’d barely caught them before they
climbed down the knotted bedsheet they’d thrown over the ramparts. Had he arrived even a few chimes later, they’d have landed
on unprotected land and been visible to any passersby.
?Understood.? Ravel’s weave sounded harried, as if the twins had been running him ragged.
Kieran swallowed a quick grin. They probably had. Lillis and Lorelle had energy to spare.
?Fey, ti’bor,? he sent on the common path, calling the other warriors to join him at the outpost’s front gate. He and Kiel ran along the
main road that zigzagged down the mountainside to the outpost, cutting corners by making use of several stairways and a few
quick Air slides. Behind them, four dozen warriors followed their lead. They stepped through Teleon’s Spirit weave and into
the mortal-built outpost at the bottom of the mountains before the first of Lord Darramon’s outriders reached the main gate.
With a salute to the guardsmen manning the gate towers, the Fey passed beneath the raised portcullis and gathered on opposite
sides of the open gates to await the approaching caravan. Each warrior kept nimble fingers within easy reach of his red Fey’cha
blades.
?Your uncle would come in quite handy right about now,? Kiel remarked silently. ?A quick weave of Azrahn and we’d know if there was any killing to be done.?
Kieran shot him a sour look. ?Not funny, Kiel.? He regarded the approaching party. ?Fey have survived for millennia without weaving the forbidden magic. And so will we. Just keep a steady hand and a sharp eye.?
The first dozen riders to reach the outpost were coated in travel dust and clearly saddle-worn, but Kieran couldn’t detect
anything suspicious about them. He exchanged brief introductions with the lead rider, a Captain Waters, who had a steady,
no-nonsense gaze that any Fey could appreciate.
“The caravan will not enter until I give the all-clear, Ser vel Solande,” Captain Waters said. His horse whinnied and pranced
nervously in Kieran’s and Kiel’s presence, sensing the latent predator in the two Fey. “I’m sure you understand. These are
unsettled times.”
“Of course,” Kieran answered easily. “Make your inspection. The stable master’s boys will tend your horses when you’re done.”
He pointed through the gate to the stable on the right side. “Our barracks are full, but you may make camp along the south
wall after we inspect your party and their belongings.”
With a nod and a tip of his brimmed hat, Captain Waters spurred his nervous mount forward, past Kieran and Kiel. Once within
the walls, the Celierian captain’s eyes scanned the interior of the fortress in quick, assessing sweeps.
Kieran watched the man from the corner of his eye, wondering if he was checking for traps or looking for weaknesses in the
fort’s defenses. Despite the prohibition against reading Celierian minds, he sent a quick Spirit weave brushing against the
captain’s consciousness. Outright burrowing in a mortal’s mind for information was a breach of the Fey-Celierian alliance,
but skimming the thoughts of a potential enemy to ensure the protection of Fey women was not. The captain’s mind was guarded,
but devoid of suspicious thoughts.
A few chimes later, Captain Waters rode back through the front gate and signaled to the waiting caravan. Drivers clucked and
slapped the reins, and the carriages and wagons resumed their forward motion.
While the wagons and servants’ carriage peeled off towards the open field along the south wall, Lord Darramon’s carriage drove straight to the outpost’s gate.
Its lacquered sides were coated in thick layers of dust, the shiny yellow-painted wheels chipped and cracked along the edges from weeks of travel over rutted, unpaved roads and rough terrain.
At Kiel’s signal, the coachman drew the horses to a halt.
The carriage door swung open even before Kiel came within reach. Lord Darramon leaned out, his hair mussed, his face pale
and strained and pinched around the mouth. “Are they here, the shei’dalins?”
“They come, my lord.”
“Tell them to hurry. My wife has lost consciousness. I think she may be dying.”
Within chimes of their arrival, Lady Darramon was lying on the freshly laundered sheets of the garrison commander’s own bed,