Chapter Six
Rain followed Cannevar Barrial’s manservant to the northwest corner of the walled palace grounds where Lord Barrial and his four sons were occupied with archery practice.
The Great Lord wore golden brown leathers cut in plain lines that might have made him seem a simple man were it not for the glowing luster of the leather and the glint of decorative gold studs.
His dark hair was caught in a leather band at the nape of his neck.
His face was in profile, his concentration complete as he drew back the taut sinew of an Elvish bow.
He did not wear a bowman’s finger rings, Rain noted and was duly impressed when the border lord still managed to draw the bowstring back behind his ear.
Not an easy thing for a man to manage when the bow was Elvish and crafted of indomitable hartshorn wood.
“I’ll be with you in a moment, my Lord Feyreisen,” Lord Barrial said, proving that his concentration was not so complete as Rain had thought.
Still, the Celierian never took his eyes from the tiny circular target far, far in the distance, and when he let loose the bowstring, his notched arrow flew swift and true to its center.
“Impressive shot.” Rain nodded at the carved bow in Barrial’s hands. “And a fine bow. Made by craftsmen of the Valorian Mountains, if my memory of Elvish symbols serves me.”
“Your memory is good.” Lord Barrial smiled. “Galad Hawksheart gifted this bow to me at First Hunt when I turned sixteen.” Behind him, Lord Barrial’s sons each let fly with his own arrow, and to the last, each hit his target dead center.
“Hawksheart?” Rain’s brows rose. The Elf King was not unknown to him. He’d led the Elves into battle during the Mage Wars and guarded an ancient Elvish prophecy called the Dance. “You keep fine friends, Cannevar Barrial. Do you call a Song in the Dance?”
Lord Barrial laughed. “No, thank the gods. I just shake my feet to the tune like the rest of the world.” He handed the bow to his manservant. “My relation to Hawksheart is a simple one: We share ties of kinship through my mother’s family. I spent my childhood in Elvia after my parents were killed.”
“Ah.” This man grew more interesting by the moment. Royal Elvish blood, dahl’reisen friends, and a sorreisu kiyr around his throat. Cannevar Barrial might not call a Song in the Dance, but Rain would bet his last blade he at least played a Harmony.
Lord Barrial stepped away for a moment to murmur something to his oldest son. The young man nodded, and a few chimes later, he and his brothers began to pack up their gear. Lord Barrial walked back to Rain. “I understand you’re dining with Teleos tonight.”
“I am. Will you be joining us?”
“No, I promised my sons I’d take them hunting since Council is out of session for the next two days.
We’re riding for Kingswood in a few bells.
” He grimaced and confided, “I’m avoiding Lady Thea.
She, unfortunately, was the nearest unattached woman when your truemate spun her weave last night, and I think she read more into what followed than there was. ”
“My truemate’s weave, Lord Barrial?” Rain tried to sound confused.
The border lord arched a canny brow. “I’ve enough Elvish in me to know magic when I see it.
Especially when it grabs me by the cock and doesn’t let go for seven scorching bells.
If you recall, I was sitting directly across from your lady.
As she was the only one not shedding clothes and those crystals of hers were glowing, it wasn’t hard to identify the guilty party. ”
“Ah.” Rain fought the urge to scratch a sudden itch behind one ear.
At least, Lord Barrial seemed to be taking the weave in stride.
“My lady has an unusually strong . . . affinity for keflee, and a strong gift in Spirit. Add to that five sorreisu kiyr and a bit too much pinalle, and . . . well, you saw the results. There was no ill intent, I assure you. She did not know what she was doing.” He met Lord Barrial’s gaze and held it steadily.
“I would consider myself indebted, Lord Barrial, if you would keep the source of the weave a secret between us. Ellysetta already has a steep enough path to climb to gain acceptance from the noble Houses.”
Lord Barrial grinned. “No debt needed. The memory of Morvel chasing his wife round the room like a chicken is more than enough payment for my silence.” He laughed and clapped Rain on the shoulder. “Come, walk with me, and ask your questions. I’ll give you what answers I can.”
“Tell me about the dahl’reisen,” Rain prompted as they walked through an avenue of stately, arching fireoaks.
Cannevar smiled. “I thought that might be among the first of your questions. Oh, I’ve heard all the rumors and listened to the ‘proof’ Sebourne and several others offered yesterday in Council, but I still find it hard to believe.
Dahl’reisen have protected my family for centuries.
And for all the bogey stories about him, Gaelen vel Serranis avoids contact with mortals. ”
“At the dinner, you said you’d met him.”
“Ta. Twice. The first time was when I was a lad of five. Elden raiders attacked my family as we were returning from a wedding celebration at a distant cousin’s estate.
They killed my parents and were coming after me when a man appeared out of nowhere.
He wore Fey steel and killed ten Eld in moments, as swiftly and skillfully as I’ve ever seen any being kill. ”
“You are sure it was Gaelen vel Serranis?”
“Black hair. Pale blue Fey eyes with all the color and warmth of glacier ice. A scar bisecting his right eyebrow. Here”—he held out a hand—“take the memory to confirm it.” When Rain hesitated, Cann said, “It’s all right. I know the Fey can read thoughts through touch.”
“I will not search,” Rain vowed, “and I will try not to touch more than surface thoughts. Just think of the man you saw. Try to picture his face in your mind.” Rain reached out to clasp the Celierian’s hand.
The moment Fey-pale skin slid over darker Celierian bronze, Cann’s thoughts began to flow into Rain’s consciousness.
They didn’t come in a flood, which proved Cann had stronger mental barriers than most of his countrymen, and most of the thoughts that did trickle through were related to Gaelen and the current situation: Why do the dahl’reisen protect my lands but attack others?
Why did Gaelen vel Serranis save my life and come to warn me that darkness is rising in Eld?
Is there something behind Rain Tairen Soul’s visit that—
The last thought was cut off abruptly, and Cann quickly filled Rain’s mind with a very strong image of a Fey warrior’s face.
Even expecting it, Rain felt his gut clench at the image of the infamous, familiar face of the once-celebrated Fey warrior: Gaelen vel Serranis, now called the Dark Lord.
It was Gaelen whose blood-drenched vengeance for his twin sister’s death had catapulted the world into the Mage Wars.
Long black hair framed a stern, humorless face dominated by piercing, ice-blue eyes.
A long, curving scar started two inches above the right temple and slashed across his forehead to bisect his right brow.
No Fey became scarred except dahl’reisen, and, except for deep, mortal wounds, even they only scarred when they made the kill that tipped their souls into darkness.
Rain remembered Marissya’s shriek of agony when her brother returned to the Fading Lands with that telltale mark on his face.
He remembered the bleak despair on Gaelen’s face when she and the rest of the Fey women fled from him and the unbearable pain of his doomed soul.
Rain released Cann’s hand, and the image faded. “If that was the Fey you saw, it was indeed Gaelen who saved your life as a child.”
Cann nodded and murmured softly, “I remember how fast he moved, how quickly and effortlessly he killed the Elden raiders. The last thing I remember, he was crouching over me, telling me I was safe. I must have passed out then. When I woke, I was alone. There were no bodies, no blood, just an empty field, a scorch mark on the grass, and my father’s ring on a chain around my neck.
” Cann twisted the heavy signet ring on his right hand.
“I still wish he’d left their bodies, so I could have had something to bury. ”
Rain knew the pain of loss all too well, and he knew the hollow ache of a loss that left nothing to hold, no way to say final good-byes.
“Gaelen would have burned the dead so their souls could not be called back by Elden Mages,” Rain said, wanting Cannevar to have at least that small comfort.
“He did what was best for them, and for you.”
“Did he? I never realized that.”
“There is much your people no longer know, particularly regarding magic and magical races. The Eld freely use Azrahn, the magic we Fey have forbidden amongst ourselves. It is a dark and dangerous magic, too easily misused and too seductive a power for even Fey to wield without risk of abuse. You Celierians think we warn you against the Eld just because they and the Fey decimated one another a thousand years ago, but that is only a small part of the reason for our distrust of them.”
The avenue of oaks opened to a small stocked fishpond. Rain bent to pick up a small stone and sent it skipping across the surface of the water. “Why would the Eld have killed your parents?” he asked.
Lord Barrial shrugged. “Why do they do half the things they do? They raid. They kill, unless the border folk kill them first.” He sent a stone skipping several man-lengths past the ripples of Rain’s, then smiled at Rain’s arched brow.