Chapter Twenty-One
I am born a thousand times
When I see you,
I live a thousand lives
When I am with you,
And I die a thousand deaths
When you leave.
Born, Live, Die, a courtship poem from
Adrial vel Arquinas to his truemate
Elvia ~ Navahele
Ellysetta woke to the ethereal beauty of Elvish dawn song rising through the trees and the joy of Rain’s warm body wrapped around hers.
For a moment, she lay there, hugging the arm draped over her.
She ran her fingers lightly over his and carried his hand to her lips.
Such strength, such power, and yet ultimately so fragile.
The memory of Hawksheart’s dire prediction of Rain’s fate made her eyes close in grief. She had only one month to bind her soul to Rain’s or lose him to the bond madness. Just the thought of it made panic tighten her chest and robbed her lungs of breath.
She couldn’t lose him. Not to bond madness. Not to war. Not to the High Mage.
?Shei’tani?? A sleepy thread of Spirit brushed across her senses. Rain’s fingers flexed against her lips. The body that had been relaxed against her in sleep now shifted and his arms tightened around her. ?Arast sha de?? What is it?
She turned towards him. His eyes were still closed. He was still half-asleep, and it was only her distress that had roused him. She stroked his brow. ?Neitha, shei’tan. It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.? She accompanied the reassurance with a light weave of compulsion and peace.
But as he began to sink back into weary sleep, a staccato rap upon the door shattered the silence.
Rain’s eyes flashed open. Before she could take another breath, he’d leapt from the bed and crossed the room in a blur of speed. His meicha scimitar flew out of its sheath and into his hand as he went, and he flung open the door, razored steel in one hand, magic blazing in the other.
An Elf stood on the landing outside the bower door.
“Forgive the intrusion,” he said calmly, as if confronting naked, sword-and magic-wielding Tairen Souls were an everyday occurrence. “Lord Galad sends his apologies but says you must depart immediately. Please gather your things and join him on Grandfather’s island.”
Half a bell later, clad once more in her studded red leathers and bloodsworn blades, Ellysetta stood by Rain’s side at the base of Grandfather Sentinel.
Early morning light filtered through the cool, dew-drenched leaves, and curling clouds of mist rose from the silvery ponds at the city’s center, lending a dreamlike feel to the peaceful enchantment of Navahele.
Galad Hawksheart stood at the base of the ancient Sentinel tree, garbed in flowing, silver-shot robes of sage green.
“I had invited the leaders of the Danae to join us in Elvia so you could meet with them. Unfortunately, there is no longer time. You must depart for the Celierian-Eld border immediately.”
“Why?” Rain asked. “What has happened?”
“A verse I’d long hoped would remain silent has begun to play.” Hawksheart’s face was etched in grim lines. “The next battle begins in six days’ time, not the two weeks you were expecting. And without you, defeat is certain.”
“Where?” Rain asked instantly. “Kreppes?”
Hawksheart bowed his head. “Lord Barrial’s Elf blood has long made his family a target of interest for this High Mage.”
Beside Ellysetta, a sudden bloom of heat burned through the morning mist as Tajik’s Fire magic flared.
“Barrial as well?” His hands bunched into fists.
“You stand here and tell us another of your kin is in mortal danger—and no doubt you Saw it centuries ago—yet still you will not lift a finger to save him?”
The Elf king’s eyes flashed with ire. “Have I not just revealed a truth you did not know? Am I not sending you to Lord Barrial’s aid?
As I have explained, I cannot do more without causing great harm.
You Fey look for patterns in the gods’ weaves.
We Elves See them. We help where we can, Tajik, but some weaves must be spun. Some Songs must be sung.”
“So you always say. No matter who pays the price.” Tajik spat a curse and stalked off.
“Tajik is overset by the news of his sister,” Rijonn said. “I’m sure when his emotions calm, he will regret his harsh words.”
“No, he won’t.” Hawksheart gave a thin smile.
“I know my cousin. He’s a hothead. Always has been.
But he’s a strong blade, and a fierce and tireless champion of the Light.
You’ll need both before this Song is done.
Here.” He thrust a long, cloth-wrapped bundle into Rain’s hands with none of his usual Elvish grace. “This is my gift to you.”
Rain frowned and unwrapped the bundle. His brows climbed to his hairline when the soft cloth fell away to reveal a spiraling silver horn. “Shadar horn?”
“War is a perilous venture. Take it. One day, you may find use for it.”
The Elf king turned to Ellysetta and held out a woven circlet of slender branches covered with tiny golden flowers that looked like sunbursts against a backdrop of broad, glossy green leaves.
“Sentinel blooms,” he said. “A gift from Grandfather. Place them beneath your head when you sleep, to keep evil from invading your dreams. Once you leave Elvia’s borders, do not sleep without them.
And do not leave your mate’s side. His presence offers more protection even than the Sentinel blooms…
and yours offers him the same. You shield each other, and you hold each other to the Light.
Only together can you walk the Path the gods have set before you. ”
She reached out to take his hand, and for the first time saw Hawksheart startled.
He had isolated himself so completely over the centuries that even the simple touch of a hand was a shock.
“Beylah vo, Lord Galad. I am grateful for your aid and guidance. I still do not know why the gods chose me for this task, but I pray I can fulfill it.”
“Whom else would they send to defeat the Darkness, if not their brightest Light?” The Elf king lifted his free hand and, after a brief hesitation, laid his palm atop their clasped hands.
His eyes softened and he regarded her with something near affection.
“Do not be afraid, Ellysetta Erimea. The gods did not set you on this path alone.” His gaze traveled around the ring of warriors surrounding her.
“Rain, your lu’tan, your birth parents, even your Celierian father and mother, all came into your life for a reason.
Each was chosen to guide and guard you, to teach you what they could and keep you safe from Shadow’s harm.
Remember that, Ellysetta. Trust in those you love, and let them teach you to trust in yourself. ”
He looked deeply into her eyes, and his voice tolled in her mind. Find your strength, cousin. You have much more than you know. And heed your dreams. Elf blood runs in your veins. What your soul Sees when your mind sleeps does not all come from the Mage.
He stepped back and offered a final nod. “Fare thee well, my friends. May the gods shine their Light upon your Path and keep you safe from harm.”
Fanor led the Fey away from the soaring golden tower of Grandfather Sentinel and towards a small green meadow where a dozen saddled Aquilines stood waiting, their snowy wings tucked against their sides and their reins held by a trio of beautiful Elves.
Gil stopped in his tracks. “We’re riding those?”
“They have agreed to allow it,” Fanor said, “and they can carry you out of Elvia and across the mountains much faster than any other Elvish steed.”
The winged steeds nickered and snorted as the Fey grew near. Like most horses, they smelled the scent of predator on the Fey, and they were not as placidly unconcerned as the great ba’houda behemoths that had carried the Fey to Navahele.
“Esa,” Fanor soothed in a crooning voice. “Esa, my friends.” He gestured to the Fey. “Come. Approach slowly and offer them your hands. They will settle once they become accustomed to your scent.”
Following Fanor’s directions, the Fey mounted the Aquilines. As the snowy chargers leapt into the sky, their flight swift and graceful, Ellysetta glanced over her shoulder towards Grandfather Sentinel.
The lone figure of Galad Hawksheart stood at the base of the giant tree.
His voice sounded in her head, deep and rich and melodic, with all the power of a great river carving a path through solid stone.
Remember, cousin, trust in yourself. And when it seems all Paths lead to Shadow, let love, not fear, be your guide.
The Aquilines flew from Navahele to southern Celieria faster than ba’houda or even Fey could have run, carrying their riders across the vast forests of Elvia, over the soaring, snowcapped peaks of the Valorian Mountains and the deep plunge of Braveheart Chasm.
They galloped northwest across the sky, following the Valorians to the scythe-shaped curve of Celieria’s Tivali Range, where they dove and turned through the ice-and snowbound peaks, startling iridescent pink and blue kolitou from their frozen aeries.
At sunrise, three days after leaving Navahele, they reached the northernmost apex of the Tivali curve. The Aquilines alit on the steep mountain slopes, and Fanor Farsight and the Elves took their leave of the Fey.
“This is where our paths part,” Fanor said as they made their farewells. “Aquilines will not fly over open land outside of Elvia.”
“Beylah vo, Fanor,” Rain said. “For everything.”
“Anio, it is I who thank you,” the Elf replied. “What you did at the Lake of Glass…you gave me a way to make peace with a sorrow that has pained me all my life. For that, I will always be grateful.”
“Will we ever meet again?” Ellysetta asked.
“I hope so.” He took her hands and gazed into her eyes—not the deep, piercing stare of an Elf, but the warm gaze of a friend—and a faint smile softened his normally austere features. “And hope is a rare emotion for a race accustomed to knowing what the future holds.”