Crown of Crystal Flame (35 page)

«You forget I touched Gaelen.»

«And nearly killed us both,»
he reminded her grimly.
«The hurt they carry is too great for any Fey woman to bear»

She almost faltered then. She remembered the shattering torment of Gaelen’s lost soul. But then she glanced at the stoic faces of the
dahl’reisen
who had suffered so much, who had been reviled and outcast by the very people they’d lost their souls to protect yet still, nobly, strove to protect them, and determination bloomed anew.
«Then help me bear it. Give me your strength.»

«Shei’tani, I am so close to madness, I doubt I could withstand you healing a single rasa right now.»

She bit her lip. She remembered what healing the
rasa
had done to Rain, how close he’d come to shredding his mental barriers—and he’d not been in the grip of bond madness then. She couldn’t do that to him again. But she couldn’t let the
dahl’reisen
just walk towards their deaths and do nothing, either.

«Then I will bless them without laying hands upon them. Because, one way or another, I will do this. We owe them that much.»

*   *   *

Many more than thirty-six
dahl’reisen
came forward to offer their lives for her. So many more that Ellysetta nearly wept to see it. They looked at her with such determination and pride. Despite Rain’s assurances, it did not seem right that so many immortal lives should be sacrificed for hers.

She made no further attempt to dissuade them except to refuse the service of any
dahl’reisen
with a living mate or child. “No woman will be widowed, no child orphaned, on my behalf,” she declared. Something in her voice, or perhaps the light of battle in her eyes, must have convinced them to heed her word, because two dozen of the volunteers bowed their heads and stepped back, withdrawing as she requested.

From those remaining, Farel selected thirty-six tall, fierce men, all of whom seemed to grow taller and fiercer when Farel chose them. They ringed around him as he gave them their final commands and farewells. When he was finished, each
dahl’reisen
removed his Soul Quest crystal from around his neck and handed it to Farel. The gesture pierced Ellysetta’s heart. She knew, without asking, why they did it: Warriors heading for certain death would not give the Eld more Tairen’s Eye to pervert into
selkahr.

“Wait,” she commanded when the thirty-six would have departed. “Is it not customary for
shei’dalins
to bless Fey warriors before they head into battle? “

Shock rippled across the
dahl’reisens’
faces, and when she approached them, they fell back, casting alarmed looks at Farel first, then Rain. Ellysetta halted. She would not chase these men around like a girl threatening boys with kisses in a schoolyard. “Rain, tell them.”

With a face carved of pure stone, Rain said, “The Feyreisa will bless you before you leave.”

The
dahl’reisen
stopped in their tracks. Around them, their brethren murmured amongst themselves with a mixture of shock, awe, and disapproval.

“Come here, to me,” she ordered.

The warriors shared uncertain glances, then reluctantly approached her, stopping a man length away and dropping to one knee.

With Rain at her side, she approached the first warrior. “For my
shei’tan’s
sake, I cannot touch you,” she said. “But I ask that you drop your shields.”

The
dahl’reisen
lurched back in horror.
“Teska, kem’falla,”
he pleaded, “I bear shame enough for choosing the Shadowed Path instead of the honor of
sheisan’dahlein.
Do not blacken my soul further by forcing me to share the evil in my heart with you. Just speaking the words of the blessing is enough—and more than I deserve.”

Anger blossomed in her heart. It was an abomination to her that this man was about to die on her behalf, yet still he thought himself evil and unworthy of a simple kindness. “What is your name?”

The
dahl’reisen
looked up. His eyes were lavender, almost the same shade as Rain’s. “Varian,
kem’falla.”

“Varian, if there were evil in your heart, you would not be trying so hard to spare me from it.” She lifted her chin and glared at them all, her eyes hot with righteous anger. “You are worthy. All of you are worthy. Never doubt it.”

Fierce anger burned inside her at the thought of these proud, brave men fighting and suffering for their people, only to receive banishment and a life of torment as their reward. And even then they continued to defend the very people who had rejected them.

She would not reject them. She would not allow them to flinch from her in shame. She could not stop them from their course, but she would not allow them to face their deaths believing themselves unloved and unworthy.

Ellie reached out and placed her hands on either side of Varian’s face. She did not touch him, but even so his pain and despair screamed up her nerves, radiating from his unshielded body in palpable waves. She gave a choked cry. The agony of his soul was intense, like putting her hand on a hot griddle and willing it to stay there as the flesh seared away. But when Varian started to raise his shields again, she barked “Do not!” and spun a fierce web of Spirit to stop him. She had fought and won the battle to save the tairen kitlings. She would fight and win this battle, too.

Rain’s hands gripped her shoulders. Love and strength poured into her.
«Weave your blessing, shei’tani. I am with you.»

At his touch, peace settled over her raging emotions and muted the
dahl’reisen’s
despair. She closed her eyes, gathering her emotions and summoning the shining golden magic of her
shei’dalin’s
love. Fierce love. Unwavering acceptance. Belonging. Family. Ellysetta wove those emotions and memories into her thoughts and sent them arrowing into the mind of the warrior whose face she held between her hovering palms.

“You honor me, Varian. May the gods watch over you and keep you safe. Go with my blessing and my love, and come back to me if you can.” Instead of delivering the traditional
shei’dalin’s
kiss to his brow, she poured upon him a small, radiant burst of her essence, absorbing his terrible sorrow and returning love in its stead.

When she released him, he bent his head and clumsily reformed his shields. Though his
dahl’reisen
eyes, incapable of tears, remained dry, his shoulders quaked with the force of his emotions. He fumbled with his Fey’cha belts, pulling free one of the many black-handled daggers. Both his hands and his voice shook as he sliced his palm and let six drops of blood fall upon the small blade and spoke the vow of blood-swearing. “I know a
dahl’reisen
has no right to this honor,” he declared, staring up at Rain, “but I do ask that this pledge be witnessed.”

“Witnessed,” Rain agreed. He glanced at Farel. “The bond requires a second.”

“I do not understand you at all, Tairen Soul,” the
dahl’reisen
general muttered, his expression wavering between disapproval and disbelief. Then he turned to Varian and barked, “Witnessed. And may the gods have mercy on all our blighted souls.”

Varian’s blade flashed briefly, sealing the bond, and he held it out to Ellysetta, hilt first.

She took the Fey’cha and Rain spun a quick Earth weave to add Varian’s steel alongside the other
lu’tan
steel woven into her studded scarlet leathers. “Do you have family in the Fading Lands, Varian?”

Startled, the
dahl’reisen
looked to Rain as if for guidance before answering,
“Aiyah, kem’falla.
I have two younger brothers—at least I did when the Wars ended.”

“And your parents? “

“They died in the Wars.”

“What are you brothers’ names?”

“I am
dahl’reisen.
I do not speak their names.”

“Then weave them to me in Spirit. Your brothers should know that
dahl’reisen
or not, you remain, in your heart, a warrior of honor and a champion of Light. I want their names so that I may tell them.”

After a final, brief hesitation, Varian gave her the names on a wispy thread of Spirit, whispering them as if he feared dread repercussions for speaking them even in his mind.
«They are Silvannis and Moren vel Chera, of Lissilin.»

«Beylah vo, Varian vel Chera.»

Rain’s hand touched the small of her back.
«Well done, shei’tani.»

She took a deep breath and exhaled the remnant pain from standing so close to an unshielded
dahl’reisen. «You were right about his pain. I don’t think I could have borne it without you.»

With Rain at her side, Ellysetta repeated her blessing for each of the remaining warriors. One by one, they hunched over, sobbing as her
shei’dalin’s
love tore through the numb, emotionless barrier that blanketed their
dahl’reisen
souls. One by one, they bloodswore themselves to her and gave her the names of any family who’d still been living when they left the Fading Lands.

And when they rose to their feet, one by one they retrieved their Soul Quest crystals from Farel and presented them to Ellysetta.

She did not immediately accept the proffered crystals. All she could think of was the Fey custom of giving a
shei’dalin
the crystals of the warriors who died on her behalf. Though she had blessed them, though she knew she could not stop them, she was still horrified that they would sacrifice themselves to save her.

«Ellysetta,»
Rain’s Spirit voice whispered in her mind.
«Look in their faces. Look in their eyes. You have given them back their honor and their hope. This is not a sacrifice to them. This is their salvation.»

Ellysetta looked at her newest
lu’tan
and realized that Rain was right. The
dahl’reisens’
eyes—normally so shadowed and grim—seemed lighter, all but glittering with eagerness. These were not innocent boys, rushing off to their first battle with false expectations of glory and heroism. These were battle-hardened warriors who knew the bitter truth about what they were about to face. And still they embraced their fate willingly, even joyfully.

She held out her hand and accepted their
sorreisu’kiyr.
“I will hold these for you until your return.”

The
lu’tan
stepped back. One of them wove Earth, and their leathers changed colors from black to vivid flame, the chest blazoned with a golden tairen rampant whose green eyes glowed with a magical light.

As one, they cried,
“Miora felah ti’Feyreisa!
“

Before the last echoes of their cheer faded, a familiar, icy tingle ran up Ellysetta’s spine. Her knees went weak, and she had to clutch Rain’s arm to keep from falling. “Rain—” Her voice broke off on a groan as a blanket of agonizing foulness engulfed her.

“What’s wrong?” Farel asked.

Rain turned a grim gaze in his direction. “Not all the
chemar
were destroyed. The Well is open. The Mharog are here.”
«Shei’tani, can you run?»

She inhaled, trying to breathe through the sick agony twisting in her belly. The
dahl’reisen
were shielded. The Mharog were not, and the cloying horror of them was worse than anything she’d ever felt before. “I’ll manage,” she rasped. “Let’s go.”

Farel gestured, and the
dahl’reisen
began to run.

The thirty-six who had volunteered for death ran in the opposite direction, the joy in their eyes replaced by lethal determination.

“What’s this?” Primage Dur squinted at the glow of magic in the forest before them. Twelve shining warriors in red leather stood interspaced between a line of gnarled trees, blocking the advance of the Eld. “Who are they?”

“Dahl’reisen,”
Azurel hissed.

“Are they… singing? “

“It is a Fey warriors’ song called ‘Ten Thousand Swords.’” The Mharog spat on the ground. “No
dahl’reisen
sings that song.”

But singing they were. What had the Feyreisen’s mate done that
dahl’reisen
would sing with all the fierce pride and joy of the Fey?

They continued to sing even as the glow of their magic began to coalesce into thick, powerful ropes. Fire, Earth, Air, Water, Spirit… and then Azrahn. “They use Azrahn freely.” Even at this distance, the sweet chill of the forbidden mystic made the back of his teeth ache and his own power rise in response. “One of them, at least, is a master of it. Or close enough so it makes little difference.”

“Foolish, foolish Fey. Do they not learn?” The Primage sneered, closed his eyes, and sent a whip of Azrahn arrowing across the distance to Mark the fools who wove Azrahn in the presence of a Mage. A moment later, his sneer faded. His brow furrowed. His Mark had found no target. “What’s this?” The Mage spun Azrahn again, and again the
dahl’reisen
eluded his claiming. “They’ve somehow shielded themselves against my Marks.”

“Just as well.” Azurel closed his fists around hilts of the long, black-bladed knives at his waist that had replaced the curved
meicha
scimitars he’d once worn. He smiled with eager bloodlust. “I prefer to wet my blades in a fight.”

Beside him, the other Mharog growled deep in their throat, and Azurel could sense they were as eager as he to spill the blood of these
dahl’reisen
who sang as if they were still Fey. The song, once so beloved, seemed a symbol of all that the Mharog had lost, all that they now reviled.

Without warning, the Eld soldiers behind them gave choked gasps and crumpled. Even as they fell, a red Fey’cha glanced off Azurel’s own, ever-present shields and sliced the unprotected hand of the Eld captain standing beside him. The captain’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of his bleeding hand. His fingers spasmed. Then his arm began to shake as the tairen venom spread rapidly through his veins. Within moments he was gasping for air and clutching at his throat as a white froth bubbled at the corners of his mouth. The poison reached his brain, and he dropped to the ground, stone dead, eyes staring.