Crown of Crystal Flame (55 page)

The
dahl’reisen
cleared his throat, and said, “I’ll go scout the rest of the hall. Forgive me,
ki’falla’sheisan,
for causing you pain.” He bowed to her with grave respect before cloaking himself in the best invisibility weave Shan had ever seen. The chamber door opened and closed to mark his departure.

When he was gone, Shan ordered Gaelen to spin a privacy weave on the room and fixed a stern eye on the remaining warriors. “All right, Fey,” he declared in a voice that had commanded armies and snapped countless unruly
chadins
to order. “I want answers. How is it that Gaelen vel Serranis is
dahl’reisen
no more… and why are Fey warriors keeping company with a Shadowed blade?”

Explanations tumbled out from several of them at once. Time was short, so Shan just let his mind process the overlapping voices, separating and interpreting the individual inputs instantly in his mind—much the way he processed the overload of chaotic information on a battlefield.

“So let me get this straight,” he said when they were done. “Our daughter restored vel Serranis’s soul. Her mate has allowed
dahl’reisen
to bloodswear themselves to her. And you five”—he gestured to all but the two youngest Fey—“are her bloodsworn quintet, who accompanied her to Boura Fell to rescue Elfeya and me and our daughter’s young Celierian sisters. Is that correct? “

Heads nodded, but he could see the four who knew him growing wary at his calm tone. It was a good thing he’d insisted on a privacy weave around the room.

“Then I have only two other questions for you fine warriors of the Fey.” Shan straightened to his full height, squared his shoulders and drew a deep breath that expanded his chest.
“What the scorching flames of the Seven Hells do you think you were doing letting her come here? “
he roared.
“And how the flaming Hells is it that you’re standing here, still breathing, while my daughter—the woman you swore your souls to protect with your lives—is in the hands of Vadim Maur, the evilest jaffing son of an Elden rultshart ever to be born?”

“That last part’s not their fault,” said the young, brown-haired Fey named Kieran. “The Eld knocked them out when they arrived. The High Mage must have used his connection to Ellysetta to—“

Shan pierced him with a glare as sharp as a blade. “The questions, vel Solande, were rhetorical.”

Kieran snapped his mouth shut.

Shan turned his focus back to his daughter’s quintet. “If we survive this, each one of you five owes me a year’s time on the training field. I suggest you come prepared for pain.”

Expelling an agitated breath, Shan pivoted on his heel and forced himself to channel his anger, focusing it into grim determination. “For now, however, the only thing that matters is getting our daughter out of this place. Elfeya, can you stand the
dahl’reisen’s
presence a while longer?”

“Aiyah.
The
dahl’reisen’s
pain was terrible, but bearable. I think the old saying is true: That which does not kill you,
does
makes you stronger.” She met Shan’s eyes in a moment of communion.
«I could not have stood in his presence before these centuries in Boura Fell. But now, I think I could even heal him if he were in need.»

He nodded. He and pain were old friends. And one of that old friend’s harshest but truest lessons was that suffering bred strength.

“All right,” he said. “Did you Fey have a plan, or should we adjust ours?”

The seven warriors shared silent looks amongst themselves.

“Lord Shan,” Gaelen said, “you and Elfeya
-falla
should get to safety. There is a gateway to the Well of Souls on the level above this one, and it’s under Fey control. Go there, and get out of this place. We will find Ellysetta and Rain and bring them home.”

Shan exchanged a look with Elfeya. Both their expressions turned to stone. “If you think we are leaving this place without our daughter, vel Serranis,” Shan said, “you are greatly mistaken. We have a good idea of where she’s being kept. We know all the possible routes we could take and how many guards and wards to expect along the way. You can come with us if you like, but we are going to get our child.” Shan’s voice dropped to a lethal growl. “And just so we’re clear, the High Mage is
mine
to kill.”

“Well,” Gil said, slapping his hands on his thighs, “I’m glad that’s settled. Can we get on with the slaughter?”

“Look how your mate is suffering, Ellysetta.” Vadim Maur crouched beside her and grabbed her hair, forcing her to head in Rain’s direction.
“Look at him!
” he barked.

His icy voiced throbbed with compulsion, and no matter how hard she tried to defy him and keep her eyes averted, she could not.

Rain was displayed, spread-eagled, on a wooden form shaped like two overlapping crescent moons, his body held in place by a series of
sel’dor
stakes that Den Brodson had hammered through his limbs with grim relish. Every handspan of his once-shining white skin bore signs of brutal abuse. Strips of flesh flayed from his bones. Blistered black char where red-hot brands had scorched deep. Countless
sel’dor
barbs jabbed into his skin and left to fester. Bones broken. Fingers severed.

She’d felt each moment of Rain’s torment, each scream, each breathless gasp of stunning pain, just as he’d felt each moment of her helpless horror.

She’d tried to stay strong. She knew her presence—her empathic sharing of his pain—was as deliberate a part of his torture as Den’s foul deeds. But she had not been able to stop herself from screaming any more than Rain had. She’d not been able to stop herself from weeping, from begging.

Through it all, Rain had been there in her mind, telling her to stay strong, to be brave, not to give in. As if she, not he, were the one whose body was being shattered and maimed.

“You are a monster,” she told Vadim Maur.

“I am a Mage,” he countered. “And you can end this anytime you like. You know how. I will get what I want, one way or another. But how many of your loved ones die before that happens—how long they must writhe in agony—is entirely up to you.”

Her breath caught on a hiccuping sob.

“I ask you again, Ellysetta Baristani: Accept my Mark.” He gripped her head between his icy hands, and the oppressive weight of his Dark magic closed around her, trapping her, squeezing her soul in a vise.

“If you refuse me, your mate will die. When I am done with him, I will put his body on display in the Mage Halls and I will leave it there to rot. The great Rain Tairen Soul, Worldscorcher, Destroyer of Eld, food for maggots and rotworms.” Then his voice softened, became kind. “But if you submit to me, I will let you heal him. He will live. You can be with him. You can hold him in your arms. Take him into your body.”

The pressure of his will receded. Her mind filled with feelings of warmth and love. She could almost smell the fresh bloom of spring on the air, the intoxicating scent of Rain’s skin. She could almost feel his hands stroking across her body, hear her gasp as pleasure washed over her in waves.

Just as she began to reach for the sweet seduction of the dream, the Mage snatched it away. “But you can have that only when you give me what I want.”

«Nei, shei’tani.»
Rain’s voice whispered on a ragged thread of Spirit.
«Never. You mustn’t. Not for me…not for anyone…»
Each syllable throbbed with pain.

“Every word you speak is a lie, Mage,” she rasped. “You’ll never let him live. And even if you did, he’d rather die than see me surrender my soul.”

“Perhaps, but can you bear to watch it? Can you let him die?” The Mage barked a command to Den, “Do it.”

“Nei!
” Ellysetta screamed as Den pulled Rain’s head back and slashed a blade across his throat. Rain’s blood fountained in a scarlet mist.

On the pretext of serving food, Melliandra entered the level where Vadim Maur kept the magically gifted female prisoners he used in his breeding program. If Lord Death was successful, the High Mage would soon be dead. Melliandra intended to wait for that moment here, close to the warded corridor that led to the nursery where the Mage kept his program’s most promising offspring.

Moving as slowly as possible, she pushed her kitchen cart from cell to cell, opening them with the key the captain of the guard on this level had given to her. He was supposed to walk with her from room to room and watch her as she fed the female prisoners, but she always snuck him a treat from the kitchens and left him to eat it while she made her rounds.

When she reached the cell of the black-eyed
shei’dalin
she’d dragged with her weeks ago to save the life of Lord Death’s mate, her nerves were strung tight. The anxiety must have made her careless, because the
shei’dalin
stopped her at the door.
“Sha de dai?
“

“Is it time?” Melliandra repeated. “Time for what?”

“Dai ve heber eva bebahs.”
She signed the words as she spoke them, poking a finger at Melliandra, rocking her arms in front of her body as if cradling a baby in arms, then walking her fingers. She looked intently at Melliandra, and said,
“Ke am.”
I know.

Melliandra felt her heart drop into her stomach. The
shei’dalin
knew what she was planning. Somehow, Melliandra had given her secret away. She cursed silently and berated herself for the questions she’d asked the other women—questions about how to tend babies. This
shei’dalin
must have overheard and realized what she was planning.

Determined to brazen it out, Melliandra snorted and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned away and reached for the door handle.

The
shei’dalin
caught Melliandra’s arm.
“Teska. Ve ku’jian valir eva vo.”
She pressed her lips together and tried broken Elden. “You… me… go…
eva bebahs.”
She rocked her cradled arms again.

“Are you saying you want me to take you with me?”

“Aiyah!
“

Melliandra held up her hands. “No. I’m not going anywhere, but even if I were, I wouldn’t take you with me. No. No!” She pushed the
shei’dalin’s
hand off her arm. “You’re mistaken. Wrong.
Neida.
Do you understand?
Ve sha neida.”

“Teska!
” Though it must have hurt her terribly, the
shei’dalin
spun a Spirit weave showing Melliandra with a screaming baby, a sick baby, a hungry baby. Melliandra all alone, weeping beside a small mound of dirt.
“Ke sha shei’dalin. Ke shaverr vo’vallaren.”
I’m a
shei’dalin.
I can help you.

The images horrified Melliandra as much as the idea of having a healer to help with Shia’s son appealed, but she wouldn’t be swayed. “No,” she said again. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not taking you anywhere.” She turned to leave. She had to get out of here.

“Wera!
” Wait.
“Teska, wera.”

The desperation in the
shei’dalin’s
voice made Melliandra stop. The black-eyed
shei’dalin
had been battered and raped for weeks on end, and never sounded so frantic as she did now.

Against her better judgment, Melliandra stood by the door and watched the
shei’dalin
kneel beside her bed. She lifted the edge of the pallet and reached inside a slit cut into the bottom of the pallet cover. A moment later she pulled out a small, bruised flower… actually, it was the whole flower plant: stem, leaves, roots as well as the distinctive, six-petaled bell-shaped starflowers.

“De sha Amarynth. Ve am Amarynth?
”

“Yes,” Melliandra said, staring at the flower. “I know Amarynth.” She lifted her gaze to the
shei’dalin
with dawning comprehension “Are you telling me you’re going to have a baby?”

“Aiyah.”
The woman’s expression crumpled, and for a moment Melliandra thought she would break into tears, but this Fey woman was made of sterner stuff. She shook off the emotion and reached for Melliandra’s hand again.
“Teska. Ve bos’jian valir eva vo. Ku te kem’behba.”
She laid a palm on her still-flat belly.

Melliandra closed her eyes. If there was one thing she understood, it was the driving need to free an innocent baby from this dark place. “All right. All right, you can come.” She thrust her chin out. “But the chime you fall behind, I leave you. Understand?”

The woman nodded, the black tangles of her hair falling across her face. Tears glistened in her dark eyes.
“Beylah vo. Beylah vo. Sallan’meilissis a vo.”

“Yes, yes. I get it. You’re grateful. Now, stay here and don’t say anything to anyone. I’ll come get you when it’s time.” Melliandra turned back to the door. She’d been in here so long, any watching guard would get suspicious.

“Ke sha Nicolene,”
the
shei’dalin
said in a rush as Melliandra reached for the handle. The
shei’dalin
pressed her palm to her chest. “Nicolene.
Ke sha Nicolene.”

“Your name is Nicolene.” She nodded and pointed to Nicolene to indicate she understood.

“Te ve?
” Nicolene asked.
“Arast sha ver mana?
” What is your name?

Since the day Shia had gifted a worthless
umagi
with a name, that
umagi
had never shared that name with another. Until now.

“I am Melliandra.”

Ellysetta lunged towards Rain, shrieking and writhing like a mad thing when her chains yanked her back. Her hands clawed at the air. Her eyes flamed as her tairen rose, deadly fierce and furious.

She would kill Den and the Mage. She would shred them. She would snap their bones and rip their still-living flesh from their bodies while they screamed and begged for mercy.

Power gathered in a wild, savage rush—only to slam her to the stone floor as her
sel’dor
bonds turned the fullness of her Rage back against her. She lay there, dazed, lungs wheezing, muscles convulsing as she struggled to stay conscious.

The spray of Rain’s blood fell upon the faces of the twins, and to her horror the pair of them opened their mouths to catch the droplets on their tongues. Their frozen, doll-like expressions changed. Blood-reddened lips curled into macabre smiles.