King of Sword and Sky (33 page)

His brief flare of temper subsided. "Ah, well…" He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and they resumed walking. "Give yourself and Venarra time to get to know each other,
shei'tani.
The Eye deliberately sowed discord among us. I do not know why. At the moment, all the Massan are wary, but once they come to know you, they will love you as I do."

Would they? Ellie wasn't so sure. She'd spent a lifetime as an outcast—and no matter how hard she'd tried, she had never managed to win most people over. And for all Rain's talk about sacrificing self for the good of the many and choosing death rather than risking corruption, he didn't seem to see the parallels between herself and the
dahl'reisen.

The
dahl'reisen
scar was a visible mark of the former Fey warrior's slow slide towards corruption. How were the Mage Marks she bore any less condemning, even if they were impossible to see except in the presence of Azrahn? If
sheisan'dahlein
was the only honorable choice for
dahl'reisen,
then what did that say about her?

Ellysetta looked up at the stars shining over the palace and followed Rain slowly up the hill.

Celieria City ~ Royal Palace

Half a continent away, the flames of a thousand candles gleamed like stars from the chandeliers overhead, and the sparkle of ten thousand jewels glittered from the resplendent raiment of the courtiers gathered in the gilded ballroom of Celieria's Royal Palace.

A voice called out in ringing tones, "Lord Geris Bolor," and the members of the court watched with interest as the broad-shouldered and handsome newcomer to the court made his entrance to bow before their royal majesties, King Dorian and Queen Annoura of Celieria. Despite the titillating scandal of the prior Lord diBolor's disinheritance, the royals welcomed the new Lord Bolor warmly enough. Moments later, one of Queen Annoura's own favorites, Lady Jiarine Montevero, was escorting the new lord about the ballroom and introducing him to the nobles gathered there.

Nour's gaze scanned the ballroom, then stopped abruptly. His spine stiffened and his shields instinctively locked into place. "And who, my dear, is that lovely young lady there in the rose and the gentleman in bronze beside her?"

Jiarine followed his gaze and arched a brow. "You have a good eye, my lord. That is Great Lord Barrial and his daughter Talisa diSebourne. One of the Fey who accompanied the Tairen Soul claimed she was his truemate."

"But she's married to Sebourne's heir?"

"Yes, that's why she has such a tragic, melancholy air about her. The king upheld Lord diSebourne's marriage claim, and the Fey who tried to claim her left with the rest of his countrymen two weeks ago. She's been quite distraught ever since." Jiarine heaved an exaggerated sigh, and then her red lips curled.

Nour's eyes flickered with faint irritation. "You may understand the court, my dear, but you have much to learn about the Fey." He directed his attention back to the very beautiful and indeed quite melancholy Lady diSebourne and let his gaze sweep across the section of ballroom surrounding her, counting the faint telltale glow of Fey invisibility weaves. A full quintet, to guard the precious
shei'tani,
plus another two off to one side. The unfortunate suitor, no doubt, with a friend to keep him from doing something rash like starting a war.

The corner of his lip curled up. The possibilities of that situation bore careful consideration. For now, however, he had other work to do.

"Where is this Great Lord Darramon you were telling me about?"

"Over there, just approaching Queen Annoura." Jiarine nodded her head in the direction of Celieria's beautiful queen. "As I told you, his wife is very ill, and from what Fanette was able to pry out of his servants, the Fey have offered to heal her. He's preparing a caravan to take her to the Garreval. Fanette tells me they're scheduled to leave tomorrow."

"Then we must move quickly."

The Warriors' Academy of Dharsa was an imposing structure perched on the crest of Anas Mena, the city's northernmost hilltop. Like all other buildings in the city, the Academy was built of gleaming white stone, but the golden spires on its roof were great
seyani
blades stabbing up into the sky, and all along the rooftop, silverstone Fey warriors crouched in battle stance, arms extended, curved
meicha
gripped in silverstone fists.

At the front of the building, the Warriors' Gate leading into the compound was a broad, barrel-arched corridor with a series of four inner gates that symbolized the four-hundred-year journey undertaken by every boy who grew to become a lethal, disciplined Fey warrior within these walls.

The first gate was
Shalin,
the boy, carved from fresh-scented fruitwood that portrayed dozens of scenes from the first hundred years of a Fey youth's warrior's training. The second was
Cha,
the blade. Forged of shining steel, its gleaming surface was etched with the symbols of the advanced sword moves taught to Fey warriors during their second hundred years. The third gate,
Faer,
which meant "magic," was woven entirely of hundredfold weaves of power, symbolizing the mastery of magic that was the focus of the third century of a Fey's training.

And finally,
Chakai,
the champion, a carved silver-stone gate as thick as a Fey was tall and spiked with hundreds of sharp steel Fey'cha blades. Across its weighty, unyielding surface, impossible to move except through magic, the Warriors' Creed was written in blazing five-fold weaves.

Gaelen, Bel, Tajik, Rijonn, and Gil stood beside Rain on the stone-paved road leading up to the gate. All of them stared up at the looming entrance, flanked on each side by two massive silverstone Fey warriors who looked down as if in grim warning upon all who entered.

"You are certain you want to do this?"

Rain glanced at Gaelen. That had to be at least the fourth time the former
dahl'reisen
had asked the question since breakfast two bells ago. Though Gaelen looked as cocky as ever, his oft-repeated question revealed just how thin that façade of self-assurance truly was.

"I am certain," Rain answered, as he had each of the previous three times. "Are you?"

The former
dahl'reisen
arched one black brow. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" He gave a dismissive snort. "There are none within who could give me cause for concern, even on their best days."

"Good," Rain said. "Because I'm sure there will be more than a few eager to try. You broke your honor. They will not let you off gently." He turned to lead the way through the Warriors' Gate. Tajik, Rijonn, and Gil followed on his heels.

Gaelen hesitated just long enough to earn a knowing look from Bel.

"You are Fey once more," Bel said with quiet reassurance. "Give them time to remember that, treat them with the respect your blade brothers deserve, and they will welcome you."

Gaelen adjusted his weapons belts and set his jaw. "Let them keep their welcome—and their disapproval. If they allow pride to prevent them from learning what skills I have to teach, they deserve their fate."

"True," Bel agreed. "Cloaking one self in blind pride is as foolish as donning glass armor for war. I'm glad you recognize it for the danger it is."

Gaelen gave vel Jelani a sour look. "You are as subtle as a
rultshart
in rut."

Bel responded to the insult with a grin. "Humility isn't a poison draft," he said. "It wouldn't kill you to try a sip."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Just think of the joy on your sister's face when she sees you leading the warriors of the Fey into battle like the hero you once were." With a speaking lift of his brow, Bel turned and jogged after Rain, Tajik, Gil, and Rijonn.

Gaelen stood there, gaping after him. Without a backward glance, Bel thrust a hand behind his back, spun a fly out of Spirit, and sent it buzzing straight into Gaelen's mouth.

Vel Jelani was most definitely a master of Spirit. The bug felt entirely too real, right down to the wild flutter of its wings and unpleasant taste. Gaelen spat instinctively before he had the sense to unravel Bel's weave. His eyes narrowed as soft laughter trailed back to his ears. "You will regret that, vel Jelani." Setting his jaw, he loped after the Spirit master through the long, arching tunnel of the Warriors' Gate.

Rain, Tajik, Rijonn, and Gil emerged from the Warriors' Gate and crossed the small first courtyard where, in days before the Wars, when the Fey had flourished, young recruits would gather at the beginning of each season to be evaluated and assigned a
chatok
who would guide them through their Cha Baruk. Six steps led from the courtyard to the arched doorway that opened to the Walk of Honor, a long, continuous corridor that bordered the Academy's large, central training field. There, inside the walk, statues of famous warriors and
chatoks
lined the gleaming marble corridor, while polished Fey steel and the
sorreisu kiyr
of long-dead heroes hung on the walls.

Rain walked past the statues, feeling the weight of their inanimate stares, and unpleasant worms of doubt uncurled anew in his belly. He'd walked this corridor more times than he could count, activating the Spirit weaves that recounted the triumphs and sacrifices attributed to each of the great Fey until he could repeat each tale from memory.

Honor had been no mere word to the Fey enshrined here. They'd considered it an immutable truth, clear and uncompromising. They'd died for it, selflessly, leading by example. What was he doing, bringing a
dahl'reisen
to join their honored company?

Bel and Gaelen caught up just as he passed through the door leading to the training yard. Rain turned his head to meet Gaelen's eyes, expecting to see his doubt reflected in the former
dahl'reisens
gaze. Instead, he found shock and something even more surprising…humility.

"It welcomed me," Gaelen whispered. "As I passed through it, the Warriors' Gate said, 'Greetings, Gaelen vel Serranis, warrior of the Fey, Champion of Light,' just as it did when I completed my Cha Baruk. Just as if I'd never trodden the Shadowed Path."

Bel clapped a hand on Gaelen's shoulder and smiled, and Rain closed his eyes in relief. The tension that had been gathering in his shoulders and belly flowed out like waters released from a dam. The Mists had welcomed Gaelen. Now, the Warriors' Gate had welcomed Gaelen. It was as if all the great magic of the Fading Lands were trying to reassure Rain that Gaelen's honor truly
had
been restored, that the shadows of his past had been wiped away as if they'd never been.

He took a deep breath and strode through the door onto the Academy's training ground.

Open to the sky above, the yard was a vast expanse of bare ground surrounded by covered, colonnaded walkways. From one corner to another, the warriors had gathered. Thousands of them. Ellysetta's
lu'tans
and every unmated warrior in Dharsa—even a few dozen of the mated ones.

All eyes turned towards Rain as he and Ellysetta's quintet entered and made their way to the end of the field, where a gallery of gilded chairs sat under a rounded marble roof.

Long ago, when Feyreisen had been numerous, the Defender of the Fey and his Tairen Soul brethren would visit the Academy each month and sit in those chairs to observe the training of the Fey warriors who would fight at their sides. Today, as they had been for the last thousand years, the chairs were occupied by the venerable
chatok,
the mentors, of the Academy. They stood as Rain approached.

"Welcome, Feyreisen." Jaren v'En Harad, the oldest of the
chatok
and Lord of the Academy, bowed and waved one arm towards the large, central chair carved with tairens' heads that had an unimpeded view of the field.

Rain hesitated for the briefest moment before moving forward to stand before it.

The grounds were silent, all eyes upon him.

"You have heard by now that the Mages have returned. Celieria needs our aid." His eyes roved over the gathered warriors, seeing the knowledge reflected back in their grim, stony faces.

"Evil has risen in Eld once more. It casts its shadow over our neighbor. Celieria cannot survive without our help, and so we must give it. Because, as the words written on the
Bor Chakai
remind us each time we pass through the Warriors' Gate, fighting is what Fey were born to do."

He looked around at the faces of the Fey, most of whom had fought in the last Mage Wars, and saw the same memory, the same realization on many of them. They knew exactly what he was asking of them, exactly what grim evil they would face if the Mages had grown strong again, but they knew that facing such evil was the task the gods had set upon them.

"But we have grown too few, my brothers. We will not long last against an Eld army even a quarter of the size we faced in the Mage Wars. That is the reason I gathered you here today." Rain crossed his arms and widened his stance, instinctively bracing for the storm about to erupt around him. "I'm certain you've all heard how the Feyreisa restored a
dahl'reisen's
soul—and not just any
dahl'reisen,
but the Dark Lord, Gaelen vel Serranis, himself." All eyes went to the tall, icy-eyed warrior standing to Rain's left. "He has spent most of the last thousand years fighting Eld on the borders. I asked him here to teach those of you who are willing to learn from him."

"You want us to accept…
him
… as our
chatok?"
Outraged exclamations sprang from the lips of the gathered Fey.

"I do," Rain said. "Bel, Tajik, show them why."

The two warriors exchanged a brief glance, then shimmered into invisibility.

"An invisibility weave," scoffed Tael vel Eilan, one of Tenn's youngest cousins. "Any Spirit master here could do as much."

"Could he?" Rain arched a brow. "Let's put that to the test." He cast a cool gaze over the assembly. "Which among you claim a master's level in Spirit?" Thousands of hands rose. "Excellent. Then among you, you should have no trouble discovering where my two friends went." He waited, but the warriors lowered their hands and glanced around in confusion, clearly unable to discern where Tajik and Bel had gone. "You cannot find them? But invisibility is a simple weave. Any Spirit master should easily be able to detect them."

He let a full chime pass, giving the warriors ample time to find their prey, then pinned Tael with a challenging glance. "It seems this Spirit weave is not so simple after all. Perhaps you can tell me where my friends are?
Nei?
Shall I show you? Very well. My brothers, reveal yourselves."

As quickly as they had shimmered into invisibility, the two warriors reappeared. Tajik was standing behind one of the Spirit masters, Fey'cha held at his neck.

Bel was at Tael's side, holding the younger Fey's steel in his hands.

The young warrior clutched the empty space where his Fey'cha harnesses and
meicha
belts should have been. "How … ?"

Bel thrust Tael's weapons belts back into his hands. "Arrogance is no substitute for experience, Fey. You might consider that perhaps—just perhaps—a Fey who survived most of the last thousand years battling Eld along the Celierian border might have a thing or two he could teach you about magic—and survival."

Leaving the young warrior flushed red and fumbling to don his stripped weapons, Bel returned to stand at Gaelen's side.

The former
dahl'reisen
cast Bel a sidelong glance and a faint smirk. "I'm touched, vel Jelani. I had no idea how much you cared."

Bel grimaced and rolled his eyes, which made Gaelen laugh softly.

Rain raised his voice to address the gathered warriors. "That Spirit weave was a technique Gaelen taught these warriors in less than a day. Can you imagine how such a skill might serve you on the battlefield?"

The
lu'
tan
were nodding, but many of the gathered Fey still looked skeptical, and several outright hostile.

"Fancy weaves don't change the fact that he walked the Shadowed Path," one of the Fey called out. "His presence besmirches the honor of all
chatok
who have taught within these walls."

"Changed times call for changed attitudes," Rain replied. "War is coming. Our ancient enemy has risen again, and grown strong while we have grown weak. I will not turn away a Fey who was once counted among our swiftest and surest blades." Rain let his gaze travel the length and breadth of the training ground. "What punishment the gods passed upon him for his crimes has been paid, and he has been given new life so that he may serve the Fading Lands once more. The guardians of the Mists judged him worthy—even the Warriors' Gate welcomed him as a blade brother and a champion of the Light. Will you do any less?"

He waited for his words to sink in, then said, "In a moment, the warriors' gong will ring." As was the custom for any training day in the Academy, each of the Academy's
chatok
would strike a blow to call the
chadin
to order. "Those who refuse to learn from one who was once
dahl'reisen
may leave before Gaelen strikes his blow"—he turned to regard the gathered mentors of the Academy—"as may any
chatok
who refuses to accept him into their honored company. I will not hold you in any less esteem for your decision. I know this is a difficult thing I ask, and I know it will be troubling to many. If you choose to remain, that choice will serve as your sworn and binding oath that you will give Gaelen vel Serranis the respect any other
chatok
commands."