Crown of Crystal Flame (32 page)

“Azrahn is just magic, a mystic like Spirit. Is Fire or Spirit evil?
Nei,
though, the manner of their use can be. It is no different with Azrahn. Which is why we teach our children from a very early age how to weave their magic—more importantly, how to control it. The ones with Mage Marks do not spin it, of course, but the rest of us do.”

“Some of these children are Mage-claimed?” Rain asked “Marked, not claimed. And, yes, some are. The
dahl’reisen
save the ones they can and bring them here, where we can protect them and give them some semblance of a free life, safe from the Eld.

“It is Azrahn that lets us offer them that haven,” she added. “We spin it in our shield weaves to hide our presence from the Mages. We use it to detect Mage Marks and know who is a real danger to us, and who is not. Most of us here in the village possess at least some ability to spin the soul magic, and we are not evil.” She gestured to the room at large. “These children are not evil.”

“Why would Gaelen not tell us about you?” Ellysetta asked, her stunned gaze roving over all the little faces.

“All of us have sworn a blood-oath never to reveal information about our village and our children. The Eld would slaughter us. The Celierians would burn us out. The Fey would never accept
dahl’reisen
back within their borders, and none who live in this village would ever settle in a place where our men are not welcome. We are outcast, and keeping our secrets ensures our safety.”

“Then why show us now?” Ellysetta asked.

Before Sheyl could answer, a childish laugh rang out, and a tiny voice cried, “Again! Again!” Ellysetta gasped and clutched Rain’s hand in a tight grip. She stared in disbelief at the face of a child she’d loved dearly and never thought to see again. “Rain, that’s Bannon!”

The son of her best friend, Selianne Pyerson, was dressed like a village child and playing with the other toddlers. She sent a frantic gaze towards the other end of the room, where the infants were, searching for another sweet face dominated by the big blue eyes so like Selianne’s. “And Cerlissa!” Cerlissa, Selianne’s baby, had grown so much in the last four months, but the chubby-cheeked infant, sitting on a rug, playing with blocks, was most definitely Selianne’s daughter.

“You know Bannon and Cerlissa?” Sheyl asked.

“Their mother was my best friend. She died trying to protect me from the Mages.” After Selianne’s death, when the Fey found her husband murdered and her Elden mother hanging from a knotted cord, Gaelen had promised he would take Selianne’s children to a safe place where they would be welcomed despite the Mage Mark set upon them by the Mages who’d killed their mother. “Gaelen said he would take them to a safe place, but he wouldn’t tell us where.”

“They were taken in by a couple who lost their own child to a
lyrant
last year.”

Ellysetta bit her lip. The children were obviously happy and well tended, but—“Please, may I see them?”

“Of course.” Sheyl signaled, and two of the village women collected the children and carried them across the room to Ellysetta.

“Bannon! Cerlissa! Oh, I’m so happy to see you both!” The baby Cerlissa chewed her fingers and laughed in delight. Bannon, however, regarded Ellysetta with no hint of recognition in his solemn blue eyes. But of course, she looked like a stranger to him. He’d only known Ellie, the woodcarver’s daughter, never Ellysetta, the Fey
shei’dalin.

She spun a quick Spirit weave, transforming in an instant to the plain mortal Ellie Baristani she’d been when they’d known her. “It’s me, dearling,” she told him. “It’s Auntie Ellie.” She knelt before him and held out her arms. “Auntie Ellie, Bannon. Don’t you remember?”

When he still looked confused, she reached into the pocket of her apron where she’d always kept a little treat for him when she went to see Selianne. She pretended to gasp in surprise, “Oh! What do I have here in my pocket?” Another quick weave spun from her fingertips, and she pulled her hand out to brandish a tiny, painted wooden horse just like the ones she used to coax her father into carving for Bannon.

The little horse and the once-familiar custom of Auntie Ellie’s magical pocket of treasures sparked a memory. A tiny smile curved the boy’s lips, revealing a mouthful of pearly baby teeth. He reached for the horse and fell into her arms to give her a kiss, and say, “Thank you, Auntie Ellie,” as he had so many times before.

Her arms closed around him, holding him tight, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that welled up at the sound of his sweet voice. “Oh, Bannon.” She cupped the back of his head in one palm and stroked her fingers through his baby-fine hair. Holding him again was almost like having Selianne back. She didn’t want to let him go, and even when she set him down so she could take Cerlissa in her arms, she kept stroking Bannon’s back and hair.

She wanted to keep them with her. She wanted to take them with her now. But they’d been taken in by a couple who’d lost their own child… and she and Rain were headed back to war—with no guarantee that either of them would survive it.

No matter how much she ached to keep Selianne’s children with her forever, this was where they belonged. So she held them and smiled her brightest, despite the threat of burning tears, trying to squeeze months of love into a handful of chimes.

Watching her, Rain’s heart swelled with a mix of love and sorrow. She would be an exceptional mother. Even in the guise of her mortal self, the joyous warmth of his
shei’tani’s
deep capacity for love shone bright as a star. She deserved children—far more of them than even
shei’tanitsa
matepairs ever had. And once she forged the last thread of their bond to complete their
shei’tanitsa
union, he would do everything in his power to see that Amarynth bloomed eternally in her footsteps.

“Sheyl,” he murmured, as his
shei’tani
cuddled her friend’s children. “You said you had a favor to ask of us.”

“I’m sure you’ve already guessed, Tairen Soul.” Sheyl clasped her hand at her waist. “The world grows more dangerous every day. War has begun, and it will only get worse. The
dahl’reisen
will fight to defend the Fading Lands as they have these many past centuries, and our village will be left vulnerable. Will you grant safe harbor to our women and children while our men fight the Eld?”

“Aiyah.”
There was no hesitation, no other possible response. “You cannot weave Azrahn within our borders, of course. And the Mists will not permit the
dahl’reisen
to enter, but your women and children—even your men who are not
dahl’reisen
—will be welcomed with joy.”

“And will you give me your Fey oath on that—and vow that we will all be free to leave again—even the children?”

“Of course.”

“Then I have one last secret to show you.”

Sheyl led the way to the back of the nursery and opened a door to a smaller adjoining room. Several young children were gathered round a short table, squishing lumps of clay into shapes with their small fingers.

“Muri,” Sheyl called. “Come here, kitling. There are some people I want you to meet.”

“Sheyl! Sheyl!” One of the children, a chubby toddler with bright blue eyes and masses of dark ringlets ran forward, her little arms extended.

A smile softened Sheyl’s face, and she knelt to scoop up the child. “Hello, dearling.”

“Look what Muri made.” The girl held up a piece of dough shaped in a lumpy, four-legged mass. “Horsie!”

“That’s lovely, kitling. Your mother will be so proud of you.” Still holding the child, Sheyl turned to Ellysetta and Rain. “This is Murialisa.”

“Oooh.” The child stared at Ellysetta. “Bright, pretty lady.”

“Yes, she is very bright, isn’t she, kitling.”

Rain stared at the little girl in shock. There was no mistaking the Fey glow in the child’s eyes and the slender Fey delicacy just revealing itself in her childish features. “The father… cannot be
dahl’reisen?”
Girl children were not born outside the bonds of
shei’tanitsa.
And yet he was staring at a child, a girl, in whose veins ran not some mild form of magic but the shining light of strong Fey blood.

“No,” Sheyl confirmed. “Muri’s father was born in this village, but his father before him was
dahl’reisen.”
She kissed Murialisa’s round cheek and set her down. “Go back to your play, kitling.” When the child was once again industriously molding clay dough into animal shapes, Sheyl murmured quietly, “Murialisa’s grandfather was killed by the Mages seventy years ago. Her father truemated eight years ago with a village woman from the borders of Lord Barrial’s lands.”

Rain grasped Ellysetta’s hand. “Truemated? The son of a
dahl’reisen
truemated with a Celierian?”

“She is not Celierian. Or rather, not as you mean it. She is not simply a hearth witch, infected by the magic of these lands. Powerful immortal blood runs in her veins. Fey, definitely, probably Elvish as well. She is very gifted, just like her
shei’tan.
Murialisa is their second child. They also have a seven-year-old son.”

“A truemate lives in this village? Amongst the
dahl’reisen?”

“She is a strong empath, but she has a natural ability to shield herself, just as the Feyreisa seems to have. She and her mate live at the edge of the village, where she feels the pain of the
dahl’reisen
the least. Murialisa has an even stronger shielding ability. The
dahl’reisen
are careful never to touch her, but she can be around them without any apparent difficulty.”

“No wonder you protect your secret so vigilantly,” Rain murmured, unable to tear his eyes from the small, luminescent girl who had returned to her play. “This child is a gift beyond price.” He swallowed thickly and met Sheyl’s eyes. “I will tell the warriors at the Garreval to expect you.”

Celieria ~ Dahl’reisen Village

Mortals, half-bloods, and
dahl’reisen
stood silent as Sheyl guided Rain Tairen Soul and his blindfolded mate down the last of the hanging steps to the tended walkways and gardens on the forest floor. Farel and a small army of
dahl’reisen
clad in full war steel had gathered beneath the trees.

As Rain looked around the village in the soft gleam of morning’s light, he saw what he’d been too weary and dazed by pain to notice last night—Amarynth, blooming in profusion along the walkways of the
dahl’reisen
village. Even knowing about the little Fey girl Murialisa born to truemated parents, the sight of the undying flower still struck a deep and profound chord in his soul.

Life bloomed with defiant joy here in the shadow of lost souls.

Farel broke away from his companions to approach the Fey, halting half a tairen length from Ellysetta. A visible glow of Spirit and Azrahn surrounded him and the other
dahl’reisen.

“We have shielded ourselves to protect the Feyreisa from our pain,” he told Rain. “I apologize that we cannot make the shields stronger, but too much Azrahn will reveal our location to the Eld.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Ellysetta said.
«Oh, Rain, they’ve shielded themselves and still there is so much pain. How can they bear it without going mad?»

«Most do not, shei’tani. It is one of the reasons they must be banished from the Fading Lands. No matter what we’ve seen here today, do not think these men are like the rasa. They walk the Shadowed Path, and there is very little that keeps them from plunging into the abyss. As your mate, I should have sworn honor vengeance against them just for standing in your presence, but I accepted their help instead. If I were not already cast out, the Massan would be within their rights to banish me just for that.»

«But they aren’t evil yet,»
Ellysetta protested.
«You know they aren’t. And we owe them our lives.»

«I know.»
His gaze strayed again to the starry white blooms. Nothing about these
dahl’reisen
fit what he’d been raised to believe about them. And nothing made sense.

The warriors of the Fading Lands had clung to their honor with fierce devotion, yet their bonded mates were barren. These
dahl’reisen
wore the marks of their dishonor on their faces and spun the forbidden magic without apology… yet their unbonded mates bore Fey children capable of truemating, and Amarynth bloomed in their village in abundance.

Everything about this village defied the most ancient and deeply held Fey beliefs and turned the most unshakable pillars of their civilization completely on their heads. He didn’t know what to think. It was as if the whole Fey world was going just as mad as he was.

“Sheyl assures me you and your mate are healed and rested well enough to travel. My men and I will escort you out of the forest.”

The sound of Farel’s voice snapped Rain back to attention. “I appreciate your offer,” he answered, “but I am healed enough to Change.”

“That would not be wise. Nothing flies over the Verlaine. The top of every tree is set with poison darts and a motionsensing spell that targets anything above it. The allies set up the defense during the Wars to keep the Eld from spying, and we improved upon it. You wouldn’t get a half man length above the canopy before you’d be filled with enough
lyrant
venom to bring down the entire Fey’Bahren pride.” Farel’s stony expression softened just slightly. “You were headed for Orest. Gaelen told me to bring you to him at the northwest corner of the Verlaine, and so I shall.”

Rain glanced back at Ellysetta.
«lt shames me to ask it of you, shei’tani, but can you bear their presence for another day?»

She didn’t hesitate.
«Of course.»

«I’m not sure how well they can hold their shields all that time,»
he warned.

She lifted her chin.
«I’ll survive whatever I must.»

He turned back to Farel. “Agreed. But your men must keep their distance. I mean no insult, but I don’t want them within two tairen lengths of the Feyreisa.”

Farel nodded.
“Kabei.
Sheyl will bring your steel.” He started to turn away, then stopped to add in a low voice, “And thank you, Rainier vel’En Daris, for allowing us to serve the Fading Lands with honor once again.” He held Rain’s gaze steadily. “I know accepting our aid goes against everything you were ever taught. Truthfully, were I you, I’m not sure I could have done it. But I give you my oath, sworn on the soul of the mother I loved, that we will see you and your mate safely out of the Verlaine and that we will do you no harm.” He did not wait for acknowledgment, but pivoted on his heel and strode away, straight and proud as any Fey.