“You should have sent word,” Teleos chided as he ushered Rain, Tajik, Rijonn, and Gil into a warm, dry conservatory whose glassed walls and ceilings provided an unimpeded view of the Veil and the verdant splendor of Upper Orest. “If I’d known you were coming through the Veil, my men would have given you a much more gracious greeting.”
“The greeting was as gracious as a stranger should expect,” Rain said mildly. “My compliments to your men for their swift action. Considering that none have passed through the Veil for a thousand years, I half expected your men to have let down their guard.”
“They are well trained for mortals,” Tajik agreed. “They bring you pride.”
“Beylah vo.”Dev nodded his thanks. “The Veil may be quiet, but the greatest threat to the mortal world lives but an arrow’s flight across the Heras. And we guard the only bridge from here to the Pereline Ocean.” He walked towards the east-facing side of the room, where they could look out over the city.
At the base of Orest’s great wall, the mountains dropped away again, and the Heras River plunged down a second broad waterfallcalled Maiden’s Gate before winding eastward across the continent, a wide, dark ribbon that traveled well over a thousand miles to the sea. In all that distance, not a single stone nor strand of ferry rope bridged the wide, dark waters that separated Eld and Celieria. All that had existed were destroyed during the Mage Wars and never rebuilt.
“I think you’ll find the bridges of Orest less valued by the Eld than once they were,” Rain remarked. “The Well of Souls is all the bridge they now need.”
He ran a critical eye over the admittedly imposing defenses of the middle and lower city. Middle Orest—called Maiden’s Gate after the falls it flanked—stair-stepped down the steep cliffs of the river’s southern bank in a series of well-fortified terraces. The bottom terrace of Maiden’s Gate opened to the wide, walled city of Lower Orest. Like the fortress battlements of the upper city, thick walls of pearlescent gray stone ringed the lower city and loomed four tairen lengths high over the wide, dark waters of the mighty Heras. Steel-shuttered portals for bowcannon and archers dotted the solid walls, and the steel-enforced frames of heavy catapults crouched on broad platforms every tairen length along the crenellated battlements. Behind the massive outer wall, a secondary wall loomed higher, its ramparts studded with slender towers where war wizards conjured their spells during battle.
“When the Eld come,” he advised, “don’t rely on the lessons of the past to guide you. Their attack may come from anywhere, with little or no warning. Possibly even from within the city itself.” He didn’t have to explain. Lord Teleos had been in Celieria City when the Eld launched their attack at the Grand Cathedral of Light.
“The Fey who accompanied me from Teleon have already taken that into account,” Dev replied. “They’ve already evaluated the city’s defenses and spun protection weaves over everything. If the Eld open a portal anywhere in Orest, we’ll know about it.”
“Kabei.”He’d already received the same report from his men, but Orest belonged to Devron Teleos. He eyed the shining Feysteel Dev wore and saw the familiar name-marks on the pommels. “Shanis would be proud to have you wear his blades, Dev.” He clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Now we’ll teach you how to use them. I know I promised you safe escort to the Academy in Dharsa, but circumstances being what they are, I’ve instead brought the Academy to you. Tajik, Rijonn, and Gil will train you and your men in the basic forms of the Cha Baruk. How many Orestians wield magic?”
“Quite a few.”
“Gather them. Any adult or child over the age of sixteen who is willing to learn is welcome. If the Eld attack as boldly as I fear they might, Orest will need every advantage.” Rain looked out over the verdant, mist-and-rainbow-wreathed city, wondering where and when the first attack would come.
Chapter Twenty
The Fading Lands ~ Dharsa
Nothing.
Nothing, nothing, and again nothing.
Ellysetta shoved the pile of useless scrolls away from her in frustration. Since Rain’s departure a week ago, all theshei’dalinsand healers in Dharsa had continued searching for a way to accelerate the kitlings’ hatching. The search had expanded from the Hall of Scrolls to every private library and collection of healing texts they could lay hands upon. Even the women in Tehlas and Blade’s Point had joined the search, but still they found nothing.
Steli had ferried Ellie and Marissya between Fey’Bahren and Dharsa every day to spin on the kits each new healing weave theshei’dalinshad discovered, hoping it would bring them closer to hatching. But although the kitlings’ bodies were much stronger and larger than they had been when they’d begun, the shining lights that were the marrow of their souls were still as fragile and thin as they had been the night Forrahl died.
Ellysetta was at her wits’ end. According to every document they’d scoured in their extensive search, what Ellysetta needed—what the kitlings needed—couldn’t be done.
She scowled and pushed her chair away from the table. Irritation aroused her magic. Tiny sparks of escaping power danced around her like fairy-flies as she stood up and paced between the tables where the othershei’dalinswere still diligently poring overtext after text. She thrust her fingers through her hair, yanking at the tangled curls.
What did the authors of all these scrolls know anyway? According to them, restoring adahl’reisen’s soul couldn’t be done either—yet she’d managed it. She could find a way to help the kitlings survive, too.
Somewhere, someone or something must have the answers that would tell her how to do it. After all, she was the reason the Eye of Truth had sent Rain to Celieria. She was the one the Eye had said could save the tairen and the Fey.
Ellysetta stopped in her tracks.
She whirled around and ran up the stairs of the hall. Ignoring the startled calls of theshei’dalins, she rushed out into the fresh, bright beauty of Dharsa and raced up the fragrant footpaths towards the palace at the top of the hill.
There was one source Ellysetta hadn’t consulted yet. Once source that held answers even the Hall of Scrolls did not.
Shei’Kess. The Eye of Truth.
Celieria ~ Teleon
Den Brodson hummed the melody of his favorite Celierian drinking song—a bawdy little ditty about roosters and cats—as he tucked a blanket under his arm, grabbed a lunch pail in one fist and picked up a large cloth-covered basket in the other. Humming turned to cheerful whistling as he set off across the grassy plain south of the Teleon outpost. The guards on the tower walls returned his wave as he walked by.
Since arriving at the outpost, Den had assumed his most affable demeanor in order to befriend the guards stationed around the small fort. A ready smile, quick wit, and willingness to lend an ear or offer a free pint had already made him a welcome guest among the common soldiers. He’d used those friendships to explore the nooks and crannies of the outpost and secret two dozenchemarin well-concealed locations: buried in the corners of the bailey, tucked into a slit in a mattress in the soldiers’ barracks, dropped into the corners of the guard towers.
Den was careful not to rouse suspicion as he’d roamed, but he made note of all entrances and exits and the location and counts of all guards, mortal and Fey. He also tracked the comings and goings of the five Feyshei’dalinsand let the amber crystal tied around his neck carry his observations back to Master Nour in Celieria City.
