The formerdahl’reisencast 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?”
Thelu’tanwere 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 allchatokwho 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. “Whatpunishment 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’schatokwould strike a blow to call thechadinto order. “Those who refuse to learn from one who was oncedahl’reisenmay leave before Gaelen strikes his blow”—he turned to regard the gathered mentors of the Academy—“as may anychatokwho 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 otherchatokcommands.”
He saw numerous warriors and half a dozenchatokshift in their places and knew they were among the first few who would walk for the door after the first strike of the gong.
“Before you decide, my brothers, consider this. We are few. The enemy is many. Loris v’En Mahr will soon be traveling to Elvia to meet with the Elf king, Galad Hawksheart. It is my hope the ancient alliance between our peoples can be renewed and Loris can convince the Elves to join us in this fight; but no matter what comes of his mission, the Eld will strike, and the Fey must be ready to stand against them.
“And before you decide, consider this also.” Rain’s hands went to the circlet of silver sword blades twined by golden vines and Amarynth leaves perched on his brow, the non-ceremonial sign of his kingship. “I ask nothing of you that I do not first ask of myself.” Lifting the crown from his head, he placed it gently on the gilded tairen’s chair, then stepped down into the training field beside his brother Fey.
Jaren v’En Harad approached the warriors’ gong and struck the first blow.
Of those who had gathered on the field, only six thousand remained when Gaelen struck the final blow to the gong. A fourth of those were Ellysetta’slu’tansand the otherrasawhose souls she had restored. Not the overwhelming numbers Rain had hoped for, but more than he’d truly believed would stay.
Half thechatokhad departed as well. In a quiet ceremony of disapproval, each had waited for his time to ring the warriors’ gong, then made a point of exiting in proud silence rather than striking a blow.
When it was over, Jaren nodded at the gathered Fey. “This is a good beginning. I had not expected so many to stay.”
“Nor I, but it’s still not nearly enough,” Rain said. “And I’ve cost you half your most skilledchatok.”
“You but winnowed out those who have made their pride a funeral shroud.” Jaren met Rain’s eyes. “Our world has changed, Feyreisen. I have watched great Fey cities die, seen our forests fade back into desert, and listened to myshei’taniweep for the children her womb will not bear. It seems to me when the ways of the past lead only to death, then change is the only hope for life.”
“What if that change leads only to more death?” Rain asked.
Jaren smiled sadly. “Great change always does. That’s why it’s so hard to embrace. But we are not a people born to hide from danger.” He put a hand on Rain’s arm. “Lead with courage, my king. Make them remember what it is to be Fey.”
Thechatok’s smile became a bold slash of white teeth, and his face lit with a fierce, proud light. In an instant, Jaren was transformed from a man weighted with weary sadness to a proud, deadly warrior of the Fey, fearless and fierce. “‘We are the steel no enemy can shatter. We are the magic no Dark power can defeat. We are the rock upon which evil breaks like waves.’Keep reminding our brothers of that—make them believe it—and the Eld could outnumber us two hundred to one and still not defeat us.”
Ellysetta’s stomach curled in nervous knots as she approached the Hall of Truth and Healing, the serenely beautiful building on Dharsa’s central mount where theshei’dalinsgathered to work their magic and perfect their craft.
The air of the hall was filled with the soothing sounds of splashing fountains, and lush blossoms, hanging plants, and potted greenery turned each room into a paradise of peace and beauty. Scores ofshei’dalins—their devastating beauty unveiled, their unbound hair spilling down slender backs—laughed and smiled from every corner, chaise, and chair.
Tiny, dark Jisera v’En Arran, Eimar’s mate, crossed the room, hands outstretched, to greet her warmly. “Feyreisa, welcome to the Hall of Truth and Healing. Venarra is expecting you.”
She led Ellysetta through a series of connected rooms, and as they walked, Jisera whispered on a quiet weave of Spirit,«I can feel your unease, little sister.»
Ellysetta gave her a startled look, but didn’t try to deny the truth.
Theshei’dalin’s earnest expression was filled with compassion and understanding.«I know Venarra can seem cold, but that is only because she feels things so strongly she must discipline her emotions like a warrior. When you get to know her better, you will see her heart is fierce but full of love.»
They had reached a small sitting room filled with cushioned chairs. Jisera escorted Ellysetta inside, gave her an encouraging smile, and departed. Ellie fought the urge to cling as she watched Jisera’s departing figure.
A sound behind made her turn.
Venarra stood in an arched doorway. She was clad in red silk from neck to toe, which set off her dark eyes, dark hair, and pale skin to perfection. Ellysetta was glad for the silvery drape Rain had spun from herlu’tans’steel, and the five blades of her quintethanging at her hips over the violet velvet gown she wore beneath. The steel gave her a measure of confidence, just as Bel’s dagger had back in Celieria when she’d faced Queen Annoura and the nobles of the Celierian court.
After several moments of silence, Venarra said, “Walk with me.” She led the way through a second, spiral-columned archway to a small, private garden. Abundant flowers and blossoming trees filled the air with perfume. Birds and butterflies flitted from branch and bloom.Faerilasburbled from wall fountains shaped like tairens’ heads.
“As theShei’dalin, it is my duty to see that you are properly trained in theshei’dalinarts. I had thought—given the words that passed between us yesterday—that you might prefer to have someone other than me instruct you, but Marissya tells me your power overwhelms even her.” She glanced at Ellysetta. “Marissya is our most giftedshei’dalin, but I am stronger at seeing past the strength of a weaver’s threads to the actual pattern of a weave. She believes I am the one best suited to train you and teach you the discipline you need to hold your power in check.”
