Then came the summons, Sybharukai’s rich, commanding tones sung on the winds.«Rainier-Eras, you and your mate must come.»
They flew as fast as Rain’s magic and wings could carry them, pausing only to collect Marissya before continuing on to Fey’Bahren. Marissya was a far more experienced healer than Ellysetta, and Ellie wasn’t willing to risk the kitlings’ safety by trying to heal them on her own. When they reached the nesting lair, they foundthe entire pride ringed around the remaining five eggs, alternately crooning and growling fiercely.
Rain steered Ellysetta and Marissya clear of the dangerous, twitching tails of the female tairen. The venomous spikes were fully extended, pale and shining in the dim firelit glow of the lair. His own tairen’s anger was rising rapidly.
He peeled away the ever-present barriers that shielded his Fey mind and flung his consciousness outward. No hint of the source of the danger came back to him. There was only the desperate fear of the kitlings, struggling in their eggs against... nothing.
Then a cold finger of dread trailed up his spine.
Fear, but not his own and not the kits’. “Ellysetta.”
She was shivering despite the thickness of her leathers and the heat of the nesting sands. “Can’t you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The cold... I hear voices, whispering.”
“I feel nothing.” He took her hands. Her skin had gone ice-cold. He glanced at Marissya, who shook her head.
“It’s the same as when the tairen sang the Fire Song.” Ellysetta saw the concern on both their faces and realized neither of them could sense the evil presence. Why was she the only one who did?
“I’m going to see if I can tell where it’s coming from.” She pulled her hand from Rain’s and resolutely approached the tairen eggs. As she drew near, a cold chill ran up her spine, making her flesh pebble. Her knees quivered with sudden weakness. She reached out to the nearest egg to steady herself.
The moment her hand made contact with the leathery shell, the tairen kitling within lurched towards her. The egg rocked, and a frightened cry mewed in her mind. The kitling’s consciousness reached for her as a tiny babe reaches for its mother, blindly grasping, instinctively seeking the security and warmth of her presence. Tears filled her eyes. She wanted to tear away the outer walls of the egg and gather the frightened tairen infant in herarms. This was a baby, just like any Fey or Celierian baby, small and vulnerable and innocent. And some dark, horrible hand of death stalked it as if it were prey to be captured and consumed.
She touched the other eggs, receiving the same frightened, lurching response from each of the unborn kits. Worse, each time she lifted a hand from one egg so she could reach out to another, she could hear the little kitling cry out in fear, could feel its desperate, too-weak attempt to cling to her.
“Oh, Rain, they’re so frightened.”
In two long strides, he was at her side. “Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Touch them. Talk to them. Let them know they aren’t alone. Sing to them.”
He began to murmur, hesitantly at first, but the hesitance quickly faded as Rain, too, sensed the kitlings’ frantic fear. The murmur became a purring croon and then a deep baritone song, strong and comforting. Marissya’s voice joined his, and the tairen moved closer, lowering their great heads and adding the breathtaking gold and silver beauty of tairen song to the mix.
Ellysetta opened her senses, trying to find the source of the attack. She could feel the whispering chill dancing at the periphery of her senses, everywhere and nowhere all at once. Dark, cold, its voice was a hissing iciness that battered against the melodious warmth of the songs sung by Rain and the tairen. The thing’s presence was so strong she could almost see it, but every time she tried to focus on it, the attacker faded like mist, insubstantial and elusive. Present, but always just beyond her reach, taunting her.
“Marissya, try healing the kitlings again. Maybe whatever it is goes dormant except when it attacks.”
Theshei’dalinstepped forward. Green Earth and lavender Spirit, both shining with golden hues, looped and swirled in glistening flows above her palms as she gathered and shaped her power, then released it upon the nearest egg.
Her brow furrowed as she sent the magic into the egg-boundkitling. “I still can’t find any sign of physical illness, Ellysetta, but I can feel them dying. It’s almost as if something’s draining their lives away.” She looked up, her face wan, deep blue eyes filled with concern. “I can try to hold them to life, to give you time to find and stop what’s killing them.”
“Do it.” Ellysetta moved from egg to egg, singing, soothing. She spun the healing weaves just as Venarra had taught her, but she had no more success than Marissya. Frustration coiled inside her. The infant tairen were sobbing, their little bodies shivering in fear despite the welcoming tairen song that flowed around them. Each time she laid hands on one egg, soothing the infant within, another would cry out. And each time she turned to comfort that one, a third would start to whimper. Almost as if... as if...
“Bright Lord save them,” Ellysetta breathed, horror washing over her in an icy wave. “They’re being hunted.”
As soon as she said it, she knew she was right. Except the kitlings’ hunter—whatever it was—wasn’t making an outright attack. It was testing the kitlings’ defenses, weakening them like a pack of thistlewolves driving a herd of sheep to exhaustion before moving in for the kill.
Rain stopped singing. His spine straightened. His face hardened to a mask of etched stone. “Mage?”
“I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel familiar.”
“Ellysetta. Rain.” They both turned at the sound of Marissya’s voice. Theshei’dalin’s face was pale, her mouth pulled back in a grimace of pain. “Something’s wrong.” Suddenly, she gave a cry and stumbled back away from the eggs, falling to her knees in the black sands. She hunched over, curling up into a ball, her arms wrapped around her waist.
“Marissya!” Ellysetta rushed to theshei’dalin’s side and dropped down beside her in the sand.
Fear stripped Ellie’s mind of all Venarra’s careful instructions about how to choose the threads and weave them in specific, controlled patterns. Instead, pure, desperate instinct took over as shereached for Marissya.Dear gods, help me. Let me heal her.The magic roared up in response, potent and vast. It poured into Marissya without caution or restraint, connecting the two of them with powerful, unchecked flows.
