“What are you brothers’ names?”
“I amdahl’reisen.I do not speak their names.”
“Then weave them to me in Spirit. Your brothers should know thatdahl’reisenor not, you remain, in your heart, a warrior of honor and a champion of Light. I want their names so that I may tell them.”
After a final, brief hesitation, Varian gave her the names on a wispy thread of Spirit, whispering them as if he feared dread repercussions for speaking them even in his mind.«They are Silvannis and Moren vel Chera, of Lissilin.»
«Beylah vo, Varian vel Chera.»
Rain’s hand touched the small of her back.«Well done, shei’tani.»
She took a deep breath and exhaled the remnant pain from standing so close to an unshieldeddahl’reisen. «You were right about his pain. I don’t think I could have borne it without you.»
With Rain at her side, Ellysetta repeated her blessing for each of the remaining warriors. One by one, they hunched over, sobbing as hershei’dalin’slove tore through the numb, emotionless barrier that blanketed theirdahl’reisensouls. One by one, they bloodswore themselves to her and gave her the names of any family who’d still been living when they left the Fading Lands.
And when they rose to their feet, one by one they retrieved their Soul Quest crystals from Farel and presented them to Ellysetta.
She did not immediately accept the proffered crystals. All she could think of was the Fey custom of giving ashei’dalinthe crystals of the warriors who died on her behalf. Though she had blessed them, though she knew she could not stop them, she was still horrified that they would sacrifice themselves to save her.
«Ellysetta,»Rain’s Spirit voice whispered in her mind.«Look in their faces. Look in their eyes. You have given them back their honor and their hope. This is not a sacrifice to them. This is their salvation.»
Ellysetta looked at her newestlu’tanand realized that Rain was right. Thedahl’reisens’eyes—normally so shadowed and grim—seemed lighter, all but glittering with eagerness. These were not innocent boys, rushing off to their first battle with false expectations of glory and heroism. These were battle-hardened warriors who knew the bitter truth about what they were about to face. And still they embraced their fate willingly, even joyfully.
She held out her hand and accepted theirsorreisu’kiyr.“I will hold these for you until your return.”
Thelu’tanstepped back. One of them wove Earth, and their leathers changed colors from black to vivid flame, the chest blazoned with a golden tairen rampant whose green eyes glowed with a magical light.
As one, they cried,“Miora felah ti’Feyreisa!“
Before the last echoes of their cheer faded, a familiar, icy tingle ran up Ellysetta’s spine. Her knees went weak, and she had to clutch Rain’s arm to keep from falling. “Rain—” Her voice broke off on a groan as a blanket of agonizing foulness engulfed her.
“What’s wrong?” Farel asked.
Rain turned a grim gaze in his direction. “Not all thechemarwere destroyed. The Well is open. The Mharog are here.”«Shei’tani, can you run?»
She inhaled, trying to breathe through the sick agony twisting in her belly. Thedahl’reisenwere shielded. The Mharog were not, and the cloying horror of them was worse than anything she’d ever felt before. “I’ll manage,” she rasped. “Let’s go.”
Farel gestured, and thedahl’reisenbegan to run.
The thirty-six who had volunteered for death ran in the opposite direction, the joy in their eyes replaced by lethal determination.
“What’s this?” Primage Dur squinted at the glow of magic in the forest before them. Twelve shining warriors in red leather stood interspaced between a line of gnarled trees, blocking the advance of the Eld. “Who are they?”
“Dahl’reisen,”Azurel hissed.
“Are they… singing? “
“It is a Fey warriors’ song called ‘Ten Thousand Swords.’” The Mharog spat on the ground. “Nodahl’reisensings that song.”
But singing they were. What had the Feyreisen’s mate done thatdahl’reisenwould sing with all the fierce pride and joy of the Fey?
They continued to sing even as the glow of their magic began to coalesce into thick, powerful ropes. Fire, Earth, Air, Water, Spirit… and then Azrahn. “They use Azrahn freely.” Even at this distance, the sweet chill of the forbidden mystic made the back of his teeth ache and his own power rise in response. “One of them, at least, is a master of it. Or close enough so it makes little difference.”
“Foolish, foolish Fey. Do they not learn?” The Primage sneered, closed his eyes, and sent a whip of Azrahn arrowing across the distance to Mark the fools who wove Azrahn in the presence of a Mage. A moment later, his sneer faded. His brow furrowed. His Mark had found no target. “What’s this?” The Mage spun Azrahn again, and again thedahl’reiseneluded his claiming. “They’ve somehow shielded themselves against my Marks.”
“Just as well.” Azurel closed his fists around hilts of the long, black-bladed knives at his waist that had replaced the curvedmeichascimitars he’d once worn. He smiled with eager bloodlust. “I prefer to wet my blades in a fight.”
Beside him, the other Mharog growled deep in their throat, and Azurel could sense they were as eager as he to spill the blood of thesedahl’reisenwho sang as if they were still Fey. The song, once so beloved, seemed a symbol of all that the Mharog had lost, all that they now reviled.
