Azurel’s eyes narrowed, but he stepped back and allowed the prideful Primage to approach thedahl’reisen’scorpse. He watched as Dur summoned Azrahn and called to the dead man’s soul, watched him feed more power into his summons, and almost smiled as the Mage swore and threw himself away from the body.
“What was that?” Dur gasped.
“That was Rain Tairen Soul’s mate—or rather, the power of her bloodsworn bond. It defends the souls in her keeping.” “It felt like… love.”
Azurel’s lips curled. “Of course. Love is the greatest power of ashei’dalin.With it, she could break you completely. Every evil you have ever worked, she could force you to relive through the eyes of those who loved your victims. You would shred your own flesh from your bones in self-loathing.”
“I never believed the stories were true.”
“Now you know differently.” Few of the Mages who’d earned their blue robes after the Wars had ever seen ashei’dalinat work. Most had only ever known those broken creatures captured by the Mages, bound withsel’dor,and tortured to insanity. And so they thoughtshei’dalinswere weak and insignificant. They forgot that the truemate bond did not form between uneven halves. The truemate of a powerful Fey Lord would have her own power, vastly different but nonetheless equal in strength to her mate’s.
Azurel called Fire to incinerate thedahl’reisendead. “There were only thirty-sixdahl’reisen.This ambush was not meant to stop us, only slow us down.” He held out a hand. “Give me morechemar.”
This time, Dur didn’t hesitate before handing over another ten stones. Azurel dumped them on the ground. A chime later, another flock of deadwood birds winged skyward,chemarclutched in their talons.
Tears blinded Ellysetta, but she ran without slowing.
The ones who’d gone to hold back the Mharog were dead. She’d felt each one of them as they perished, Varian the last. They’d died not in fear, but in joy.
She’d felt that, too.
Rain ran close at her side. His soul sang to hers with love and pride, and he wrapped her in supporting weaves, feeding her his strength as they ran.
The bloodsworndahl’reisenhad slain scores of Eld soldiers, more than a dozen of the Mages, and even one Mharog. Still, she wept. They had been strangers to her until today, yet each had willingly died to prevent her from falling into Mage hands. She wept because somewhere—either in this world or the next—there were mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers who had loved them. She wept because those men had not died as strangers but as her friends. In giving her blessing and accepting their oaths in return, she had taken a little bit of each warrior into herself, and it lived there still. It always would.
Thedahl’reisenaround her sang a warrior’s lament on weaves of Spirit.
She answered with her own, an elegy Celierian women sang when their men returned from war not in glory but in caskets. She wept as she sang. It was a song meant for weeping.
«Enough, shei’tani,»Rain said, when the last note died away.«You will have us all on our knees if you do not stop.»
Surprised by Rain’s remark, she wiped her eyes and turned to find tears streaming down his own face. Thedahl’reisenringed closest around them were white-faced, their eyes dark with the torment of tears they could not shed.
«You wove your sorrow as you sang.»
«Sieks’ta.»
«Nei, do not apologize. It is good to mourn them. They died with honor, as Fey should die.»
«I would mourn them even if they did not.»
«Aiyah, but it is better that they are deserving of your tears. And it will ease their families’ sorrow to know they died with honor. If we survive this war and are allowed to return to the Fading Lands, I will accompany you to visit the families of the ones who died today.»
She nodded.«Do you think Varian and the others bought us enough time?»
Rain met her gaze, his eyes bleak. He shook his head.
Celieria ~ Dahl’reisen Village
8thday of Seledos
Outside the bedroom window of thedahl’reisenhouse perched high in the treetops, the skies over the Verlaine had lightened with the first blush of the coming dawn.
Sheyl smoothed a damp cloth over Carina’s forehead, brushing back tangles of sweat-darkened hair and weaving what relief she could to ease the woman’s pain. She’d tried for bells yesterday to keep the child from coming, but the birth would not be stopped. Sheyl wasn’t sure she was a powerful enough healer to keep either mother or child alive—the child was coming months too soon, and the labor was not an easy one. Throughout the night, she’d spun healing weaves on the child in the womb, hoping to mature its lungs and heart enough that it could breathe on its own after birth. Sheyl knew her own death would come today, but she hoped to spare Carina and her child.
“Arin…” Carina whimpered, calling once more for the dead father of her child. “I want Arin…”
“I know, dearling. I know. Shh. Save your strength for yourself and your baby. That’s what he would want.” She moved down to the foot of the bed to check the baby’s progress.
