Lady of Light and Shadows

by C. L. Wilson

  “You think the Eld will use these…doorways…to attack us here in the city?”

  “Wouldn’t you? Eld armies are massing along the border. If there are Mage-claimed in the city—and considering the attacks on the Feyreisa, there must be—the High Mage could use them to open enough portals to deliver an invasion force to Dorian’s doorstep without warning.”

  “If that were the case, why wouldn’t he already have done so?” Ellysetta asked.

  “Perhaps he was not yet ready, kem’falla. Perhaps discovering your presence here in Celieria City has prompted him to act sooner than he would like. Or perhaps he postponed his planned attack to give his envoys time to capture you.”

  Gaelen turned back to Rain. “If the Eld sent a demon for the Feyreisa, they’ll be back, and most likely in force. The High Mage doesn’t tip his hand so boldly. He doesn’t want to remind anyone what the Eld are capable of. He’s been very careful to keep the Mages quiet, to project a friendly face to the world. And all the while, he’s been rebuilding Eld power since the Mage Wars. He has spies and emissaries in every king’s court around the world.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “Because I have spies and emissaries in every king’s court as well. While the Fey have spent the last thousand years hiding behind the Faering Mists, licking their wounds from the Mage Wars, the rest of the world has taken the opportunity to rebuild, to grow strong again, to forge alliances that don’t include the Fey.”

  Rain’s lips thinned. “If you’re trying to tell me I’ve been a bad king, save your breath. I know it all too well.”

  “That’s not true,” Marissya objected. “You’ve no right to judge him, Gaelen. You know nothing of what it’s been like, of what he’s been through, of what a triumph it was just to reach the first day when he could cling to sanity without the help of every shei’dalin in the Fading Lands. We haven’t hidden behind the Faering Mists only to lick our wounds. We caged ourselves there to protect the world, too.”

  “Marissya, the Fey are weak. Their enemies are strong. The reasons don’t matter. A wounded champion and an unarmed boy die just the same when the blade falls on their necks.”

  “Setah,” Rain snapped. “We return to the Fading Lands tomorrow. Ellysetta and I speak our Celierian marriage vows after the Council vote. You will come with us, Gaelen. I want to know everything you know about the Eld and their plans. It is time for the Defender of the Fey to actually start defending them again. Until then, Ellysetta must stay here, safe in the palace under constant guard.” Rain nodded to Marissya, and her hand dropped back to her side.

  “Is that it?” Kieran demanded incredulously. “The questioning is over?” He pointed a shaking finger at his infamous uncle. “Before you grant him passage through the Faering Mists and celebrate his return in the streets of Dharsa, won’t you at least make him tell you whether or not he and his ‘Brotherhood’ have been murdering Celierians?”

  “Kieran,” Marissya murmured, frowning at her son.

  “No, Mother. He needs to answer. Our alliance with Celieria is in danger of destruction thanks to rumors of dahl’reisen murdering villagers in the north. We need to know whether he did it or not.”

  “Kieran is right,” Rain agreed. He nodded, and with obvious reluctance, Marissya put her hand back on her brother. “Answer his question, Gaelen.”

  The former dahl’reisen hesitated, as if weighing his words, then shrugged. “Aiyah, the Brotherhood and I have executed a number of Celierians.”

  Marissya stifled a gasp. “Truth. Oh, Gaelen. Why?”

  “They were Mage-claimed. We could not let them live to spread their evil.”

  “How could you know they were Mage-claimed?” Kieran challenged. “Did you personally see these peasants in the company of Mages, carrying out their will? Because we all know there’s no way to tell who is in the service of the Mages until they act.”

  “That’s not entirely true, young jita’nos.”

  “Your dahl’reisen have found a way to detect Mage-claiming?” Rain queried sharply. The secret, invisible power of Mage-claiming was one of the Eld’s most deadly weapons.

  “We have. Mage-claiming leaves marks on the claimed ones. These marks are invisible to the naked eye, even invisible to Fey vision, but they appear in the presence of Azrahn, like black shadows on the flesh over the claimed one’s heart.”

  “Azrahn again,” Kieran spat.

  “Azrahn is just magic, boy. A mystic like Spirit. Despite what all Fey have been raised to believe, it isn’t evil, and weaving it won’t turn you into a servant of the Dark so long as you wield it wisely and with caution.” He glanced at Ellysetta and knew he must learn the truth, if only to determine how best to protect her. “Look.” Before the others could react, a small, shadowy spiral sprang to life in his palm, and a chill, sickly sweet aroma wafted through the room.

  Marissya cried out and fell back away from her brother. Ellysetta cried out too, as much in warning as in fear.

  Twelve red Fey’cha flew fast and true.

  Not quickly enough to penetrate the rapid weave that surrounded Gaelen and stopped the Fey’cha in mid-flight.

  Ellysetta clutched a hand over her chest where the shock of his sudden action had made her heart all but leap out of her chest. A cold, dull ache throbbed in her left breast. Her skin tingled from lack of oxygen and the sudden rush of fear, and her teeth began to chatter. Somehow she knew Gaelen meant no harm with his weave, but her terror didn’t abate.

  “Stop it, Gaelen,” she commanded. “Stop it now.” She pressed the palm of her hand hard over the fluttering wildness of her heart.

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “As you wish, kem’falla.” The former dahl’reisen bowed, and his Azrahn weave winked out.

  “The rest of you, put your weapons away.” Ellysetta’s voice shook. By some miracle, her knocking knees did not collapse beneath her.

  Slowly, with hissing reluctance, the Fey sheathed their second round of blades. A moment later, Gaelen’s shields fell and the twelve red Fey’cha trapped by his weave clattered harmlessly to the floor.

  As fast as Gaelen had moved a moment before, Rain moved now. In a blur of speed he was at Gaelen’s throat, his long fingers wrapped tight around the other’s windpipe. “What was the meaning of that display, dahl’reisen?” Rain demanded. “Is it death you seek after all?”

  “If I’d meant harm, you’d all be dead already,” Gaelen answered. “I only meant to prove a point.”

  “By weaving the forbidden magic?”

  “I wove Azrahn. Did I summon demons? Mages? Have I lost my soul again? Nei, none of those dire predictions came true. Because the magic itself is not evil.”

  “It is forbidden! It is the magic never to be called!”

  “Only because ancient Fey who lived and died so long ago we hold no memory of them or their reasoning said it should be so,” Gaelen shot back. “Dahl’reisen don’t have the benefit of hiding behind protective barriers and indulging ourselves with self-righteous adherence to laws long past their use. We survive by wit and speed and will. And we’ve learned that to defeat our greatest enemy, we must understand that enemy’s most powerful weapon.”

  With a growl, Rain released his grip on Gaelen’s throat and thrust the older Fey away from him. “In the Fading Lands, we hold true to our honor and our laws. If you intend to live among us, you will do the same.”

  “And if you refuse to consider change, don’t expect to survive the coming war,” Gaelen countered. Muttering a curse, he spun on one heel and started to pace. Halfway across the room, he stopped and cast a hard, searching glance Ellysetta’s way. His shoulders slumped a little, then straightened. “I didn’t summon Azrahn a moment ago just to prove a point. I did it for a different reason. Because there was something I had to know.”

  “Something like what, vel Serranis?” Rain growled. “Whether or not we could cut you with red before you raised your shields?”

  “Nei, that was not it.” He smil
ed faintly. “But it is good to know you can’t.” Sobering, he crossed the short distance to Ellysetta and went to one knee before her. He clasped her hands in his. “Kem’falla, know that I am yours. I will never betray you. I will defend you beyond death itself. I would walk the Seven Hells if you asked it of me.”

  Ellysetta didn’t know what to say. “Beylah vo, Gaelen. I am grateful for your kindness.”

  “Then forgive me, ki’falla’sheisan.”

  “Forgive you for what?” She frowned in confusion as Gaelen rose once more and took a step back.

  “Vel Serranis?” Wary of the Fey’s suspicious behavior, Rain stepped in front of Ellysetta and guided her back, away from the former dahl’reisen.

  “The Eld who killed the woodsman and your Fey wasn’t looking for just any red-haired child,” Gaelen told the room. His eyes never left Ellysetta’s. “And I did not come to Celieria City just to warn you of Eld troop movements along the border.”

  “I knew it!” Kieran muttered. “I told you we couldn’t trust him.”

  “Las, Kieran,” Bel hissed. “Let him speak.”

  Rain held up a hand to silence them both. “Why, then, did you come, vel Serranis?”

  “In a moment. First let me say I no longer believe what I thought was true. And let me remind you all—you especially, Tairen Soul—that no great gift from the gods comes without an equally great danger. The price of the gift is the willingness and courage to embrace the danger. If you cannot accept the one, you are not worthy of the other.”

  “I need no lecture on the price the gods demand for their blessings. I have lived with those prices all my life,” Rain said.

  Gaelen bowed his head in acknowledgment. His expression grew still, becoming the blank, impenetrable stone mask of the Fey. “The Eld were searching for the lost daughter of the High Mage,” he said baldly. He met Ellysetta’s gaze. “And I came to kill her.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Though once with joy our garden greened

  Love’s blossoms fade round salted spring

  My heart is lost, my hope is gone

  And sorrow now my only song

  —Sorrow’s Garden, a lament by Mara vol Elias

  Ellysetta’s quintet surrounded her in an instinctive reaction to the perceived threat. But even as they flung up magic in her defense, their emotions slapped at her. Astonishment. Disbelief. Fear.

  Worse, much worse, was the way Rain withdrew his hand from hers.

  “It cannot be true,” Rain said. But Ellysetta sensed his uncertainty, heard it in the faint vibration of his voice.

  “I don’t want to believe it either,” Gaelen said. “But the possibility exists, and for her sake if for no other, we cannot ignore it.”

  “It cannot be true. It is not true.” Rain turned and swept a hand, palm up, towards Ellysetta. “Look at her. She is bright and shining. No Eld could ever be so bright. Especially not the daughter of the High Mage.”

  “The Eld are not born evil,” Gaelen answered. “They are corrupted by their environment and chained into dark servitude by the Mages. The Mages bind the souls of Eld children on the first anniversary of their birth and continue until they own them utterly. But if she is the one they sought, she was smuggled out of Eld as a child. The soul-binding was never completed.”

  “Gaelen, you must be mistaken,” Marissya said. “It’s just another Mage trick, meant to manipulate us and cast doubt and suspicion where there can be none.”

  “That is entirely possible,” he acknowledged. “But when I called Azrahn a moment ago, all of you reacted the way Fey do. She did not.” He met Ellysetta’s gaze again, his own filled with bleak sorrow. “She reacted like one who bears the Mark of the Mages.”

  Ellysetta flinched as though he’d struck her, and clutched a hand over her betraying heart. “No. No, it’s not true.” But even as she denied it, she recalled the cold, insidious voice from her nightmares hissing, Girl…you can’t hide from me forever. He’ll kill you when he learns what you really are. Even worse came the mocking sneer from last week’s horrific nightmare, You’ll kill them all. It’s what you were born for. “Rain…” Tears welled in her eyes as she turned to face Rain and saw the horror and the revulsion in his stricken gaze. She reached out. “Rain, please.” He flinched away, and her tears spilled over in hot lines that chilled rapidly as they slid down her cheeks.

  Rain’s jaw clenched tight. “Vel Serranis, you said Azrahn reveals the Marks.”

  “Aiyah.”

  “Then do it.”

  “No!” Ellysetta shrank back from Gaelen’s approach.

  “I will not hurt you, kem’falla,” Gaelen vowed in a sorrowful voice. “But we must know one way or another. Knowledge is better than blind fear.”

  Gods. She wanted to turn and run. She wanted to flee them all—even Rain—and hide some place where no one would ever find her.

  «Courage, Ellysetta,» Gaelen whispered in her mind. «A Mage Mark does not make you evil, but it does put you in danger. We cannot protect you properly if we do not know how badly your defenses have been compromised.»

  Courage? When had she ever had that? She avoided confrontations and hid from her own magic because she was afraid of what was inside her and always had been! And now Gaelen wanted her to stand there and let him bare the horrible, secret blackness of her soul to the man she loved?

  «If you won’t think of yourself, then think of your shei’tan,» he urged. «Just the possibility of this Mark has raised doubts in you both. You’ll never complete your bond without knowing and accepting the truth. Rain will die.»

  The mere thought filled her with fear greater than any she harbored on her own behalf. She stopped retreating. “All right,” she whispered. “See if I bear this Mark.”

  “Beylah vo, kem’Feyreisa.”

  Gaelen’s hand rose, palm up. His eyes began to glow as he summoned magic. His pupils stretched wide, revealing the inner dark of his eyes, a deep blackness flickering with red lights.

  A shadowy wisp of Azrahn swirled in his palm, and the sickly sweet chill of it pebbled Ellysetta’s flesh. A cold, throbbing ache began in her chest, just above her rapidly pounding heart. Her fingers ached to clutch at the spot, to hide it, to repress it as she had all her life. She looked down at her chest. A single, despairing tear trickled from the corner of her eye.

  There, on the soft, ivory swell of her left breast above her heart, revealed by the scooped neckline of her nightgown, a shadow lay upon her skin. A hideous, damning smudge.

  Rain stared in horror at the mark on Ellysetta’s flesh. If Gaelen was to be believed—and, gods help him, Rain did believe him—this was proof of Mage-claiming. The Eld had forged a foothold in Ellysetta’s soul. “Only one Mark,” Gaelen was saying. “It could be worse. It takes a full six Marks to completely subjugate a soul.”

  Rain only half heard him. His mind was reeling. The instinct to kill anyone infected with Eld evil was so strong, his hand actually ached for the feel of red in his palm. And yet…this Mage-claimed woman was his shei’tani, his truemate, the miraculous bright and shining soul who had brought him out of the shadows of despair. She was the one he’d been sent to find and bring back to save the Fading Lands.

  Wasn’t she?

  She stared at him, weeping, hands outstretched. Silently pleading with him for reassurance, for proof that he would not revile her.

  Gods help him, he could not give her that.

  He stumbled back a step, and then another and another, retreating from the promise and damnation she represented. Better to have died a thousand years ago than face this torment now. His hands rose to his face. His fingers curved like tairen claws. He ached to rend his own flesh from his bones, to rip out the helpless need and hunger that bound him to her.

  He was the Defender of the Fey, sworn to slay the enemies of his homeland, and she was Mage-claimed. How could he let her live?

  He was the Tairen Soul, last repository of the greatest of all Fey magics, and she was his shei
’tani. How could he let any harm befall her?

  How could she possibly be the key to saving the tairen and the Fey while bearing the foul taint of the Eld on her body and in her blood?

  Madness tore at him. Howling fury and mindless rage fought to consume him. Only the smallest sliver of control kept him clinging to sanity, and Ellysetta’s devastated emotions threatened to undermine that.

  “Rain.” Marissya called to him. Her shei’dalin’s voice throbbed with power, with peace.

  He fought it off. Marissya could not help him. Not this time. “I’ve got to go. I cannot stay here.” His eyes met Ellysetta’s and flinched away. He lurched for the glassed balcony doors and flung them open. “Keep her safe here tonight. Return her to her family in the morning.” Without a single look back, he flung himself into the night sky.

  “Rain!”

  She called after him in desperation. Ellysetta. Truemate of the Tairen Soul. Daughter of the High Mage of Eld, Rain’s most deadly and despised enemy.

  With a scream of fury and a scorching blast of flame, Rain Tairen Soul raced into the darkness of the night.

  “Rain,” Ellysetta whispered. He was gone, swallowed up by the night. He’d cut her off from his emotions, leaving her nothing, no tie to him, no way to reach him. She covered her face with her hands and wept.

  “Come away, little sister.” Marissya tugged her back from the balcony. But beneath the compassion, Ellysetta felt the shei’dalin’s involuntary flinch. Even Marissya could not completely hide her revulsion at the taint in Ellysetta’s blood.

  She pulled her tattered emotions tight. “I should go home now. Tonight. There’s no reason for me to stay here.”

  “There is every reason,” Gaelen corrected. “You are still the Feyreisa, and you are still in danger.” He nodded towards the window. “The Feyreisen will be back. He has no other choice. He will realize it soon enough”—he paused, then added softly—“once the soul hunger begins.”

  Rain flew hard and fast towards the Fading Lands. Blind instinct more than conscious thought drove him towards the haven of Fey’Bahren and his tairen kin. For centuries they had guarded him when no other creature could, and he knew that when the soul hunger began to consume him and madness claimed him once more, the tairen would grant him final peace through the fiery embrace of tairen flame.