Queen of Song and Souls Read online

  Narena watched him with a sober gaze. “There is more, kem’Feyreisen. This Mage did not know the exact numbers of the Eld army, but every time he thought of it, his mind compared it to the Army of Darkness from the Time Before Memory.”

  Ellysetta’s heart skipped a beat, then resumed at an accelerated pace. Little was known about the Army of Darkness, but all the legends concerning the scouring of the world that had ushered in the dawn of the First Age spoke in awed terms of an army that stretched farther than the eye could see. An army so vast that, even marching nonstop, it would take days to pass through a place. An army that made the earth shake beneath its boots.

  An army of millions, filled with dark magic.

  Scholars had scoffed at the legends, declaring them a logistical impossibility. The size of the Army of Darkness was a fanciful exaggeration meant to enthrall audiences, they declared. Most credible scholars of the current age even doubted that the cataclysmic battle between the forces of Light and Shadow had ever happened; though they all agreed that some great war had changed the balance of power in the ancient world and ushered in the First Age.

  Ellysetta glanced at her shei’tan, and her heart dropped into her belly. Celieria’s scholars might have scoffed and sneered at the legends, and dismissed any who dared take them seriously as ridiculous flitter-wits, but Rain did not appear so inclined.

  If anything, he looked gravely concerned.

  “Rain? Surely the legends can’t be true.” She didn’t want to believe it possible. “Millions?”

  “The legends are true,” Bel answered on behalf of his king, “but I doubt this is. How could the Eld prepare an army of millions with none the wiser? Consider how much food it would take to feed so many. How much cloth to clothe them. How many buildings to house them. Someone, somewhere, would have noticed something—increased farming, increased trade. There would have been some indication long before now.”

  “Would there?” Rain countered. “They’ve been using the Well of Souls. Gaelen already told us the Eld have spies in every court in the world. It would be a simple enough matter for those spies to arrange secret transports through the Well.”

  “And what of their armor? If the Eld had been building such an army, Koderas would have been lit long before now.”

  “Who’s to say it hasn’t been?” Rain gripped the hilts of his meicha scimitars. “Teleos, how long has Eld been covered in cloud mist?”

  The Celierian great lord raised his brows. “Clouds cover Eld every autumn and spring. That’s been the way of things ever since the forests grew back after the scorching of the world.”

  “So six months of every year for the last seven centuries, the skies over Eld have been blanketed with mist…which provides excellent cover for a great many things. Including—as I discovered today—smoke from the great forge’s fires.”

  “You don’t seriously believe they’ve been planning this attack for seven centuries?” Gaelen asked.

  “All I’m saying is it’s possible. The Eld have had plenty of time to build an army in secret—without raising suspicions. Think about it: A Truthspoken Mage has compared this new Elden army to the Army of Darkness. Add that to everything we know—and everything the Eye of Truth has shown us. What choice do we have but to assume the threat is both very great and very real?” He cast a somber gaze around the room, meeting each warrior’s eyes. “Koderas is lit. An overwhelming force of Eld will strike Kreppes and Great Bay within a month. King Dorian must be told.”

  “Agreed,” Teleos said. “But how will we get the information to the king when my couriers are disappearing and the Warriors’ Path is compromised?”

  “Ellysetta and I will deliver the message in person. The Mage came too close to penetrating our defenses for my comfort. Narena and Faerah”—he turned to the shei’dalins—“must return to Dharsa and share what you’ve learned with the Massan. Tenn must set aside his differences with me. War is upon us. All the Fading Lands must fight.”

  Narena bowed her head. “We will go, as you cannot, my king.”

  “My thanks.” Rain hesitated, then asked, “Did the Mage know anything about your sister?”

  The shei’dalin’s thick lashes fell to cover her eyes. “Our quintets slew him before we could ask about her fate.”

  Ellysetta’s fingers knotted. Guilt weighed heavy on her conscience. The warriors had killed Torvan because her unwitting interference had drawn the attention of the High Mage.

  “You have my word, Narena, that if she is alive and we discover where she is being held, I will send warriors into the heart of Eld itself to bring her home.”

  “Beylah vo, Feyreisen.”

  Rain held out an arm. “Come. I will walk with you to the Mists. I also have a message for Loris v’En Mahr, if you would agree to deliver it.”

  As Rain and the others filed out to escort the shei’dalins back to the Mists, Ellysetta turned to Gaelen. “I need a word with you, please.” She waited for the rest of her quintet to depart before speaking, and even then she couldn’t bring herself to voice the request aloud. On a private Spirit weave spun between his mind and hers, she said, «I need you to tell me everything you know about Mage Marks and how someone can tell if their mind is being controlled by the Mages.»

  Celieria ~ The Borders, north of the Verlaine Forest

  Shadows moved in swift silence, darting across the moonlit ground, keeping to the cover of the trees at the edge of the dark Verlaine, western Celieria’s greatest and most haunted and frightening forest.

  The shadows moved fast as a pronghorn racing on long, powerful legs, only the shadows ran on two. Slender, black, shrouded in darkness, they ran. Miles swept past beneath their silent footfalls in scant chimes.

  A small farming village sat nestled in the bosom of rolling hills. Thatched-roof cottages huddled together as if in camaraderie against the night. The windows were dark, the villagers’ lamps blown out for the night.

  The shadows left the forest to fly across the cultivated fields like a volley of arrows loosed from archers’ bows. Six dozen of them. Three shadows for every thatched cottage.

  They circled the village…then converged.

  They moved with unhesitating precision. Magic glowed in the night. Latches on doors and windows gave way, and the shadows slipped inside.

  One farmer woke to find a dark shape standing over his bed. His cry of alarm died with one fierce slash of a blade. Beside him, his wife’s eyes flew open as a second blade drove through her heart.

  Within a few chimes, the shadows gathered in the center of the farming village. Fire sparked in pale hands. Pale lips pursed, and with an Air-powered exhalation, blew tiny, glowing red-orange embers into the sky above the village. The shadowy figures then departed as quickly and as silently as they’d come. As they reached the forest’s edge, the last one glanced back. Bright moonlight from the Mother shone down upon his pale, faintly luminescent skin and the curve of the scar that marred the beautiful perfection of his face. Bright steel glinted on harnesses that crisscrossed his chest. Glowing eyes whose pupils had lengthened and widened like a hunting cat’s quickly scanned the moonlit fields. Finding nothing, he turned and plunged into the concealing darkness of the Verlaine Forest.

  Moments later, a cock crowed to announce the coming dawn, but in the village where the shadows had been, the roar of the flames engulfing every thatched cottage drowned out his song.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Crouched down beside the waters of Veil Lake, with her ears laid back and wings drooping, Steli-chakai was the very picture of an unhappy tairen. Ellysetta and Rain would be gone for more than a week—and she wasn’t going with them.

  «Steli should fly with Ellysetta-kitling to the human lair in the east.»

  “We’ve been over this, Steli,” Rain said. “I need you and the tairen here, protecting Orest while I’m away.”

  Though Rain could have flown to Celieria City in a matter of hours if he used magic to accelerate his flight, he would not ris
k Ellysetta’s safety by taking her there without protection. She’d already been attacked by demons and Mages in Celieria City once before, and since it was clear the High Mage had not given up his pursuit, Rain had insisted the lu’tan—the hundreds bloodsworn to protect Ellysetta—come along to keep her safe from harm.

  «Fey-kin not so good at protecting Ellsyetta-kitling as Steli.»

  “I’ll be fine, Steli,” Ellysetta assured her.

  «Ellysetta-kitling has not yet found her wings or flame or fangs. She is still very… » The next part of her mournful tairen song did not translate well, but the rumble of notes conjured images of infant tairen still developing in the egg, utterly vulnerable and greatly in need of their mother to protect them.

  “Oh, Steli.” Tears sprang to Ellysetta’s eyes and she flung her arms around the white tairen’s throat. “I will miss you, too, my pride-mother, but Rain and my lu’tan will keep me safe. Besides”—she drew back and forced a smile—“I am not entirely as helpless as you believe, even without my wings.”

  Discontent rumbled in the tairen’s throat. «Maybe, maybe. Steli still does not like.» Her tail twitched and a passing Orestian guard threw himself on the ground to avoid being slashed by the fully extended and very poisonous spikes gleaming amidst the fur at the tip of Steli’s tail.

  “You would like it even less in Celieria City, Steli. It is filled with only humans—and no mountains.”

  «There is water…and hills. Steli remembers. Water is good. Hills not so good as mountains, but still good. Steli promises to eat no humans. They not so tasty anyway.»

  “Well…” Ellysetta blinked. “That’s good to know. King Dorian would not be happy if Steli-chakai ate his subjects.”

  Rain stifled a laugh and turned to Steli. “Thank you, Steli-chakai, for agreeing to stay and lead the tairen in defense of Orest.” He gestured for Lord Teleos to come forward. “Lord Teleos is Fey-kin. His family descends from the vel Celay line. This city is his to hold, and he is responsible for her defense. Ellysetta and I ask that you accept him as pride-friend while we are away—and speak to him in Feyan so he can understand you.”

  «Mmmrrr. Vel Celay blood very strong. Many pride-kin from that line.» Steli lowered her head and sniffed Dev Teleos. To his credit, the Celierian didn’t twitch a muscle. After a moment, Steli drew back and snorted. «Agreed.» She fixed a glowing, pupil-less blue gaze on Dev’s face and in perfectly accented Feyan said, «Steli-chakai accepts you as pride-friend while Rainier-Eras and Ellysetta-kitling are away and will speak to you in your tongue so you may understand.»

  “Steli-chakai offers you a great honor, Dev,” Rain murmured to his friend. “Tairen rarely speak to those outside the pride.”

  Dev bowed to the white tairen as deeply as if she were the emissary of a foreign king. “Beylah vo, Steli-chakai. This Fey-kin thanks you for the great honor you bestow upon him and the great service you give to his city. I stand forever in your debt.”

  Steli’s ears twitched. «Well-spoken, Fey-kin.» With a final growl and twitch of her tail, Steli sang to Ellysetta and Rain, «Very well. Steli will stay and lead the tairen to defend the Fey-kin’s city.» She bent low to pin Rain with a whirling gaze. «Bring Ellysetta-kitling safely back to the pride, Rainier-Eras.»

  “On my life, I do so vow, Steli-chakai.”

  Rain, Ellysetta and the lu’tan departed Orest just as the Great Sun began to lighten the eastern horizon. They traveled on foot and under a cloak of invisibility, heading south through the swath of rolling farmland that stretched between the Rhakis mountains and the gnarled, gloomy impenetrability of the Verlaine Forest.

  They ran at a grueling pace, using magic to speed their steps. Ellysetta’s presence slowed the warriors down a bit—as did maintaining the invisibility weave—but Rain would not take to the sky or allow the Fey to drop their invisibility until they were more than two hundred miles from Orest. Something had slain every messenger dispatched from Teleos’s holding, and Rain would take no chance that same something might be lying in wait for them.

  Finally, just after dusk, he called a halt, and they made camp in a farmer’s recently harvested wheat field. Fire masters roasted field rabbit with weaves of flameless heat while groups of lu’tan spun a dome of twenty-five-fold magic over the encampment and posted sentries every tairen length.

  “Do you think the king will believe us?” Ellysetta asked as she, Rain, and her quintet sat and ate together at the center of the camp.

  “Can he afford not to?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Then he will believe us.” White teeth stripped meat from a slender bone in four bites.

  Gaelen snorted. “That’s optimism for you.”

  “Pragmatism,” Rain retorted. “The consequences of not believing us—then being proved wrong—are too severe an alternative to risk. He knows Fey do not lie, so believing us will be the only rational choice he can make.”

  “Since when have mortals ever been rational?” Tajik muttered.

  “Dorian is Gaelen’s jita’taikonos—the descendant of his sister’s son. He is not purely mortal.”

  “He’s not purely Fey either.” Gil pulled a black Fey’cha from his chest harnesses and sliced a leg from the last of the rabbits. “Not even mostly Fey.”

  “He’s Fey enough.”

  Gil’s dark brows lifted over starry black eyes. “If you believed that, Adrial and Rowan wouldn’t still be hiding their presence in Celieria City from him. Bel could have spun the Mage’s news to one of them on a private weave and we would never have left Orest.” He flung a swath of moon-white hair over his shoulder with a toss of his head and sank his teeth into the rabbit leg.

  Ellysetta watched the shutter fall over Rain’s face. Like Rain, Adrial vel Arquinas, the Air master of Ellysetta’s first Fey quintet, had discovered his truemate in Celieria. Unfortunately for Adrial, his truemate had not merely been betrothed to a Celierian, as Ellysetta had—she’d been wed to one. The heir of a Great Lord, no less, and though Talisa’s father, Great Lord Barrial, was friendly to the Fey, her husband’s family was not. Great Lord Sebourne had, in fact, been Rain’s fiercest foe in Celieria’s Council of Lords, and he had fought vigorously to discredit the Fey, pushing to open the borders and allow free trade between Eld and Celieria.

  “Dorian is Celieria’s king,” Rain replied to Gil. “He is bound by Celierian law, not Feyan. If he knew Adrial was still there—in direct violation of his earlier decree upholding Talisa’s marriage—he would have no choice but to imprison him.”

  “It’s so cruel that something as joyful as shei’tanitsa should be cause for such despair,” Ellysetta remarked. “Is there nothing we can do to help Adrial?”

  “Short of killing diSebourne?” Rain asked. “Nei.”

  “DiSebourne’s death can be arranged.” Gaelen tossed out the offer in a flat voice. Silence fell as unease rippled around the circle.

  “As tempting as the idea may be, Gaelen,” Rain replied, “honorable Fey do not murder innocent mortals.”

  “DiSebourne is no innocent. He has refused to free a woman who bears no love for him, and by that willful choice he destroys not one but two lives. Three if Rowan must be the one to end his brother’s life.”

  Ellysetta saw the flicker of remorse cross Rain’s face. Adrial was going to die. They all knew that. Though Talisa’s soul could never have called Adrial’s if her heart were bound elsewhere, duty and honor kept her tied to her mortal husband. As long as she did not consider herself free to accept Adrial, there was little hope she could summon the unequivocal love and trust necessary to complete the shei’tanitsa bond. The madness of an unfulfilled matebond would ultimately send Adrial to his death—either an honor death executed by his own hand or a merciful end on the point of his brother’s red Fey’cha.

  “Even so,” Rain said, “diSebourne’s choice is no crime. He may be acting selfishly, but by his country’s customs, he has every right to do so.”

  “Then his country’
s customs are wrong.”

  “We cannot simply slaughter mortals because we don’t like their decisions. If Talisa leaves her husband, every Fey warrior in Celieria will defend her. But while she chooses to stay with him, we will not interfere. The Fey will not kill diSebourne so Adrial can have his wife.” His gaze hardened to cold command. “And neither will your dahl’reisen friends.”

  After a brief visual skirmish, Gaelen bowed his head. “La ve shalah, Feyreisen.” As you command.

  Rain pinned him with a penetrating gaze before nodding curtly. “Kabei. Then it is settled. We carry the news to Dorian. He will react however he will react. That doesn’t change what we must do. We face the Eld and champion the Light, as we always have.”

  “We need more allies,” Bel said. “Even before the Mage Wars, we could not have hoped to face the Army of Darkness with only Celieria at our side. We need the Elves.”

  Rain grimaced. “You heard the same report as I did when Loris returned from Elvia. Hawksheart and his Elves will not join this fight.”

  “He also told Loris he wanted to see you and Ellysetta.”

  “He wants to probe Ellysetta’s mind because she calls a Song in their Dance.” The Dance was an ancient Elvish prophecy said to reveal all the secrets of the world, past, present, and future. “Well, to the Seven Hells with what he wants. The pointy-eared rultshart knows we’re facing the greatest threat to the world since the Mage Wars—possibly even since the dawn of the First Age—and still he will not help. Yet he thinks we will take weeks away from preparations for war to come running when he calls? Nei, we will go to Dorian, and then to the Danae.”

  Gil’s brows rose. “The Danae? They care even less about the world beyond their borders than the Elves.”