Another memory flashed in vivid detail: Rain, his head bent to her breast, glowing purple eyes holding her gaze as his tongue lapped at the taut peak, filling her with exquisite pleasure. She shivered in her seat and stifled a moan as the aching muscles of her body clenched tight and a rush of now-familiar heat flooded her.
Feeling suddenly quite daring and wicked, she leaned forward. “And what if I do mean it, shei’tan?” Holding his gaze, she dipped her head and, in a brazen move totally alien to the good, modest Ellie Baristani her mother had raised, she licked that hard, pointed nipple.
He rose from his seat in a flash, dragging her up into his arms as he went. The sheet she had wrapped around her body fell free, leaving her naked and laughing breathlessly in his arms.
“Just one thing, Rain,” she begged. “Please, let’s use the bed this time.”
Much later, Rain and Ellysetta left the woodland peace of Elverial and raced across the skies of the eastern Fading Lands with the aid of magic-powered flight. They passed the Garreval and caught up with Marissya and Dax by early afternoon.
Rain changed Ellysetta’s clothes to brown traveling leathers like the ones Marissya wore, and thanks to his insistence that Marissya heal her before they set out again, Ellysetta was soon loping across the rosy sand of the desert as swiftly as the other three Fey and without a single twinge of soreness. She didn’t even break a sweat, despite the heat of the summer sun beating down on the desert, and they were running so fast and so effortlessly that except for the tug of gravity and the rhythmic thud of boot heels hitting earth, she could almost close her eyes and believe she was flying.
There were definite advantages to being Fey. “I did not expect so much desert,” Elysetta said as she leapt over a small, prickly deep purple shrub Rain called kaddah. Gone were the cool waterfalls and sunlight-dappled woods of Elverial. From the west slopes of the Rhakis as far east as Ellysetta could see there was only barren, sandy earth dotted with succulent shrubs like the kaddah, and an occasional, stunted tree determinedly clinging to life in the harsh environment. “The Fey poetry I’ve read talks about sweetgrass glades and gentle streams bordered by shade trees taller than tairen.”
A much larger kaddah lay in Rain’s path. He cleared it with an effortless leap. “Once all the Fading Lands were as you describe, but after the Mage Wars, when we lost so many of our mated women, our lands began reverting to desert.”
“You think the loss of the women caused the land to turn to desert?”
“I know it did.” He smiled at her surprise. “Fellana, the Fey word for woman, derives from the old tongue, felah’naveth, which means bringer of life, because when a Fey woman is with child, life literally blooms in her footsteps.”
Ellysetta was so surprised, her gait slowed. Rain, Marissya, and Dax passed her, and with a burst of speed, she caught up to them. “You mean…pregnant Fey women can make grass bloom in the desert?”
“Technically, they make Amarynth bloom in whatever soil they tread upon. All other life is seeded from that.”
“Amarynth? The undying flower?” Ellysetta had seen mention of Amarynth in the ancient tales and Fey poetry she’d read all her life. Supposedly, the flowers bloomed for a hundred years and had special magical properties. “I always thought they were just a legend.”
“So they have seemed even to the Fey for most of these last thousand years. We call them the flower of life. They bloom only in the footsteps of a fellana who is with child.”
“The gift is a great one,” Marissya said, “but it can be exhausting.” At Ellysetta’s blank look, she explained, “When a Fey woman is with child, her gifts are the strongest they will ever be. The ground around her literally blooms with life. To share that magic, she walks the land. It wasn’t so bad before the Mage Wars—Amarynth grew abundantly—but after the Wars, there were no births. The Amarynth faded. By the time I became pregnant with Kieran…Well, let’s just say I had plenty of exercise for twelve months.”
Beside her, Dax made a haggard face. “We,” he interjected. “We had plenty of exercise. I measured it. Four thousand miles we walked, and that’s not counting the miles spent going from house to house blessing all the other matepairs who were hoping some of Marissya’s fellana magic would spread to them.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Best you and Rain pray for a sudden epidemic of fertility among the Fey before the gods shower their gifts upon you. By my reckoning, the first matepair to carry will need to run, not walk, the Fading Lands even to make a dent.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Ellysetta leapt over another kaddah plant, spreading her arms as her body momentarily took flight. “I’ve discovered I like to run.”
Rain smiled.
Eld ~ Boura Fell
His hand was trembling again.
Vadim Maur clasped his palms together, squeezing his fingers tight, and looked across his desk at Gethen Nour, one of the Mage’s most promising former apprentices who had long ago joined the rank of Primages. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Kolis has recently disappointed me.”
Though he tried to hide it, Gethen couldn’t completely restrain his instinctive flinch. Kolis’s fate had become common talk in the Mage Halls upstairs.
“He still lives,” Vadim assured him. Then he smiled.
“Unfortunately for him.”
Gethen managed to keep his gaze steady. “I hope never to disappoint you, master.”
The High Mage nodded. “That is my hope, too, Gethen. And now you have an opportunity to remind me how skillfully you can serve me.” Three stripes adorned the cuffs of Gethen’s blue Mage robes, only two less than those Primages who served on the Mage Council. Vadim wasn’t going to make the same mistake he’d made with Kolis. This time, his envoy would be a full-ranked Mage, as experienced as he was powerful.
Nour gave a quiet cough to clear his throat. “Master?”
“You will take Kolis’s place in Celieria.” He eyed the younger man critically. Nour wasn’t half as pretty as Kolis had been, but his body was tall and firm, his features appealing enough that he had no shortage of willing bed partners. His hair was thick and dark, his eyes a shrewd forest green. That was a plus. Queen Annoura preferred brunettes, the better to set off her own fair beauty. “Kolis’s umagi in the court will smooth your path into the queen’s inner circle.”
“Forgive me, master,” Nour ventured cautiously, “but I thought the Fey had left Celieria City and our plans there were uncovered.”
“We suffered a setback, yes, but our work in Celieria City is not done. Dorian still sits on the throne, and after all these years, it appears he’s finally grown steel in his spine. He is arming the keeps along the borders. That doesn’t suit my plans. I’ll take Celieria by force if I must, but I prefer to save our strength and resources for the Fey.”
The Primage bowed his head. “Of course, master. When do you wish me to depart?”
“Tonight. Kolis’s umagi will gain you entrance to the court and access to the queen. Dorian must be controlled, rendered in effective, or removed. One way or another, I want the hand of Eld guilding Celieria’s throne four months hence, before the night of the new moons.”
“I will not fail you, master.”
“If you do, you will do so only once.” Vadim’s left hand began to tremble again. The Mage rose to his feet and clasped the shaking hand behind his back. “There is one other thing, Nour.”
Gethen’s face settled into an expression of mild curiosity. “Master?”
“You will find a way to bring the Tairen Soul’s truemate to me. Alive. Before she completes the matebond with him.”
The Primage’s jaw went slack, and for one brief moment alarm flashed openly in his eyes. He tried to rally, dropping his gaze and covering his gape with a forced cough. “Forgive me, master, but every Mage in Boura Fell knows the Fey have taken the girl through the Faering Mists. No Mage can reach her now. Such a feat is beyond even your vast power, Great One.”
“We will see about that,
” Vadim snapped. He took a breath and forcibly calmed his temper. “I am not asking you to reach her in the Fading Lands, Nour. I’m telling you to find a way to draw her out. The girl’s family has still not been found. They’ve not entered Orest, but the same scouts who spotted the Tairen Soul reported a powerful redirection weave spun around the Garreval. I find myself wondering why the Fey would trouble to spin such a weave if they were just passing through to the Fading Lands.”
“You think the girl’s family is there?”
“I think something is there, and I want to know what.” Vadim opened a drawer by his desk and pulled out the black velvet bag of chemar left by Fezaiina Rael. “Here. I want these planted around the Garreval, inside whatever is hidden behind that redirection weave. They are like selkahr but have no magical signature. Leave them where they will be most useful as gateways for invading forces. If Ellysetta Baristani’s family is there by the Garreval, find a way to bring them to me.”
Nour picked up the bag and glanced inside before depositing the pouch in the pocket of his robe. “Yes, master.”
“You will take my newest umagi with you. He knew Ellysetta Baristani and her mortal family, and he has a few scores he wishes to settle. He is eager to help you find them, and he has many ties among the rabble that may come in useful.” A door opened to Vadim’s left, and the thick-muscled, brutishly handsome Celierian stepped into the room.
Despite the debatable wisdom of claiming Den Brodson, Vadim Maur still felt a surge of pride at the sight of him. It took a very powerful Mage to deliver six full-strength Marks in six days, but it also took a very strong umagi to survive the process. Brodson had, though not easily. The Celierian’s ruddy face was pale beneath its tan, his dark hair now streaked with white, and his thick muscles were still twiching from the memory of his torment and subjugation.
“This is Master Nour, umagi. You will serve him as you would me.” Vadim held Den Brodson’s gaze and summoned the icy, dark sweetness of Azrahn. “Do not disappoint me, mortal. As you know, I deal harshly with those who fail me.”
Brodson’s face blanched three shades whiter, and a muscle in his jaw began a rapid tic. He bowed and moved to Nour’s side like an obedient dog.
“Go. You depart at nightfall. You will use Kolis’s entrance to the inn. Have his umagi bring a sacrifice for the guardians of the Well. There must be no hint of Azrahn to alert anyone to your presence.”
“Understood, master. It shall be as you command.” Gethen bowed, snapped his fingers in a wordless command for the Celierian to follow, and exited the room.
When the two men were gone, the High Mage lifted his trembling hands and examined them. The shaking had grown worse again, despite Elfeya’s obediently diligent efforts to heal him, and much as he wanted to, he could no longer deny the truth.
The tremors hadn’t started because he’d spent too much energy claiming Den Brodson’s soul. They hadn’t started because Shannisorran v’En Celay landed a lucky blow. He’d been weakening steadily since the night two weeks ago when he’d found Ellysetta Baristani in the realm of dreams and tried to force his second Mark upon her. She’d fought back with a ferocity he hadn’t anticipated. The Fire she’d summoned had reached across the barriers of the dream-world and scorched him in the physical realm.
And mixed in with that Fire had been something else. Something that struck deeper than a few layers of scorched flesh.
Despite his multiple visits to Elfeya v’En Celay and the daily ministrations of her healing hands, he had yet to completely recover. He was finally coming to realize he never would…at least, not in this form.
Age was finally outpacing magic. The time of his next incarnation—so long postponed by Elfeya v’En Celay’s impressive talents—could no longer be held in abeyance.
Death was drawing near.
Shadows rot Kolis’s soul! The Sulimage’s ineptitude in Celieria City had cost Vadim dearly—the price far more than Celieria’s discovery of Eld’s secret aggression and the loss of a valuable Fey captive.
A Mage, when the time of incarnation came upon him, needed a new vessel to house his soul. Only the strongest, most magically gifted vessel would do, because though a Mage’s memories and knowledge transferred to his new body during the incarnation, his powers did not.
Over the millennia, more than one High Mage had ousted his most dangerous rival not through direct combat, but rather by waiting for the time of his enemy’s incarnation, stealing his chosen vessel, and replacing it with one of the rival’s powerless mortal umagi. Once reincarnated, the Mage’s helpless new form could then be effortlessly mined for all its centuries of precious knowledge before the pitiful living husk that remained was left to wither and die in the obscurity of captive servitude.
The greatest High Mage ever to rule Eld had no intention of meeting such a fate. Long ago, before the Mage Wars, before the scorching of the world, the germ of his grand idea had formed and taken strong root. Since that moment, every day of his life had been spent in pursuit of his dream.
Ellysetta Baristani was Vadim’s greatest creation, the culmination of all his long, painstaking centuries of experimentation. She was his child, born of Fey flesh but tied to pure power through Vadim’s most skillful manipulation of Azrahn’s darkest secrets.
She was the Tairen Soul vessel whose birth he had engineered to house the next incarnation of his soul.
Through her, he could have what no other Mage before him had ever had: the pure, limitless power and destructive force of a tairen and—best of all—the immortality of the Fey.
And Kolis had let her slip through his fingers.
Vadim’s hand was trembling again, but this time from fury. He forced himself to calm. He was the High Mage, a man who mastered adversity rather than succumbing to it. He would continue with his efforts to recapture Ellysetta Baristani—she was the ideal candidate to serve as his vessel—but Vadim had always been too wise a Mage to hold all his coin in one purse.
He had succeeded with Ellysetta Baristani. He could succeed again.
The Fading Lands ~ Eastern Desert
As the Great Sun began its descent towards the western horizon, Ellysetta caught sight of a city rising from the flatness of the distant desert.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing.
“That is Lissilin, light of the east,” Rain said. “Our destination for tonight.”
Lissilin, which they reached before twilight cast the Rhakis into shadow, was another abandoned city of the Fey. Like Elverial, there was a haunting beauty to the place, the otherworldly grace of the immortal Fey evident in every curving archway and artistically carved stone wall. Unlike Elverial, however, there was no sense of a sleeping city waiting for its inhabitants to return. Life had left Lissilin. Its gardens were parched plots of sand, its buildings and fountains the dry, sunbaked bones of a dead city.
Ellsyetta felt a deep sense of sadness as she walked through the empty, sand-blown streets. “How many Fey once lived here?” It must have been many. Lissilin was no mere village.
“Twenty thousand,” Dax supplied the number.
She winced. “Where are those people now?”
They had reached the center of the city. Five thoroughfares converged on a pentagon-shaped center dominated by a large, dry fountain filled with a half a dozen stone tairen. Once, no doubt, this had been a beautiful, lush park as lovely as the cherry-tree orchard at the base of Teleon.
Rain met her gaze, his own bleak. “Gone.”
“Dead?”
“Most. The rest moved to Dharsa when they realized Lissilin was fading.”
Ellysetta glanced around at the dry, abandoned buildings. So much beauty lost. What a terrible, sad waste. “Of all the cities in the Fading Lands, how many are still inhabited?”
He drew a deep breath and let it back out as a heavy sigh. “A few Fey still live in Tehlas and Blade’s Point, and a few live alone, but only Dharsa still thrives.”
Only Dharsa. In all the vast kingdom of t
he Fey, only Dharsa was still populous.
Rain gestured to a beautiful rose-stone building on the left where graceful, columned arches led to a brightly tiled inner courtyard. “Shei’tani, you and Marissya can wait there while Dax and I hunt. That building holds a few rooms still kept up for travelers. I’ll fill the fountain so you will have water to wash and drink.” He turned to the tairen fountain and spun a cool, blue weave of Water magic. Moments later, clear water spouted from the mouths of the stone tairen and rapidly began to fill the fountain’s large pool.
Ellysetta frowned in bewilderment. His weave had not been powerful enough to create that much water from nothing. He’d merely summoned it from beneath the sands. “I don’t understand. If there’s still water here, why did the city die?”
Rain didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gathered a handful of sand, spun it into a small cup, and filled it from one of the streams pouring out of the tairen mouth. He handed the cup to Ellysetta. “Taste it.”
She took a tentative sip. Cool, sweet water touched her tongue. “It’s just water.”
“Precisely.” Rain spun another cup for Marissya as Ellysetta quenched her thirst. “It’s just water. But this fountain is—or was—Lissilin’s Source.”
Her eyes widened. She looked at the tairen fountain with dawning dismay. There was no crisp tingle of faerilas magic in the water pouring from those stone mouths. There was nothing but…water.
“It isn’t lack of water that made the city die, Ellysetta. The magic of Lissilin died too.”
For the first time she began to truly understand just how desperate the plight of the Fey really was. They were living in the shadow of extinction in every possible way. The death of the tairen, the decline of their numbers, even the slow eradication of their magic.
“Do you think everything could somehow be related?” Rain took a drink of the magicless water, then poured the rest out onto the sand. “The tairen are sickening in the egg, the Fey are childless, and the magic of the Fading Lands is slowly dying. Do I think they’re all related? Aiyah. I am certain of it. But what’s causing it all is the question we have yet to answer.”