Crown of Crystal Flame (46 page)

“It will not be his victory, but ours,” he assured Ellysetta.

With visible effort, she turned away from Eld. “May the gods will it should be so.”

His heart ached at how pale she looked beneath her forced calm. She was so afraid, but so determined not to show it, so determined to be brave for his sake. He lifted a hand, brushing back the wayward curls from her face in what he hoped would not be the last of their small intimacies. “I love you, Ellysetta Baristani.”

Her mouth trembled, and her beautiful eyes glimmered with a sudden sheen of tears. She blinked them back quickly. “And I love you, Rain.” The tears she would not shed made her voice sound low and throaty so that it purred across his skin like velvet. “I always have. I always will.”

“Rain.” Bel gave an apologetic look as he interrupted. “Forgive me, but the troops are in position.”

Rain nodded. He threaded his fingers through Ellysetta’s and lifted her hands for a kiss. “I have to go now,
shei’tani.”

“I know.” They had said their good-byes before, during their last few chimes of rest before the final push to the battlefield, but even so, she caught his face in her hands and pulled him down for a last kiss farewell.
«Come back safe to me, shei’tan.»

He caught her tight against him and poured his heart, his soul, his life’s essence into that kiss. Trembling, aching, he whispered,
“Ver reisa ku’chae. Kem surah, shei’tani.”
He held out an arm to Bel and the rest of Ellysetta’s quintet. “Guard her well,
kem’jetos.”
The quintet and three hundred of her
lu’tan
would stay behind to guard Ellysetta and the other
shei’dalins
in the healing tents.

Then, regretfully but purposefully, the Fey who was Rain, the
shei’tan
of Ellysetta, folded back into the privacy of his soul. And it was Rainier vel’En Daris, Feyreisen, King of the Fading Lands, Defender of the Fey, who stepped forward to stand before the assembled army of Light and called them one last time to war.

Aloud and on weaves of powerful Spirit which he spun and flung out upon the whole the assembled armies, he called, “My friends… today, we are not Fey, Celierian, or
dahl’reisen,
but brothers, united and strong, each of us honorable and worthy warriors of Light. We are the steel no enemy can shatter. We are the magic no Dark power can defeat. We are the rock upon which evil breaks like waves. We are warriors of honor, champions of Light.” He pulled one of his
seyani
swords from its scabbard and raised the blade high, letting sunlight gleam on the long blade of golden steel.

“To victory my brothers!” he cried. “And to life!”

“To victory and life!” came their answering cry.

Rain raised his golden war horn and blew the call to battle. Across the fields of Orest, other horns, Fey, Celierian, and
dahl’reisen
alike, blew answering blasts, and the army of Light began to march.

Remembering the speed and distance of the bowcannon that had shot him down over Eld, Rain ordered Steli, Xisanna, and Perahl to stay behind near the healing tents.

“When it is time, pride-kin, you will strike, but you cannot fly against Orest now—not with so many bowcannon trained on the sky. The danger will be great enough when I call upon you.” Grumbling, the tairen acquiesced.

With only Rain flying overhead, the armies of Light advanced upon occupied Orest. He flew back and forth, scorching the field before them to destroy any
chemar
scattered upon the ground. Their advance was slow, but unhindered, which made him nervous. He expected the dragons to attack. The allies’ own bowcannon were aimed skyward, ready to fire, for just such an event, but instead, the great, scaled creatures retreated from the field, winging away to perch like reptilian vultures on the walls of Orest. No doubt their masters preferred to draw the tairen closer to Orest and the batteries of deadly bowcannon perched on the ramparts before they struck.

The allies were halfway across the field when the first of the black Shadows appeared amongst them.

“Demons!” someone cried.

Fey magic burst forth in powerful, five-fold weaves, shielding the Celierians and plunging into the dark shades of the dead. There were hundreds of them. Thousands. Orest had been conquered, and more than one night had fallen upon the bodies of the Mage-slain, giving the Mages ample time to call and bind the souls of the corpses left littering the field. They appeared amidst the allies, demons of Celierians and Fey, whose slightest touch would drain all Light and life from their victims.

Rain wheeled and dove towards the army, preparing to Change, when the first of the dragons leapt from the ramparts of Orest and headed his way. Six others followed on its tail. So that was the plan. Distract his own cannoneers with demons, then attack Rain undeterred by allied cannon fire.

It was a good plan, but neither Fey nor Tairen Souls were so easy to outwit. Rain soared back up, skyward, spewing flame and roaring a challenge.

«Cannoneers!»
he cried.
«Look to the skies. Fey, protect the cannons. Air masters! Give those beasts a taste of trouble!»

Howling winds swept across the skies, buffeting the dragons and slinging them across the sky. Rain gave a grim, chuffing laugh and dove after the first of the scaled monsters. The beast saw him coming and trumpeted a challenge, spewing its green-tinged, acid flame. Rain dissolved into the Change, letting both flame and dragon pass through him, then re-formed behind the beast and ripped its back raw with razored claws and breathed tairen fire into the unprotected flesh. As the dragon shrieked and plummeted from the sky, Rain roared in victory and dove after the next.

Standing aboveground, shielded from the sun’s glare by a purple canopy, Vadim Maur had come to watch his great victory unfold with his own eyes. When the Fey had advanced across the field, he’d ordered the dragons back to Orest to draw them closer before releasing the demons and a handful of dragons to thin their ranks.

Now it was time to make them earn each man-length of progress.

“Vargus, tell the Mages to counter the winds! Kron, are the cannoneers ready with Grule’s special bolts?”

“Ready, Master Maur!”

“Then fire at will, Kron. Take the Tairen Soul out of the sky.”

*   *   *

«Rain! Watch your flank! Incoming from the west and north!»

Rain saw the shadows in the sky, streaking towards him. Bowcannon bolts, six of them, flying much faster than a bowcannon bolt should—just as they had when they’d shot him from the sky. But the Eld didn’t have the element of surprise this time. He pumped his wings and soared high into the sky, well above the bolts’ trajectories.

«Beware, Feyreisen! The scorching things are following you!»

What?
He glanced back over his shoulder, and sure enough, the six bolts had changed their flight to mirror his and were still coming strong—straight at him. Rain rolled left, putting on a burst of magic-powered speed. The bolts rolled after him, still gaining. He dove for the battlefield. The bolts dove too. With each passing moment, the distance between then decreased. Left, right, up, down, Rain zigged and zagged across the sky, trying to shake the flaming things off his tail, but they would not be shaken.

He tried burning them out of the sky, wheeling around to face them, flaming them as they raced towards him, then Changing at the last possible instant. The bolts raced through his mist, unharmed by his flame, but the instant he re-formed, they looped back around to come after him.

Krekk.
The Eld must have warded the missiles to make them resistant to his flame. He spied a dragon swooping down upon the Fey, and his tairen mouth curled up, baring fangs.
Time for a little game of dodge-tairen.

He dove for one of the dragons, spewing fire. Two of its brethren saw his attack and dove after him, coming at him from two sides. Fangs and claws ripped and shredded, wings tangled. Acid fire and tairen flame spewed in fiery maelstrom. And then, as the five bowcannon bolts zoomed close, Rain Changed. The bolts passed harmlessly through his mist and slammed into the three dragons, driving them out of the sky and pinning them to the ground. Rain landed in Fey form beside them, drained of magic and breathing hard. He finished the three dragons off with red Fey’cha.

«Rain!»
Ellysetta’s warning shriek sounded in his mind.

He looked up to see the sixth dragon diving in for the kill.

“I’m all right. I’m fine.” Rain caught Ellysetta’s hands in his. Though the sixth dragon had given him a good scorching, Steli had swooped in to snatch him from harm’s way. She’d jabbed the reptile in the eye with her tail spike in passing, and left his twitching body for Xisanna and Perahl to finish off. Thanks to a bell of intensive healing by Ellysetta, he was fit enough to fight and determined to return to battle. “I have to get back.”

With the help of Air masters and a few well-timed barrages of Fey bowcannon fire, the allies had kept the remaining dragons at bay. The demons were gone and the allied army was once more on the move, but as they drew closer to the walls of Orest, they would need him in the air, providing what defense he could.

Ellysetta closed her eyes. He felt her struggle against her
shei’tanitsa
need to keep him safe. He knew what it cost her to say, “I know,
kem’san,”
and let him go. She was strong. Much stronger than most truemated
fellanas.
Much stronger, and far more courageous, than she ever gave herself credit. It was much easier to fly into danger yourself than to watch the one you love do so.

“Rain. Ellysetta.” Bel rushed into the healing tent. “Come quick. You’ll both want to see this.”

Curious, they both followed him out of the tent, only to stop in surprise as Bel gestured to the south. There, just cresting the next line of hills to the south, a large army approached. Rain estimated at least thirty thousand troops, all with gleaming bows and quivers across their backs. Their armor shone with rich copper hues in the morning light, and a lustrous golden glow enveloped them, as if they carried sunlight in their skin.

That glow—and their distinctive cavalry, some winged and others graced with a single spiraling horn—identified the newcomers even before Rain discerned the distinctive leaf-shaped scales of their armor and the delicate, tapering points of their even-more-distinctive ears.

Despite Galad Hawksheart’s numerous refusals, the Elves had come at last to join the war.

“Welcome,” Rain said when the leaders of the Elvian army halted before him. “I am glad beyond words that Lord Hawksheart changed his mind after all.”

The Elvian commander, a tall, broad-shouldered Elf with waist-length hair the color of sunset and rich sapphire eyes regarded Rain with the disconcerting intensity of his kind. “We do not come at Lord Galad’s bidding,” he replied in a low, lyrical voice. “The Lord of Valorian commands the Elves of Deep Woods. We answer to the Lady.”

“You are from Silverwood,” Ellysetta said.

The commander’s bright gaze fixed instantly on her, and the power of his gaze made the breath leave her lungs. “And you are Ellysetta Erimea. I have heard tales of your brightness, but they do you no justice.” To her surprise, the Elf commander clasped a fist to his breastplate and dropped to one knee before her. “Blessings of the day upon you, Ellysetta Erimea. It is our honor to serve the Winter Star.” He bowed low, over his knee, murmuring something in Elvish that she did not understand, but the thousands of Elves behind him suddenly followed his lead, each dropping to a knee and bowing low before her.

“It is I who am honored, my lord commander.” The welcome of these Elves shocked her, and the near reverence with which they regarded her left her unsettled and embarrassed. “Please, rise, and be welcome.”

“I am called Tamsin Greywing, my lady,” the Elf said as he stood, “general of the armies of west Elvia.” He turned to the two elves beside him, one a broad-shouldered, chestnuthaired male with the unflinching yellow eyes of a wolf, the other a stunningly beautiful Elf maiden. “This is my second in command, Gavin Fenwolf, and this is—” He glanced back at Ellysetta and his voice trailed off.

“You may call me Commander Silverleaf,” the Elf maiden finished for him. Her voice was pure music, sweet as a song played by crystalline bells, but her face, with its piercing silver-grey eyes, possessed a composed, almost stern quality despite her great beauty. Masses of pale gold hair hung down her back in a multi-ply plait as thick as Ellysetta’s arm. “I lead the Aquiline riders.”

“We bring you greetings from our queen, Illona Bright-hand,” General Greywing continued. “The Elves of Silverwood extend our hand of friendship and offer you our strength in this battle against the enemies of Light.”

Across the river, on the shores of Eld, Vadim Maur noted the arrival of the Elvish army. His lips compressed in a hard line.

So, the Feraz hadn’t been keeping Hawksheart occupied after all. He would have a word or two for Fezai Madia the next time he saw the arrogant witch.

Turning to Vargus, he barked his next command. “Release the revenants.”

Sound rumbled across the scorched plains outside Lower Orest. The ground beneath the allies’ feet began to shake. Ellysetta looked down in surprise. “Is it an earthquake, ‘Jonn?”

The giant Earth master’s dark eyes glowed green as he sent his great magic plunging into the ground below. A moment later, he shook his head. “
Nei,
not the earth. Something inside it.”

“Something like what?” Rain asked Before Rijonn could answer, a cry sounded down the line.

“Look!”

Rain and Ellysetta turned. Something was pouring out of the ground near the south gate of Lower Orest. From a distance, it looked almost like a swarm of termites bubbling up from a disturbed nest. “What is that?” Ellysetta asked.

Beside her, the Elf commanders muttered something in their native tongue.

Rain’s expression went grim. “Revenants? What the Seven Hells are revenants? “

General Greywing’s eyes went dark. “Black magic. Very old, very deadly black magic. The world hasn’t seen their like in at least ninety thousand years.” He glanced at Commander Silverleaf and said, “The knowledge was lost. How did this Mage find the spell?”