Lady of Light and Shadows (38 page)

"Should we halt the exorcism?" Lauriana ventured.

"Where's your courage, woman?" one of the exorcists demanded. "Your daughter's soul is at stake. Surely that's worth a little risk on your part?”

"Do not fear, Madame Baristani," Father Bellamy soothed. He cast a repressive scowl at his underling. "The Fey cannot break through. This cathedral's Solarus was designed to withstand a direct assault by Mage Fire or a five-fold weave.”

"I'm not concerned about myself, but I have two other children and a husband. There's nothing to protect them from Fey wrath. Greatfather Tivrest promised me the Fey would not know about the exorcism.”

"Courage, madam. When we are done, the Fey will see your daughter is whole and unhurt, and they will have no reason to harm your family." Father Bellamy clasped a comforting hand on Lauriana's shoulder. "No great duty comes without risk, and saving your daughter's soul is the duty entrusted to you. Take comfort in knowing the Bright Lord rewards those who serve him with devotion."

"My lords," King Dorian said, addressing the assembled lords, "the time has come to cast your votes. Lord Corrias"-he turned to his prime minister-"begin the roll call.”

"Yes, Your Majesty." The prime minister opened his Council records book and turned to the voting logs. "The vote before the Council is the matter of the Eld Trade Agreement. Aye votes will tally in favor of passing the agreement into law. Nay votes will tally in opposition of the agreement. Lord Abelmar, how do you vote?”

In the upper reaches of the chamber, the young, recently entitled lord of a small fief near Swan's Bay rose to his feet. "Abelmar votes aye, ser.”

Bel sat up, rubbing his head. Flames scorch it; that had hurt. He and Gaelen should have put a hole in the wall large enough for a tairen to fly through, but considering the force of the recoil, it felt as though most of the energy had bounced right back at them.

«Ellysetta, are you all right?»
He hauled himself to his feet. And froze in disbelief.

The Solarus door was not destroyed. It wasn't even scratched.

Gaelen growled a string of choice swear words. "The flaming room's been built to withstand a five-fold weave. It's warded against magic-and I'll wager beneath that gold finish, the door's entirely clad with
sel'dor.
Walls, too, probably.”

«Fey! Ti'Feyreisa! Get those weaves down! Call Rain!»
Bel flung the command outward to all his men on the cathedral's small island.

«Demons!»
The cry came back across the common Fey weave.
«Rising out of the ground! Dozens of-»
The Fey weave dissolved abruptly.

An icy wind swept through the cathedral, and a faint, sickly sweet smell pervaded the nave. Cold, hissing laughter whispered in the gloom.

"Ah,
krekk,"
Kieran muttered.

"We've got company," Gaelen said. He turned to face the long, shadowy nave, all five magics blazing to life at his fingertips. "Demon." Narrowed ice-blue eyes scanned the cathedral. "Make that two.”

Bel's heart thumped heavily. It was a trap. And with the twenty-five-fold weaves surrounding the island, the Fey had woven their own cage.

He rapidly channeled every ounce of power he could summon into yet another weave.
"Chakor!
Five-fold weave, now!”

Even before he finished the first word, Kieran's powerful rope of Earth joined Bel's Spirit. Kiel's Water spun into the mix, then Fire and Air from Teris and Cyr.

«There's an active selkahr crystal by that small altar at the back of the nave,»
Gaelen said.
«I'll circle around and destroy it so our friends here don't invite more company.»
The temperature in the room plummeted.
"Krekk.”

"What?”

"Add one very unfriendly
dahl'reisen
demon to the mix.” Gaelen swore again. "Don't speak on the common path. He'll hear you. I've got to smash that crystal. Keep these fellows occupied.”

Bel nodded. He'd fought demons before in the Mage Wars, but few of those deadly creatures were as dangerous as the spirits of
dahl'reisen
who'd surrendered their souls into dark service. "Go. We'll give you what cover we can. And hurry. The Feyreisa needs us." As Gaelen bolted off, Bel gathered his strength. "Remember, Fey ... five-fold weaves only. Steel's useless. And for the gods' sake, don't let them touch you.”

Bel didn't wait for the others to acknowledge his words. Two dark shapes gave a hissing screech and shot out of the shadows towards Gaelen. Bel grabbed command of the five-fold weave and flung a burning net to block their path. The demons shrieked as their formless evil sizzled against the shining webs of power.

«Rain! Bel! Gaelen! Someone help me!»
Despite the
sel'dor
burning against her skin, Ellysetta flung desperate, pleading weaves of Spirit against all corners of the room, hoping the call might escape through some small chink in the magical cage imprisoning her.

"Be calm, daughter," Greatfather Tivrest said. "Do as Father Bellamy commands. Forsake your demon magic and put your faith in the Bright Lord.”

"The magic my mother fears is my natural birthright, Father, not demon possession. You've got to believe me." She held his gaze. Her voice throbbed with earnestness and compulsion. Doubt entered the archbishop's eyes, and she pressed her advantage. "Look at me, Father. I'm telling you the truth. I was raised in the church. I celebrated my first Concordia here in this very city. I follow the Way of Light." Her breathing grew ragged as the manacles' burn intensified. "Let me go, Father. Don't do this to a child of Light.”

A shadow darted in her periphery, followed by the crack of flesh hitting flesh. Sudden, sharp pain set the side of her face aflame, bringing an abrupt end to her attempt at weaving a
shei'dalin 's
compulsion. "Careful, Greatfather," cautioned the white-blond exorcist. "Even now, when you offer her mercy, she would steal your soul if she could." He slapped her again, this time with enough force to wrench her head to one side.

"That's enough, Nivane," Father Bellamy commanded. "Our goal is to drive the demons from her soul, not to brutalize her. There is a better way to silence her witch's voice." Bellamy gestured to the third, still-hooded man. "Gag her.”

"Yes, Father." The third exorcist approached, a corked gag in his gloved hands. As he neared, Ellysetta's nose twitched in distaste. This exorcist reeked of onions and bacon, a smell she would forever associate with the despised Den Brodson. At that very moment, gloating satisfaction and hatred rolled over her in waves.

"Gods save me." She stared in horror at the third exorcist. He was close enough now that she could see beneath the shadow of his hood. Blue eyes surrounded by stubby black lashes stared back at her above a nose that had been broken more than once in childhood bully brawls. "He's no exorcist, Greatfather! He's De-”

The second exorcist, Nivane, grabbed her manacled wrists and pushed a small hidden button. Tiny spikes shot out all around the inside of the cuffs, piercing her skin. A scream strangled in her throat, cutting off her voice. "If you do not weave magic, the bracelets will not punish you," Nivane proclaimed loudly. "Cease your lies. Give up your unholy ways. Beg the Bright Lord to forgive your sins, and join him in the Light.”

Ellysetta tried to force him back with a thrust of Earth and Air, but the instant she called magic, debilitating agony wreathed her wrists with fire and sent red-hot razors of pain vibrating up her arms.

Den grabbed her roughly and shoved the corked gag in her mouth. "You'll regret rejecting me," he hissed in her ear. "I would have honored you as my wife. Now I'll command you as my whore." With his hands hidden from view by the folds of his red robes, Den squeezed her breast so hard she could not hold back a muffled cry. "Before I'm done with you, you'll plead to lick my feet.”

"Lay her on the altar," Father Bellamy ordered. "The bracelets will contain her demons for the moment, but we must hurry to begin the exorcism.”

Hands grabbed her and lifted her off her feet. Her struggles were no match for the four men as they carried her easily across the short distance and laid her on the altar.

Gaelen skidded around a marble column. There, in the center of the offering bowl on the altar of a lesser god, a dark
selkahr
crystal pulsed with forbidden power. A partially melted gold chain surrounded the crystal. The
selkahr
must have been disguised as some sort of pendant, the crystal itself lying dormant within its camouflage until the activation spell had been triggered.

A smoky tendril darted between him and the altar. Gaelen slammed to a halt, barely managing to keep himself from plowing into the lethal shadow of the demon. Magic burst bright around his hands. He threw a five-fold shield into the creature's path. It wasn't as strong as the weave forged by Bel and the other four masters of the Feyreisa's quintet, but it was still powerful enough to make the
dahl'reisen
demon hiss and shrink back.

Formless blackness shifted and coalesced into the familiar dark form of a
dahl'reisen
warrior. Smoky, translucent shadow blades were draped across the creature's chest and strapped to its back, exactly where Fey steel would have been, and in its dark, undulating face, two glowing red embers tracked Gaelen's every move. The shifting shadows of the creature's face sharpened into focus, forming a clear, dark image of mouth, nose, cheeks.

A Fey face. A familiar face. A warrior who'd been a long-trusted Fey friend, dear to Gaelen even when they'd both been outcast from the Fading Lands. Esan vel Morian, one of the Brotherhood of Shadows who had traveled into Eld on Gaelen's orders, never to return again. Gaelen's heart-so recently restored by Ellysetta's touch-felt as though it would break in two.

"Greetingsss, General," the demon hissed.

Rain stood in silence as one by one the lords of Celieria were called to vote. One by one, they stood and called out aye or nay. Three-quarters of the way through, his shoulders slumped. The majority of all undecided votes had been cast and tallied. He had failed.

The Eld would be coming to Celieria.

Father Bellamy set a small red leather case on one of the benches surrounding the altar and thumbed open the latch. Long, sharp needles, each topped by a small dark crystal, gleamed against ruby silk.

"Hold her still," he ordered.

Den, Nivane, and Greatfather Tivrest clamped down on Ellysetta's legs and her right arm. Father Bellamy pressed a hand hard against her left shoulder. "Forgive me, daughter. This will hurt, but it is for your own good. Adelis, Bright One, Lord of Light, drive the darkness from this soul." Chanting the prayer of exorcism, Father Bellamy plunged the first needle into her flesh.

Ellysetta's back arched, and she screamed against the corked gag. The needle wasn't steel or silver. It was
sel'dor.
Her flesh went cold around the puncture, and insidious runners of ice infiltrated her body, radiating outward. The dark crystal atop the needle began to flicker with deep ruby lights. She felt a terrible pull, as if the needle and the crystal that topped it were trying to draw her very soul from her flesh.

A choked cry came from the side of the room. Mama stood there, clutching Selianne, tears pouring down her face, one fist stuffed against her mouth. "Please, Ellie, please don't fight them. Trust your soul to the Bright Lord. Please, kitling.”

Anger burst into hot life. Mama had betrayed her. Selianne had betrayed her. Greatfather Tivrest had betrayed her. The people Ellysetta should have been able to trust, the two women she'd loved most, had betrayed her.

A second needle pierced her right shoulder. She screamed again against the muffling gag. Her fingers splayed, then convulsed, fingertips pressing hard against unmoving marble and adding the tiny agonies of fingernails cracking and splitting to a far greater pain. Her soul felt as if it were being ripped apart.

The glacial cold had invaded her entire chest now She gasped for breath, and her body shook uncontrollably. A dark, gloating sentience brushed across the edges of her mind, and she could have sworn she felt skeletal fingers dragging across the skin over her heart.

At the far end of the altar, Nivane watched her with eyes that, for a brief instant, glowed like twin firepits. Fathomless black, flickering with frightening red lights. White teeth flashed in a triumphant smile, and the familiar sibilant voice from her worst nightmares sounded in her mind.
Hello, girl.

Stark terror flooded every part of her being.

Her heels shoved hard against the altar slab. Her tortured body writhed as she tried to scramble away from the exorcist's unholy eyes and the Shadow Man's hissing voice. Hands clamped down, holding her fast. Gloating laughter danced across her skin, vibrating along the ice-cold needles stabbing her flesh.

There was no conscious thought in her reaction. No control. No magic weave. Only stripped-down, bare, primal instinct. Ellysetta's mental shields shredded, and absolute terror gave voice to a silent, preternatural scream.

“Rain! Shei'tan! Help me!'

Shock stole Rain's breath.

His heart stopped in mid-beat. Around him, it seemed as if time itself had stopped. Every person in the Council Chamber froze in place, utterly silent, utterly still. For one instant, nothing in the universe existed except a single, desperate, terrified cry.

A soul crying out directly to his.

Her soul.

«Rain! Shei'tan! Help me!’

For one brief instant, she was there, sharing his mind, his thoughts, his entire being.

And then she was gone.

"No." His hands trembled. His blood froze with fear. "No.”

There was a great round skylight in the ceiling above Dorian's throne. Without conscious thought, deaf to the shocked cries of the mortals around him, Rain crossed the chamber in three Air-powered leaps and vaulted over the royals seated on the raised dais. A burst of strength and magic sent him exploding skyward. He smashed through the window as Fey and emerged on the other side of the shattered glass as tairen.

Fire scorched the sky as Rain Tairen Soul rocketed towards the Great Cathedral of Light.

Gaelen stared in dismay at the shifting, shadowy demon-visage of his comrade in arms.

"Esan, my blade brother, how did this happen?”

"Doesss it matter, General?" the demon hissed. "I ssserve and ssso you die." A lethal demon blade shot out, slicing hard and fast. Only reflexes honed by centuries of battle allowed Gaelen to dodge the deadly kiss of Esan's blade. Behind him, the sounds of battle filled the cathedral nave as Bel and the rest of the quintet engaged their two demons.

Gaelen drew the long, shimmering length of one
seyani
blade from its scabbard.

The demon laughed. "Sssteel hasss no power over me.”

"Perhaps not." The blades flashed with sudden brightness as Gaelen spun into the Cha'Baruk form called the Song of Death. "But the five-fold threads I've woven around it certainly do." Steel whistled through the air and sliced through the demon's midsection. The creature cried out, and his insubstantial form wavered.

Gaelen took advantage of Esan's shock and distraction to slam a five-fold weave into the
selkahr
crystal. The dark stone exploded in a shower of dust, and the demon portal collapsed. There! At least no other old friends or enemies would come to join the fight.

A hissing screech and a rush of cold air were the only warning he received as the demon swooped towards him. Gaelen spun round and fell back upon one knee, sword and five-fold shields raised to meet the
dahl'reisen
demon's attack. Sparks exploded around them as magic and demon swords clashed.

Esan was a Fey from the powerful vel Morian line, and for nearly fifteen hundred years he'd also been a close friend and sparring partner. He'd been one of the few Fey capable of laying the sharp edge of his blade on Gaelen's skin. Alive, that posed little problem. A little torn flesh and a bit of blood never robbed Gaelen of victory in the end. But now, the sharp edge of Esan's demon blades held the promise of death more swift and sure than even red Fey'cha. Gaelen couldn't afford the luxury of a single mistake.

He met Esan's split-second lunge with a lightning-fast parry and attack. With his steel serving as an anchor for his five-fold weaves, Gaelen didn't have to divide his concentration or expend vast amounts of energy to maintain his weaves. He could instead concentrate on the swordplay at hand, and at the moment, that was a very good thing.

Esan had never accepted defeat easily. Even as a demon, that much had not changed. Each clash of blades shivered down Gaelen's arms and rattled his back teeth. Esan was not holding back his blows. This was no friendly sparring match; it was a fight to the death.

Gaelen had to work hard simply to survive each passing chime. He ducked and danced, leaping lightly from altar to floor to pew, spinning from one fluid form of Cha'Baruk to another. His swords flashed in ever-moving arcs of beauty and death. Esan countered every blow.

"We must end this, my friend." Each moment that passed put Ellysetta's life in greater danger. "I can free you from this dark service, Esan." Negotiating with a demon was futile, Gaelen knew. Yet some stubborn, unrelenting remnant of Fey loyalty made him try. This corrupt soul that now attacked him had once been a beloved friend and blade brother with a soul as bright as it now was dark. "Come, my brother; if any hint of Fey still remains in your soul, cease this battle and let me grant you peace.”

The demon snarled and advanced, blades flashing.

Gaelen countered with the whirling strokes of the Ring of Fire, but Esan's attack was too fierce, too punishing. It drove him back, and he stumbled over an uneven tile in the floor. For a split second, Gaelen's perfect form faltered. He held his blades too far apart-barely a handspan too much, but that was all the opening the demon needed.

The shadow blade sliced down with lethal accuracy.

And clashed in a shower of sparks against a shining, magic-girded
seyani
sword.

"Your bladework's good, but your footwork could use a little practice." Kieran smirked.

"Cheeky git." Gaelen drove his five-fold-powered swords deep into the
dahl'reisen
demon's heart. The demon wailed and writhed as beams of magic pierced its darkness, sundering the grip of evil that held Esan's soul in thrall. Gaelen poured power into his weaves. The shadowy figure shimmered, its dark, smoky form growing ever more translucent, like mist burning off in the Great Sun's light.

"Go with peace, my brother. May the gods illuminate a path to guide you back into the Light." When the last shadowy remnant of the demon faded, Gaelen leaned against a wall, resting his head on the back of his hands, and sucked in several deep, restorative breaths.

"No time for napping, Uncle!" Kieran chided. "We've got work to do!”

Gaelen forced himself back to his feet and sprinted after Kieran to join the others, who were once again weaving a five-fold assault on the Solarus door. "When this is done, puppy, and the Feyreisa is safe behind the Mists, I'm going to teach you respect for your elders." He gave his sister's son a smile dark with promise.

Kieran grinned. "You can try.”

"I never just try." Tossing back the long strands of his hair, Gaelen frowned at the quintet's five-fold weave. "That's not going to work, vel Jelani. Five-fold isn't enough." His eyes met and held the Fey general's. "Six-fold is her only chance. Will you stay your blades?”

Bel's mouth went grim. "Weaving Azrahn is a banishing offense.”

"Save her first. Banish me later. Just don't stab red in my belly until after we break through. Agreed?”

Bel searched the former
dahl'reisen's
eyes for any hint of treachery but found only honest, stoic intent. "Agreed," he said.

The next instant, an icy chill emanated from Gaelen, and Bel's back teeth ached from the sudden cold and sickly sweet smell as a sixth rope of power formed.

Azrahn.

Bel couldn't stop the instinctive clutch of horror that made him recoil a step from Gaelen. The former
dahl'reisen's
ice-blue eyes had turned pure black, sparkling with red lights like deep, smoldering fire pits. Those nightmare eyes met his gaze for an instant, then turned to concentrate on the spiraling weave of forbidden magic gathering in Gaelen's hands.

Bel had never been this close to a Fey weaving Azrahn.

Fey law demanded Gaelen's banishment or his death.

Instead, Bel opened his weave and let the
dahl'reisen
add the ominously pulsing rope of dark power into the weave.

"Hold steady, Fey. Tighten the weave." Shining threads condensed, magic concentrating into lines of blazing light. "Aim for the hinges. Now!”

The six-fold weave, a thick line of pure power, shot out. The door frame screeched and sparks flew as weave met enchanted metal. For several seconds, the first hinge resisted the Fey assault, spitting defiant sparks and radiating scattered destructive slivers of the weave in all directions. But strong as the magic-resistant construction of the Solarus door was, the concentrated assault of their weave, strengthened even further by that deadly sixth thread, was stronger. Slowly-far too slowly for Bel's liking-the metal of the first hinge began to bubble, and then to melt.

We're coming, Ellysetta. Hang on.
Bel didn't dare spare even a flicker of Spirit from his weave to send the thought.

Ellysetta floated in a cool, dark void, enveloped in utter silence, free from all pain. Was this death? Or had the agony of the exorcists' torture merely driven her mad?

A chuckle sounded in the darkness, the gloating sound sliding over her like a snake.

She spun in blind panic, seeking the source of the laughter, her frantic gaze finding only darkness all around her. She tried to flee, but the laughter pursued her. Mocking. Triumphant.

"We meet again, Ellysetta.”

Her heart clutched with familiar terror as the Shadow Man's voice hissed across her senses.

"Show yourself, coward!" she challenged.

The darkness surrounding her lightened. Utter blackness became depths of gray. In it, she could make out a shadowy figure, tall and robed. A sash covered with dark, glittering jewels was tied about his waist, and beneath the hood shone a gleans of pallid, cadaverous flesh. Red flashes of light sparked from the darkness of the hood above bloodless lips. Fresh panic nearly overwhelmed her.

"Rain was right, Shadow Man. You are a Mage.”

More laughter. "Not `a' Mage, child. `The' Mage. I am Vadim Maur, the High Mage of Eld, the greatest Mage who has ever lived.”

Ellysetta turned and ran.

Ellysetta! Shei’tani!»
In the few seemingly interminable chimes it took to fly from palace to cathedral, Rain continu ously called to Ellysetta on the Spirit path and tried to duplicate the call on the same, deeper, soul-to-soul path she had used. She didn't respond.

Massive twenty-five-fold weaves still enveloped the Isle of Grace in a dome of impermeable magic. He circled the dome, looking for a weak spot. His tairen vision saw the flows of magic easily, every strand a vibrant, pulsing rope of power.

There.

He found a spot where the weave was thinner, and a tiny square where the threads themselves were only four-ply. Someone had started to unravel the weaves here.