Lady of Light and Shadows (9 page)

Undulating waves of Spirit burst from his hands, flying out in spiraling, rapidly accelerating weaves that spun away reality and replaced it with a flawless illusion of the two of them lying together in a lush riverside glade, surrounded by the rainbow-tinted mists of a dozen spectacular waterfalls. Gone were her saffron dress and his black leathers. Their bodies were naked and twined together, and there was no guilt, no stern Celierian modesty, no shame or regret to their passion.

She feasted on the sight of his body, so pale, so perfect, sinewed with ropes of lean, defined muscle beneath luminous skin. She stroked his flesh and breathed in the rich aroma of magic and Rain, a sensory memory she would never forget.

He was everything she'd ever dreamed of-every hope, every wish, every secret prayer she had ever whispered to the gods. A fierce, relentless warrior, bred for battle. A deadly defender, willing to sacrifice his immortal life to protect those in his care. A noble hero, a passionate lover. And when he looked at her with such intensity and devotion, he made her feel as if she, simple, plain Ellysetta Baristani, was more dazzling than the sun, more beautiful than every star in the heavens.

When she was with him like this, she could almost feel the retreat of the ominous shadows that had haunted her all her life.

In the Spirit weave that bound them, his body moved upon hers, slid into hers. She felt her own body stretch to accommodate the thick, burning length of him, the muscles clasping him tight, drawing him in deeper. He filled her utterly and perfectly, as if some long-absent part of her had finally found its place and made her complete.

Slowly, teasingly, he began to move. A long, leisurely withdrawal that made her moan a protest, a quick, surging plunge that made her gasp. "Rain!”

He laughed, loving the feel of her, the wild abandon of her response. Both in his weave and in his arms, the electric arc of passion leapt from her flesh to his, a rush of sensation and emotion that built between them with harmonic intensity. For all her innocence and tight-laced Celierian upbringing, she could not deny her hunger for him, nor stifle her body's overwhelming response. For him there was no greater joy than watching her bright, verdant eyes cloud with pleasure and feeling the rippling shudders of her body as a climax seized her. His naked chest pressed against hers. The soft fullness of her breasts was crushed against him. Skin to skin, he could feel what he did to her, both within the weave and without, and nothing-not even the thrill of soaring the freedom of the skies-had ever felt so magnificent.

Each thrust of his hips echoed the melody of his song. Pleasure and torment swelled in heightening waves. Even though he held the weave, each touch, each gasp, each shuddering explosion felt vivid and real, shaking him to the core of his soul.

He took her mouth as his Spirit body drove her to one last, powerful climax. His own control shattered, and his body clenched taut. Fierce shudders swept over him as passion exploded in blinding waves.

Together they lay there, breathless, dazed, their bodies still quaking with tremor after tremor until the wild beating of their hearts finally slowed. Above them, the summer sky filled their eyes with a bright, clear, cloudless blue, and the Great Sun blazed with searing intensity.

Kolis Manza drew privacy wards around his bedchamber at the Inn of the Blue Pony and removed the black Mage blade from its sheath at the small of his back. On the table beside him lay a vial of blood from one of the dead whores, her severed finger, and a small silver dish. Kolis speared the finger on the dagger's sharp point, drizzled the blood over both blade and finger, then set the grisly offering on the floor with a grimace.

He'd much rather open the gateway without the paraphernalia, but that required such an immense blast of Azrahn that every Fey within a five-mile radius would come running to find and slay the summoner. Though Kolis longed for the day the Mages could cease their clandestine activities and rule openly, he was too much a realist to fancy a forty-to-one fight between himself and the Fey.

Stepping back, well clear of the silver dish, he muttered the words of the Feraz witchspell he'd long ago committed to memory: "Terkaz, Blood Drinker, slake your thirst. Frathmir, Flesh Eater, feed your hunger. Boraz, Bone Grinder, mill your dust. Choutarre, Soul Taker, claim your due." He took another long step back and completed the invocation. "Guardians of the Well, I summon you. Accept this offering and grant safe passage through your domain.”

Within the silver dish, the finger and the pooled blood began to smolder. A small black pinprick formed in the air above. Dark shadows swept out of the tiny opening, hissing and circling around the offering. Demons. The incorporeal forms of the Guardians of the Well of Souls swirled and then swooped upon the offering like ravening beasts, demon fangs clicking, demon mouths slurping. In seconds the bloody finger was gone, flesh, blood, and bone utterly consumed, the black dagger drained of one of its captive souls. And behind the spot where the offering had been gaped an expanding dark hole in space, a gateway into a black nothingness that flickered with red lights.

The Well of Souls lay open, and Kolis felt the now-familiar tingling weakness in his limbs as trickles of the pure, untapped power of the Well escaped into the living world. He was not worried that the Fey would sense it. Tests over the years had proven they could not. Demons could, of course, but then demons were captive spirits summoned from the Well of Souls. If a doorway to the Well opened on the other side of the world, demons would know.

As he approached the gateway, Kolis glanced back to verify that the oilskin pouch containing a second offering lay on the nightstand where he'd left it for one of his
umagi
to activate when he returned. As the Eld had learned over the years, the Guardians were capricious, and without the offering and Feraz witchspells, exits from the Well never opened precisely where they were supposed to.

Retrieving his dagger from the floor, Kolis stepped through the gateway into the blackness, then turned to murmur a Feraz witch-word. Behind him, the doorway collapsed upon itself, and all light from the outer world winked out. Utter blackness enveloped him, snuggling close like a cold lover. He stood for several moments to let his eyes adjust to the dark. The jewel in the pommel of his dagger glowed like a red beacon in the darkness, casting a circle of dim light around him, illuminating a path through the shadowy realm.

He held the glowing dagger high and summoned the sweet coolness of Azrahn. His eyes closed in brief pleasure as the dark power swept through him. Azrahn, the second mystic, the soul magic, the unmaker, the most powerful of all six magics. The Fey feared and shunned it. They were foolish and shortsighted. The Elden Mages, on the other hand, embraced and mastered Azrahn, and they would triumph because of it.

Kolis reached out with Azrahn and guided himself through the Well towards Eld. The journey would not take long. Three bells at the most.

Ellysetta and Rain were in the air over Celieria City, circling round for their descent when the debilitating weakness swept over Ellysetta. She slumped in the saddle, only the leather restraining straps holding her in place while
her fingers clutched
feebly for a handhold. Like the deadly venom of an ice spider, the paralyzing cold sapped all strength from her body and left her limbs shivering helplessly. Her heart pounded with low, sluggish thuds, each beat an aching blow against the frozen drum of her chest.

Even in tairen form Rain sensed her emotions, because his wings suddenly spread wide to slow their flight and his great tairen head twisted around so he could fix one glowing, pupil-less eye upon her.
«Ellysetta? What is it? What is wrong?
»

Already the icy feeling had diminished and strength was returning to her limbs.
«I'm fine,»
she assured him.
«It's nothing. Just another ghost treading on my grave.
»

« That seemed much worse than before.»

With the knot of fear still lodged in her throat, she couldn't lie. «
It was.»
Much worse, in fact, as if some previously existing buffer had been peeled away so the frightening sensation could access her more directly.

Rain's tairen face took on an expression she could only call grim.
«Hold on, shei’tani.»
He waited just long enough for her fingers to tighten on the saddle; then his wings tucked in and he plummeted the remaining distance directly towards the small, bricked garden at the back of her family's home. He Changed in midair while she, with a little cry of surprise, slipped down a slide of Air into the waiting arms of her quintet.

"I want twenty-five-fold shields around this house all hours of the day-and around her whenever she goes out," Rain commanded the quintet as he strode the short distance to her side. "The wandering soul attacked her again." To Ellysetta, he added in an equally unequivocal command, "You will tell us whenever you feel this thing again. Something is hunting you,
shei’tani,
and my instincts tell me these wandering souls of yours are somehow related.”

"All right." She met his fierce gaze and wondered how much of her fear showed on her face. Always before, she'd dismissed the shivery feelings as frightening but inconsequential episodes-nothing nearly as troubling or terrifying as her nightmares or seizures. But after last night's terrible dream, she couldn't hide behind that self-deception anymore.

You'll kill them, girl. You'll kill them all.
Gooseflesh prickled El-lie's skin as the Shadow Man's mockingly triumphant declaration echoed in her ears.

What if she wasn't demon possessed as Mama feared, or some Fey foundling hunted by the Mages as Rain believed? What if the Shadow Man had been telling the truth-that she was an unwitting carrier of some malignant evil-and all the recent events were just signs of that cursed seed within her finally corning to life?

All her life she'd sensed a dark, fierce something deep inside her, a terrible something that frightened her even more than the Shadow Man. She'd battled it from earliest childhood when the terrible seizures and visions consumed her. Even now, she could feel it, crouching, a subtle tension coiled deep and tight, waiting for an opportunity to spring.

"Oh, Ellie, good, you're back." Mama's voice drew Ellysetta away from her dark thoughts. She looked up to find her mother standing by the back door. "Master Fellows is here.”

"Thank you, Mama." Ellie forced a smile to her lips. "I'll be right in." She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and headed inside to greet the queen's Master of Graces.

When Rain would have followed Ellysetta inside, Bel put a restraining hand on his arm. "A moment, Rain," he murmured. He waited until the door closed behind Ellysetta before speaking. "I've not heard from the two warriors I sent to Norban.”

Rain's spine stiffened. "Sian and Torel?”

"They've not checked in since yesterday afternoon, nor answered my weaves.”

Rain knew the two Fey. Both were responsible men and good warriors. Not likely to miss a scheduled report-and even less likely to ignore their commander when he called. "Keep trying. Torel's brother is with us in the city, is he not?

"Aiyah,
Tiar is here.”

"Have Marissya go to him." If Torel was alive, Marissya would sense feelings along the link where even brothers could sense only thoughts. If there was nothing, Tiar would need the comfort of a
shei'dalin
to help him control his grief until he returned to the Fading Lands where he could deal with his loss properly. "And dispatch a quintet to Norban to look for them.”

Rain joined Ellysetta inside. Master Fellows, the queen's elegant, impeccably dressed Master of Graces, was already there, murmuring his approval as he circled Ellysetta and eyed her saffron gown with a critical eye.

"Not bad, my lady. Not bad at all. Some might say the clothes don't make the queen, but as I've always maintained, they certainly do help her radiance to shine." Gaspare Fellows tutted over the dagger at her waist. "That, however, I recommend you do without.”

Ellysetta's hands closed around the hilt of Bel's bloodsworn Fey'cha. "No." The denial popped out before she could stop it, and she took an instinctive step backwards, closer to Rain.

He laid a calming hand on her shoulder. "It's a Fey queen you're training, Master Fellows. The blade stays. It's a symbol of great honor and an invaluable protection.”

"I see.” The Master of Graces frowned but gave in. "Well, the dagger stays, then, of course. All cultures should honor their customs." He cleared his throat. "And how did last night's dinner go?”

A betraying blush flooded Ellysetta's cheeks, and she cast a desperate glance up at Rain.

Master Fellows pressed his fingers to his lips. "Sweet Lord of Light. That badly?”

"Ellysetta did very well." Rain took Ellysetta's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Any ... difficulties . .. were outside of her control and did not reflect badly on her.”

"Difficulties? Ah. I had noticed something strange in the palace air today." Master Fellows paused, but when it was apparent no further explanation was forthcoming, he smoothly changed the subject. "Well, let's just make sure there are no difficulties in future. The best way I know to do that is to ensure your presentation is so queenly none will dare reproach you. Your next scheduled public appearance is Prince Dorian's betrothal ball. You'll need to be able to dance and converse with flawless polish." His finger wagged a caution. "I warn you, these next days of preparation will be far more difficult and demanding than our previous sessions. There's much more for you to master, and I will be a harsh taskmaster. My lord Feyreisen., if you will, please." He tapped his temple.