Queen of Song and Souls
Page 18
Horrified to be caught daydreaming—and by a Primage, no less—Melliandra gasped. "Forgive this worthless umagi, master." She scuttled out of the way, dragging her cart with her. All the while her mind worked at a frantic pace to gather every fragment of dream and whisper of thought that belonged to Melliandra and shove them securely back into the tiny private space she'd somehow managed to create in her mind to hide the time she'd spent with Shia.
That tiny space had grown over the last few months and more thoughts had crowded into it. Hopes had blossomed, and her first timid wish for freedom had evolved into dreams so vivid she could not help pursuing them.
A nameless, worthless umagi had no thought, took no breath, envisioned no future that was not allowed by her Mage master... but Melliandra did.
Within the body of a slave, the dreams of a free soul had taken root. One day, she would make those dreams come true.
Chapter four
Shadow Man
Magic Mages
Lift Your hand
Weave your spells
Rising Darkness
Evil Rages
Throughout the land
Azrahn dwells
Shadow Magic, a Fey child’s poem of Eld.
Celieria ~ Orest
“He doesn’t look anything like I imagined.”
Ellysetta stared at the blue-robed man lying unconscious on the floor in the center of a large, windowless room carved into the mountain. The Fey had brought their prisoner to Upper Orest to await the arrival of the shei’dalins, and they were taking no chances that he might escape. In addition to the chains that bound his hands and ankles, a ring of grim-eyed Fey surrounded the Mage, feeding power into the blazing twenty-five-fold weave that secured him, while another twenty-five Fey had spun a protection weave around the room.
Looking at the Mage, Ellysetta couldn't help thinking that she had expected a Primage of Eld to look more sinister... more openly evil and depraved. The Fey warriors guarding him looked more dangerous than he. This Mage had the face of a handsome young man in his early twenties. "He looks so... innocent."
"Don't believe it for an instant," Rain growled. "The boy born into that body might have been innocent, but the Mage that boy has become is anything but. Come away. It's against my better judgment that you're even close enough to look upon him." Despite the twenty-five-fold weave around the Mage, the twenty-five grim-eyed Fey holding the weaves, and the added protection of her own bloodsworn quintet hovering nearby, Rain was clearly on edge at having Ellysetta in such close proximity to a Mage.
Flashing sparks of unsettled magic swirled around Rain like agitated fairy flies. He hadn't wanted to bring her here—he'd even suggested she leave the city entirely—but she had insisted on coming. She'd wanted to put a face to the evil that had haunted her entire life.
Was it odd to feel so... disappointed? She'd prepared herself for horror, for a monstrous face from her worst nightmares. Not a handsome youth who would make girls sigh as he walked by. Maybe the twenty-five-fold shields were to blame, but she couldn't sense the slightest hint of danger about him. Nothing. If she'd met him on the street, she would have smiled and offered him greeting. Upon better acquaintance, she might even have welcomed him into her home.
"Do you think Mages ever regret what they are?"
Rain turned to her in surprise—and no little concern. "Nei," he said flatly, his tone certain and unyielding. "Regret requires a conscience, and Mages have none."
"But—"
"Nei. But nothing." His eyes narrowed. "I know what you're thinking. You look at this Mage and you see a young boy, and you want to save him. Put that thought out of your head this instant. This Mage is no boy. He's probably older than I am. In fact, he's probably destroyed more lives than I have—yet given none of them a second thought."
"Why would anyone ever choose to live such an evil life?”
Rain put a hand on her back, guiding her away from the Mage. "Who knows, Ellysetta? Lust for power. Something broken in the soul. Or perhaps all it takes is being born into a culture that celebrates death and the enslavement of the soul over life and freedom." Shadows darkened his eyes, turning lavender to moody violet. "Does it matter? The Eld have always served the Dark, and we have always been their enemy."
"But... don't you think if we killed the Mages, the Eld from non-Mage families would want to be free?" She thought of her best childhood friend, Selianne, and Selianne's mother, who had been born in Eld and soul-claimed by the Mages. They'd both been loving, caring people. And they'd both died at Mage hands.
"If that was their desire, they had their chance to take it after the Mage Wars. They chose not to."
The sound of many booted feet coming down the adjoining corridor made Ellysetta swallow her next remark and turn towards the door. A score of warriors—lu'tans who had blood-sworn themselves to protecting her—-entered the room. Behind them, garbed from head to toe in brilliant scarlet and surrounded by ten unfamiliar warriors, two Fey shei'dalins followed, while another score of lu'tans brought up the rear. The large room seemed suddenly much smaller with close to ninety Fey crowded around its perimeter.
The shei'dalins walked towards the Mage without fear or hesitation, throwing back the veils covering their faces.
Narena and Faerah vol Oros were stunning even by Fey standards, with clouds of thick, curling black hair framing alabaster faces dominated by full red lips and large, thickly lashed black eyes.
That tiny space had grown over the last few months and more thoughts had crowded into it. Hopes had blossomed, and her first timid wish for freedom had evolved into dreams so vivid she could not help pursuing them.
A nameless, worthless umagi had no thought, took no breath, envisioned no future that was not allowed by her Mage master... but Melliandra did.
Within the body of a slave, the dreams of a free soul had taken root. One day, she would make those dreams come true.
Chapter four
Shadow Man
Magic Mages
Lift Your hand
Weave your spells
Rising Darkness
Evil Rages
Throughout the land
Azrahn dwells
Shadow Magic, a Fey child’s poem of Eld.
Celieria ~ Orest
“He doesn’t look anything like I imagined.”
Ellysetta stared at the blue-robed man lying unconscious on the floor in the center of a large, windowless room carved into the mountain. The Fey had brought their prisoner to Upper Orest to await the arrival of the shei’dalins, and they were taking no chances that he might escape. In addition to the chains that bound his hands and ankles, a ring of grim-eyed Fey surrounded the Mage, feeding power into the blazing twenty-five-fold weave that secured him, while another twenty-five Fey had spun a protection weave around the room.
Looking at the Mage, Ellysetta couldn't help thinking that she had expected a Primage of Eld to look more sinister... more openly evil and depraved. The Fey warriors guarding him looked more dangerous than he. This Mage had the face of a handsome young man in his early twenties. "He looks so... innocent."
"Don't believe it for an instant," Rain growled. "The boy born into that body might have been innocent, but the Mage that boy has become is anything but. Come away. It's against my better judgment that you're even close enough to look upon him." Despite the twenty-five-fold weave around the Mage, the twenty-five grim-eyed Fey holding the weaves, and the added protection of her own bloodsworn quintet hovering nearby, Rain was clearly on edge at having Ellysetta in such close proximity to a Mage.
Flashing sparks of unsettled magic swirled around Rain like agitated fairy flies. He hadn't wanted to bring her here—he'd even suggested she leave the city entirely—but she had insisted on coming. She'd wanted to put a face to the evil that had haunted her entire life.
Was it odd to feel so... disappointed? She'd prepared herself for horror, for a monstrous face from her worst nightmares. Not a handsome youth who would make girls sigh as he walked by. Maybe the twenty-five-fold shields were to blame, but she couldn't sense the slightest hint of danger about him. Nothing. If she'd met him on the street, she would have smiled and offered him greeting. Upon better acquaintance, she might even have welcomed him into her home.
"Do you think Mages ever regret what they are?"
Rain turned to her in surprise—and no little concern. "Nei," he said flatly, his tone certain and unyielding. "Regret requires a conscience, and Mages have none."
"But—"
"Nei. But nothing." His eyes narrowed. "I know what you're thinking. You look at this Mage and you see a young boy, and you want to save him. Put that thought out of your head this instant. This Mage is no boy. He's probably older than I am. In fact, he's probably destroyed more lives than I have—yet given none of them a second thought."
"Why would anyone ever choose to live such an evil life?”
Rain put a hand on her back, guiding her away from the Mage. "Who knows, Ellysetta? Lust for power. Something broken in the soul. Or perhaps all it takes is being born into a culture that celebrates death and the enslavement of the soul over life and freedom." Shadows darkened his eyes, turning lavender to moody violet. "Does it matter? The Eld have always served the Dark, and we have always been their enemy."
"But... don't you think if we killed the Mages, the Eld from non-Mage families would want to be free?" She thought of her best childhood friend, Selianne, and Selianne's mother, who had been born in Eld and soul-claimed by the Mages. They'd both been loving, caring people. And they'd both died at Mage hands.
"If that was their desire, they had their chance to take it after the Mage Wars. They chose not to."
The sound of many booted feet coming down the adjoining corridor made Ellysetta swallow her next remark and turn towards the door. A score of warriors—lu'tans who had blood-sworn themselves to protecting her—-entered the room. Behind them, garbed from head to toe in brilliant scarlet and surrounded by ten unfamiliar warriors, two Fey shei'dalins followed, while another score of lu'tans brought up the rear. The large room seemed suddenly much smaller with close to ninety Fey crowded around its perimeter.
The shei'dalins walked towards the Mage without fear or hesitation, throwing back the veils covering their faces.
Narena and Faerah vol Oros were stunning even by Fey standards, with clouds of thick, curling black hair framing alabaster faces dominated by full red lips and large, thickly lashed black eyes.
