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.

Rain filled his tairen lungs with air. A strong twenty-five-fold weave could resist tairen flame for quite a while. A fourfold weave could not.

Wings pumping, he reared back, hovering over the weak spot in the weave, and exhaled. A fine spray of venom from his fangs mixed with tairen breath and tairen magic ignited just inches from his muzzle. An enormous jet of flame roared forth.

More like Fey Fire than simple match-to-tinder, tairen flame could burn anything in its path: wood, rock, metal, flesh, even magic.

The small, four-fold patch burned quickly, leaving a hole too small for a tairen to fit through but just wide enough for a lean Fey king.

Rain's tairen form dissolved. His Fey form plunged neatly through the opening, falling freely, rapidly. He waited until the last possible moment to summon a slide of Air to break his fall and landed running.

Weeping, Lauriana watched her daughter's tortured form and prayed for forgiveness. She'd witnessed at least part of the first exorcism when Ellie was a child, but this was a hundred times worse. The way Ellie screamed, as if her very soul was being ripped from her body .. .

She was quieter now. Her screams had tapered off to a moaning, delirious ramble after Father Bellamy inserted the eighth of the required twelve needles. Her body was shivering violently, making the needles at her knees, thighs, hips, and shoulders tremble, and she was breathing in shallow, shuddering gasps.

Lauriana pressed her hands to her lips. Oh, Ellie, dearling, forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you. I only wanted you safe.

A muffled roar filled the Solarus, quiet at first, then growing louder. Greatfather Tivrest cast a frightened glance over his shoulder. "The Fey! They're breaching the Solarus door! Flaming hells, Bellamy! I thought you said they couldn't break through.”

Father Bellamy stared at the melting metal. "That's impossible! I saw the ancient designs myself. This Solarus was built to withstand a direct assault by a five-fold weave.”