Within mere chimes, dozens of their attackers lay dead about them, and more fell dead each moment. It wasn't enough. Torel and Sian were bleeding heavily, both from the

hundreds of tiny shrapnel wounds and the numerous arrows bristling from their bodies like quills.

Torel heard his cradle-friend grunt in pain as another of their attackers' arrows pierced his body. Sian fell heavily to one knee.

«I hear the tairen calling, Torel.» Sian's breath wheezed out of lungs rapidly filling with blood. His hands, though, still fired Fey'cha daggers with the fierce precision perfected over a thousand years as a warrior.

«I know, my brother,» Torel replied. Even the small thread of Spirit required to mindspeak over the short distance between them caused agony to rip through him as each tiny piece of sel'dor shrapnel in his body twisted his Spirit weave into pain.

It would all be over soon. When Sian fell, Torel's back would be open to attack.

And they had not even had a chance to let Belliard vel Jelani know what they had found.

«It's beautiful, Torel. So beautiful.» The sending was a whisper of sound.

«Save a piece of the sky for me, Sian. I'll fly with you soon.» Torel heard the rattle of his cradle-friend's last breath followed by the low, heavy thud of his lifeless body falling to the ground. A tear slid from Torel's eye. Over a thousand years they had known each other. Soar, Sian. Soar high and laugh on the wind.

Dark, shadowy figures moved closer, circling.

Torel pulled his two seyani longswords free of their scabbards. "Come, then!" he shouted. "Come dance with the tairen, if you dare! Miora felah ti'Feyreisa! Joy to the Feyreisa! And death to you all!”

And he became a whirling blur of motion—black leather, shining steel, red blood—spinning in the moonlight, delivering death to all he touched until he moved no more.

It was time. Dawn was only a few bells away and the Daughter moon had nearly set. The sky was as dark as it would become tonight.

Vadim Maur entered his spell room. Rings gleamed on three fingers of each hand: five colored cabochon stones and one gleaming black selkahr, each surrounded by a rainbow of smaller cabochon stones in repeating six-color patterns. Rings of power, worn in the most powerful configuration possible: Earth, Water, and Spirit on his left hand, mated by Air, Fire, and Azrahn on his right. On each wrist, he wore thick gold bands that held dark, gleaming selkahr crystals— Tairen's Eye altered by Azrahn to unleash its vast, dark power. He carried Kolis's Mage blade, placed it on the stone table, and began the cleansing ritual.

When he was finished, he plunged the Mage blade into the clear water in the offering bowl and murmured the spell to release the rich blood stored in the dark Eld metal. Streamers of red billowed out from the blade, tinting the water. He added a fresh vial of blood from his prisoner in the levels below and submerged the Tairen's Eye crystal to complete the spell. When the water cleared after his last incantation, he dipped his cup and drank.

Magic flowed over him in a rush of near-sexual pleasure, making his eyes flutter half closed. She was powerful. With just that little bit of her blood to strengthen the spell, he could feel the promise of her power coursing through his veins.

He summoned his own magic, wove the camouflaged rope of Azrahn, and sent it spiraling upwards through the pipe and into the world.

"Girl," he whispered in the darkness. He sensed her frightened flinch, felt the brief twinge of his own muscles as her blood reacted in his veins. Oh, yes, she was there, and still trying to hide from him. She would not be able to hide any longer.

A smile widened on his rapidly chilling lips.

Rain swam down to the deepest depths of Great Bay's main channel, where the water was only a few degrees above freezing. Even that did not cool the need that had driven him for nearly seven full bells now. Giving up, he swam back to the surface and made his way to shore.

He was close to the city, less than twenty miles away, and desperate to keep that distance. Already he'd let the tairen draw him back towards Ellysetta. Control was but a ragged illusion, a bare thread he clung to with desperate hope.

If the weave didn't end soon, gods help him. He had no more strength to resist.

Ellysetta dreamed of heat. Rain was with her, eyes glowing like lavender suns, arms holding her close. His hands and Spirit weaves played over her skin in endless, breathtaking torment. Dear gods, she wanted ... so badly. What she wanted, she didn't know, but the need for it burned inside her, hungry and yearning, desperate for fulfillment.

They were in the glade overlooking Great Bay. Soft, cushioning grass lay beneath her back. The warmth of Rain's body pressed against her. His lips tracked down her throat, leaving a path of fire in their wake. "Ku'shalah aiyah to nei.”

"Aiyah," she breathed. Her fingers threaded through the silky thickness of his hair as his head lowered. Cool air rushed across her br**sts. She gasped, then arched her back as his mouth closed around her. "Rain," she cried.

He laughed softly against her skin. "You are so sweet," he murmured, "so very, very sweet." His teeth nipped at her with just enough force to make her gasp in surprise and shiver from the resulting tumult of sensation. His hand slid down her side, found the hem of her skirt, and ducked beneath. His fingers swept up her leg, towards the tight ache burning inside her.

Alarmed and shocked, she caught his hand. For the first time ever in his company, a feeling of wrongness came over her. "Rain?" She shivered again, but this time from cold, not pleasure. The night air had grown chill and biting. Rain's body no longer offered the warmth it had only moments ago.