Concentrating was becoming more difficult. The battle was worsening, and despite the efforts of her lu’tan, the pain of the wounded and the dying was trickling through their shields—as was Rain’s increasing battle Rage. Her head was aching, and her skin felt tight, making her short-tempered and snappish. She wove what peace she could on Rain while she worked, but that made it even harder to focus.

All the while, she was intensely aware that, with each passing moment, more Fey and Celierians fell to the Feraz potion or a possessed ally’s blade. And though no one would come right out and say it, everyone was looking to her for answers when she had none to give. She was terrified she was going to fail, and thousands would die because she couldn’t figure out a way to save them.

Rain swooped over the knot of Mages, fire roaring before him. He held the flame, heeling back to hover over the Mages and bathe them in fire. He wanted those shields down. Wanted those Mages to burn.

Savage satisfaction raced through him as their shields cracked. Mage screams rose, high-pitched and wild, then fell quickly silent in the incinerating heat.

Rain flung his head skyward and loosed a mighty roar of primal triumph.

Death to those who endangered the Fey! Death to those who injured his friends, his brothers! He was Rainier-Eras, Feyreisen, and he was winged vengeance.

«Rainier-Eras!» Steli sang another warning. The images carried on her tairen speech showed a portal opening on his flank and firing a shot right at him.

Rain spun into a sharp roll, but not quite quickly enough. The bowcannon bolt ripped through his hide, slicing deep.

He roared in pain and wheeled around to spew fire at the closing portal, but as he turned his vision went blurry. He faltered. His wings folded, and he fell from the sky, landing on four paws and swaying dizzily.

«Ellysetta…» The bolt had been poisoned. Potioned. «Burns. It burns. Burns in the blood.» He could feel the potion racing through his veins, merging with his blood, changing it. «Vision dizzy. Smell… spice, like cinnamon growing stronger.» He growled and shook off the dizziness as he tried to tell her everything, hoping that something he said would make the difference. He sang the sensations to her in tairen song so she could see them, feel them, taste and touch them for herself.

The burning had consumed him now; the potion had spread throughout his body. The haziness of his vision was clearing. The faces around him were changing. Some of the faces around him smelled of the faint spice. Others did not. And the faces of the others were changing the most… changing to monsters. He sang the changes, until he couldn’t remember why he was singing, who he was singing to, until he was surrounded by enemies. Enemies that must be stopped.

He was death, winged vengeance.

«For Celieria and King Dorian!» He screamed, and he leapt into the air, flame boiling from his muzzle.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Powerful, brave, graceful you stand

Deadly sword bright in hand

Eternal love protecting my heart

The two of us shall never part

For all time, ke vo san

My soulmate, my life, my shie’tan

My Shei’tan, a poem by Evia v’En Herran

«Rain!» Ellysetta cried his name as his tairen song broke off, but there was no response. «Steli! Xisanna! Perahl! Rain has been infected by the potion. You must bring him down. We cannot let him fly!»

Confirmations roared across the sky in sparkling notes of tairen song as the three great cats raced across the darkened night to bring Rain down.

“Kaiven chakor.” She spun to face her primary quintet. “Help the pride. The tairen will bring him down. You five keep him there until I can figure out how to neutralize this potion.”

When they hesitated, clearly torn by their lute’asheiva vow to guard her life above all others, she spun buffeting weaves of Air and Spirit and shoved them towards the exit. “Stop him. Nothing is more important. Stop him, or we all die.” She filled her voice with every ounce of compulsion she could muster. She wasn’t shy Ellie begging them to help her please. She was their queen, holder of their lute’asheiva bonds, commanding them to serve her. “Go!” she barked. They went.

Ellysetta closed her eyes for a brief moment. Gods help them all. Then she drew a deep breath, her eyes flashed open, and she turned the full force of her concentration and determination upon the ensorcelled man strapped to her table.

“Well, my friend,” she said grimly, “like it or not, you and I are going to figure out exactly what this is and exactly how to stop it.”

Rain howled and thrashed, fire blazing, jaws snapping. His tail lashed like a whip. If he’d been a female tairen, he would have impaled someone—preferably a great many someones—on his tail spike.

Three monsters held him pinned to the ground, their bodies perched on his wings, his back, his neck. Fangs had a grip on his throat and were squeezing just enough that his vision was starting to go dim.

A company of fiendish enemies approached, led by five foul wretches with ghoulish features and long, clawed hands. Ropes of poisonous green magic oozed from their gnarled fingertips. Something hard wrapped around his muzzle, sealing his mouth shut so he could not flame. A hideous miasma enveloped him in choking fog.

He struggled, fighting the monsters on his back, fighting the magic swirling around him. Fighting. Fighting.

But the magic and the press of the fangs against his throat were too much. His vision dimmed. Consciousness fled.

Ellysetta reexamined the images and sensory perceptions from Rain’s tairen speech, fixing a keen shei’dalin’s eye on every tiny detail as she went over the information again and again. The poison got into the blood, and it burned, he’d said. Based on the information he’d sung to her, the burning sensation was localized to start with, but spread rapidly as the blood carried the poison to every part of the victim’s body.