The Well of Wyrding (Revenant Wyrd Book 3) (16 page)

“We have wyrd in us, no matter if we touch it or not. Using our wyrd will corrupt us faster, because when we drain the wyrd in our bodies, it will be refreshed with the poisoned wyrd of the well,” Clara explained.

“Well just don’t touch it then that will keep you with a store of untainted wyrd, right?” Cianna thought it sounded simple.

“It’s not as easy as that,” Pi shook her head. “I wish that were the case, but eventually if a wyrder does not use their wyrd it will grow stagnant, hollow, and then vanish, only to be replaced by fresh wyrd. It’s kind of a cycle, almost as if we are being irrigated with wyrd.” Cianna smirked at the analogy.

“So the Well of Wyrding will eventually win out in all wyrders?” Cianna asked, and Flora looked back at her sharply.

“We don’t speak of the well,” Flora told Cianna sternly, making her blanch. “To think of the well for too long is to draw its attention.”

“What does that mean?” Cianna asked confused.

“There’re people who can work with the well in a way that no others can. It’s said they can tap directly into the Well of Wyrding to draw their wyrd, and work their wyrdings. They can tap into the well cognitively, adding as much strength to their workings as their minds will allow them to glean from the well. It’s a way of working with wyrd that only those far advanced can achieve, and the wyrder is either learned in the technique or it happens by accident, mostly the latter. In times past these people worked with the well, and became corrupted by the well in a way that no others could. It happened from either too much work with the Well of Wyrding, or too long thinking about it in such a way that connected the person to the well. When this happened, when the person thought about the well, or worked with the well to a point that was beyond repair, they would become more corrupt than those merely working with their wyrd. They would become one with the well, they would be a part of that which lurked within the well, they would become like the Evyndelle, and like its cancerous roots. They would be an extension of the Chaos within the Well of Wyrding on Saracin, and would so carry out the Chaos it whispered.” Flora slowed with a huff. “I need to rest,” she said as they neared a larger, rounded-out part of the bridge that kind of reminded Cianna of a balcony looking west. They all stopped and sat at benches provided there for such a purpose. Cianna watched the large fountain in the center of the resting place bubble and spout water from the mouth of a wyrm.

“They were called caustics, for the damage that they would wreak upon the realms. And what damage it was — slaughtering and corrupting wherever they went. They were, truth be told, a weaker version of Chaos itself brought to bear on the land.

“So, that’s the reason we do not speak of the well, for fear that we will conjure within us that poison and malcontent.” Even though Flora said it in soft tones Cianna felt admonished anyway, and looked off to the east, for some reason her attention being drawn that way when thinking of the Well of Wyrding.

“Well, I’m ready to move on. It isn’t much further to the next way station at any rate.” They started out again and the day passed in near-silence. Cianna finally broke it.

“I didn’t realize the well was capable of doing such things to wyrders,” Cianna said.

“And there was no reason for you to, either. Don’t fret, I’m sure that you wouldn’t have to worry about the corruption, seeing as you don’t work with wyrd in the strictest sense,” Flora told her.

“But I do have to worry about it,” she said quietly, and slowly they all stopped.

“Why is that?” Pi asked concerned.

“Because of the souls of the departed, they seek to corrupt me, and I think they’re an extension of the poisoned wyrd.”

“They are,” Flora said with a nod. “You’re right.”

“Please, tell me,” Cianna urged, and Flora pointed a ways up the bridge.

“We’re coming to the next way station, in there I will tell you what I know.”

Before long they reached the way station and ushered inside. It was getting dark, and as they’d learned, when it got dark the kelpies came out. Maybe the corruption of the well
was
working on the bridge. Cianna wondered if that was why the wardings keeping the kelpies at bay were failing.

With the sounds they had heard last night from the kelpies, Cianna didn’t wish to stay out at night at all. They hastily made dinner from the stores of vegetables they found inside, all of them pitching in so that they finished their chore faster, and soon they were sitting down to their dinner.

“So you say that you’re being plagued by the dead?” Pi asked through steaming mouthfuls of vegetables.

“I was being plagued by the dead until I came to the Realm of Water.” Pi looked at her funny, so Cianna elaborated.

“A few months ago I started having nightmares of the Necromancers’ Mosque. I was raised in an environment conducive to my wyrd, so it was no surprise to me that I would be receiving the summons soon. I knew what I was from a young age and had read as many books on the topic as I could get my hands on. I was raised by two powerful wyrders, so it was very easy for me to learn a lot about my power.

“Once I received the summons, I started out on my journey. There were a few hardships.” Cianna left out that she had been abducted by the chaos dwarves, figuring that the fewer people that knew that, the better.

“When the Well of Wyrding was breached, the wyrd reacted differently within me. Or rather I should say the souls that often visit me changed with the penetration,” Cianna finished, and looked for explanation from Flora.

“I think it’s obvious why the souls were coming; you are the only one that can see them and they want help,” the old woman said sagely.

“I know that, but you said there was a reason they were tied to the well or something like that.”

“Yes. To give you a full understanding, you must know the tree. The tree is split into three parts: the roots, the trunk, and the branches. Each of these parts represent a different part of life. The roots represent the lives of men, while their station, where they are placed, represents the Otherworld. The branches represent the Ever After, and the trunk represents the earthly goings-on.” Flora took a drink of her water and continued.

“Now, when someone dies, they cease to be of the physical world, and their fate ends. This means that they leave both the roots and the trunk and make their way up to the branches, becoming the leaves basking in the light of the Goddess.” Flora gestured as if to represent the passage of the soul. “It’s said that the wyrd within the well feeds the tree through the roots. The wyrd travels up to the leaves, and whatever is not used gets sent back down to the well as if it were raining wyrd. This passage represents the journey of the soul, or at least the fate.” Flora thought for a moment.

“Now, think that the well is contaminated. The fates seal off, and while the tree is still being fed by wyrd, it is not fully nutritious to the tree, for lack of a better word, for it is lacking the fates of the dead. It is hollow and without substance, which is the reason the tree begins to die once the well is contaminated. This also means that the souls cannot get into the Ever After, for their fates stay stagnant, remain within the poisoned wyrd at the roots, and corrode. The fates transcribed on the roots are the record of their lives, and hence the only life the dead can cling to. They live on through their memories on the roots, and when the roots are so poisoned, so too are the souls.

“The souls are coming to you, seeking your help, yet at the same time being poisoned and corrupted by the Chaos within the well just like every other wyrder is. They try to reach out to you for help, but just like a failed wyrding they fall short, and end up causing you more harm than good.”

“You seem to know a lot about this,” Cianna said after a time, her food sitting before her untouched.

“I had to know a lot about the tree and the well; I’m a teacher, after all, and Evyndelle lore was one of my specialties.” Flora got up and began cleaning up the dishes. “Do you have any questions?”

Cianna didn’t, so she shook her head.

“Okay then, eat up. You need your strength after what you have been through.” Cianna began eating, and the others just watched her, wondering what kind of hell she must have been in before. They knew the bane of using their wyrd right now, so they simply didn’t. But what Cianna had gone through would have been similar to their wyrd forcing itself upon them, attacking them, and making them touch it, corrupting them even as they fought against the onslaught. They wondered what she was, for no human could have withstood such an onslaught.

Rama cowered back in her bed as the walls of Fairview Heights groaned around her. She rested her head in her hands as the paneling bowed in toward her, threatening to collapse the entire height of the hotel on her.

It had been weeks since Dalah had left, and she promised to take care of the corruption. In fact, Rama knew before most anybody else what the thundering in the air had been that night. Dalah had lived through it before, and she warned Rama what it would be like.

Fairview Heights was Dalah's pride and joy, and she would trust no other with it besides Rama. She had warned the young sorceress that the hotel was built with no small amount of wyrd, and when the corruption of the well got too bad, it might even affect the building.

Rama had brushed the warning aside. How could the wyrd of a building be affected? She gladly took over the role of proprietor of the hotel. Now she wished she hadn't.

What had once been a happy place was now nothing more than a tower of corruption. Chaos stalked the halls. Earlier in the week, before the patrons of the hotel had confined themselves in their rooms, a string of murders had started happening.

Caustics
, Rama thought. That's the word she had heard breathed among people at servants’ dinner tables. The caustics were returning, innocent people corrupted to the point of insanity with the toxicity of the Well of Wyrding. The corruption had taken over their entire being, driving out whatever had once been the person.

Rama shuddered.

The corruption still worked through the caustics, taking innocent lives, but now it was different. Since the people were locked within their rooms, only daring to come out for food when their rations ran low, the caustics now took their own lives, jumping from windows to dash their bodies on the ground below when victims couldn't be found in the halls.

There were even reports of people vanishing into the floor or the walls, like Fairview Heights was consuming the patrons, trying to sate a chaotic need to devour life.

They had tried to leave. But everyone knew that Fairview Heights was built with wyrd, and it didn't take long before an angry mob of citizens ringed the fences of the hotel, not letting any of the people out of the tower of chaos that the inn had become.

Rama had seriously thought about blasting her way out of the hotel, but that would only cause people to fear wyrd even more, maybe see her dead at the hands of the mob, or speed up the corruption of her own wyrd.

She eased out of the large bed in her purple room. Snaking a finger through the curtains, she parted them a hairs-breadth and looked out the pane to the ground below. There was the sentry, keeping them locked in.

Occasionally people tried to get out, and she could see their dead bodies littering the ground below. It was beyond her how the senators and governors let this continue, let alone how the Realm Guardian wasn't aware of this, or working to help them. Rama shook her head. There had to be countless things happening right now. Realm Guardian Rowan had sent out a command to all of the Realm of Air that wyrders were to retreat to a place of safety, but Rama had ignored it. The hotel was to stay open, and she was to watch over it.

That was foolish.

She closed her eyes as the room spun, the wyrd of the hotel battering at her defenses. Rama was getting so tired, but sleeping was worse than being awake. The chaos was always present in her dreams.

She opened her eyes wide, refusing to think of those macabre dreams. A scream sounded overhead, and quickly subsided to a gurgle.

"Dalah," Rama whispered, looking up as if she could see the person who had just lost their life. "Hurry."