Well of Sorrows (54 page)
Authors: Benjamin Tate
“Then their realm of influence would expand,” Colin breathed.
Osserin pulsed in agreement.
Yes. But the second Well was outside their influence. They couldn’t touch it, couldn’t activate it themselves. They needed someone else, someone who could travel outside the restrictions of the Lifeblood. So they created the Wraiths.
Yes. But the second Well was outside their influence. They couldn’t touch it, couldn’t activate it themselves. They needed someone else, someone who could travel outside the restrictions of the Lifeblood. So they created the Wraiths.
“How?”
Osserin flickered with uncertainty.
We aren’t certain, but think back to the attack on your group. You said that the Shadows attacked in a frenzy, that they gorged themselves on the people in your wagon train, feeding frantically. They had not fed in a long time, and there were so many of you.
We aren’t certain, but think back to the attack on your group. You said that the Shadows attacked in a frenzy, that they gorged themselves on the people in your wagon train, feeding frantically. They had not fed in a long time, and there were so many of you.
But then you said that their attacks changed, that they began to taunt you. The frenzy died, as if they had been sated. When you remained with Karen, they did not fall on you like they did the others. You said they “tasted” you.
Colin’s mouth had gone dry and he clutched at the stone of the Well, the memory of that day still sharp. “Yes.”
We think that they were testing you.
Osserin drifted closer
. We think that they were trying to decide whether you could be made into a Wraith.
Osserin drifted closer
. We think that they were trying to decide whether you could be made into a Wraith.
Colin shuddered and his fingers scraped against the rough stone of the Well as he tried to dig into it. He lowered his head. “You’re saying that all of the Wraiths are . . . victims of the Shadows. That they were all once people, that they have been . . . poisoned in some way by the Shadows.”
By the Shadows and the Lifeblood. The first Wraiths, created before the appearance of humans on the plains, were short, about the same height as—
“The dwarren. They were dwarren.” Colin thought about all of the Wraiths he had seen since he’d drunk from the Well. They were always cloaked in the Shadows, so that their features were never clear, but now that he knew. . . . “They have Alvritshai and human Wraiths now.”
And the Wraiths or the Shadows figured out how to reawaken this Well.
Colin stared down into the soft blue glow beneath him. “If there was a second Well, then there must be others. The Wraiths must be searching for them.”
If they find them, if they reawaken them, then their influence and that of the Shadows will increase. Already the influence has expanded enough to intersect with dwarren lands . . . and Alvritshai.
Osserin drifted closer.
The Wraiths have to be stopped. The Shadows cannot be allowed to prey upon the world.
Osserin drifted closer.
The Wraiths have to be stopped. The Shadows cannot be allowed to prey upon the world.
Colin gave Osserin a sardonic look. “And you want me to stop them. How do you expect me to do that? You don’t know where they are, and I don’t know how to find them.”
Osserin considered for a moment, then said,
We think they’re moving northward.
We think they’re moving northward.
Colin frowned. “Why?”
Because the influence of the Lifeblood isn’t expanding in all directions at the same rate. The first pulse spread it out circularly, like a widening pool, but the second and third only increased the Well’s influence to the north and east. When we explored the new region, we found this Well. When this one was reawakened, it intersected with the radius of influence from our own Well. And as it fills, its radius increases.
“And none of the Faelehgre knew of this Well?”
Osserin wavered.
None. The Faelehgre traded with people to the south, east, and west. We did not reach this far north.
None. The Faelehgre traded with people to the south, east, and west. We did not reach this far north.
Colin turned to stare down into the pulsing blue light of the Well behind him. “You don’t know where any of the other Wells are either, do you?”
Osserin’s light appeared to wince.
No. You have to warn the Alvritshai of the Wraiths and the Shadows. Part of their lands are within Shadow territory now. We’ll try to protect them as much as possible, but we can’t be everywhere at once. The area is simply too large now.
No. You have to warn the Alvritshai of the Wraiths and the Shadows. Part of their lands are within Shadow territory now. We’ll try to protect them as much as possible, but we can’t be everywhere at once. The area is simply too large now.
“You should keep searching for the Wraiths as well, and the locations of any more Wells. I’ll do the same.”
“Aielan’s Light, where is he?” Eraeth demanded. “We’re almost at the outpost.”
Aeren frowned at Eraeth. “For your supposed hatred of the humans and everything they do, you’ve certainly taken to their penchant for blasphemy.”
“I knew we couldn’t trust him,” Eraeth mumbled under his breath, ignoring Aeren’s comment completely, still scanning the horizon.
They’d reached the last of the plains, the edge of the lands the Alvritshai had claimed from the dwarren. The land rose abruptly into hills, scattered with trees and brush and dense thickets of thorn and sedge. The scattering of trees continued, the hills steadily growing steeper, then thickened into copses and eventually forest. Rearing up in the near distance were the jagged northern mountains, what the Alvritshai called the Hauttaeren and the humans called the Teeth.
“He’s followed us since Corsair,” Aeren said. “I doubt he has abandoned us now.”
Eraeth growled and turned to his lord, stiffening slightly, his tone becoming formal. “I’ve been watching for him since we left the dwarren. He isn’t invisible when he travels. There’s a shadow, a darkness, that you can catch out of the corner of your eye. I saw it numerous times those first two days, and most of this morning. He’s been keeping close now that we’re nearing the outposts. But I haven’t seen him since this afternoon. He’s gone, and I would like to know where. Especially now that I know he can bypass the Phalanx sentries whenever he feels like it.” He straightened, faced Aeren completely. “You should be concerned about that as well.”
“I am concerned,” Aeren said, “but not for the same reason. There may be others out there with this . . . ability. And if Colin can bypass our sentries, then so can they. Those are the men you should be worried about, not Colin.” He scanned the horizon, searching for the flicker of shadow Eraeth had mentioned. Because he’d noticed the shadow as well. Nothing tangible enough to track, to follow with the eye, but if Colin passed through his peripheral vision . . .
“I’m more concerned that something has happened to him,” Aeren said. “Have you noticed he isn’t keeping as old of an appearance as when we first met him in Portstown?”
Eraeth’s lips twitched into a sneer, then smoothed. “Should we wait for him?” he asked, completely formal now.
Aeren suppressed a sigh. “No. We’ll move on to the outpost, and then directly to Caercaern. If Colin can slip by our sentries, he should have no problem with the outposts.”
“We won’t be traveling to Rhyssal?”
“There isn’t time if we’re to convince the Tamaell to meet with the dwarren.”
“And have you figured out how you’re going to do that?”
Aeren didn’t answer, catching Eraeth’s gaze instead. Lines of concern appeared at the edges of the Phalanx’s eyes, but he said nothing. “Let’s move,” Aeren said, stepping away from the plains into the edge of the heavier scrub to the north.
They reached the outpost an hour later, Eraeth approaching the lone building nestled in the branches of the trees above to announce them, although Aeren knew that the Phalanx that manned the outpost had likely seen the party nearly fifteen minutes before as they climbed the lower hills and entered the verge of the higher forests. One of the Phalanx had removed the Rhyssal House banner and attached it to pole to declare themselves once they’d come within shouting distance of the outpost.
When Eraeth turned to look back, Aeren moved forward, escorted by the rest of the Phalanx in his party. The caitan of the outpost who’d been speaking to Eraeth bowed formally at the waist as he approached. “Lord Aeren,” he said, rising slowly. He wore Ionaen House colors: Peloroun’s black and orange. “Aielan’s Light upon you.”
“And you,” Aeren answered, then asked, “What news?”
The caitan shrugged. “Nothing of note here beneath the Hauttaeren.”
“And elsewhere?”
“Nothing from the plains, but there has been activity on the coast.”
“What kind of activity?”
“Lord Barak returned with news of war between the Provinces and Andover. The Andovans have attacked numerous ports along the coast. The human Governors have been able to repel all such attacks so far, although there are rumors that the Andovans have yet to bring their main fleets across the Arduon.”
“Have the attacks affected any of our own ports yet?”
“The Andovans have yet to venture that far up the coast. They seem to be relegating their attacks to the areas south of Sedaeren and the Claw.”
“It would be stupid to antagonize us by attacking Alvritshai ports,” Eraeth said.
The caitan snorted. “When have the humans ever shown such intelligence?”
Everyone in Aeren’s party stilled. Such prejudiced comments were not allowed in the Rhyssal House, by any of its members, including the Phalanx.
But this was not his House lands, and these were not his Phalanx. Each lord kept their own army, trained it and supplied it using their own House resources, its members loyal to the House’s lord and the Tamaell.
The silence held until the caitan shifted awkwardly, uncertain how he had offended Aeren. He fell back on protocol. “Will you be passing through to your own House lands?”
Aeren shook his head and answered coldly. “No. I will be traveling to Caercaern on urgent business. I have my own Phalanx. There will be no need of an escort.” The caitan nodded, glancing over the group and frowning. There were fewer of the Phalanx in attendance than most of the other lords used in their own escorts. “Are any of the lords currently seeing the Tamaell?”
“Lord Barak, Jydell, and Khalaek are in attendance.”
More than Aeren expected. “Have word sent to the remaining lords that their presence is required in Caercaern. Immediately.”
The caitan nodded, motioning to members of the Phalanx behind him.
Then they left the outpost behind and entered Ionaen House lands.
Aeren saw the flicker of shadow out of the corner of his eye a moment before Colin appeared before him.
Eraeth’s cattan snicked from its sheath, blade pointed at Colin’s chest, before Aeren had even had time to lean back.
“Where have you been?” Eraeth demanded, his voice like stone. On all sides, the rest of the Phalanx rose from their positions around the way station beside the road where they’d stopped to rest the horses and eat their midmorning meal.
Aeren glared at Eraeth in annoyance. “If he’d wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead,” he said calmly, in Alvritshai, “and there would have been nothing you could have done to stop him.”
Eraeth grimaced, his blade lowering, even as he sent Colin—standing perfectly still—an angry look. “He would make a perfect assassin,” he growled, a certain amount of respect in his voice. The rest of the Phalanx went back to their tasks.
Aeren nodded. “Thankfully, he is not.”
Then he turned to Colin and said in Andovan, “I assume something has happened.”
Relaxing slightly, Colin nodded. “Something has happened, although I don’t think it has anything to do with your plans.” He told them about the Well, the disappearance of the Wraiths, and the expansion of the sukrael’s range in Alvritshai lands. He shuddered as he spoke, and Aeren saw something dark and haunted flicker through Colin’s eyes, the same haunted look he’d seen on the ship when he’d woken from the seizure, the same desperation he’d noted at odd moments since. But that initial look had been worn, old in some way, as if it were a wound that he’d learned simply to accept. This wound was new and fresh, still bleeding. Aeren could see it in Colin’s hold on the staff, in the way he unconsciously massaged the wrist of his right hand.
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