Another thing they had learned from her tonight, whether she had wanted them to learn it or not, was that among them, throughout the realms, there were other dalua working with her, trying to achieve the same end. Perhaps Alarists still existed in greater numbers than previously thought?
Then there was the troubling knowledge that something she had told them, something that seemed to fit within the weaving of her tale had been a lie. Something crucial they could be using to achieve their own ends was fabricated and untrue.
“Yes, we are stellar,” Angelica giggled, kicking Jesse into motion despite all the questions they had and all that was still left to do before they could actually be safe.
True, Amber was not in their grasp, but she was no longer with Porillon either. It was a small victory, but they also had the medallion. For the first time in a long time, they felt safe again; they felt with the medallion, they had some chance at piecing their family back together and finding Amber once and for all.
They knew what had happened tonight. They had housed another entity, they had become more than themselves. They were a vessel tonight, a vessel for a force that was other than Angelica and Jovian.
Tonight they had worn a mask.
What Now?
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FLIP THE PAGE FOR A PEAK AT BOOK 3: THE WELL OF WYRDING
The Great Realms felt the penetration of the Well of Wyrding as one maddening collective. Rivers of malaise crept into the minds of every human wyrder the Realms over. Corruption flowed into the repositories of wyrd inside the body, and when used, they poisoned the mind. Their link to wyrd was now like a cancer, rotting away at their power until nothing was left but complete Chaos.
In an attempt to slow the corruption, the Realm Guardians sent notice to all academies and all wyrded establishments. Use of wyrd was to be kept to a minimum. What bit of wyrd was used was done so at great risk. With the unpredictability of wyrd, even a simple wyrded candle flame, if it worked at all, could burn down a home.
The Wyrd Academies were kept open, but the students and teachers weren't allowed to use wyrd. Instead what workshops there were changed from hands-on to book learning.
Beverly Stonch taught wyrd history to the novices in the wyrd academy in the Ivory City. Currently she stood looking out her tower classroom towards the eastern horizon, where her mind was often drawn these days. It was thought that the Well of Wyrding was in that direction, but as far as she knew, no one knew where it resided any longer.
"Mrs. Stonch?" a first-year girl named Elizabeth asked her. "Can you tell us about the Well of Wyrding?"
Beverly tore her eyes from the horizon with a grimace. She rubbed the lemniscate at the back of her neck. Lately it had taken to burning, and when it burned her eyes were inevitably drawn to the horizon.
I hope it’s cleansed soon, she thought with another glance over her shoulder. The problem was, Beverly didn’t think anyone knew where the entrance was. Well someone must; they poisoned it, right?
"Very well," she said. "The Well of Wyrding is a large well filled with wyrd," she told them. As she spoke, her thoughts lingered on the well, which she had never seen. She could imagine it, though, and she described it to her students. The Tree of Life, Evyndelle, was supported in the wyrd of the well, fed by the wyrd, and recycled used wyrd into the basin.
"The Evyndelle is made of every tree ever known to man, and some that haven't come into being yet. It is thought the food of Goddess grows on its boughs." She gestured widely. "The tree represents the stages of life. The trunk symbolizes the earthly plane, and the topmost branches represent the afterlife, the Ever After."
"What about the roots?" Tommy, a second year, asked.
"Is it true the roots hold the fate of all mankind?" Elizabeth turned back from Tommy.
Beverly nodded. "It’s like a giant family tree. You have systems of roots for each family, and then a branch for each person. When someone dies, their root stops."
"You act like you've seen it," Jared scoffed.
Beverly scowled. She hated that kid. She closed her eyes and turned her head, easing the kink she felt there. Her lemniscate flared, and she pressed a hand to the base of her neck.
"Mrs. Stonch, are you okay?" Margaret asked.
"Where were we?" Beverly asked. She felt it again, like the night the well had been penetrated. The slight vibrating in her stomach, like nerves running rampant. A small twisting of her mind, and nausea. Her upper lip started sweating, and she had to sit down to stop the vertigo.
Elizabeth was speaking.
"Yes, the well—" but her words were cut short by a startling cry. Beverly crumpled to the floor, but what stood up again was no longer Mrs. Stonch, only a shell of who she had been moments before. Letting her mind linger too long on the well had allowed the corruption easier access.
The children screamed as wyrd licked out of her body, striking random spots around the classroom. But their screams were like a beacon to the Chaotic black wyrd flashing here and there from their teacher, and soon Beverly Stonch was the only one left standing.
Jevic eased the door open and looked into the room from behind its security. The crazed teacher had done a number on the classroom. None of the students had gone through their change yet, so the Chaotic wyrd she released on the tiny room had been sufficient to kill them all.
He was worried she would still be in there, but he didn't see any evidence of her.
"Maybe she's behind the door," his partner, Caleb, whispered behind him.
"Don't be foolish," Lydia said, and pushed past both of them. Shoving the door open, she stepped in. And then jumped back as a bolt of black lightning struck the floor.
Jevic slammed the door as a battering of wyrd attacked the other side.
"Happy now?" he asked Lydia, narrowing his eyes at her.
"What? At least we know she's in there now, right?"
"You are going to get us killed someday," Caleb complained.
"And to think, you're our investigator," Jevic said.
Lydia laughed.
Jevic frowned. "What are we going to do about her?" he asked when the attacking eased.
"Cut her head off?" Lydia said as if it was something really simple to do.
"Be my guest." Jevic motioned to the door.
"This is why I think wyrders should be allowed on the force," a brunette said from behind them. "Constables, please step aside."
"But you can't use wyrd!" Lydia protested.
Headmistress Faith rolled her eyes, unsheathing a short sword from her side. She pushed open the door, and the black wyrd found her. She cast up a shield that allowed her to near Beverly Stonch.
The three constables ducked behind the door, sure that Faith was about to meet her end. Inside, the maelstrom continued for several seconds before cutting off abruptly. Something thumped against the floor, and was then followed by another, heavier thump. Jevic was sure it was the sound of a head, and then a body, hitting the floor.
"Now," Faith said, leaving the classroom and tracing her way back down the stairs. "Continue your investigation."
Jevic Andrews swallowed hard and followed Lydia and Caleb into the room.
"What do you think, Guardian?" Payden asked.
"I think we need to contact the Board of Wyrding, have them start evacuating wyrders to a safe haven," Aladestra told her assistant. Taking the frail man by the arm, she led him away from the gathered constables and the slain children. The hems of her golden robes were soaked in blood; she would need to get rid of them. She pushed the thought out of her mind. "Tell them that the corr
uption of the well is spreading into wyrders, turning them into husks of what they once were, bodies through which the Chaos in the well can work on the lands. The last time, they were called caustics."
Payden knew what the corruption in the well meant. Wyrders would touch their wyrd at great risk now. Simple workings could turn catastrophic, if they worked at all. And each working would call more and more Chaotic wyrd into their bodies, until they turned out like the teacher. Payden turned and looked at the slaughtered classroom.
"The caustics?" he asked. "They are returning?"
Aladestra turned with a rustling of skirts and surveyed the carnage. "I'm afraid so." She sighed. "Last time there was fear, people started hunting down wyrders and killing them so they didn't have to worry about the dangers of wyrd. It will spread like wildfire." She brushed an errant strand of blonde hair from her eyes, and led Payden further down the stairs. “Sorcerers can survive a great many things, only dying when their head is cut off. The hunters knew this, and some took great pleasure in testing that theory. Burnings, drowning, hangings — they all happened last time. Beheading occurred only after the torment was through.”
Payden swallowed hard, and was silent for a time.
"Isn't there anything we can do?" he finally asked.
"Yes, pray that it is cleansed soon."
"Where is this safe haven to be?" Payden turned his mind to something that he could do.
"I will trust the judgment of the board." Aladestra said, turning back to Payden. "We've always had shelter in the Ravine of Aaridnay. If that’s still available, then we will use it. We will still need a small staff of the board left here; they can take shelter in my suite in the Ivory Tower. Tell them the corruption is strengthening; what little use of wyrd we allowed before needs to stop completely. It won't stop the corruption, but it will stall it."
"We will need to increase the constables’ hours. They will need to help keep all citizens safe, wyrd or not. Double patrols, and call up reserves." As Aladestra spoke, Payden made notes.
Two flights down, she came to the skywalk landing where she could cross to the Ivory Tower. She stopped halfway across the bridge and looked out at her city: the Ivory City. The peaks of ivory buildings were painted a honey gold in the morning sun. It was hard to imagine what was going to come from the corruption. What messes would she have to clean up? What lives would be destroyed?
"Guardian, am I excused?" Payden asked.
Aladestra nodded. "Yes, you have things to take care of. Thank you."
She needed to contact the other Guardians and let them know what she had seen, what was coming. Her feet found the path to her office high in the Ivory Tower, even if her mind wasn't with them.
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About Travis
Travis Simmons was kicked out of magic school for his refusal to study and his penchant for mundane activities like cooking. While selling his sword he stumbled upon dogs that he wrongly thought were magical and imagined he could commune with them. After a vicious zombie attack in which witches helped him push back the undead horde, Travis found himself apprenticed to a necromancer.
Afraid that winter was coming, Travis tucked into his magical studies, but always chased his dreams of writing tales science fiction tales and fantasy stories where he could explore his wild imagination about life on other planets. Adamant that Travis learn the esoteric ways of the occult his master made his life a horror of practice and studies. But no matter how he tried, he could never conquer Travis' questing mind.
The Mirror of the Moon (Revenant Wyrd Book 2) Page 29
