“Let’s explore a little?” Eni suggested.
They followed the tunnel straight on for a short while before they came to an intersection; a stone square with many tunnels leading off in different directions. The square had a low ceiling and was lined with torches. Eni swept his gaze over the square, and on the entrances to the various tunnels. Where did they all lead? To other Call Stones perhaps?
A small stone well sat in the centre of the square. It was a simple, crudely made structure, covered in lichen. Eni approached the well and curiously peered into its depths.
Green, stagnant water filled the well. The pale torchlight reflected off its glassy surface. Beside Eni, Avalon glanced down into the well and wrinkled her nose.
“I wouldn’t drink that water.”
“What’s a well doing down here?”
As Eni spoke, the water’s surface began to ripple – almost as if his voice had awoken it.
Eni straightened up in surprise, still watching the swirling water.
Then a voice echoed up from the well. It was that of a woman; cold and imperious.
“Sentorân. So you have come?”
Eni stepped back from the well, his heart pounding.
Sentorân. Did this well contain a wraith – one that did not know the order no longer existed?
“Come closer,” the voice commanded. “Touch the water so that I may claim you. Do it now!”
Despite his instincts, which warned Eni to stay away, something pushed him towards the well. It was as if a hand was pressing between his shoulder blades. Eni stepped forward.
“Eni!” Avalon’s voice reached him. It was faint and echoing, as if she was calling to him from far away. “What are you doing? Keep back!”
Avalon grabbed Eni by the arm and dragged him towards the tunnel they had emerged from.
“Come to me Sentorân!” the voice boomed, causing the green liquid inside the well to froth and boil. “Now!”
If Avalon had not been there, Eni would have succumbed. The voice was inside his head, sapping him of will. The girl towed him backwards; she was remarkably strong for a small woman. Yet, Eni started to fight her. He had to go to the well; he had to touch the water.
Avalon kicked Eni in the shin and shoved him backwards. He stumbled into the tunnel’s entrance and – as soon as he did so – the voice’s power dissolved.
Eni sagged against the wall and rubbed his stinging shin. He shook his head, as if awaking from sleep.
“We’re done exploring this place,” Avalon told him. “Let’s get out of here.”
Avalon propelled him forward. Eni glanced at her face and saw fear etched there.
Eni needed no further encouragement. He had exhausted his curiosity and now wanted to get as far as possible from that well and its chilling voice.
They fled back up the tunnel, causing the torches to gutter as they ran. Ahead, the stairs awaited them. Avalon and Eni bolted up the steps and into daylight. They scurried off the stone, and heard the rumbling of the entrance closing behind them as they did so.
Eni’s heart was still hammering.
“The sooner we get away from this place the better,” he turned his back on the waterfall and headed west along the river bank. “These mountains have brought us nothing but trouble.”
“That voice!” Avalon scrambled along the rocky bank behind Eni. “Who was it?”
“Someone we never want to meet again. I’m sorry we ever went into that place. Thank the gods that you were there or it would have had me.”
It was a sobering thought and the pair of them lapsed into silence. They followed the course of the river, out of the gorge.
As Eni walked, he thought of Darin’s warning. Someone believes you and your brothers are Sentorân. An assassin hunts you. At the time, Eni had dismissed the warning – now he was not so confident.
The sun had still yet to clear the sheer wall of rock to the east when they emerged into the foothills. Eni stopped and gazed upon the panorama before them. Central Omagen in all its majesty stretched out beneath rugged foothills. It was a relief to see open land before him, after his experience in the tunnel. For the first time since leaving the Call Stone, Eni felt his nerves settle.
Sharp morning light bathed the vast area known as the Rocklands. The landscape was craggy and strewn with boulders for as far as the eye could see in every direction. To their right, Eni could make out the faint strip of the highway that wound its way down the foothills before turning south. Eni felt an odd pang as he looked upon the landscape. It had been so long since he had set foot in Omagen that he had forgotten its stark beauty.
“It looks so arid and empty compared to Cathernis,” Avalon commented.
“That's because it is. I grew up here. It’s a land of cruel beauty.”
Avalon gave him a side-long glance.
“Since you are from Central Omagen, you can tell me how many days travel till Tarras?”
“Four days at least.”
Eni and Avalon joined the highway and made their way down the pebbly foothills. They had almost reached the flats when Avalon gave a shout.
Eni followed her gaze. When he saw what had attracted her attention, he smiled.
Up ahead, grazing placidly by the roadside, with his saddle and most of their baggage still strapped to his back, was a small grey donkey.
***
Eni awoke to find the sun warming his face and a bird twittering nearby. He wriggled out of his sleeping place under a boulder, and went looking for Avalon. He found her fixing two sandwiches of thinly sliced rye-bread and some roast rabbit she had kept aside from the night before.
They had made good time over the past two days, striking out south through bleak, empty terrain. At dusk on the second evening since leaving the Starwalden Alps, Avalon had gone rabbiting with her slingshot – an easy task in the rabbit-infested Rocklands – while Eni had gathered wood. This had proved a more difficult task as there were no trees in the Rocklands, only desert-loving plants such as wild thyme and stunted, thorny shrubs. In the end Eni came back to their campsite dragging two dead briar bushes. That evening, as the moon rose into the heavens, they had dined on succulent roast rabbit, seasoned with a little thyme.
Eni felt in high spirits this morning; it was incredible what a good meal and an uninterrupted night’s sleep could achieve. Their ordeal in the mountains – the Malwagen, their near drowning and that terrible voice in the well, now lay behind them. It was a bright morning and the air was the warmest it had been in months.
Eni was now in Central Omagen, out of Lord Valense's jurisdiction. Yet, Eni knew he shouldn’t feel too confident. The Rocklands were not policed, and if Valense’s soldiers had followed him into Omagen, no one would ever know.
They set off south once more, and even Irwyn seemed energised this morning. The donkey strode out along the rocky highway, his ears pricked and his head high. Avalon rode him first. Although the road was rough and potholed, the terrain was relatively flat and they made good time. The surroundings brought Eni back to his childhood; of playing amongst the rocks in the valley behind Barrowthorne. Eni, Val and Seth had played hide-and-seek there, before their games turned nasty. Seth had been easy to push around but Val had a sharp tongue and a wilful temperament. Fortunately for Eni, Val was a weed compared to his muscular older brother; one punch usually finished the fight, but the resentment lingered for days afterwards.
Once they had eaten a brief lunch, Eni took a turn riding Irwyn. He enjoyed riding the donkey. Irwyn's gait was not as smooth as a horse’s, as he had a much shorter stride, but despite Irwyn’s frail appearance he carried Eni easily. Perhaps the donkey would have struggled under normal circumstances, when Eni was fit and strong, but these days Eni carried little flesh on his bones and his clothes hung off his frame.
Slowly the shadows lengthened and the day waned. Avalon started singing. She had a lovely voice and Eni encouraged her to sing his favourites, most of which were alehouse classics. Eventually, after a
long list of requests, she began singing a ballad. It was one that Eni had never heard before. The loneliness and longing in her voice made goose pimples rise on his arms, despite the warm afternoon.
Over mountain
Over down
Over the dying sea
Over lands that never weep
I will search for thee.
Through long years
While beauty fades
Through sorrow and through pain
Through harm and hope I will walk my love
To hear your voice again.
“Where did you learn that one?” Eni asked when she had finished. “Can't say I like it – gives me the chills.”
“From a wandering bard who visited my village last summer. He sung many such songs about love and hope, despair and loss. Half the women in the village fell in love with him.”
Eni snorted at this.
Avalon turned to Eni and frowned. “Why do you scoff? Such men as him are rare, most are mannerless brutes.”
“Well then, what happened to this bard of yours?” Eni replied, biting the side of his cheek to prevent himself from laughing.
“He fell in love with me, and I with him,” Avalon replied, without a hint of embarrassment. “He had to return home but promised me he would be back when the last autumn leaves fell.”
“But he didn't come back, did he?”
Avalon shook her head.
“And you believed him?”
“You don't understand,” Avalon's eyes flashed. “A man like you knows nothing of such things!”
Eni laughed.
“That may be true but let's turn the subject of conversation back to you shall we? Am I right in assuming this bard lives in Tarras?”
Avalon glared at him. “He may be injured, or sick. I have to go to him!”
Eni shook his head in disbelief.
“Did it ever occur to you that when he told you he would come back he was lying? Many a man has done it. He probably meant no malice – he just did not want to see your tears and pleading. If you find him in Tarras you may not like what you discover. He won't thank you for crossing 'mountain and down' to find him. Life is not like the songs Avalon, tis far less pretty.”
Avalon stared at him. For a moment, Eni thought she might burst into tears, then her expression hardened and he thought she might hit him. Moments later, she shrugged off his comment.
“For you it probably is,” she replied airily, giving no sign that his words had wounded her. “I wonder if you’ve ever loved anything or anyone in your life – even your parents. Keep your wisdom to yourself Eni Falkyn, I have no use for it.”
That concluded their conversation – and the singing – which was a pity for Avalon had an enchanting voice, only now she was not in the mood to share it.
The rapport that had grown between them over the past few days dissolved. Eni had enjoyed baiting Avalon at the time, but now faced with her cold silence he wished he had restrained himself. He had just alienated his only friend.
The sun's warmth faded as they travelled and the air grew chill. The land rose slightly and the highway reached an arid plateau and wove its way through great stacks of stone. The shadows of the boulders stretched across the road, blocking what little warmth remained of the late afternoon sun. After a while, they left the boulders behind and made their way down a long slope.
Dusk approached quickly in a flame of red and gold. Ahead, Eni saw something sticking up against the horizon. At this distance it looked like a dead tree, but as they drew closer, he realised it was a crossroads.
The Rocklands Crossroads was an austere spot, with just a weathered pole and equally worn signs pointing in three directions: Fallenstar Pass, back the way they had come; Tarras to the south; and Haâst to the west.
“Just a day’s journey from Tarras,” Eni announced, breaking the silence between them. “Shall we stop here?”
Avalon motioned towards a clump of boulders to the east. “Let’s camp behind those.”
Her voice was cool, but at least she was still speaking to him.
They were just about to move off the road when Avalon gasped and pointed towards the setting sun in the west.
“Eni, look!”
Eni turned and froze. The sun was a fiery red orb, almost touching the edge of the world – but a black stain was creeping over the edge of it. For a moment, Eni just squinted, uncomprehending. Then he remembered the ragged man he had witnessed ranting in Swamphaven.
It will be the end of us all when it comes...
The moon will devour the sun...
The sea will rise in a great wave and drown the world...
The Realms will fall...
Evil will crawl across the land...
Like Darin, Eni was a practical man, not given to superstition. Still, the sight of the darkness, sliding across the face of the sun, made him shiver.
“The eclipse,” Avalon whispered, shielding her eyes from the glare with a hand. “The elders of my village have long spoken about its coming.”
“What did they say? Is it the end of the world?” Eni’s mouth had suddenly gone dry.
The darkness devoured the light. A great shadow fell over the Rocklands and threw the day into night. A chill crept down Eni’s neck. Then, as quickly as it had fallen, the shadow lifted. The black fingerprint slowly edged off the face of the sun and the sky lightened.
Avalon let out the breath she had been holding and glanced across at Eni.
“No, it isn’t,” she gave him a strained smile. “In my village the eclipse heralds the beginning of a new era – a fresh start. Whether that brings good or evil I do not know.”
They watched until the black stain disappeared. The sun was now setting behind the hazy western horizon and the last fiery ribbons curled across the sky. The sunset now looked no different to countless others Eni had witnessed.
“Maybe it is the beginning of a new era – it’s certainly a new start for me. My old life is lost,” he said.
“It’s also a new beginning for me,” Avalon answered, her face resolute, “I won’t be going back to Rathmir Gorge.”
Eni turned to Avalon and met her clear, blue-eyed gaze. He gave her a sheepish smile.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I had no right to make fun.”
“It’s forgotten,” she waved him away, embarrassed. “Forget about it.”
Eni turned Irwyn towards the boulders where they would make camp for the night.
“Well then, these two weary travellers should celebrate the dawning of two new lives. Go hunt us some rabbits, while I start a fire. Let’s have us a feast!”
Chapter Twenty-one
Floriana’s Request
Val Falkyn did not trust people who asked him for favours – especially those he barely knew.
Even if she had been a friend of his mother’s, Floriana DeSanith was no different.
The connection that Floriana had forged between them, that delicate thread of trust, snapped. Val stepped back from the hauntingly beautiful wraith and frowned.
“A favour? What could you possibly want of me?”
Reading Val’s expression Floriana gave him a pained look.
“You need someone who can train you in the ways of the Sentorân. Otherwise you will never be able to access the powers you possess. I am the only person who can do that.”
“But you’re a wraith. You can never leave the High Dragon Spines.”
“In my current state I cannot, but remember – I am not dead. Riadamor did not slay me like she had the others. My mortal body lies in a slumber, hidden deep in the underworld, while my spirit rests here. I need you to call my body back. There is only one way I know of that can open a portal between this world and Moden.”
Val shut his eyes and massaged his temples in an attempt to make sense of her words.
“Inside the Citadel of Lies,” Floriana continued, “where Realmlord Kaur wishes you to gain access, there is a magical object – the Blood Stone.”
>
A Blood Stone. Val remembered reading about these, just a day before his departure from Tarrancrest.
“It is a diamond-shaped red jewel with a black heart; pretty to look upon but its looks belie a great power. Your mother used one to vanquish Riadamor. It is the only known way of opening a portal between Palâdnith and Moden, which those of this world can travel through.”
“I know of the Blood Stone,” Val admitted. “For centuries, only kings, realmlords or the head of the Sentorân wore one. At best, they used the stone to rid the world of evil, at worst it was an effective way to dispose of their enemies. I thought they had all been lost.”
“They have been – but what is lost can be found. You will need the stone in order to release me and I know that a Blood Stone resides somewhere inside the Citadel of Lies.”
“What must I do?” Val’s voice was flat with resignation.
“You must retrieve the Blood Stone. You must take care not to drop it, or a way could open to Moden and take you with it. Instead you must wrap this about the stone and call out the words I have written here.”
Floriana passed Val a small, drawstring pouch. Val opened it. Inside, there was a lock of silky blonde hair and a scrap of parchment with words written in Ancient Goranthian.
Pathway of dark, pathway of night, take this body into the light.
Body and spirit come as one, into this world under moon and sun.
“The hair is mine,” Floriana explained. “Once you have called out these words you must cast the stone to the ground, as far as possible from yourself. If the spell works then I will appear in flesh and blood before you.”
“I will do it,” Val replied with more resolution than he felt. “If I find the Blood Stone, I will do as you have asked. But can’t we use it to rescue my mother?”
Floriana shook her head, her eyes deep wells of sadness.
“Not yet Val. Once I am free, I might be able to discover a way to use the Blood Stone to rescue Belythna, but you could never manage it on your own. If you used it to transport yourself to Moden, without first discovering a way back, you would be trapped there – I’m sorry.”
Journey of Shadows (The Palâdnith Chronicles Book 1) Page 22
