The Complete Rhenwars Saga: An Epic Fantasy Pentalogy

by M. L. Spencer

  “Shield yourself,” Darien warned, appalled he hadn’t thought of it sooner. He had almost made a lethal mistake that could have killed them. “The stair is spelled.”

  “Like the Catacombs?” Naia asked.

  Darien nodded. “In the Catacombs, time and distance have no meaning. I feel the same principle at work here. I wouldn’t be surprised if we reach the level of the Well far sooner than we’d thought.

  “But,” he said to Kyel with a look of dire warning, “that means we’ll be walking into Orien’s Vortex at any time. And then the vortex that surrounds Aerysius. We won’t know when one ends and the other begins. No magelight,” he added with a sigh.

  “You want us to climb in the dark?” Swain asked. “That’s insane.”

  Darien shook his head. “It shouldn’t be long. It makes sense. Acolytes had a very strict curfew. Aidan said he followed this stair all the way down to the bottom and back. Aidan was a model acolyte. He was never caught out past curfew.”

  “It’s a bad idea,” Swain grumbled.

  Darien looked down at him, almost finding it within himself to smile. In the years since he’d seen him last, he had missed Swain’s abrasive temperament. The captain was one of the few constants he knew he could depend on. Swain could always be counted on to say what he meant and do what he believed. His personality was as economically efficient as his signature style with the blade: he never embellished, and he never sought to soften a blow.

  He was glad Swain was with him. He was glad to have them all. Sweeping his gaze around at his companions, Darien realized that, unwittingly, he had surrounded himself with every friend he had that was still alive. He wished Craig could have been there, and even Proctor. Even Royce. So many others, all gone on ahead of him. Looking now at the friends that remained, Darien realized how grateful he was to have them there.

  Feeling better than he had in a long time, Darien turned and started up the dark flight of stairs. And, as he cut himself off from the solace of the magic field, he found that he didn’t need it so desperately, after all.

  Kyel groaned, trying to keep his concentration focused on the next step ahead of him. They had been climbing ever upward in darkness for what seemed like hours. The journey was grueling, made even worse by the fear of falling Kyel felt at each step.

  He was at the rear of the party. There was no one to catch him if he fell. The blackness that surrounded them was consummate, as if he’d been rendered completely blind. He could see nothing, not even the fingers of his own hand.

  He groped forward tentatively, probing the step ahead with the toe of his foot before transferring his weight to it. He dared not take more than one step at a time. If not for the intermittent sounds of voices, he wouldn’t have known any of the others were still with him.

  As the long minutes dragged on, the fear that he was being left behind grew stronger. He started humming, the sound of his own voice making up a little for what he lacked of his perception of sight. And he hoped the sound would alert the others if he started trailing too far behind.

  More than once, he bumped into Swain’s back as the captain came to a lurching stop in front of him. Naia was having trouble with her dress and had to keep pausing to collect it out from under her feet. After several halts, Kyel heard Swain mutter something under his breath, followed by the distinctive sound of ripping fabric. There were no more dress problems after that, though Kyel wondered about the results of Swain’s hasty tailoring job.

  His legs ached, not used to so rigorous and prolonged a climb. He was afraid his calves were going to start cramping. At least the stair was not as steep as it could have been, and the steps were decently wide.

  At last, they came to a narrow corridor where Darien called a halt. When Kyel moved to sit down, he found himself squatting in a puddle of water. Or something like water. In the darkness, it could have been anything.

  “Can we not have a light yet?” he asked, sick of the gloom and anxious to find out the nature of the substance he had just stuck his hands in.

  Darien’s answer was long in coming. “We must be at the bottom of the cave system by now. I’ll wager it’s safe enough to risk it.”

  And then, miraculously, a hazy blue light bloomed from out of the ground that instantly revealed the forms of his companions. Kyel sighed, feeling relieved to be out of the darkness.

  Darien consulted the map while they rested, a diffuse orb of magelight casting its glow above the page. The thanacryst sat dutifully by his side, its eyes glowing in the darkness. When it was time to go, Darien folded the map and shoved it back into his pack, staring ahead at the narrow passage before him. The magelight ran forward over the wet ground, following the motion of his eyes.

  Fascinated, Kyel tried to form a glowing ribbon of his own. A faint golden tendril appeared briefly before winking out. It was the best he could do. He didn’t think he could manage anything bigger. Maybe with practice, but not yet.

  Darien said, “The Well of Tears is up three levels.”

  “Great. So how do we get there?” asked Swain.

  Darien pointed down the corridor in front of them. “We take this straight ahead. We’ll come to a series of rooms. One has a winding stair that will take us up to the level of the Well.”

  “Doesn’t sound too bad,” the captain muttered, staring ahead with his hands on his hips. “We’ll have this done and over with by nightfall.”

  But Darien shook his head. “No. We should wait till dark, on the chance Aidan is using the caves. He pushed himself up from the wet floor. “We’ll stop for a rest in one of the rooms up ahead.”

  That sounded good to Kyel. He could use a rest after that climb. They moved forward again, following Darien’s glowing mist down the corridor. As Kyel walked, his feet splashed through dark puddles.

  The cave seemed saturated with water. It dripped from the ceiling and ran, oozing, down the walls. The roof overhead was covered in creamy bumps that collected water on their ends until a full droplet was formed, then released it to splash down to the puddles below.

  After only minutes, the corridor opened into a good-sized chamber. Unlike the passage they had just emerged from, the room had more of a man-made appearance, or at least it had been man-altered. There, Darien and Swain spread out, each taking a doorway, the captain moving cautiously ahead with his steel bared. Kyel waited with Naia as the priestess stared at the doorway Darien had disappeared through. At last, both men returned through completely different passages.

  “It’s clear,” Swain announced.

  Darien nodded his agreement.

  They settled down together in a dry corner of the room. Kyel broke into his pack, rummaging through it for a bite to eat. All he had managed to pack was stale bread, so stale bread was what he had. Darien produced an apple that looked only a few days too old. He handed it to Naia, who smiled her thanks.

  After the short and meager dinner, Kyel decided he’d better ask Darien the questions that remained unanswered. Removing Treatise on the Well from his pack, he opened it to the page he’d been fretting over.

  “I still don’t understand what I’m supposed to do,” Kyel said, moving over to sit beside him. “It says to deactivate the rune sequence in reverse order. How do I do that?”

  “What’s the order?”

  Kyel had no idea. Flipping to the runes listed a few pages back, he handed the book to Darien. “Here. Have a look.”

  Darien stared at the page for a moment, increasing the intensity of magelight that surrounded him. “This isn’t the true sequence. It’s a cipher.”

  Kyel frowned, not understanding him. He watched as Darien bent over the book, tracing the line of markings with a finger. “Metha, calebra, noctua … benthos…”

  He paused, brow wrinkled in concentration. His finger moved back again to the beginning of the line, squinting down at the page. Then he sat back, eyes narrowed, his gaze lowered in thought.

  Above him in the air, a faint blue line sprang into being. Kyel sco
oted back, startled at the line’s sudden appearance in front of him. Twisted branches grew out from the line, until Kyel realized he was staring at one of the strange characters from the page. The rune moved, circulating upward, as a different character appeared where the first had just been.

  Soon, the air was filled with glowing runes that formed a circle that hovered, floating above them. Naia and Swain both crept forward, staring in fascination. Slowly, the runes moved to form a line that crossed the length of the chamber. Kyel recognized the order of the characters. It was the sequence from the book.

  But then the runes began rearranging themselves. The first one slid upward and to the right, settling into the space between two others that moved over to make room. Then another character near the end of the line slid all the way across the chamber to the beginning of the sequence.

  As Kyel stared in awe, the glowing blue figures began moving, sliding in and out of sequence, spiraling up from their positions and dropping back into new ones. He glanced at Darien and saw the mage’s eyes rapidly sliding back and forth, tracking the motion of the runes.

  And then all movement abruptly stopped.

  Kyel let out a breath as he stared at the glimmering chain of characters that hung above them in the air. He almost flinched when the entire line suddenly condensed, shrinking and falling at the same time, rotating once as they fell onto the open text in Darien’s hand. Kyel heard a faint, sizzling noise as the markings scorched themselves into the page.

  “Here’s the reverse sequence,” Darien said, handing Kyel the book as if nothing had happened. Kyel could only stare at the fresh markings that had inscribed themselves across a previously blank portion of the page as Darien went on, “Progress left to right, just as you would reading. Begin with this one, dacros.” He indicated the first rune of the sequence. “Ledros will be on the far side of the rim. Work counterclockwise around the Well, following this progression.”

  Kyel looked back up at him, dumbfounded. “What do I do? How do I deactivate the runes?”

  Darien scowled. “They were activated with Meiran’s blood. You must purify each rune, one by one, in that order.”

  “How do I do that?”

  Darien looked down at the markings scorched into the page, a solemn and resolved expression on his face. “Fire should work best,” he answered in a voice strangely gruff. “Burn them clean.”

  Kyel swallowed. Then he nodded. “I’ll try.”

  Darien’s shook his head. “No. There can’t be any halfway with this. You know fire. You know how it’s made. Your doubt is the only thing holding you back. You’d better start believing in yourself. Otherwise, all of this is for naught.”

  Swain broke in, “What exactly do we do if this doesn’t work?”

  Darien turned toward him, eyes adamant. “Then there’s nothing you can do. Renquist wins. He’s a demon—he’s dead. When he died, his gift was Transferred to another mage or lost to the air. His power over the magic field comes only through his link with the Netherworld, through the Well of Tears. The only way to stop him is to seal the Well. That’s the only thing that will cut him off from his power.”

  Swain nodded, sucking at his cheek. “So if this doesn’t work, then we’re left facing that Enemy host down there as well as Renquist at full strength.”

  “And six more just like him,” Darien reminded him. “You won’t have a chance.” He turned back to Kyel. “Do you understand, now, how much of this depends on you? Once I walk into that gateway, I won’t be able to help you anymore. You’ll be completely on your own.”

  Kyel dropped his gaze to the floor, feeling suddenly shamed. At last he nodded, unable to look Darien in the eyes.

  “I understand,” he whispered softly.

  Darien stared down at the scars on his wrists. He sat with his back against one of the rough walls, listening to the steady sound of Kyel’s breathing. The others had chosen to try to get some sleep. They hadn’t had much the previous night.

  Darien had offered to stand watch. There were too many things on his mind, too many emotions churning inside his head. And he didn’t want to face the dreams he knew would come. He’d had enough of them.

  The sound of Naia stirring broke him away from his thoughts. Lowering his hands, he looked up and saw her moving toward him. Swain had done a number on her gown. It came to only knee-length now, with frayed threads hanging off where the captain had ripped it. Darien appreciated the look. Naia had beautiful legs. He found it hard to shift his gaze away from them.

  “I can’t sleep,” she complained, sliding down the wall to sit at his side.

  “You ought to go back and try,” he said.

  But Naia shook her head, leaning back against the rough wall and looking at him through the fabric of her veil. “No. I want to be with you.”

  Her eyes held his own, capturing him. Slowly, he reached his hand up and drew the glittering fabric off her face.

  “You are beautiful,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “Thank you for everything. I should have told you that before.” He looked back down at his wrists, feeling suddenly very sad. “You should try to get some sleep,” he whispered.

  The feel of her lips on his made him forget the scars, forget what could not be. For one, brief moment, he closed his eyes and forgot everything but her. He reached up and pulled her into him, holding her close.

  41

  The Well of Tears

  “It’s time to go.”

  Kyel hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. Stretching, he sat up and stared around the dim chamber that glimmered in the quiet tendrils of Darien’s magelight. The others looked like they were already prepared to set out again. Swain walked toward one of the exits, his pack swung over his shoulder.

  Darien had burdened himself with the weight of both his own pack and Naia’s. They were standing together in the middle of the chamber, Darien’s clasped around her slender fingers. For once, Naia was without her veil. Kyel couldn’t help but stare openly at her face, feeling moved. He was glad for them. But also very sad. Stuffing his blanket into his own pack, he pushed himself up off the ground.

  “It’s not far,” Darien said as he led Naia toward one of the doorways.

  Kyel fell in behind them, limping on legs that ached even worse than they had before. Swain followed, drawing his blade.

  The magelight lit their way, trailing ahead as Darien led them through a series of adjoining chambers, each one just as dark and empty as the last. After minutes, they came to the stair Darien had told them about. Kyel followed him up the rough stone steps that wound around into blackness.

  The stairwell almost reminded him of the tower of Greystone Keep, but infinitely darker. It smelled of old mold and wet rock. Water dribbled under his feet, running over each step in thin streams before trickling down to the one below it. The water spilled over the side of the first landing they came to, falling like a thin waterfall to the floor below.

  “Stop,” he heard Darien’s voice echo in front of him.

  Kyel stood motionless, staring up into the pale glow cast by the magelight. The Sentinel groped along the wall with his hand. Kyel heard a faint clicking sound that emanated from deep within the wall.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “A trap.” Darien pointed out a small circle recessed into the wall. “Thanks to that map you found, I knew to look for it. Otherwise, we’d all be dead.”

  Kyel stared at the small but lethal circle, shivering. “Are there more?”

  “Two more up ahead before the chamber of the Well.”

  “How do you know there aren’t others? Ones not marked on the map?”

  The mage shrugged as he started forward again. “I don’t.”

  Kyel kept his gaze angled at the wall from that point on. But Darien didn’t stop again until they reached the third landing on the stair. There, he did another quick inspection of the wall, this time beckoning Kyel forward to point out the circle he found before depressing it.

  “Yo
u’re going to need to remember where these are for when you come back this way.”

  Kyel nodded, swallowing, as Darien pressed his finger against the circle. Again, there was a faint click. Then Darien moved on, clasping Naia’s hand as he led her beside him through an opening.

  Kyel followed, glancing both ways as he stepped into a long and narrow corridor. The passage ran perfectly straight, angling slightly upward. Ahead, Kyel could see a faint green glow. Darien paused, disarming yet another trap, then moved forward toward the source of the light.

  “We’re nearly there,” he announced grimly.

  The passage brightened gradually as they drew ever closer to that strange and sickly glow, until Darien was able to release his magelight altogether. They turned a corner, moving cautiously toward a doorway that flared with a brilliant spill of light.

  Kyel followed him toward the opening with an unfolding sense of fear. He didn’t like the look of the light, was repulsed by its unnatural hue. He stopped within the stone frame of the doorway, holding a hand up before his face to shield his eyes against the glare coming from a column of terrifying brilliance at the far end of the chamber.

  He stared at it with a mingled sense of awe and horror, eyes taking in the surging energies that swept upward from the column’s base, from a ring of stone that rose from the floor. Beyond it, he could make out the black silhouette of what appeared to be a stone table or altar with sinister-looking chains. His eyes went back to the circle of stone, then looked to Darien for the confirmation he was dreading.

  “Is it…?”

  “The Well of Tears,” the Sentinel affirmed.

  Kyel stared, transfixed by the writhing light stabbing upward from the Well. The air of the chamber crackled with energy. A low humming sound echoed off the walls, intermittently disturbed by a sharp hissing noise. The air was permeated with the pungent scent of decay.