Poisonwell (Whispers from Mirrowen Book 3)

by Jeff Wheeler

  “Child,” her mother said soothingly, interrupting, “this will not be easy to understand. You must try, though. There is no time here. There is no need to rush or to hurry. In the mortal world, time flows in one direction . . . like a brook of water.” She motioned her hand over the rippling waves. “But we are not in that brook, nor are we subject to its laws or constraints.” She rose and pulled Phae up with her. “You can enter the brook at any point, before or after. There is no rush. The dangers you faced in the woods cannot follow you here.” She squeezed Phae’s hand. “Come, let me show you Mirrowen. Walk with me.”

  Phae did not understand it, but she trusted what she was told. As she looked around, she saw deep foliage on the other side of the brook, covering her gaze. Tall fronds appeared on each side of the sandy path, and from the sand grew a hardy green plant that she did not recognize at all. It had large violet flowers blooming amidst it. Beautiful trees appeared deeper behind her, enormous redwoods that almost formed a wall the way she had come. The sandy trail led away from them, toward the murmuring sound she had heard since arriving.

  They walked side by side, hand in hand. The trail was crooked and finally opened to a broad expanse of beach. Phae stopped, staring in amazement. The sights filled her eyes all at once and she almost quailed from the majestic images revealed to her.

  The first thing she saw was an ocean. She had never seen it before, but it was the source of the shushing noises she had heard since arriving. The waters were vast and grayish-blue, and white foam churned as the waves hammered against the glassy shore. There were many others on the beach, walking back and forth, some in deep conversation, others looking silently at the crashing surf. Some were Vaettir-born, others Preachán. Some races she did not recognize at all because of their skin color or the shades of color in their hair. She blinked, trying to understand.

  “They have all earned the right to live in Mirrowen,” her mother said, as if reading her thoughts. “Many are Druidecht, but not all. Do you see the city?”

  Of course Phae did. The beach was several miles wide, crescent shaped. Huge towering rocks and boulders were in the waters, and the waves crashed against them with enormous sprays. The boulders were of different sizes but they seemed to form some sort of border or boundary. There were hills on each side of the beach. To her right, the hills were full of enormous redwoods and eucalyptus trees, and amidst these towering trees was a city that filled the hillside.

  Phae gasped, her eyes trying to absorb the enormity of it. There were multiple levels within the hills and she could see streets and garden, archways connecting separate buildings. The levels were all interconnected through a series of intricate stone structures, polished to a glassy shine. Some of the hills had waterfalls, showing cascading rivulets that caused a gray mist to emerge where the fountains struck the ground. Lights zigzagged throughout, reminding her slightly of Canton Vaud. Vaettir-born floated between the levels, and she wondered how many thousands lived in the palaces built into the vast hills. The structures even extended into the sea, with balconies opening up over the waters.

  Phae’s knees became weak as she stared at the beautiful land. Lights and color, trees and gardens, music . . . the music! She could hear the strains even from the distance, and its echoes were haunting and mystical, reminding her of the charm Shion had taken from her father. The Paracelsus had captured part of the music of Mirrowen, but it was only a shadow in comparison to the real experience.

  “Look at the sea,” her mother whispered. “This wave is massive.”

  Phae broke her gaze from the dazzling city gardens and watched as a wall of churning water came roaring at the beach. It was ten times larger than any she had seen since arriving, a vast monster of churning foam that advanced like an army. She could see the wall of waves coming in, thundering in, high enough to submerge the entire beach and drown half the city. Phae clutched at her mother’s arm, staring in horror. Seeing it made her want to flee, but her mother stared at it with unconcern, but respect.

  “It cannot harm us, Phae.”

  The wave seemed to build in height and intensity as it drew closer. There were people near the edge of the surf, walking blithely, as if unaware of the looming danger. Phae stared, her mouth agape as the waves gathered to a ferocious height. As if there were an invisible dome shielding the beach, the waters crashed against the rock sentinels in the shallows, but the rocks repelled the sea. Phae blinked in amazement, as the waters seemed to hang poised over them, unable to penetrate the bubble. Then all the energy seemed to fade from the rushing waves and the waters slid back. Some of the waves had been high enough to feed the upper fountains of the city and thus the waterfalls began to churn more energetically, draining away the spent fury of the waves as they receded.

  Her mother patted her arm. “We are safe here,” she murmured softly. “So long as our thoughts remain vigilant. The Seneschal will explain it all better than I can. He is over there with the children. Do you see him?”

  Phae followed her gaze and she saw the Seneschal. His back was to her, but she recognized the description she had received from Neodesha. He was easily two heads above her own father, and Tyrus was a tall man himself. His hair was dark and long, like a Vaettir’s, except brown and not black. He wore an interesting mix of robes and armor and Phae saw twin blades strapped to his back, crosswise. A supple golden cloak fluttered in the breeze. A small diadem crowned his head. At his feet were several children digging with shells, creating a castle out of the wet, compact sand.

  “Come with me,” her mother said, pulling Phae closer.

  As they approached, Phae cast her eyes to the hills on her left. They were not full of buildings or structures. Small footpaths had been carved into the hillside and slender stone steps helped travelers ascend to the various heights. Sculptured stone benches sat at various places and Phae could see many people sitting on them, some gazing and pointing out to the sea. Some had even seemed to notice her walking and she thought she could spy one of them waving at her.

  Everyone she saw was dressed in elegant robes. Not ostentatious, but each of a variety of color and design, marking a different era or country. There were people from every race she could tell, and again—seeing some that were new. The beach was not full, but neither was it empty. She saw other Dryads as well and felt a kinship with them.

  “Is Neodesha here?” Phae asked her mother.

  “You want to know if she survived the blast that destroyed her tree?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother nodded and smiled. “The blast destroyed our link to the mortal world. But it did not destroy us. She is here, if she is not off on a task from the Seneschal. There is no time here, as you remember. There will be opportunity enough to see her as well. But first, you must make your oaths. You are Dryad-born, Phae. It is a choice you must make alone.”

  “I feel so dirty,” Phae said self-consciously. Her clothes were filthy and her hair a tangled mess. She rubbed her arm, gazing at the others on the beach. None of them looked at her askance, but she did feel different, singled out.

  “You will receive a robe when you take your oath,” her mother said. “With it, you can look like anyone or appear wearing anything you desire. My ancestors came from Stonehollow, and so I fancy their attire the most. Deep down, our childhood impresses us most significantly. I have watched you grow up, Phae. I knew you were coming, which is why I let your father take you away from me.” A mix of sadness and pride crossed her face. She touched Phae’s cheek. “You are the one who can correct the wrong that was done. And in so doing, give rebirth to your fallen world. But I speak of things I ought not to. It should be the Seneschal who explains this to you and the oaths you must take.”

  “Am I doing the right thing, Mother?” Phae asked, squeezing her hand strongly.

  “Soon you will know enough to answer that for yourself,” came the enigmatic reply. They approached the children digging,
and one of them looked hauntingly like Brielle. Phae stared at her in surprise. No, it was Brielle, from the Winemiller orphanage.

  Her mother smiled and stroked Phae’s hair again. “Not her. Not Brielle. Her twin sister who died. They are still connected. That is why Brielle does not speak. She can see shades of Mirrowen in her dreams and longs to be here.” She smiled, squeezing Phae’s hand, and faced the Seneschal, who began to turn to greet them.

  “My lord, I have brought Phae as you bid me to. I healed her injuries and have taught her a little portion of Mirrowen, which you instructed me to. She is here to learn about her oaths so she may decide by her conscience whether she will or not. Thank you, my lord, for sending me. You are kind and thoughtful.” She bowed deeply.

  Phae saw the massive swords strapped to his back with intricately carved leather sigils. Each buckle was precise, each cut of cloth the work of a deep master. She could not see his hands, for they were folded in front of him. But something struck her attention immediately. From his wide belt, he bore a series of ancient keys, the metal so pitted that they seemed older than the stars. The shape of the keys was nothing like she had seen before. The head was rectangular with a strange cross embedded into the top, but it was hollow in the middle, and that hollow part was fastened by a ring to other keys of similar design. The shaft of each key was thick and solid. The end was shaped into a circle with two nubs pointed from the side of each. The circles were also hollow. The metal looked to be iron, raw iron, but old and pocked. The Voided Keys. That’s what Neodesha had called them.

  The Seneschal turned, and Phae looked up into his face.

  She recognized him.

  “I write these words in dread of my own safety. Forgive me the gap between entries as much has happened of great concern in the interval. I have hidden my journals and some of the more crucial manuscripts in a secret vault here in the Archives. What I must write here is perilous and may cost me my life. I have just come to learn a tale that has astonished me beyond measure. I have secretly met and been tutored by the Empress of Boeotia and her consort, who was once a Rike here in Kenatos by the name of Mathon. I now understand the legend of the being known as Shirikant. Words cannot express the depth of my feelings of outrage, shock, and sense of doom. We are in mortal danger. I am perfectly convinced that his current manifestation is now the Arch-Rike of Kenatos. I have been a puppet. I have been a pawn. I have been a fool.

  Unwittingly, I have aided in the destruction of certain knowledge. The Archives do not exist to preserve memory as I once believed but to sponge away all references to this malevolent usurper. How many civilizations have perished as a result? How many cultures will never be known? I weep at the enormity of this injustice.

  I must make amends and restore what I can when the time is right. I will be killed because of this knowledge. The Empress and I have agreed that secrecy is utmost since no one has seen the Arch-Rike in several days. The Empress fears that he is preparing to unleash the Plague on the citizenry of Kenatos, and that if they are infected, the population will flee the city and transmit it through Stonehollow, Silvandom, Wayland, Havenrook, and Alkire. Even Boeotia. We must act wisely if we are to preserve our civilization. I understand now that Tyrus is not a traitor nor ever was. His quest may indeed be our salvation.”

  - Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos

  XXXVI

  That she recognized the Seneschal startled Phae. He looked ageless, with smooth skin that marked a man barely middle aged. His hair was long and dark brown. His eyes were blue, a striking color that matched the jewel she had worn around her neck throughout her life. He was somber, with a hint of sadness in his eyes, but when he smiled at her, she felt a thrill go down to her toes. He wore a Druidecht talisman on a chain around his neck.

  “Welcome back, Phae.” He greeted her with a rich, melodious voice. “It is wonderful to see you.” He reached out and took her shoulder, his grip firm but excessively gentle.

  She felt as if he had grown up in the orphanage with her or had been wandering the Scourgelands alongside her. His presence was striking, causing emotions to bubble and surface as if the two of them had sat around a warm hearth, drinking tea and sharing stories for ages gone by.

  “We have and we will,” he said, his eyes crinkling. “If you accept your charge, that is. Phae, I can hear your thoughts. I have followed your life, hidden in the shadows where you sensed me, but you could not see me. I was there when you first used your Dryad powers in an empty wine barrel.” He smiled at her again, caressing her cheek. “But you have many questions. I feel them bubbling inside of you.”

  Phae stared at him, no longer feeling soiled or a stranger. There was no strangeness at all about the Seneschal. He was so familiar that she wondered why she could not remember having met him before.

  “How can you hear my thoughts?” Phae asked, not certain she understood what he meant. “Is it your magic?”

  He smiled and nodded. “As the Seneschal, I have all the gifts bestowed on the races. But before I explain that part to you, let me first explain what Mirrowen is. What you see is a beach. You hear the surf. You see a city full of gardens and waterfalls. You live on a world. It’s a sphere, round like an orange. There are many lands and oceans and peoples you have not met yet. There are many worlds like yours. More than can be counted, yet I know of them. If you were to count the grains of sand beneath our feet across this wide beach, it would not begin to number how many other worlds there are. Some are inhabited. Some are not. I am the guardian of this one, its protector and defender. Huge chunks of rock beyond this sphere hurtle through the expanse. Sometimes, you’ve seen them at night, streaking through the sky, at certain times of the year. You remember them?”

  The images came to her mind immediately and she nodded. “We call them falling stars.”

  “Yes. It’s not what they are, but it’s what they appear to be. Some are larger than mountains. They hurtle through space and sometimes threaten a world like this one, as the sea tries to unmake the earth. Two forces are at work in this grand, infinite expanse. There is a force that destroys. It is called by many names. Some call it the Abyss. Some call it the Deep Fathoms. Some the Void. It is also called Decay. It is inexorable, like the waters of the surf on the beach.”

  He put his arm around her shoulder and expanded his other arm toward the surf. The edge of the beach was glassy smooth, the frothing waters rushing back down at an incline into the waves until the next round came crashing again. The force of the waves was powerful, yet not frightening. She wondered if the water was cold.

  “It can be,” he said, answering her thoughts, startling her again.

  The Seneschal extended his hand to Phae. She glanced at her mother, who smiled.

  His hand was warm and strong. They started walking toward the grassy hill on one side of the beach, an area carved with steps and paths. There were many people about, each walking along, and she wondered how many people lived in Mirrowen.

  “Many,” he replied, squeezing her hand. “Some visit from other worlds.”

  “How do they come here?” Phae asked, wondering. “I’m not sure I understand what you meant about this idea of being on a world.”

  “Not yet. You will begin to understand such things later. When someone visits from another world, they come from the sea. Not in a boat, as you’d expect. What happens is a great wind blows and the waters along the beach part, opening up a pathway into the ocean. It’s an impressive sight, Phae. When the waves part, everyone gathers on the beach to greet the newcomer and learn about their travels. So many places to visit. I never tire of meeting them.”

  Phae looked up at his face. “Do you ever leave?” she asked, but she thought she knew the answer. “No, you can’t . . . can you? You have the Voided Keys. They must . . . stay.”

  He smiled and nodded to her. “Your wisdom is quickening already, Phae. Trust those insights. Mirrowen teaches you
about herself all the time. She whispers to you.”

  Phae nodded, feeling thoughtful. “Why does she whisper? Is Mirrowen a person? No, that doesn’t feel quite right.”

  “Why should one scream when a whisper will do?” the Seneschal asked her, answering her first question. “The Decay is about noise. It’s about distraction. Notice the sound when the waves recede off the beach. It’s a shushing sound . . . like a whisper. All the rumbling fury of the surf, but contrast it to the sound when it strikes the shore of Mirrowen. Now, let me show you something on the hilltop. We could take the path, but you are with me, and so you will travel as I do. Hold tightly.”

  He inhaled and suddenly he was floating upward, Phae with him, her body suddenly weightless. As they rose into the air, like the Vaettir, she was thrilled beyond belief, experiencing a gentle tickle in the middle of her stomach as they began to soar up toward the hilltop. She watched the sandy beach disappear beneath her feet and then watched the flowing grass streak beneath her. She coughed in surprise and then started to laugh, unable to contain the delight. She thought of Paedrin and felt a surge of jealousy for his gift. A soothing wind tousled her hair and clothes. They ascended rapidly and then gently eased down on the crest of the hilltop as the Seneschal breathed out. His eyes twinkled with mirth at her reaction.

  “That was amazing,” Phae said, turning around and looking from the view atop the hill. The expanse of the ocean went on as far as she could see. Leagues of blue-gray water extended all across the horizon, forming a flat line that met the sky. Suddenly the clouds were roiling, going from white to black. The waves began to churn restlessly, drawing back from the shore as they mounted and rumbled.

  “The children are safe?” Phae asked, worried about them playing down at the shore. She could see them kneeling in the sand, digging into the moat, heedless of the waters rushing at them.