The Well of Wyrding (Revenant Wyrd Book 3)

by Travis Simmons

  “Wyrd, however, is a science. It’s studied and true, and where the druid is companion to the powers he wields, the wyrder is mistress of the powers she harnesses.”

  “That makes me sound so cold and dominating,” Joya said, fidgeting slightly.

  “Aren’t you?” Annbell asked, and Joya studied her fingers clasped in her lap. “I’m sure that, though you may not see it, you dominate quite a bit. Who is it that is really running the show here, Joya?”

  None of them answered, but they all looked to her. Though it was true she was calling some of the shots and guiding them now, none of them could say it was because she was dominating, but instead because she was more powerful than they, and it was smarter to let the one with power, the one with knowledge that Angelica and Jovian did not have, take the lead. However, wasn’t that dominance? Wasn’t she the leader because she had a dominant power they didn’t, or rather a dominant power they shared but couldn’t control yet as she could?

  “I see,” Annbell said, nodding. “At any rate, Maeven, whatever you had planned for yourself means little, for you are to come with me now.”

  There was something in his eyes that told them Maeven had known this was coming.

  “Don’t fret too much. I was also headed for the clergy when I found my true calling. I think it’s the way of all druids to fight what they are, for that’s where the Wisdom starts, coming to know yourself before you can know any other.” It made a kind of sense to Maeven, and he nodded. He had been, after all, the type that wanted to know and learn so much he guessed it only made sense when he thought about it objectively.

  “When do we leave?” he asked, avoiding Jovian’s eyes. Jovian wished that he would deny it and refuse to go with Annbell, and he found his face flushing hot. Why should he care, really? But Maeven’s avoidance of Jovian’s eyes stung. He’d figured that what they had together might not be a long-term thing, but he had hoped. Now that it was coming to an end, he almost felt like he was losing a part of himself along with the older man.

  That thing in Fairview Heights was just physical. He obviously doesn’t think it’s more, Jovian thought. He cast his eyes to the ground so Maeven couldn’t see the pain in them. If he even cares.

  “As soon as possible. Preferably the same time as they leave, though we will be taking a different route. They travel south; it’s to the north we must go.”

  Maeven only nodded.

  “Just like that then?” Jovian asked, somewhat confused.

  “You of all people, Jovian LaFaye, should understand the weight of destiny. You will only tire yourself fighting the wyrd in store for you,” Annbell said philosophically. “That energy would better be spent working toward what you must complete. Maeven is wise to know that already.”

  “But…” Jovian seemed at a loss for words, and Angelica could feel through their connection that he expected something more out of Maeven.

  “Aww, princess,” Maeven said, using a mocking tone that he hadn’t used in some time. However, this time Joya and Angelica were able to hear the affection in it. Jovian merely bristled at the title. “You are making me feel wanted.”

  “What would make you think I wanted you around?” Jovian shot back and looked away from Maeven, his face red.

  “Do you want me to be specific?” Maeven asked, and to stop the fighting before it started, Joya cut across the intake of Jovian’s breath which meant disaster.

  “How did you find us?” Joya asked her finally, to break the tension that had suddenly bloomed between Jovian and Maeven.

  “If Porillon had not been laying tracks behind you I would have still been able to find you through your strong wyrd, and the fact that as the Guardian of the Realm of Earth not much that happens here is veiled to me.”

  “So you have wyrd that others don’t?” Joya asked, though it was not really a question. “I have read about that, Realm Guardians being more than mere wyrders.”

  “That’s true in part,” Annbell told Joya. “Once the wyrd the Realm Guardians hold was a power that all within the specific realm could use, but after the splitting those powers were taken from all but the Realm Guardians. So in all actuality we really are more than mere wyrders because of our connection with our realm.”

  That one question got Joya and Annbell on a conversation about wyrd that lasted through another meal. Angelica thought that Annbell, though she proclaimed she knew blessed little about wyrd, knew quite a bit. Jovian and Maeven found themselves walking off to be alone — though the grove was not precisely large enough to be out of sight, at least they could not be overheard by their companions.

  Angelica tried several times to get into Jovian’s mind, but he kept shutting her out, intent to keep her from the conversation, though she was sure that later he would tell her all about it in detail. Finally he looked at her sharply, and she stopped prodding.

  Angelica struck up a conversation with the Germinant Gob who, despite his two hundred and ninety-eight years, was rather spry. He spoke to her of many things, though a lot of things she could not fathom. When he spoke of the underground cities of the gnomes she thought of Dellenbore with its underground trees and lakes and bustling society, but the more he talked about it the less she began to think the gnomes’ cities were magnificent like the dwarves’ had been. They seemed to love the dirt, so much so that Angelica began itching because of all the thoughts of dirt. She scarcely concealed a grimace at the mention of worms and snakes and other rodents and ants that they might have called neighbors in the Underbelow, as he called it.

  She found little else to say to him, for though he acted warm and genial he grimaced and scoffed a lot when she talked about the beauties she had seen.

  Another night passed, and before it was over Tegaris returned to Angelica. He found his home in the muslin pouch she wore at her waist before he went into suspended animation for the duration of the day. She had barely heard him return, but the glimmer of blue light and the sound of tinkling bells stirred her gently out of the dream she had been having. Once she knew him to be safe she drifted back off to yet another glorious night of rest.

  In the morning they would all part ways and continue their journey without Maeven.

  As the days wore on Cianna’s strength and sanity began returning to her along with her sense of self. She no longer had the wythes as unwelcome companions, arguing amongst themselves and screaming poisons into her mind. She could tell definitively where she was, what the boundaries of her mind were, for it was no longer frayed by several other entities taking up room in her head.

  She also learned more about her companions. Deven and Clara, as it turned out, where brother and sister just as Chy and Pi were. Flora had been their teacher, and as far as Cianna could tell still acted in that capacity. Not only that, but Flora slowly began drawing Cianna into their wyrd debates, and before long began teaching her more about wyrd than Sara and Annbell had. It was easy to see why, Sara and Annbell didn’t know how to teach Cianna; Flora simply didn’t care. She taught Cianna the same thing she was teaching her other charges, who, as it turned out, were all sorcerers.

  Not much of the information that Flora taught the group helped Cianna, for she was not a sorcerer, but she still learned a lot about wyrd, how to access it and what its boundaries and properties were. There was, it seemed, more than one type of wyrd. Sara had been good at all the wyrd she had used; Cianna was startled that not all sorcerers were like that.

  Pi, it seemed, was good at time wyrd, and while she was able to use other wyrd to a good degree, she was better with wyrd that manipulated the fabric of time.

  Devenstar was different, and as far as Cianna knew there were not many people like him. When she found out what his power was it explained his cat-like eyes. Shape changing was not something readily seen in the Great Realms, and it was one of the things that set Cianna’s aunt apart from all others, the wyrd to change. Devenstar, though Cianna hadn’t seen it yet because of the malaise plaguing the Well of Wyrding, could change into a
panther. Not only that, but his proficient wyrd had to do with animals, although Cianna was not sure how, unless he was able to manipulate them.

  Clara had a knack for weather-wyrd, and that interested Cianna beyond belief.

  Chy had not yet come into his power and no one knew if he would have a special ability within that power or not. It was obvious from the lemniscate on the back of his neck that he was going to be a sorcerer, though.

  Cianna thought that maybe some of the techniques that Flora was teaching the sorcerers on how to access their wyrd might work for her as well. Until she was within the boundaries of the Realm of Water she was hesitant to try it lest she open a flood gate that she could not close, calling those baleful spirits back to her.

  The day that Cianna saw Kelpie Way looming up before them she sighed with relief. Kelpie Way was a huge jade bridge that stretched from one end of the Realm of Water to the other, traversing some of the most dangerous of the marsh lands that made up the border of the Realm of Water and the central realms: the Holy Realm and the Shadow Realm. It was said that the kelpies which haunted the marsh, feeding off the living, were dalua that had seeped into the Realm of Water from the Shadow Realm, but Cianna thought this was mostly unfounded and instead fear of the unknown.

  One thing she knew for certain — the dead could not cross the water. While they would most certainly find a way around the jade bridge, Cianna knew that for the time she was on Kelpie Way she would have some peace of mind.

  “This is the grandest piece of architecture in all the Great Realms!” Pi told them all, gesticulating at the huge bridge, which began with a series of steps that rose up about fifty feet into the air. The steps were broken here and there by landings, whereupon stood fountains of bubbling water depicting some strange creatures spouting water from their mouths.

  “What’re those animals in the fountains?” Cianna asked as they paused at the first landing so that Flora could catch her breath.

  “That’s a type of dog that supposedly brings good luck to the home.” To Cianna it looked like a cross between a dog and a lion, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Isn’t it grand?” Pi asked as she stood to the western side of the landing, gazing out across the misty marsh lands toward the far side of the realms.

  “I don’t think it’s the grandest,” Deven said. “I think it’s that you are so proud of your realm that you think it better than it is.”

  “What are you talking about?” she fired back, rising to the challenge. “This bridge is held together with wyrd. More wyrd went into the making of this bridge than went into anything else in all the Realms.”

  Deven shrugged. “Well, one would just expect more, I guess.” Pi glared at him and he smiled. She punched him. Devenstar stopped smiling. The argument was over.

  Flora rolled her eyes, but pretended not to see. “I’m able to move on,” she informed them, and they continued to climb. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, which ended at the base of a great red arch of wood framing the beginning of the actual bridge, they were all tired.

  Kelpie Way was a long path to travel, and so when it was constructed there had been need of way stations to be built with it. Off the right and left side of the bridge stood medium-sized houses that acted in such a capacity for travelers. Of course, Pi informed them that they were built lavishly with wyrd, from the heating system to the running water. Cianna still wasn’t sure where the water was coming from, but she suspected it was somehow being pumped from the marshes below the bridge.

  The main structure of the way station was jade, just as the bridge was. In fact, it seemed to be a seamless structure built along with the bridge. Cianna wasn’t sure if tools or wyrd had been used, but if the sculpted, bearded wyrms decorating the top, looking out in each direction, were any indication, it must have been done with wyrd. The wyrms themselves looked as if they were almost alive, and Cianna wished she were taller so that she could touch their long, sinuous bodies to see if it was scales or stone that glimmered in the setting sun.

  Pi opened the bamboo door and stepped inside, showing them around. The interior was much the same as all the other way stations one could find around the Great Realms. There wasn’t much difference other than in the subtle, soft décor. Curtains of heavy silk sat over the glass windows. On close inspection of the fabric Cianna could see that the rice farmers and grand wyrders battling sky wyrms and water wyrms were painted on, rather than being sewn on like they would have been in the Realm of Earth. She marveled at the craftsmanship.

  The beds were simple pallets on the floor, most likely stuffed with feathers as the Realm of Water was much too moist for hay to grow productively. All of the wood on the inside of the way station was a resilient bamboo, and other wooden decorations were made of wicker.

  Cianna rested her bones in a wicker chair, and propped her feet up on a stool made of the same material.

  “Make yourself at home,” Pi said as she turned a lever by the jade fireplace. Cianna could sense the wyrd whoosh through the room to culminate in the center of the fireplace and ignite the dry wood therein.

  “With so much wyrd, you would think that this place would not be so well off,” Cianna commented as everyone else settled around and Chy began helping Flora with dinner. In the back there was a bin filled with soil, in which vegetables were kept.

  As the sun set, Cianna felt a strange pulling in her belly, much like the cramps she got before her moon cycle began. As she had only finished that a week ago, she knew that couldn’t be it.

  Not long after the night became completely dark, the sound of braying horses crying out perverse sentiment to the night began far below them. Cianna parted the curtain and looked out the window of the way station, which seemed as homey as a sitting room in the Guardians’ Keep.

  “What’s that?” Cianna asked.

  “The Kelpies,” Pi told her. “They lure people to their deaths among the marshes with their beautiful singing and lovely light.”

  “The light is lovely, but the sound they make is enough to drive one away, I would imagine,” Cianna said and Pi agreed with a chuckle.

  That night, as they all settled down to sleep, Cianna’s pulling, taunting cramps were worse than before, something happened that hadn’t happened in ages. The kelpies, normally kept well below by the wards wyrded into the bridge, began surfacing to the way station, the brilliant white light illuminating the inside of the room as they arched over the bridge hunting for any stragglers who hadn’t found shelter.

  They started out early the next morning, making sure to tidy up after themselves in the way station, as was proper etiquette for such places. The group was weary from the night before; none of them had been able to sleep with the wailing cries of the kelpies so close, something that was not supposed to happen because of the wards in the bridge.

  Sometime in the night Cianna’s cramps had left her, and the sensation broke much like a fever. She found herself awake, sighing with relief that the cramps were gone, drenched to the bone from the pain, and completely exhausted from enduring such torment.

  She found herself gazing off toward the east that morning, thinking of the spirits that had plagued her and the wyrd within the bridge, wondering if it would hold up with the well the way it was.

  The more she looked in that direction, however, the more agitated she became. Soon a sensation came to her like bugs crawling on her flesh, and she found herself itching when the bugs started biting her. Cianna wasn’t sure what was happening; there were no bugs on her, and there was no irritation coming to her skin from the bites. However, she didn’t miss the fact that once she stopped looking eastward the irritation and agitation ended.

  “How long do you think the well will be like this?” Cianna asked.

  “Who knows?” Pi said quietly, glancing quickly at Flora. “Could be ages; might as well get used to not touching our wyrd for a while.”

  “Eventually it will drive us mad anyway,” Clara said.

  “How
so?” Cianna wondered.

  “We have wyrd in us, no matter if we touch it or not. Using our wyrd will corrupt us faster, because when we drain the wyrd in our bodies, it will be refreshed with the poisoned wyrd of the well,” Clara explained.

  “Well just don’t touch it then that will keep you with a store of untainted wyrd, right?” Cianna thought it sounded simple.

  “It’s not as easy as that,” Pi shook her head. “I wish that were the case, but eventually if a wyrder does not use their wyrd it will grow stagnant, hollow, and then vanish, only to be replaced by fresh wyrd. It’s kind of a cycle, almost as if we are being irrigated with wyrd.” Cianna smirked at the analogy.

  “So the Well of Wyrding will eventually win out in all wyrders?” Cianna asked, and Flora looked back at her sharply.

  “We don’t speak of the well,” Flora told Cianna sternly, making her blanch. “To think of the well for too long is to draw its attention.”

  “What does that mean?” Cianna asked confused.

  “There’re people who can work with the well in a way that no others can. It’s said they can tap directly into the Well of Wyrding to draw their wyrd, and work their wyrdings. They can tap into the well cognitively, adding as much strength to their workings as their minds will allow them to glean from the well. It’s a way of working with wyrd that only those far advanced can achieve, and the wyrder is either learned in the technique or it happens by accident, mostly the latter. In times past these people worked with the well, and became corrupted by the well in a way that no others could. It happened from either too much work with the Well of Wyrding, or too long thinking about it in such a way that connected the person to the well. When this happened, when the person thought about the well, or worked with the well to a point that was beyond repair, they would become more corrupt than those merely working with their wyrd. They would become one with the well, they would be a part of that which lurked within the well, they would become like the Evyndelle, and like its cancerous roots. They would be an extension of the Chaos within the Well of Wyrding on Saracin, and would so carry out the Chaos it whispered.” Flora slowed with a huff. “I need to rest,” she said as they neared a larger, rounded-out part of the bridge that kind of reminded Cianna of a balcony looking west. They all stopped and sat at benches provided there for such a purpose. Cianna watched the large fountain in the center of the resting place bubble and spout water from the mouth of a wyrm.