So it went on for a time in which Grace lost herself in thought. No longer could she read the fates on the roots which glowed blue. She went into a near-trance state as the lights flashed by her, and she was carried by her thoughts through the wyrd.
“What’s happening?” Rosalee asked, and Grace came back to herself, shaking her head to clear it of her previous thoughts.
“I’m not sure,” Dalah answered. Grace could feel it also, now that she was rooted back in reality. It was like a tugging behind her navel, as if there were an invisible cord attached to something inside her between her spine and her belly button that tugged her away from the course they currently traveled, and instead into a grove of roots. All of these new roots glowed blue with so many fates that it appeared the roots were nothing more than blue pulsing light.
They clung together, not sure what was happening or where they were going. Grace had a moment of dismay as she thought again that she had been pulled into the Well of Wyrding. She was so fast to dismiss the possibility that she had been plunged into the depths of corrupt wyrd that she had nearly placed it from her mind. Now she found that there was a force other than their own pulling them into a makeshift cave of roots.
Now that Grace thought about it, where they were going truly did look like a cave made of roots. It was so deep that they could not see the back despite the glowing, and Grace wondered if maybe Porillon had not made a trap for them.
When they finally reached the back of the cave they saw three floating figures. One of the figures looked off to their left, and her right arm was extended. With the pointer finger she traced invisible lines in the wyrd as if she were transcribing something there. The lines she cut through the malaise created a slight golden phosphorescence, an evanescence of fate. Grace was not sure where this particular fate was being transcribed, but it was clear to her that they had found the Norns.
The other two were copying the movements of the figure on the left, all of them writing with one hand while the free one hung at their sides, constantly squeezing and releasing as if they were pumping the fate of the one they wrote about with that one hand. There was one in the center, looking at them; or at least she would have been looking at them if her eyes were open. The other Norn faced to their right.
They looked nothing as Grace had expected and she shuddered at their appearance. Still the thundering heartbeat continued as they studied the Norns who were lit by the soft blue glowing of the roots of the Evyndelle.
Dalah didn’t seem to be surprised in the least by the oddity of the three sisters, who were rumored to have been some of the most powerful sorceresses of their time. Grace, however, could not help but stare at them in shock. In fact she believed her mouth was hanging open at the sight of them.
Though they looked human enough, there was a lot about them that made Grace think of amphibians. Their hands and feet were webbed, and kept opening and closing on nothing specific. They floated before the three women in a triangle formation, the two flanking the middle one bobbing up and down as if on a current. Their skin was a gray that matched the light gray of their dresses and the gauzy fabric that made up the veils covering their faces, which were without mouths. Instead of a nose they had slits, like one would expect a snake to have.
Nothing about the way they looked made Grace comfortable or confident in their abilities of watching over the course of wyrd.
Their hair was long and lank. At first Grace thought the white locks were hair, but on closer inspection she realized that it was not hair at all but instead hundreds of tentacles that drifted in the green wyrd around them.
“Hi,” Rosalee said in a singsong voice, smiling widely at the three women. “How are you?” The thumping they had heard for some time grew more concentrated as the Norns opened their dead white eyes. The middle one looked at Rosalee. Grace scowled at Rose and turned back to the Norns. What were they to say? They had not been expecting to find the Norns at all. This was not how she had remembered things going before.
“Why are you here?” The middle Norn asked, looking to Dalah, as she was the sorceress. Grace thought that was a very good question. After all, they didn’t know how they had come to be here, and if the Norns hadn’t summoned them into this root cave she didn’t know what had.
“One might ask the same question of you,” Dalah said, folding her arms before her.
“Very well,” the middle one said again as the other two went back to staring off in opposite directions. “We are here because the corruption of the Well of Wyrding is growing quickly out of hand.”
“That was not the case last time the well was penetrated,” Grace observed.
“I know this,” the middle Norn responded, gesturing slightly with her lax hand. Even though they were in deep conversation with the Norns, none of them stopped writing their phosphorescent fates in the air. “It is a strange thing really, the events which found us here, my sisters and I. A woman came, one of the most powerful women alive now, and we found ourselves interchanged, plunged into your dreadful world for a time. When we came back here there had been a change. Obviously we have felt this change many times since our appointment to the Well of Wyrding, but this time it was different. This woman who came had brought with her one of the sacred bloodline, and through her we felt something that should not be.
“There was, one could say, a new fate inscribed on Evyndelle,” the middle Norn continued, pointing behind her to the magnificent glowing roots that framed them. “A fate that we could not completely read. I see by your looks that you think it could have been a new language, but that is not the case.” The middle Norn shook her head to emphasize that what she said was true. “It was simply a spot that we could not see, a spot that our senses could not divine, no matter how we tried. My sisters tried to read the past of the words, and the future of the words, for if it was something that happened in the past, only one could see it.” She gestured to the Norn on the left. “If it had been something of the future fate of the lives of man, my other sister would have been able to read it.” She gestured to the other. “It bothered me, this blind spot, for I could tell that it was something happening now, as my sisters could see that it was something which was tied to the past, and something affecting the future. We simply could not read it. This has only happened a few times before.
“We realized then that things were in play in the human world that we had not been able to see, or even comprehend, but the tree knew about it all too well. So it was that we decided, as we often do, to venture further into the roots of the Evyndelle to read the wyrd that only the tree knew.”
“Wait, the tree knows things the Fates don’t?” Grace asked and Dalah lost some of her composure at the thought.
“Yes, many things the Evyndelle knows, for this is a living history of the events in the lives of men. Every life, every detail of every life is inscribed here on the roots. Except eight — the lives of the LaFayes and Arael remain unknown to the tree. For the tree is only an account of the lives of men, and does not concern itself with angels, grigori, or anakim. It is needless to tell you that the three of us cannot see the wyrd that surrounds the LaFayes either, for wyrd does not make up their lives, but to the contrary they make up the course of wyrd which surrounds them. All wyrd they touch changes, for no matter how diluted, they are of heavenly bodies, and wyrd is of Saracin.
“There is coming doom though,” the Norn continued, though Grace would have liked to hear more about the wyrd and the LaFayes. Perhaps this was the oddity that Angelica had found when reversing the wyrded storm the Tall Stranger had placed on them in the Ravine of Aaridnay. “We were able to tell that much, but the LaFaye’ are so closely wrapped up in this that we were not able to see many of the details.
“A force grows in the deep; a force that will shake the very fabric of wyrd, a force that could bring the Well of Wyrding to its knees and bid us to our deaths. It is an unknown force, a mistaken force, something that was not meant to be and therefore cannot be controlled. The
great leaves and needles, flowers and vines of Evyndelle whispered to us a name on its breeze, for it was a name that Evyndelle could not transcribe in any language it knows. The name brought fear into our very beings, but for what reason we could not tell, for it was the name of the force, this force which we have equated with our demise. Wyr, Evyndelle named the force.” The buffeting green mist swirled around the three Norns, and though they had no mouths their faces moved as though they were speaking from mouths just below the surface of unbroken skin. They gestured with their free hands as though they were explaining something through movement to the three elderly women. “The choice of this force, this wyr, will decide the fate of the world.”
“Is it a good force? Or does it mean us ill?” Grace asked, a quiver in her voice. She could not imagine something that could be the undoing of the Norns could be anything good.
“That has not yet been decided. The wyr cannot be spied, it cannot be divined, and it cannot be known by us.” All three spoke as one entity, making Grace shiver.
“The past of the wyr is shrouded in mist,” the Norn on the left said.
“The wyr’s present cannot be divined,” gestured the Norn in the center.
“The future of the wyr cannot be prophesied,” the Norn on the right said.
“Is it Porillon?” Dalah asked.
“That cannot be seen,” they said. “Your enemy is not who you think.”
“What does that mean?” Grace asked.
“Your enemy is not who you think,” they replied.
“What will happen if you die?” Rosalee asked, swaying in time with the Norns as if she were trying to keep them in line with her sight.
“That is a fate we do not want to see come about. The wyr will most certainly be the death of us, for it will have a control of wyrd that we cannot foresee or understand. It will have more control over wyrd than even us.” They swayed more solemnly now, as if they were pronouncing their own death. Their words were near-heresy, for the Goddess herself had placed the Norns in their station of power over the lives of men. “We will not die, for sorcerers cannot die in such a manner. We will cease to be, however. Our job will be done, and we will simply vanish. There will be no record of our coming or going, and our passing will not be felt for we will be wiped from the minds of all living beings that knew of us.”
“What will that do to humans?” Dalah wondered.
“Why should we care?” the Norns asked.
“Because your calling is to care about mankind,” Grace said, a dangerous glint coming to her eyes. The old lady stepped forward, stomping her foot impatiently, and surprisingly it had the same effect on the Norns as it did with most unruly people that crossed the crone. “What will happen to mankind if you die?” They gasped at the word.
“That is hard to say,” the middle Norn informed them, the one that spoke for the present.
“That future cannot be prophesied,” the Norn on the right answered.
“Well hazard a guess.” Grace was in a dangerous mood, and the Norns were beginning to grow agitated.
“The fall of Evyndelle and the death of mankind is the worst,” the future Norn answered coldly.
“Well that is a chipper thought.” Dalah shrugged.
“Not even sorcerers and other wyrders will be safe from this eventuality,” the present Norn said.
“And those races that have come to rely on humans will perish as well,” the future Norn added.
“That is part of the reason we are stuck here. It was when we finally came to be here, to read the fate on the roots, that the mayhem ensued from the breach of the Well of Wyrding. Now we write a grim fate, the fate for all wyrders possessed by their Chaotic wyrd.
“Now, what are you doing here?” The Norn asked again.
“We have come to reverse what has been done to the Well of Wyrding,” Dalah said, and the three Norns laughed in unison.
“If the wyr works as we imagine it will, there will be no need for a well, for wyrd will depend on this new force.” The past Norn said.
“Well it can’t hurt!” Grace fired back. “I’m beginning to think that you are content to float here and let this just come to be!”
“That is our way, to chronicle and watch the wyrd of mankind, not to tamper,” the past Norn said.
“Yes, and you are worried about this wyr thing, whatever it is. I tell you this, if this new force is so dependent on wyrd and the Well of Wyrding, then it would probably be best for us to cleanse the damned well and have done with it. I imagine that the corruption of the well is not going to help the wyr make a favorable decision or action, with its source as flummoxed as it is!”
“She speaks wisdom, Sister,” the Norn of the past said to the Norn of the present.
“NO!” the Norn of the future said. “We will continue with our previous plan of action. We will hunt down the wyr and stop it!”
“What?” Dalah said, shocked. Grace couldn’t say a word and Rosalee gasped. This was unprecedented. They weren’t even sure that the Norns were able to leave this place without there being an exchange. Grace was suddenly worried about the outcome of their coming here. What if the Norns were to leave now and they could not find their way out? What if Dalah, Grace, and Rosalee were stuck here forever?
“We have long since been making plans to venture to the outside world and hunt down the wyr,” the Norn of the present informed them. “But how were we to do this?”
“We could not leave without aid in opening a portal for our entry to the human world.” The Norn of the past gestured vaguely.
“And we so longed to see what was happening in the world of man now, for what we have been reading on Evyndelle was most interesting.”
“You see,” the Norn of the present said floating forward. “This force, this wyr, is connected somehow to the anakim Porillon brought here with her.”
“But how can this force be connected to Amber?” But it was like a vacuum swallowed the girl’s name even as Grace said it, as if some deafening force plucked Amber’s name out of her throat before it had time to form on her lips. Not only could the Norns not read anything about the LaFaye children, but their names could not even be uttered here.
“It is no good asking,” the Norn of the future said. “We cannot understand their lives, the lives of these anakim, we cannot even hear their names.”
“How did you know that Porillon brought with her one of these anakim?” Dalah said.
“Amber!” Rosalee shouted in glee just to see the affect that it had. When the same silencing affect came to her she looked a little disconcerted, for it truly felt like a small tendril of air had slipped down her throat and gathered the name to itself as it formed. Soon she made a game of it, however, and began reciting all the names of Sylvie’s children by rote. Grace realized that while you couldn’t hear the name, you could hear something, like a mosquito buzzing in the ear. Needless to say Rosalee had found yet a new way to annoy Grace.
“While we couldn’t see her, we could feel her,” the Norn of the Past said.
“It was like before, when an angel brought you,” the Norn of the future said.
“There was a heaviness to the murky air where the anakim stood. We could feel the weight of her presence in our minds. Her coming was like the touch of prophecy to us, a prophecy that we could not read.”
This was nearly too much for Grace to comprehend. It was no shock that the four children were strong. She knew all about their genealogy; they were anakim, after all, children born of the union of angels and men. That made them special, no doubt. She never thought that their coming would so throw their world into flux, let alone wyrd. What had the Goddess let happen? Grace clasped her hand to her head in prayer for she truly feared that the end of mankind was at hand, and she didn’t know what to do.
“So the children were never meant to be?” Dalah asked.
“No,” the Norns answered.
“Then how did they come to be?”
“This we cannot tell yo
u.” The Norns said, and their hopeless looks informed Dalah that they truly didn’t know.
“And how is this force connected to Amber?” Dalah didn’t like the feel at all of a word being snatched from her lips, and instead rephrased her question. “How is the wyr connected to the anakim?”
“It happened with their birth,” the Norns informed her.
“How can you know that?” Grace said, coming out of her prayer. “If you can’t see anything about their lives, how can you know it happened with their birth?”
“While we cannot see their lives, we can read the lives of those gone before,” the Norn of the past told them simply.
“Sylvie died with their birth.” The Norn of the future gestured.
“We are now able to see all about Sylvie’s life, and are even able to discuss her with ease, for she is now dead, and the events of her life are laid open to us.”
“So once an angel dies you are able to see their past fate?” Grace inquired.
“Yes, we are able to see all about her life, for it has been lived. While an angel, or anakim, is alive, their fate is able to change at their will, and therefore we are not able to see any of the paths they may take. There are no predestined paths for angels; they make their own paths. The lives of men are planned out, though there are many variations depending on which choices they make, and which actions they take. The lives of heavenly bodies are not. Now she is dead and we are able to see her life.”
“But we are not able to see her future,” the Norn of the future said.
“We are not able to see her death,” the Norn of the past said.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Grace nearly yelled.
“Now you see the frustration we endure with these anakim and angels,” the Norn of the present said.
Grace sighed fitfully and turned away.
“But she is dead; surely she has no future now,” Dalah said.
“This we cannot know. She is not among the dead,” the Norn of the future told them.
“What does that mean?” Grace asked.
“She is not dead?” Dalah asked Grace.
The Well of Wyrding (Revenant Wyrd Book 3) Page 12