A Guardian of Shadows (Revenant Wyrd Book 4) (5 page)

Before her was a pedestal, and on it rested a stone the size of her fist and black as the world’s first night. Somehow, if it was even possible, the stone drank in the darkness around it, as if it were a living being, and the shadows were its sustenance.

Sara felt a pulling at her stomach, like her very soul was being drawn with the darkness into the depths of the stone. She knew instantly what it was.

“Wyrders’ Bane,” she whispered, clasping a hand to her cramping stomach. “Get me away from it!” she ordered the orb.

Instantly she was launched out of the orb and back into her body with such force that the chair rocked back.

Sara gasped for breath and sat forward, rubbing at her eyes.

How could the stone affect her like that when it wasn’t anywhere around?

She didn’t have long to think on it though, because there was a rising darkness in the orb, like a shadow, or a shade slipping over the light which emanated from the center of it.

She leaned forward, watching the shadow gather closer to the surface, trying to make out a feature, but it wasn’t anything she could name; just a shadow, almost like a storm cloud.

Was that what it was? A warning of a coming storm?

The darkness within abated some, but not completely, leaving on the orb a residue almost like a film of ash. Sara reached for it, but her hand felt repelled, sickened as she’d felt when confronted with the stone called Wyrders’ Bane.

“Is that what it is?” Sara wondered aloud. She gathered a handkerchief from a desk drawer and cleaned the residue off the orb. If the stone could send darkness through the orb, she was reluctant to use it again. Wyrders’ Bane knew where she was. Did it have a lock on her location?

“Dear Goddess, Sara, it’s just a stone.” But try as she might, she couldn’t make herself fully believe that Wyrders’ Bane was
just
a stone any longer.

Around midday they reached the edge of the swamp, and it became apparent they couldn’t travel into it as Pi had wanted to. From the ground up as far as Cianna’s eyes could see shimmered the opalescent barrier that kept the kelpies at bay, but that didn’t mean the kelpies still didn’t want to get at the humans looking in at them. The half-horse, half-fish creatures slammed against the barrier, trying to get out, but each time were repelled back further in the swamp, as the barrier sparked at their touch.

“Can’t you do something?” Pi pleaded with Cianna.

“No. I can influence them, but like I said before, they are a different type of creature, they won’t obey my whim.”

“But you made them
kill
!” Pi said. She was really starting to irritate Cianna.

“All the kelpies want is for others to join them. I didn’t make them kill, I just gave them a target. Besides, I felt for Clara before, right after the battle, and I couldn’t feel her then, when we were standing directly over the place where she had gone over. I doubt there’s anything to feel.”

“But what does that mean?” Devenstar asked, his eyes dark, his voice solemn.

Cianna sighed. “I don’t want to give you false hope, because I really don’t know. But I suspect she has either already crossed over, or she is not dead after all.”

“How is that false hope? If she isn’t dead, then she is stuck out there with them, unable to get out,” Pi said. “
Do
something!”

“
You
do something dammit! All you’ve been doing this entire time is whining at me, making demands of me that aren’t fair since I
can’t
do a Goddess-damned thing about it. I’m sorry she fell over the edge, but I have someplace to be. If you want to search for her, then do so, I can’t.”

“Just like that,” Devenstar said. “You’re leaving us?”

“This was never a permanent thing. I would like you to come with me, but if you are bent on finding her, and I can’t help, what good will I do?”

“Fine, go. We’re staying here.” Pi said.

Cianna looked to Flora; the old lady only nodded, granting Cianna permission to leave. But there was a look in her eyes — pleading, maybe? No, it was more accusatory. It was a look that wounded Cianna beyond words, because in that look she knew she had disappointed Flora.

Cianna turned to leave, and even made it a couple steps before she stopped.

What would she do if it had been the twins? What if her friends had fallen over the edge? She would probably make the same demands Pi was making now.

She watched Pi gathering wyrd about her, channeling it down her arms until sage-green fire wreathed her hands. She pressed her hands to the opalescent wall holding the figures of the kelpies at bay: the fire fizzled out. Useless.

Cianna sighed and stomped back. More than anything it was the hurt in Deven’s eyes that changed her mind. She couldn’t leave him to deal with this. She couldn’t leave any of them. Flora reminded her of a mother she’d never known, and all of them were as close to a family as she had seen this entire time. They had accepted her into their fold without any questions. No matter how the Necromancers’ Mosque dragged her on, she couldn’t leave them to deal with this alone.

She might only be able to influence the kelpies, but that was better than they could do. With any luck she would be able to at least keep the creatures from feasting on her friends.

“We need to figure out a way to get inside the barrier,” Cianna told them, bundling her long dark hair up in a bun at the base of her neck. “Don’t bring it down completely, because then the kelpies will get out.”

Deven brightened when Cianna came back, and his smile made her heart skip a beat.

“I can’t influence it at all,” Pi said. If she was still angry with Cianna, it didn’t show. She turned to Flora. “Is there anything you can do?”

“And someone needs to stay here with Chy; I won’t have him going in there with us, in case something happens. Better if I only have to protect a couple of people,” Cianna said. She dropped her travel pack to the ground and made sure her weapons were easily at hand, though she didn’t know what good they would be against such creatures. Her rapier was at the ready, and her crossbow in easy reach.

“She’s my sister, I’m going,” Devenstar declared.

“She’s my girlfriend, I’m going too.” Pi was resolute.

“I will stay back. I’ve trained them well enough that they should be fine. Now let’s see what we can do about that barrier.” Flora stepped forward.

It was the largest, most magnificent tree either of them had ever seen. Angelica and Jovian stood before the massive trunk, its branches stretching up higher than their eyes could see; so far, in fact, that Jovian imagined that the leaves were not even part of this world, but existed somewhere outside of it, in the cosmos themselves. But up there in the sky, there weren’t any stars, or a sun, or even a moon — only a great expanse of violet light. He had seen this light before when he and Angelica had taken the dark flower infusion. That violet sky was the light of the Goddess, the Everafter.

Down the trunk, and pattering lightly from the leaves like rain, they could see silver drops of something that might be liquid. From their shared memories, Jovian knew that it wasn't rain at all, but wyrd.

Angelica had been here before, in a dream, and it was through that shared memory that Jovian recognized this place for what it was. The overgrown courtyard and the gigantic well surrounding the impossibly large trunk of the Evyndelle stood before them in all their glory.

“The Well of Wyrding,” Jovian breathed reverently. In fact, it was the first time in his life that he had ever been awed in a way that he would call religious.

“It's healing,” Angelica said, wonder in her eyes. “Grace must have done it. Grace changed the course of wyrd!”

But then the thought intruded on both of them instantly.
At what cost?
They had seen what had become of Grace, Rosalee, and Dalah. They had been attacked by them. They had seen Grace use wyrd, when they had never known her to possess any.

Jovian knew it was true. The Well of Wyrding was healing. The memory Angelica had of this place played back in his mind. Jovian could see the green poison of the corrupted wyrd hanging over the silver, pure wyrd he watched trickle and drip down into the well, the repository of wyrd.

Hesitantly he stepped forward, his feet brushing aside leaves that had previously fallen from the tree. A breeze stirred them, pushing them across the courtyard with a melodious rustle, clearing a path before him directly to the stairs that wound up the side of the well.

“We don't belong here,” Angelica said.

Jovian felt it too. There was a feeling inside of him that at any moment they might get caught. He hadn't felt that way since he was a child, going through the kitchens at night, knowing that he shouldn't be there, and fearing that at any moment Grace might come in on him and he would be in trouble.

In the branches above, a wind stirred that couldn't be felt as far down as Angelica and Jovian were. He looked up, his head dizzy at the impossible height of the tree, and almost felt like the tree was conveying something to him.

“The tree feels it too.” Angelica stepped up beside her brother, and gazed at the impossible height of the branches.

“What does it mean?”

“I don't know. But don't you feel it?” Angelica asked.

“The tree . . . does it fear us?” Jovian asked. He looked up at the Evyndelle. It didn’t look afraid. But there was an air of fear hanging over the place. Like they were something putrid treading on hallowed ground. The air quivered around them.

“That's absurd.” Angelica tried laughing, but she couldn't quite bring herself to.

At their presence the tree shivered.

Jovian paused, one foot on the first step. There was a shift in the air. Something was happening — the air felt like someone had taken a giant breath and was holding it, waiting. His ears felt stifled, like pressure was building in his head.

Then, as though gravity had tilted, the drops of wyrd slowed their steady progression down toward the well. One lone drop of wyrd fell toward Angelica, landing on her cheek. Where the drop of wyrd touched, Angelica felt warmth absorb into her flesh, like liquid sunshine.

“What?” she said. Stepping back, Angelica brushed at her cheek.

“What was that?” Jovian asked, but there was no time for an answer, because more drops of wyrd followed the first one. Slowly, methodically, the drops of wyrd slid from the base of the tree and drifted through the air toward Angelica and Jovian, landing on them like rain falling to the earth, seeking home in the soil.

Where the wyrd touched, their skin glowed.

It was reverie. Jovian smiled at the feel of the wyrd, like electricity humming across his skin. He moved backward off the steps and went to Angelica’s side.

But slowly the good feelings were replaced by understanding.

The sky darkened, as if a storm was coming. Inky black started bleeding through the violet light above. Jovian looked up into the troubled sky, the home of the Goddess, at the crown of the tree. What was happening?

“But, if the tree is giving us its wyrd…” Angelica looked toward the tree, and noticed for the first time that it looked old, tired.

“The wyrd feeds the tree,” Jovian said. He couldn’t take his eyes off the sky.

“And it’s giving it to us,” she said, trying to bat away drops of wyrd. “No, go back!” She tried commanding it, but the wyrd was drawn to them. Angelica held her hands out, an intense look of concentration on her face as she tried wyrding the power back to the tree where it belonged.