Leaves of Flame (44 page)

Then the doors to the keeva were closed.

The heat was instant, sweat breaking out on Colin’s face as he tried to find a more comfortable position. The smoke from the fire pit began to fill the chamber.

Siobhaen began to cough, but Eraeth leaned over and said, “Breathe it in deeply and let it out slowly.”

After a moment of struggle, her breathing steadied.

When the smoke had grown dense enough that Colin could barely see Quotl across the fire pit, the Cochen stirred.

“We Gather for war,” he said bluntly. None of those within the keeva acted surprised. “This is what is known, sent to us by Clan Chief Corranu: A force of many thousands has gathered in the Thalloran Wastelands to the east. We have seen signs of this gathering for many months. Corranu and Asazi reported bands of men along the desert and in the Flats to the south, although never more than a hundred at one time. In addition, the creatures of the Turning have increased in number. War parties were sent, and the trettarus have noticed that the creatures are no longer acting singly. They are acting in groups, attacking as one more and more frequently.

“Corranu believes that the small bands have come together and, at last report, were moving toward Painted Sands lands.”

“There is more,” Asazi said, speaking before anyone could react. “As the Broken Waters Riders were preparing to leave, we received reports that a second army of creatures of the Turning had crossed the Flats, heading south.”

“So you are saying there are two armies prepared to enter dwarren lands?” one of the other clan chiefs growled.

Asazi nodded.

“But how is this possible?” the Archon said sharply. He shot a glance toward Colin. “The Summer Tree protects us from the creatures of the Turning. How could these armies threaten dwarren lands?”

A murmur of agreement rose from nearly all of the dwarren gathered, although it wasn’t as hostile as the Archon’s words.

Colin sighed. “Because the Summer Tree is failing.”

A few of the dwarren cried out, one of them leaping to his feet, his figure vague in the thick smoke. Colin saw Clan Chief Asazi nodding, his eyes dour. Broken Waters had already been affected by the failure; he had likely suspected it before he had arrived.

“What do you mean the Summer Tree is failing?” the Cochen asked, a tremor behind the grave words.

“The Seasonal Trees were created to hold the urannen and the other creatures of the Turning at bay, a barrier they could not cross, but they were not intended to last forever, only long enough for us to find a defense against them. And they were not intended to withstand an assault.”

The head shamans suddenly leaned forward as the words sank in.

“What kind of assault?” Quotl asked, drawing on his pipe.

“One that I believe has been organized by the Wraiths.” He glanced around the dim, smoky keeva. “You have all witnessed the abrupt return of the unnatural storms on the plains and the resurgence of the occumaen.”

At a few confused looks, Quotl said, “The Eyes of Septimic.”

“The reason these have returned is because the Wraiths have reawakened a massive Well somewhere in the east, somewhere in the Thalloran Wastelands from what I can determine. They are using the power of this Well to assault the barrier provided by the Seasonal Trees. I touched the Summer Tree before the Gathering and I have learned that their assault has pushed the barrier within the boundaries of the dwarren plains.”

“How far into the plains?” the Cochen demanded.

“Far enough that if Corranu sends the dwarren to meet this army coming from the Thalloran Wastelands, he will not be protected by the Summer Tree. But there is more.
The assault is not on the Summer Tree alone. The Wraiths have also targeted the Autumn Tree and the human Provinces to the south. They are driving a wedge between the two Trees, separating them at their weakest point, where the two merge. This threat is not strictly a dwarren threat. It encompasses all three races—­dwarren, human, and Alvritshai. In fact, I believe that one of the two armies is headed toward the human Province of Temeritt, even as the other heads here.”

Arguments broke out on all sides in the rough, guttural language of the dwarren as the consequences of the Summer Tree’s failure began to take hold. As Colin settled back, Eraeth leaned closer and said forcefully, “We must get word of this to the Evant.”

“And the Order,” added Siobhaen from across Eraeth’s body. Eraeth had been translating as much as he could of the discussion. “The Chosen must know, so that he can prepare the Order if the Winter Tree fails!”

Colin nodded. “I know. I’m hoping that the dwarren will see the significance of this and abide by the Accord and send word themselves. Otherwise, I’m not certain how we will let them know.” He caught their gazes. “Unless one of you is willing to return on your own to warn them.”

Eraeth and Siobhaen cast each other heated glares. Colin knew that Eraeth would not leave him alone with Siobhaen; he still did not trust her. And he knew Eraeth would not trust Siobhaen to deliver the message. He didn’t know what kept Siobhaen at his side—­a sense of duty to Lotaern, or a sense of guilt over what had happened in the White Wastes—­but he doubted she would leave him now after traveling this far.

“What about you?” Eraeth said abruptly. “You could travel to Caercaern and forewarn the Evant and then return in far less time than it would take one of us to reach them ourselves.”

“I could, but it would still require days of travel and I would return exhausted. I don’t think the dwarren or the human Provinces have such time to spare. You heard Asazi. The Wraiths are moving now. If the dwarren or the humans are to have any chance of stopping them, we need to act now. And there is something that only I can do to help them.”

Before Eraeth could ask what, the Cochen stood and bellowed, “Enough!” cutting all of the arguments off. He glared around at those gathered, the scars on his face highlighted by the pulsing reddish light of the fire pit as he spoke. He focused his attention on Colin.

“You say that the Summer Tree is failing, Shadowed One.” His voice throbbed with the weight of the Cochen. “What, then, can we do to fight these armies?”

Colin stood, barely able to fit within the keeva without hunching forward. He scanned all of the dwarren gathered. “You must fight them on the grasses of the plains. You must take your Riders and meet them head on, before the Summer Tree weakens so much that they are upon your doorstep, within your warrens or even here, at the Sacred Waters. You must battle them with ax and sword and spear, with the blood of your Riders and their gaezels, protecting the Lands that you were sworn to protect ages past. And you must honor the Accord that you signed with the Alvritshai and humans. You must call them to action to aid you against this threat, as the treaty proclaims.”

The entire group began to murmur among themselves, but the Cochen’s gaze did not waver. “And what of you? What will you do to face this threat?”

Colin smiled, his eyes flashing grimly. “I will find this Well the Wraiths have awakened and halt the attacks on the Seasonal Trees.”

C
OLIN BLINKED AND RAISED a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sunlight as he, Eraeth, and Siobhaen emerged from the tunnel opening onto the eastern plains of dwarren territory. He pulled his horse to a halt, Eraeth and Siobhaen doing the same behind him, the animal tossing its head and prancing. He released the reins to allow it to crop at the mid-­spring grasses. To the east, the grassland was broken by variegated red layers of stone outcroppings and mesas, the distinguishing feature of Painted Sands land. The reddish stone would increase in frequency, until the grassland gave way to a harsh landscape of stone, scrub, and sand of every color imaginable, finally falling into the wastelands beyond.

“Aielan’s Light,” Siobhaen gasped, throwing her head and arms back to soak in the sunlight. “I never thought I’d see the sun again. How long were we traveling underground?”

Colin smiled. “Nearly a month.”

Siobhaen reached back to loosen her long black hair from the cord that tied it away from her face. She shook her head with a scowl. “I don’t understand how they can live that way.”

“The Alvritshai used to live within the mountains beneath Caercaern and along the Hauttaeren.”

Siobhaen snorted. “Because we were driven there by the glaciers and the harsh winters in the north. We didn’t live there by choice, and we didn’t live there all year. Look at all of this land they aren’t using!”

Colin glanced around, then dismounted. “This land is what they were sworn to protect. They do use some of it—­for farming and such—­and they have set aside portions of it for trade, but no, they don’t use the rest of it. It’s sacred to them.”

Siobhaen shook her head. “I still don’t understand.”

“You weren’t raised with the dwarren beliefs,” Eraeth said, following Colin’s lead and dismounting, allowing his horse to graze. “Should we rest here before continuing?”

Colin grinned. “A moment to enjoy the sun would do us all good, I think.”

Eraeth pulled some dried meat from his packs and passed it around, Siobhaen lying down in the grass to soak up the sun, eyes closed. Colin took his staff and moved off to one side, scanning the southern horizon. The black clouds of a storm could be seen there, too distant to be threatening, moving away from them.

“Do you think the Cochen will send a warning to the Alvritshai and the Provinces as he said he would?” Eraeth asked as he halted next to Colin and handed him a strip of the meat.

“Yes. The dwarren take their vows seriously. Look at how long they’ve protected the Lands they were given. When they signed the Accord, they were the only ones who truly meant to keep its word to the letter. I suspect that a group of dwarren has already been dispatched to Caercaern and Corsair, sent before the gathered army headed toward the east.” He motioned toward the storm, a flare of lightning brightening the clouds for a moment. “That is what truly concerns me.”

“We’ve dealt with those storms before.”

Colin shook his head. “No, not the storm. What it ­portends.
The Wraiths are using the Source to target both the Summer Tree and the Autumn Tree, and the Autumn Tree is in Temeritt, far from Corsair.”

“Then the dwarren should send a warning to Temeritt and whatever GreatLord rules there.”

Colin nodded. “I urged Cochen Oraju to do that, and he said he would. But I’m afraid the warning may come too late.”

“Should we try to warn them ourselves?”

“We don’t have time. The dwarren and the Provinces will have to fend for themselves.”

“What about the Winter Tree?” Siobhaen asked. When Colin turned, he found her propped up on her elbows, her dark eyes concerned. “Have they attacked the Winter Tree? Is Caercaern in trouble as well?”

“The Wraiths haven’t targeted the Winter Tree yet. At least, not that I could sense through the Summer Tree. The Source doesn’t border on the Winter Tree’s influence.”

“And what about the Spring Tree?” Eraeth said, one eyebrow raised, his tone casual.

Colin shot him a hard warning look, but the Protector didn’t back down. “What makes you think there is a Spring Tree?” he asked bluntly.

“Common sense.”

Colin snorted, then noticed Siobhaen had sat up completely, her attention focused on Colin far too intently.

“Very few have asked about the Spring Tree,” Colin said guardedly. “I gave one Tree to each race, so that there would be no squabbling, no preferential treatment or sense of entitlement from anyone. But the fourth Tree.…”

“Where is it?” Siobhaen asked.

Colin settled a dark glare on her, frowning, then said curtly, “I have told no one where it is hidden, and there is no need for anyone to know. All you need to know is that it is safe and that it is well protected.”

When Siobhaen drew breath to press him further, he moved toward his horse and pulled himself up into the saddle, his staff set across his lap. He glowered down at both of them, noted Eraeth’s unequivocal acceptance of his assertion and Siobhaen’s blatant doubt and interest.

“We need to keep moving if we’re going to stay ahead of the dwarren army underground,” he said.

Then he kneed his horse into motion and headed out onto the empty plains, not waiting for either of them.