back to the darkness that blotted out the sky. Even as he watched, more lightning streaked from the clouds, flashing a preternatural purple. Like the storms that had scoured the plains before and after the Accord, that had plagued the dwarren and the Alvritshai alike for decades.
Until he’d balanced the power of the Wells and the storms had stopped.
“Someone has upset the balance of the sarenavriell,” he said, stepping forward as he angled his staff across his body protectively.
“That was our thought as well,” Lotaern said from behind him. “It’s why I thought you’d come.”
“No. I knew nothing of this.” He searched the storm, as if he could find answers there. Then he spun toward the Chosen, glancing toward Vaeren and the other member of the Flame. Anger had begun to build, creeping through the shock and sudden clench of his gut. “But it isn’t possible.”
“What do you mean?”
“It isn’t possible! I spent nearly thirty years finding those Wells and adjusting them so that the power had stabilized.”He began to pace, the frigid wind and the numbness of his fingers forgotten, his brow creased in furious thought.
“And the Wraiths can’t upset that balance somehow? They can’t adjust what you did?”
“No! I placed wards around all of the Wells, not just for the Wraiths and the Shadows, but to keep everyone else away from them as well. Their power is too dangerous, too deadly. I didn’t want anyone stumbling onto one, drinking from it, becoming like me, like the Wraiths. The Wells are protected!”
“None of those wards have failed?”
“I would know. They are tied to me, linked to the Lifeblood, to the sarenavriell. Even if one had failed, most of the Wells are within the boundaries of the Seasonal Trees. The Wraiths couldn’t approach them.”
“Most, but not all. How many are outside the Trees’ influence?”
Colin paused, drew in a deep breath to steady himself, said, “Three. Only three.”
Lotaern nodded. “Then you’ll need to verify that the wards on those three are still intact and that the Wells haven’t been altered in any way. Maybe the Wraiths have found a way around your wards. Or maybe something else has occurred.”
Colin straightened, back prickling at the tone in Lotaern’s voice, the hint of condescension. The words rang with command, as if Lotaern were ordering him to act, as if Colin were one of his acolytes.
“Such as?” he asked, an edge to his voice.
The guards caught the hint of warning. They stiffened.
Lotaern ignored it. “Perhaps you haven’t found all of the Wells yet.”
Colin wanted to scoff, his shoulders already tensing, but he was forced to let the anger out with a ragged exhalation. “You helped search the Scripts for the locations of the sarenavriell. You know how exhaustive that search was.”
“Yes. But the sarenavriell existed long before the Alvritshai appeared in these mountains. It’s possible that the locations of some of them remained hidden, even from our ancestors, those who wrote the Scripts in the first place.”
Colin nodded in grudging agreement, then turned back to the storm, watching the ethereal purplish lightning light up the skyline. The storm appeared to be moving southwest, out toward the plains and dwarren lands. He frowned. With effort, he shoved his irritation with Lotaern aside. He needed to focus on this new problem, on what it meant and how to solve it.
“When did you first notice the storms?” he asked after a long moment.
“A little over two weeks ago.”
Fingers aching with the cold, Colin moved across the roof toward the doorway. He heard the Chosen, Vaeren, and the second guard following, the light of the lanterns spilling his shadow out in front of him.
“What do you intend to do?” Lotaern asked as they entered the warmth of the Sanctuary, the guards closing the doors behind them.
Colin began massaging his hands as the Chosen took the lead and they descended into the halls and
Until he’d balanced the power of the Wells and the storms had stopped.
“Someone has upset the balance of the sarenavriell,” he said, stepping forward as he angled his staff across his body protectively.
“That was our thought as well,” Lotaern said from behind him. “It’s why I thought you’d come.”
“No. I knew nothing of this.” He searched the storm, as if he could find answers there. Then he spun toward the Chosen, glancing toward Vaeren and the other member of the Flame. Anger had begun to build, creeping through the shock and sudden clench of his gut. “But it isn’t possible.”
“What do you mean?”
“It isn’t possible! I spent nearly thirty years finding those Wells and adjusting them so that the power had stabilized.”He began to pace, the frigid wind and the numbness of his fingers forgotten, his brow creased in furious thought.
“And the Wraiths can’t upset that balance somehow? They can’t adjust what you did?”
“No! I placed wards around all of the Wells, not just for the Wraiths and the Shadows, but to keep everyone else away from them as well. Their power is too dangerous, too deadly. I didn’t want anyone stumbling onto one, drinking from it, becoming like me, like the Wraiths. The Wells are protected!”
“None of those wards have failed?”
“I would know. They are tied to me, linked to the Lifeblood, to the sarenavriell. Even if one had failed, most of the Wells are within the boundaries of the Seasonal Trees. The Wraiths couldn’t approach them.”
“Most, but not all. How many are outside the Trees’ influence?”
Colin paused, drew in a deep breath to steady himself, said, “Three. Only three.”
Lotaern nodded. “Then you’ll need to verify that the wards on those three are still intact and that the Wells haven’t been altered in any way. Maybe the Wraiths have found a way around your wards. Or maybe something else has occurred.”
Colin straightened, back prickling at the tone in Lotaern’s voice, the hint of condescension. The words rang with command, as if Lotaern were ordering him to act, as if Colin were one of his acolytes.
“Such as?” he asked, an edge to his voice.
The guards caught the hint of warning. They stiffened.
Lotaern ignored it. “Perhaps you haven’t found all of the Wells yet.”
Colin wanted to scoff, his shoulders already tensing, but he was forced to let the anger out with a ragged exhalation. “You helped search the Scripts for the locations of the sarenavriell. You know how exhaustive that search was.”
“Yes. But the sarenavriell existed long before the Alvritshai appeared in these mountains. It’s possible that the locations of some of them remained hidden, even from our ancestors, those who wrote the Scripts in the first place.”
Colin nodded in grudging agreement, then turned back to the storm, watching the ethereal purplish lightning light up the skyline. The storm appeared to be moving southwest, out toward the plains and dwarren lands. He frowned. With effort, he shoved his irritation with Lotaern aside. He needed to focus on this new problem, on what it meant and how to solve it.
“When did you first notice the storms?” he asked after a long moment.
“A little over two weeks ago.”
Fingers aching with the cold, Colin moved across the roof toward the doorway. He heard the Chosen, Vaeren, and the second guard following, the light of the lanterns spilling his shadow out in front of him.
“What do you intend to do?” Lotaern asked as they entered the warmth of the Sanctuary, the guards closing the doors behind them.
Colin began massaging his hands as the Chosen took the lead and they descended into the halls and
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