Well Of The Damned Part 16

The horse slipped. She lurched forward. Caught by surprise, she grappled for a fistful of mane to stay in the saddle. The animal went to its knees and scrabbled for purchase. She flipped over its head and onto the rocky slope. Pain shot through her back, and she cried out. Beneath her, the rocks shifted, and she began to slide down the steepest part of the slope. Above her, the horse screamed. Cirang grasped at everything she could reach as she slid downhill on her belly. Rocks and debris sc.r.a.ped her skin, but the only thought in her mind was hope the horse wouldn't land on her. An ominous crack split the air, followed by a deep rumble she felt down to her bones. Before she realized what was happening, dirt and rocks began to fall towards her. The ground beneath her dropped. She fell faster. Although the rocks and sticks beat against her body and face, there was no pain. She quit trying to grapple for a handhold and instead crossed her forearms over her chest and rolled sideways, hoping she would eventually roll clear of the mountain coming down on top of her.

And then the world went black.

Chapter 29.

Something heavy pressed on her, crushing her chest so tightly she could hardly take a breath. In the darkness, she saw small knife-points of light. Rocks and dirt ground her down from above as if they could make her one of them. She tried to move her hand, but it was trapped too. She found she could tilt her face just enough to put her mouth closer to the slit of daylight and suck in air. Everything hurt. Even if the horse was still alive, which was doubtful, she didn't think she'd be able to get into the saddle.

The fingers on her left hand were free, and she wiggled them and pushed against the rocks above her hand. Soon she found she could turn her hand palm up, and she strained against the weight keeping her arm immobile. She heard the rocks shift and tumble away, and then her arm was free. The first thing she did was grope for the rocks over her head and face to push them away. The weight rolled off and the light and air and rain came flooding into her face and mouth, though her chest was being held so tightly she couldn't take the breath she needed.

Crushing her torso was a huge rock, much too big to grasp and fling aside. It was smooth, without hand holds to grab. Her only chance to get it off was to use its own weight to do the work. She reached underneath her left side to grab smaller rocks and push them away. Little by little, the weight of the boulder on top of her began to shift towards her left side, the downhill side. Its movement hurt like h.e.l.l as it shifted across her tender rib cage. And then it rolled over her free arm and went bouncing down the hill.

Air rushed into her lungs, filling her body with pain like she'd never felt before. She groaned, afraid to take in more air but desperate to fill her lungs. She breathed in short bursts like a dog panting until the pain subsided enough to move. It became easier to push the rest of the rocks off her body, and after a few minutes, she could sit up and a.s.sess the damage.

She ached all over, and she was utterly soaked, but no bones seemed to be broken. A sharp pain in her side was the worst. Her clothes were bloodied in spots where she'd suffered sc.r.a.pes and cuts, and on her right side, a larger patch of blood darkened her tunic to mark the area of the most intense pain. She lifted the hem.

A shard of rock had sliced through the fabric of her shirt and corset and embedded itself into her skin between two ribs. No doubt some of her ribs were cracked, but this shard explained why breathing hurt so much. She touched it gingerly and winced from the pain. Removing it was going to hurt like mad. Better get some water to wash the wound.

With great effort and gritting of teeth, she managed to stand on shaking legs. One of her boots, her cloak, and her pack were missing. She wasn't sure how she could find them in the pile of rubble, but at the very least, she needed that pack. Without the journal, she had no chance of distracting Kinshield away from his pursuit of her. She swept her gaze across the mess the landslide had made. A hoofed brown foot jutted up from beneath the rocks and dirt. Stupid horse. This was all its fault. She was glad it was dead, but its death was also terribly inconvenient. She'd have to walk the rest of the way to Ambryce, despite her injuries.

After taking a few tender steps on the shifting rocks, she pushed aside the rocks nearest the area where her feet had been when she first regained consciousness. Maybe the boot had come off not long before she'd stopped her fall. Something brown showed through, and she reached down and tugged it. It came free, pushing rocks aside. The knapsack - what luck. She checked inside and found the empty waterskin and Crigoth Sevae's journal, damp but intact. Excellent.

She looked for her boot but gave up after a while, though she did find her cloak, and shook it as hard as she could manage to fling away the water from the underside. She ripped what was left of Vandra's spare tunic, noting the make-shift bandages were gone, and wrapped up her foot, padding the bottom with leaves she stripped from a tree that had been uprooted in the landslide. The cuts on her hand had bled a little but not enough to trouble her.

With a hand cupping the shard in her side to keep it from shifting, she returned to the knapsack and dug out the waterskin. She didn't know where the other was, but there wasn't much of a chance to find it now. She uncorked its top and shook the last two drops of water into her open mouth. Perhaps she ought not try to remove the shard until she could get to the river to rinse the wound and quench her thirst. She studied the cork in one hand and the skin in the other, realizing the shard was a cork for her blood. She'd better wait and let a healer do it.

Then she noticed the sound of trickling water. A quick look around confirmed there was no stream nearby. The stones on the mountainside were dark where water was streaming down from above. She traced its origin up to the top - to where the eagle-shaped boulder overlooked the valley below.

The G.o.ds favor me.

She limped over to where the water trickled from a jutting rock to drip onto the stone below it. She let it pool into her cupped hand - cool, clear water. Could this be water from the famed Well of the Enlightened? She hadn't seen any clean water up there. Could the mud pit have been an illusion created by whatever magical force was protecting the wellspring? The landslide must have caused the wellspring to leak. Now here was the water for the taking.

She uncorked the skin once again and held its open mouth under the trickle of water. Although it took a while, it eventually filled the skin. She lifted it to her lips for a drink.

An uneasy feeling stopped her. If this water was from the wellspring, perhaps the safer play would be to test it on someone else before drinking it herself. She corked the skin tightly and tucked it into her knapsack. She wasn't far from the Flint River. She would drink her fill then.

Something dark near the dead horse caught her eye, and she made her way across the rocks towards it. She used her foot to push the rocks away. It was the second waterskin. The G.o.ds favored her indeed. Gingerly, she reached down and picked it up. It had been battered, but it still held a few drops. She drained what was left of it, and filled it from the trickle of water on the mountainside. Two skins of the magical water would surely weigh her down with coins and lift her up with admiration and praise from those who would drink it.

Without wasting another moment, Cirang slung the strap of the pack over her shoulder and limped as quickly as she could to the south and west, towards Ambryce.

Chapter 30.

They mounted up and followed the hoof prints left behind by Cirang, riding at as quick a pace as they dared, not wanting to overwork the horses without knowing what lay ahead. It took roughly two hours before they could make out a trail winding up the side of the mountain, and after another couple hours of uphill riding, they came to a fork in the trail.

"Look at this," Vandra said, pointing at the ground in front of her. "Her tracks go up and back down. Wonder how far up she went. This trail leads south to the Flint River. That one goes up."

Gavin looked up, desperately wanting to see for himself whether the wellspring was real, but his main concern was capturing Cirang. "Let's keep going then. To the river."

They followed the trail as it sloped back downward, but not far beyond the fork, it ended abruptly. At the bottom of the slope lay a pile of rocks, uprooted trees and earth. Landslide. Gavin's first thought was for Cirang's health or, hopefully, the lack of it.

"What about Cirang?" Daia asked. "Is she dead?"

Gavin connected with Daia's orange conduit and searched for Cirang in the forest to the south. He saw her making her way on foot down the river, pausing now and then for a moment, but he had to give her credit for perseverance. "She's alive," he said, releasing the magic. "Looks as if she might be injured. She's walking down the river towards Ambryce."

"Walking?" Vandra asked with a scowl. "You mean on horseback."

He shook his head sadly. "I didn't see a horse's haze with her. I'm sorry."

Her expression was grim as she looked down at the rubble below. "Argo..." Water dripped down her face.

"I'm sorry, Vandra," Daia said. "He was a fine mount and a loyal friend."

"No. He could still be alive. King Gavin could heal him."

Gavin didn't see a horse haze, however weak, in the rubble below. "Sorry, Vandra. Argo didn't make it." He reached forward to brush Golam's gray mane and pat his neck. Had Cirang stolen Golam... No. He couldn't bear to think of it.

Calinor said, "We should be able to catch up to her afore she reaches Ambryce."

She had several hours' lead on them, but that was before she'd lost her mount. "Maybe," Gavin said. "I'm not worried. She'll try to hide somewhere, or just get supplies and a horse and leave. Even in Ambryce, I can find her haze among all the citizens." He looked back up the mountain, longing to see the wellspring. "Look through the rubble for anything she might've lost in the landslide. Hopefully the journal."

"You're not going up there, are you?" Calinor asked.

"I want to see what she found."

"We should leave it be," Daia said quietly. "King Arek warned you to stay away for good reason."

Gavin knew she was just doing her job of guarding his life, but his mind was made up. "I'm going up."

"Maybe we should bring Vandra with us," Daia suggested. "In case we have to fight... something."

Gavin gave her an impatient look. "Cirang dealt with whatever's up there all by herself, and she only has a dagger. We'll be fine." In reality, he felt such a strong compulsion to see the wellspring, no argument would have swayed him from this journey. He recognized his own obstinance for what it was, but even that realization didn't give him pause. He had to see it.

They started ascending the mountain with Daia leading the way. She refused to let him go ahead, in case the trail wasn't stable. He didn't bother protesting. She was at least as stubborn as he was, and they'd spend valuable time arguing. The trail was fairly steep and more slippery than he hoped it'd be. When the horses kicked stones loose, Gavin grew more nervous. Two landslides on the same mountain in the same day weren't beyond the realm of possibility. He noticed an eagle-shaped rock, perched high atop the mountain as though it were about to swoop down upon those who dared to approach its nest.

As he rode, leaning forward over Golam's thick neck, he wondered how the guardians would appear to them. Maybe the eagle rock above him would become a real raptor, twice the height of a man with talons that could crush his skull with hardly an effort.

He shuddered and shook the thought away. Anxiety, slithering up his spine, warned him to turn back, but curiosity was the greater force within him.

"Gavin," Daia said, wariness in her voice, "the hairs on my neck bristle. Rethink your priorities here. Capturing Cirang is the more important goal."

Gavin felt the warning in the pit of his stomach too, but Aldras Gar was silent. If there was danger, it would tell him. "If you want to turn back," he said, "you're welcome to." He knew she wouldn't; she took her job as his protector seriously.

"I won't let you go without me," she said. "I'm just suggesting you reconsider."

"Cirang didn't turn back."

"Not before this point," Daia said, "but she did turn back. We just don't know why or when."

"Then let's stop yammering and find out," Gavin said.

They reached the top without incident. "It's not raining here," Gavin said. He looked out at the sky over Thendylath, gray clouds as far as he could see. Here, the clouds broke up, and a clear sky graced lands to the east, towards the neighboring country of Osgan. The air was cool without being chilly, with a sweet lemony scent. The top of the mountain was flat and green with tall gra.s.s and immense, strong trees. Bees and other insects gorged themselves on the succulent nectar of the yellow daisy-like wildflowers that covered the ground ahead and to the left.

To the right, a gla.s.sy pool of brilliant blue-green water glistened in the sunlight. He'd never seen water so beautiful nor so alluring. The rocks on the western edge formed a wall, keeping the wellspring water from spilling down the mountainside. The eagle rock stood majestically with its stony wings half open, leaning out over the valley below.

"This is the wellspring?" Daia asked. "h.e.l.l's bones! What happened to it?"

Gavin dismounted and let go of the reins so Golam could graze on the gra.s.s while he approached the edge of the spring. "What do you mean? It's magnificent." He started towards the water's edge.

Her firm hand grasped his arm. "What are you doing? Don't go near it."

"It's awright," he said, prying her fingers off. "It's just water."

"Water?" she asked. "Are you mad? It's a black, stinking mud pit. Some kind of magic must be luring you to it. Gavin, listen. It's just a mud pit. Let's go. There's no wellspring here."

Rings formed in the center of the spring, widening outward, followed by bubbles.

"Something's happening," Gavin said.

A figure rose slowly from the water, spinning so fast he couldn't make out whether it was even human.

"Look out!" Daia ducked, covering her head with one hand and pulling her sword from its scabbard with the other. "d.a.m.n, I've never seen bats this big."

"Bats? What bats?"

"By Yrys!" Daia shouted. She was crouched down, slicing with her sword at the air. "Let's get out of here. Gavin, come on."

Gavin couldn't move. He was mesmerized by the sight of the figure, clear like gla.s.s, rising up out of the water. It was spinning as it rose. When it broke the water, its spinning slowed. He saw not one face, but two. When it stopped, it separated into two distinct, ghostly Elyle.

Like others of their kind, they had triangular ears high atop their heads and round eyes, and stood tall with long legs and arms, but these two had no fur. They looked to be made of water. He briefly wondered whether they would speak to him as the Elyle of the mid-realm had, in squeaks and whistles he heard as words in his mind. For a moment, though, they regarded him in silence.

Behind him, he could hear Daia grunting with the effort of fighting off giant bats only she could see.

"Wayfarer, you should not have brought a companion," the two beings said simultaneously. In his mind, he heard both a female voice and male, their pitches harmonized, though his ears heard nothing at all. "She is not permitted here."

As Daia's swipes came faster, her grunts became shrieks. She was in the grip of a full-blown terror. "Gavin! Come on!"

"Whatever you're doing to her, stop at once," he said, gesturing to his champion. "She's here to protect me, and I won't send her away."

"As you wish," the guardians said.

Daia stopped shrieking and let the sword drop to her side. "What in the seven realms?" she asked breathlessly. "Did that just happen?"

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"We protect this wellspring from those who would steal our essence," the guardians said.

"Because they were attacking me. Didn't you see them?" Daia asked.

"No, they weren't real," he told her. "My thanks. How did you know she's afeared o'bats?"

"We know what's in everyone's heart. We know what's in yours, too, Wayfarer."

"What? Who are you talking to?"

"The guardians." The fact that they had made no effort to drive him away wasn't lost on Gavin. Aldras Gar, too, was quiet. "You don't see them?"

"I see a mud pit. That's all."

"Why do you show yourselves to me and not to her?" he asked them.

"We have always appeared to the Wayfarer."

"The woman who came afore me. Did she drink the water?"

"We drove her from here with illusion before she reached the water," the guardians said.

"Tell me about the water. Why do you protect it?"

"It contains our essence. If one consumes the waters of this wellspring, his khozhi balance is disrupted."

"Disrupted how?" Gavin asked.

"The essence would be reversed."

These words stiffened Gavin's spine. "Our people call it the Well of the Enlightened."

"Enlightenment occurs when the soul reaches the end of its journey, and at that moment, it departs the body and returns to the Is. No one who is truly enlightened remains embodied. After consuming this water, the kho-bent become zhi-bent, and the zhi-bent become-"

"Kho-bent," Gavin said. Seven h.e.l.ls! That must have been what Arek knew that Crigoth Sevae did not.

"Exactly so," they said. "The zhi-bent have an awareness of belonging to something greater than themselves. The kho-bent feel completely separate and distinct, to the point they consider themselves superior to others. However, the individuals in your realm have a mixed khozhi that tends to be zhi-dominant. Drinking the water reverses that balance. Consumers who are zhi-dominant become kho-dominant, not entirely kho-bent."

"How did the water get like that?"