"I heard some strange tales as I traveled here, Aeron," the elf said. "The folk of the countryside whisper that the dead are walking, that the ground has soured, that evil is abroad in the land."
"Any word of other sorcerers at work?" Aeron asked. "Crow seemed to imply that those who served Oriseus might be abroad, working to further his purposes."
Fineghal frowned. "No, I heard no such stories. But I did encounter tales of a different sort, of mages and magicians who had suddenly disappeared. Wizards are uncommon folk to begin with, so I didn't pay it any attention, but now I wonder if it might be important."
"Disappeared? How?"
"In some cases, the mage vanished years ago, but in Villon people were speaking of their lord's magician, who had deserted his master's court only a few days ago."
Aeron scowled in thought, trying to make sense of it. "I suspect that these are all symptoms of one illness," he said. "Do you remember what I told you of my journey through the plane of shadow? It seems to me that all of this is familiar. I've experienced this before. There's no Weave in the Shadow, only the magic of the dark powers."
"That sounds like what we have witnessed in our own world over the past few weeks," Fineghal said slowly. "Do you think that the borders between the worlds are growing weak for some reason? That we are seeing the planes of shadow in the living land around us?"
"I'm certain of it," Aeron replied.
"Assuran preserve us," Eriale breathed.
"Such events have happened from time to time over the years," Fineghal said thoughtfully. "Yet these conjunctions have rarely lasted for more than a few nights. By day, the shadowrealm's power cannot exist in our world. How can this continue week after week? When will it end?"
"I don't think it will," Aeron said. "I think Oriseus has mastered the Shadow Stone. This is his doing."
"That," said Fineghal, "is a dire thought indeed."
"Can you do anything to set things right?" Eriale asked.
Aeron turned to look at her. "You told me that I'd have to confront my failure at the college again. I think you're right. I cannot conceive of any magic that would undo Oriseus's enchantment. But if I go to Cimbar I might be able to find out what he's doing and how I can stop it."
"Do you really think you can defeat Oriseus and his allies?" Eriale asked quietly.
"I'll have to try. I might be able to find help at the college. Master Telemachon is long dead, and Sarim's fallen now too, but a few other masters opposed Oriseus's rise to power. And I had other friends there, too."
"I'll help in any way I can," Fineghal said.
"And I as well," Eriale added.
Aeron shook his head. "Eriale, you can't help me if it comes down to a confrontation with Oriseus and his allies."
"Why don't you ask Master Crow if I was any help to you or not?" Eriale replied. She leaned forward, her face intense with emotion. "You've told me Oriseus was responsible for Crow and the evil he worked here. I want to make him pay for what Crow did to my father. Don't try to protect me from this, Aeron. It's my right."
"We may not be able to count on our magic for much longer," Fineghal added. "Your sister may be right, Aeron. Let's not discount the possibility that we'll need an archer of her caliber to defeat your old master."
Aeron grimaced in distaste. He didn't like the idea of deliberately leading Eriale into danger, but she was right. "All right," he surrendered. "But I'll ask that you try to stay out of harm's way."
Eriale only smiled. "When do we leave?" she asked.
* * * * *
Early the following morning, Aeron, Fineghal, and Eriale commandeered horses from Phoros Raedel's stables for their journey. To his surprise, the stableman let them have three sturdy coursers without a word of protest. The soldiers and servants of Castle Raedel knew the part Aeron and Eriale had played in freeing them of Master Crow's lordship and were grateful. Aeron secured some provisions as well, and they rode west out of the castle within an hour of sunrise, Baillegh trotting at Aeron's heel.
By all rights, it should have been mid-fall, a beautiful time of year for a ride. The Maerchwood should have been ablaze with a thousand hues of flame and gold, and the nearby fields of Maerchlin should have been head-high with ripe wheat and corn. But the ground was sodden and damp with thick, black mud. The fields were strewn with pale, sickly crops ruined by a plague of rot-causing worms. Even the trees had sloughed off their black leaves, standing naked to the skies with soft, rotten bark.
After a long day's ride, they reached the wide fields and scattered farmhouses of Saden. The outpost was in no better shape than Maerchlin, with large pools of black standing water fouling its fields and a stink of rotten grain permeating the air. Eriale wrinkled her nose in disgust. "This is even worse than it was a week ago."
"I wonder if the Shadow Stone's influence is still increasing," Fineghal said. "Its effects may grow even more pronounced with time."
They stopped for the night at Kestrel and Eriale's house in Saden. After a supper of black bread and stew, Aeron and Fineghal stayed up late, talking of Aeron's time in the college and his final days there. Fineghal hoped to find some insight into the nature of the Shadow Stone's power, but they had little success.
The next morning, the three travelers restocked their provisions and resumed their journey. The first time Aeron had made this trip, he'd gone north from Saden to Oslin on the Akanamere, taking passage on a keelboat to Soorenar before switching to a coastal dromond for the last leg of his journey to the great city. This time, Eriale's neighbors warned them against that path. Between Akanax and Soorenar the armies dueled like blind, dumb beasts, lurching from village to village as they grappled for advantage. Few ships on the Akanamere were safe, and Akanax itself was virtually under siege. Aeron and Fineghal agreed that it seemed wiser not to ride into a war if they could avoid it, and set out northeast, following the Adder River and riding across the empty lands of eastern Chessenta.
They managed several days without any serious incidents, setting their course westward along old cattle trails and cart tracks. The lands they rode through had once been heavily populated, with prosperous towns and crowded fields nestling close together in the gentle hills, but in the chaos surrounding the fall of Unther's empire four centuries before, Chessenta's eastern provinces had been ravaged by plague and war. "All this land," murmured Eriale. "It's so desolate, so lonely."
"It will be full of people again someday," Fineghal told her. "In a lifetime or two, folk will come to take up the land that has fallen into disuse. They'll make a good life for themselves, and kings will rise to defend them against those who want to take it from them. It's only a matter of time."
"I hope you're right," Aeron said. "For the past two days, I've been wondering if this is how things will go if we can't undo the Shadow Stone's spell. Each year another house falls empty, another field grows wild, a stone wall falls and is not rebuilt. The circle of light and life around every hearth shrinking closer and closer, until all who are left wait shivering for the darkness to fall. It won't be a quick end, or a noble one."
That night, they came to a small crossroads with a battered old inn sitting beside it. A worn sign creaked from above the door, and warm yellow light seeped out from shuttered windows. Horses stamped and shuffled in the large stable yard beside the building. Aeron was tired and sore from riding, and he did not look forward to another night of camping underneath the cold, clammy mists. He reined in his horse and regarded the innhouse with a thoughtful look.