earth and stone of the mountain, reaching for underground streams and the nutrients of the soil; reaching also for the heady pulse of power that Colin recognized as Aielan’s Light deep within the mountain. The Tree sensed that power, strained for it, recognized it as a part of itself.
All of those were outside influences. In its heart, at its core, Colin settled into the surge of sap, the fluid rush of the Tree’s life. It enfolded him with warmth, with a shuddering, coruscating sensation of motion, smothering him from all sides. He let it course through him, reveled in its amber strength, its power tinged with the white of Aielan’s Light and the rose of the Confluence, and then he stretched out along that power and tested its reach. He searched for flaws, for signs of disease or weakness, reaching farther and farther, to the fringes of the Tree itself, stretching out beyond the confines of Caercaern, out into the surrounding lands where the power of the Winter Tree held sway. The farther from the Tree he roamed, the weaker that power became, but he didn’t sense any damage.
Then, near the edge of the Tree’s influence, out well beyond the shadow of the mountains, he felt the touch of the Winter Tree’s siblings. To the southwest, on the plains, he tasted the sugary sap of the Autumn Tree, planted outside the human city of Temeritt; to the southeast, the golden savor of the Summer Tree flooded his senses from the central plains of the dwarren, beyond the Ostraell. He explored their tastes for a long moment through their connections to the Winter Tree, searching them for damage as well. He couldn’t be as thorough from such a distance, but he could not sense any disease, and so he drew back, pulled himself back to the heart of the Winter Tree, back to Caercaern. He allowed the flow of the Tree’s life to soothe him for a long moment, then separated himself from its embrace, not without effort, and back into his own body.
He sucked in a sharp breath as a wave of dizziness enfolded him, his heart thudding hard in his chest. A moment later he felt the bark of the Tree pressing into his forehead, and he pulled back. He sagged down to his knees, and as he sank, he turned, letting his hands fall to his sides.
The sun had risen. It streamed down through the branches on the outskirts of the Tree, the area around the bole still shrouded in darkness, the leaves and branches above too thick to allow the light to penetrate here. He could see the lanterns of the Warders below, could see the members of the Flame as well. They appeared distant. He hadn’t realized he’d climbed so high.
One of them pointed toward him and he heard a faint shout, filled with concern. Two of the Wardens began making their way frantically up the roots.
“I’m fine,” he called out and waved, but they didn’t slow.
He watched them ascend, not moving, not knowing if he could move. His arms hung at his sides, hands pooled in his lap where he sat. The life-force of the Tree throbbed through his back. He felt distant and lethargic.
“Shaeveran!”
He glanced down, saw one of the Wardens scrambling up the last stretch of root to his position. The youth’s face was wide with panic and fear and Colin suddenly remembered what Lotaern had said back at the Sanctuary, that most of the acolytes and the Flame revered him.
“So different from the reactions of my own kind,” Colin muttered to himself. He hadn’t journeyed through human lands in decades. His name was legend there as well, but tainted by fear and suspicion. At least along the coasts.
“Shaeveran! Are you all right?” The youth reached Colin and fell to his knees, one hand on Colin’s shoulder, the other checking for damage. His fingers brushed Colin’s forehead and came away sticky with blood. He must have scraped his head against the bark of the Tree without realizing.
The Warden frowned and dug in his pocket for a cloth.
“I’m fine,” Colin said, pushing the cloth away in irritation as the Warden dabbed at his forehead. “I’m just… exhausted. I shouldn’t have spent so much energy on the Tree after working with Aielan’s Light.”
The second Warden arrived. “Is he hurt?” he gasped, out of breath from his climb. This Warden was older, his face red from exertion, but his tone was more practical.
“He says he’s simply exhausted, but he’s bleeding-”
“It’s just a scrape,” Colin said, then gathered himself and rose, using the Tree behind him for support. “We should rejoin Vaeren.”
The older Warden scanned his forehead, then nodded. “Very well.”
They descended. Colin regained his strength as they climbed down, although he did require the Wardens’ help at one treacherous point where the roots were nearly vertical for a stretch; he didn’t want to risk expending energy shifting into a younger form. By the time they’d reached the pooled lantern light of Vaeren’s group, he’d recovered enough to glare when Vaeren demanded, “What happened?”
“Nothing. I overextended myself, but I’m fine.” He reached for his staff, took strength from the life-force pulsing inside as he gripped the wood.
“And the Tree?” Vaeren glanced toward the thick bole before them, expression tight with concern.
“The Trees are fine. Whatever is causing the storms hasn’t affected them at all. They’re still protecting the Alvritshai, dwarren, and human lands from the Wraiths and the Shadows.”
Everyone, including the Wardens, relaxed perceptibly. The young Warden heaved a sigh of relief and muttered a prayer of thanks to Aielan.
“Then what next?”
Colin began moving back toward the gates, picking his way carefully through the tangled roots, using his staff for support.
“Now,” he said, grunting as his foot slid stepping down from one rounded knob to another. The others followed him, spread out to either side. “Now we see Lord Aeren.”
He clutched the satchel containing the knife to his side as he said it. He didn’t trust Vaeren and the Flame. He didn’t trust Lotaern.
Which meant he needed someone in the group on his side.
It was winter, so only the Tamaell resided in Caercaern. The rest of the Lords of the Evant had withdrawn to their own House lands, to ride out the winter months in the confines of their own homes. Including Aeren.
Vaeren led the small group down from the heights of Caercaern into the surrounding hills and woodland, the outer wall of the city falling away and obscured by trees almost instantly. For a brief moment, Colin stared back at the expanse of Caercaern. Sunlight glared off the white-gray stonework, off the intricate architecture, the subtle lines of the buildings slanting inward and up, giving the impression that the entire city was somehow stretching toward the heavens. The Winter Tree reached for those heights as well, its leaves of silver flickering brightly as they were riffled by the breeze. Behind, spray from the many cascading falls behind the city drifted and sparkled, catching the light and refracting it into rainbow prisms.
When it became obscured, Colin turned back, the forest shading the stone roadway. He’d traveled Alvritshai lands many times, but only recently with time slowed and never with a horse. He already felt aches and pains emerging in his thighs and backside from riding, but he found the people crowding the roadway with their carts, herd animals, and families more annoying.
“Do you hate us so much?”
He turned, startled, to find Siobhaen watching him intently from one side as they pressed their horses through the throng of people on the tail end of the road that angled up to Caercaern. It emptied out onto the wide main east-west road, where the traffic appeared to be flowing more smoothly, but here at the junction it was chaos.
“I don’t hate the Alvritshai,” he said. “If anything, I’m more comfortable with the Alvritshai than the dwarren. Certainly more than with my own race, who have willfully forgotten me.”
Doubt crossed Siobhaen’s eyes. “It would not appear so, the way you were frowning at the common people.” She waved toward the morass of people and animals below.
“I wasn’t frowning in distaste. I was frowning in annoyance. If I’d been traveling alone, I would have slowed time, slid past everyone, and been five miles distant in the time it’s taken us to move the last hundred feet.”
She considered him for a long moment, expressionless. “You should be more careful what emotions you show. Some might misinterpret them.” She glanced around at the rest of the members of the Flame, the two brothers arguing with each other twenty paces back, Vaeren ahead waiting impatiently for a cart to move out of his way. “Could you stop time for all of us?” she asked, turning with a raised eyebrow.
