The Well of Fates

PROLOGUE

  Winter, 3434 of the Second Aeon

  Auhild slunk between the straight white trunks of the alders that lined the river. The water was long since frozen solid, but he didn’t want to walk on it tonight. The wolves didn’t like to go out on the ice. Winter winds blew the snow off of the frozen surface and left little traction for them.

  An owl hooted once, and Auhild paused, listening. There was no answer. He froze, searching the shadows, holding his breath so the clouds of vapor didn’t interrupt his view. Since Valdr had discovered the truth behind the mysterious deaths, they’d all been on their guard. It didn’t save many, but at least people knew what to fear. It was hard to run from everything. Is it any easier to wage a war on shadows?

  The woods were dangerous tonight, tonight and every night. But night was dangerous everywhere. He wanted to be home with Freya and little Kell. Freya would have the fire built up, and all the candles lit. The whole house would be glowing with light. He eyed the darkness.

  The howl of a wolf rose slowly over the valley. One by one other voices joined the first until the whole pack was crying at the night. Auhild gasped. So many, and close. He scanned the bare treetops for the bright eyes of the owl that had called before, but saw nothing. They were all close, but not close enough.

  Just to his right, a shadow shifted. Auhild didn’t wait to see more. He sprinted for the house, only a half a league away, but he knew he’d never make it. He wondered if Freya and Kell would hear him scream, but there wasn’t time. The footsteps crunched through the snow right behind him, only two steps. Then he felt a whisper of a breeze on the back of his neck. His body crumpled lifeless into the snow.