“It was some of them,” Rionan nodded, shifting the canvas bag on his shoulder. “I have told you about Ulreah and Thallax. Korva is a scholar and offers guidance on matters which may require research. I do not always see eye to eye with Korva, but he is incredibly useful and dedicated to the territory. Missing from the tent tonight was Ykava, our High Healer, and Lyrna. Lyrna possesses the rare gift of being able to communicate with the creatures of Xanthia. Many of the Amassa speak with her often, providing invaluable aerial reports.”
Alianna gulped, not realising the details of the war updates that Rionan had gone to receive on his arrival here. “Did the Amassa report anything useful?”
“They shared with Lyrna that many of their own kind have been seen travelling East. We knew that some of them had been swayed by whatever Rannirr offered them. It seems more have been drawn in. Typically, the Amassa do notinvolve themselves in the politics of our realm, but…an exception is being made among them now.”
“And the healer?”
“I went to see her to pass on my gratitude. For saving Ulreah. I imagine he did not look as…as he does now, when he was pulled out of Savangrad.”
Alianna felt her food rise in her stomach as she considered the mighty power that she had been told Ulreah possesses, and what may have happened for him to leave Savangrad gravely injured. Before she could give it further thought, Rionan paused at the tent next to them and leaned his head down in a mock bow to Ali.
“My lady,” he said to Alianna, pulling the canvas curtain back and gesturing inwards. “Your accommodation for the next night or two.”
Alianna stepped inside, looking around. The tent was not grand – far from it. She presumed it was a standard size and not dissimilar to what any of the other Xanthians within the camp were using. In the centre of the tent was a bed, slightly too big for one person, but not quite big enough for two. To the left, there was a small chest, big enough for essential supplies. Next to this was a bucket. The tent did not possess any other furnishings.
Alianna lowered herself to the bed. It was not uncomfortable, and would not have been out of place in one of the more budget hotels back in Porthan. The duvets were made of a soft material, and the pillows were surprisingly plush for an emergency camp.
“We have ways of transporting such furniture to create camps very quickly,” Rionan shrugged, reading her expression as she pressed her palm against the pillow. “There is nothing worse than fleeing for your life, only to sleep on bedrolls on the floor.”
“Is that….an attempt at humour?” Alianna asked, unsure if she should smile or not.
“It is, actually,” Rionan beamed, in a surprisingly good mood given the gravity of their current situation. “I must apologise that the bed is rather small, and there is only one.”
“It’s a far cry from The Rinniel,” Alianna sighed, remembering the huge, four-poster bed back in Rionan’s suite.
“Indeed,” he nodded, bending down to unlace his boots and kick them off. He rose, wordlessly removing his shirt. She realised that the bucket must be for washing oneself, as Rionan moved towards it, hunting through the drawers for a washcloth.
Rionan left their tent to find water, which he had filled the bucket with. He returned shortly after, avoiding sloshing the water over the ground as he went, and stood, gently wiping down his arms, his face, his torso. Alianna watched, marvelling at the colour of his skin. How in contrast it was to her own. Where she was pale, yet warm, Rionan possessed an ethereal grace about him, due to the silver hues with faint undertones of pastel blue. He noticed her attention on him and paused.
“If you are going to stare,” he said with a smirk on his face. “Could you help me with my back?”
Alianna nodded, rolling up her sleeves as she moved towards Rionan. She took the washcloth and dunked it back into the bucket as he turned.
Slowly, she pulled the washcloth down across his broad shoulders, the planes of his back, and traced the whirls of smoky ink that snaked across his skin, down to the tattoo of the Well that sat above the waistline of his trousers. She noticed him shudder at the gentleness of her attention.
“Your Well. How do you fill it back up?” Alianna asked, moving the washcloth in slow circles.
“I let go. I release my power and return it to Xanthia. I always have a store available to use, of course, but most of it would be returned to the land. I need to be in my territory when doing this, but it would instantly go to the Well, andthen be transported down into the network of magic within the land itself.”
“So, is it like water?”
“Yes, and no,” Rionan replied, glancing over his shoulder at her while she now caressed the back of his neck with the washcloth. “It resembles water when in its purest form. If one were to touch it, however, they would be met with red-hot energy. This would not hurt the Lord the power belonged to, because the energy already flows through his veins. It would significantly harm anyone else.”
“So nobody can physically go into the Well?”
“Goodness, no. Even I would not attempt it, despite the fact it is unlikely to harm me. If somebody were to climb into the Well and make contact with the power that was within it, they would most likely be ripped to pieces.”
Alianna felt a chill run down her back at the thought. She coughed, placing the washcloth back into the bucket.
“All done.” She nodded. Rionan laughed and turned to her.
“A slight…what would your friend Natasha say…buzz kill, the talk of being ripped apart?”
“Something like that,” Alianna smiled sheepishly.
“Do you not want to freshen up yourself?” Rionan asked, waving his hand towards the bucket. “I can get clean water for you.”
“I’m so tired. It was a very long walk here, and after making the jump…I’m a bit drained.” Alianna scratched at the back of her head, making subtle attempts to smell herself as she did so. "Although, maybe I could do with a quick clean up.”
