Eurue- The Forgotten World

by Elaina J Davidson

  She made a face as she reached for mugs. “Is it safe here?”

  “It is, Jala, I promise. He has concentrated his attention on Alusin’s world now.”

  She relaxed somewhat. “I’m sorry.”

  Finding a wooden barstool under the highly polished counter separating the kitchen from the dining area, Tristan perched there. Glancing at Alusin, seeing the man’s focus on Savier, he sighed and lowered his head to his arms.

  “You’re exhausted,” Jala murmured.

  He nodded without lifting his head.

  “I see you final scars are gone now too.”

  He did lift his head then.

  She smiled at him. “I’m glad. You are a beautiful man, Tristan. Why did you wear them, your scars?”

  He grimaced. “Because I look exactly like my grandfather and needed to be seen as someone other than him. He is far away now and thus I no longer need them. All know he is gone.”

  “That, I think, is the simple answer.”

  He laughed softly. “Indeed, but it is the truth.”

  “We have heard stories about Torrullin Valla. Folk say he was powerful.”

  “He is powerful. He isn’t dead, Jala; he is somewhere beyond our reach.”

  Her dark eyes looked into his soul. “You wish he wasn’t so far away.”

  “Every damn day.”

  She touched his hand. “But, Tristan, then you’d be forced to wear your scars, and that would be a pity.”

  He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Always is,” she laughed, and turned away. “Cream and honey?”

  Alusin approached, he realised. Jala was a wise woman.

  KILA RETURNED with Jimini hours later.

  “They will do it,” Kila announced after Jimini had been introduced to Savier. “But we had to bribe them eventually or we’d still be haggling.”

  Alusin rolled his eyes. “With what?”

  “The talisman we appropriated from Beacon. I still have it with me.”

  “Not the best idea,” Tristan frowned.

  She shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it? So they’re going to play at shape shifting a bit, and then they’ll put it away.”

  Tristan snorted. “Just don’t give it to them until the charms are made.”

  She laughed. “Stupid I’m not.”

  Jimini flung into an armchair next to Savier and started questioning him. The man was swiftly bemused.

  Kila rubbed her palms together. “When are we going to Pendulim?”

  “As soon as we’ve done justice to Jala’s soup,” Tristan winked.

  Chapter 26

  The elements are in continuous opposition on Pendulim

  ~ Efur ~

  Pendulim

  PENDULIM WAS ONE of a handful of truly giant worlds and was covered, for the most part, in forest.

  The Shadof were the resident population, small humanoid beings belonging to a life amid trees, although they were now also city dwellers. With green pigment and abdominal sacks as part of their anatomy, they were more suited to flitting through the vast tracts of forest, and most did so, using natural forest clearings for their forges.

  Fire played a huge role on Pendulim. Fire created life-wheels. The Fire Guild held the power, a controlling body dealing with the flame-wrights and their forges, and also the penitents seeking aspected charms. The Guild was wealthy indeed.

  Not all agreed with their methods, however, and therefore the forest forges. Shadof were thus flighty as well, a mind-set engendered by the need to hide their talents from the Fire Guild.

  Tristan, Alusin, Savier and Kila alighted in a clearing where no forge dead or lit was in evidence, although there was a fire pit for other, more general uses.

  “This is where Torrullin and Augin, his palace guard, began their journey when they came to Pendulim,” Tristan informed. “From here I’ll be able to follow the trail to a particular flame-wright.”

  Glancing expressionlessly at the dead pit, he skirted it and started walking.

  Alusin caught up to him, leaving Savier to Kila. “The Medaillon is that specific?”

  Tristan shrugged. “I heard the tale growing up, but, yes, the Medaillon fills in the gaps.”

  “That cannot be comfortable.”

  “It isn’t. I now walk in Torrullin’s footsteps. Am I not spectacularly my own man?”

  Alusin, wisely, did not respond to that.

  Snorting, Tristan hiked into the forest.

  NIGHTFALL CAUGHT up to them before they caught up to their destination. Weary after the long walk, they rolled into their cloaks after a quick meal, and sought rest.

  According to the Medaillon’s memories, the region was safe. No one would find them there. They slept.

  MORNING BROUGHT with it torrents of rain. Spluttering in the deluge, they resumed the march, all wordless, teeth chattering, bodies shivering.

  Tristan wore a strange smile. Only he was aware the conditions exactly mirrored those Torrullin found himself in when he hiked this place.

  Without the sun to tell the time, it proved difficult to determine how long they had been walking, but it felt as if the mid of day had just passed when the roaring of a giant waterfall overcame the thunder of drumming rain.

  Tristan called a halt and gestured his companions to close in. They were a sorry bunch indeed, wet to skin and more.

  “We go behind the waterfall,” he said loudly when they were huddled together. “I will go first. You step exactly where I step, understood, in single file.”

  The others simply nodded and moved to form a line, Alusin bringing up the rear.

  Cautiously, Tristan approached the sheer drop he knew lay just ahead, and then ever more carefully step by step moved along the narrow path to the ledge disappearing behind the deafening white foam.

  Flattening his back to the rock face, he trod sideways to vanish into the spray. The others followed step by step.

  A ROCK TUNNEL opened before them, stinking of bat droppings. The falling water masked all sound; splashing echoes bounced from the rock.

  Gesturing, a finger to his lips, Tristan headed inward. Now that he was at this point, he gave thought to what he would find. There was a real chance the answer to that was - nothing. The man who helped Torrullin in the past might be long dead and this place long abandoned.

  His heart thundering louder than the waterfall, he inhaled for calm and chose to trust his initial instincts.

  They rounded a gentle curve, and then there it was.

  The unmistakable glow of a fire in a cave up ahead.

  A shadow loomed towards them; a small man stood with his back to the flames, waiting.

  Tristan stepped into the light.

  The little man placed a hand over his heart and fixed his gaze on the man entering his space. He did not move and neither did Tristan.

  The others filed in, glancing from one to the other.

  “Arli?” Tristan finally croaked.

  The little man smiled. “Indeed. And you are Tristan. I have been expecting you.” His oddly shaped eyes moved to Alusin, then to Savier, and back to Alusin. “You have brought your companion. Excellent. Torrullin never gave me that satisfaction.” He stepped forward. “Come in, come in, you are all welcome, and I have broth.”

  A massive cauldron sporting a ladle released fragrant steam beside him.

  Relaxing, Tristan laughed. “Apparently your broth is the best in the universe.”

  Arli clapped hands in delight. “He told you that? I am honoured. Sit while I dish up. It is cold today and you are wet.”

  After divesting himself of his sodden cloak, Tristan moved to a plush animal skin before another fire to the left of the cave. As he lowered, he murmured the words of drying, and sat in dry warmth on the softness.

  Alusin followed suit, his dark blue gaze watchful. It was not the Shadof he watched, however.

  Kila and Savier soon joined them.

  Cackling to himself, Arli loaded a tray with filled bowls, hunks of fre
shly baked bread, found spoons, and brought his gifts to the rug. Setting it down, he gestured significantly. Inquisitively, he studied each face in turn.

  Tristan tasted first, and closed his eyes. “By all gods, this is good.”

  Arli clapped, and the others dug in as well, needing no second invitation.

  “Is Efur still alive?” Tristan asked between mouthfuls.

  “He is,” Arli chortled, “and still the bane of my existence. You’re lucky to find him traipsing elsewhere right now.”

  Briefly Tristan spoke everyone’s name by way of introduction. Arli bobbed his head for each, smiling.

  “You are not surprised by this visit,” Alusin said, doing proper justice to broth and bread.

  “I am rarely surprised, have lived too long.” Arli fingered his almost non-existent chin with a three-digit hand. “Twice, admittedly, I was surprised.”

  “I have a feeling both those have to do with my grandfather,” Tristan muttered.

  Arli’s eyes nearly vanished in folds of mirth. “Clever Tristan. First surprise was that he arrived with his guard when I expected the dark man at his side. Second surprise, the greater I might add, was his wish for a soul ward.”

  “What did you think he would ask for?” Tristan frowned.

  “An aspect to fool the fire creature. I made it anyway, for Torrullin Valla had need of it. He just hadn’t realised it yet.” Arli clapped again. “But enough of the past. It’s the future I find exciting. Do tell, why are you here?”

  “Surely you know?” Savier murmured, having realised the Shadof were prophets as well as flame-wrights.

  The little man cackled. “But I want you to tell me!”

  Kila leaned forward. “We …”

  His attention snapped to her. “You have an astonishing gift, Kila of the Kaval. You would be revered here on Pendulim.”

  She blinked. “I am where I am needed, thank you.” Replacing her emptied bowl on the tray, she added, “And my thanks for the meal. Truly worthy of universal accolade.”

  Arli bowed.

  “We need a …” Tristan began, only to be interrupted.

  “You are as unaware as Torrullin was about you actually need.”

  Tristan stared at him and then spread his hands. “Pray tell.”

  THE WIRY SHADOF held his middle digit up. In his case it was not a gesture of insult, considering he, as all Shadof did, possessed only three fingers per hand. He wondered if they knew that, and was also aware Tristan understood.

  “As you no doubt know, men of time, and you, lady, written prophecy isn’t an exact art. The wording is usually cryptic. Prophetic visions are as imprecise. What you see is often symbolic, and don’t we have the tendency to read symbols according to our own perception. Bear with me; I am aware you are full of questions. A long time ago I saw Torrullin and then met him, but he altered the vision. I foresaw I would meet him again, and did, briefly; the latter was intense for both of us.

  “Now to get to my point. Both meetings in fact were as foreseen, but I read the symbology wrong before they came to pass. I have foreseen this gathering, and yet it has caught me, somewhat, I freely admit, by surprise. No doubt at a later date I will mark the error in my initial sight, but that is of no matter now. What is important is this; on each occasion I was correct regarding the true need present, and thus I state, I know what you need. Do you?”

  Alusin, frowning, answered. “We require a charm which mimics ancient breath.”

  Arli scuttled closer to hunker on the animal skin. “And what is ‘ancient breath’?”

  Glancing at Tristan, Alusin said, “The ability to unmake.”

  “Truly? Doesn’t sound right to me. Unmake what, Kemir prince?”

  Savier growled, but Alusin hushed him. He stared at the little man, but it was a faraway look. “I see,” he whispered at last.

  Arli smiled and sat cross-legged facing the four in his cave. As Kila, wordless, looked from one to the other, he too held his peace, waiting.

  Savier slapped his knee, releasing an explosive breath. “Oh, I think I understand.”

  Kila, clearly lost, did not offer even a question. Arli admired that; she knew when to allow others to speak and reason. As he did. He chuckled to himself, and fixed his gaze on Tristan Skyler Valla. How like to his mighty forebear he was. Uncanny, that.

  Placing his hands flat on the rug, Tristan leaned on them, using the leverage afforded to inhale and exhale multiple times, the actions of a man about to vanish deeply into his thoughts.

  Arli flicked a glance at the man’s neck, seeing the glint of metal there. No, his were the actions of a man reaching out to a device created of time for time.

  He waited and the others waited with him. At least they knew the signs of trance; he despaired of ever teaching that nuance to bloody Efur.

  Long golden fingers curled into the fur.

  And Tristan looked up.

  Even his own heart pounded like a ladle bashing the edge of his cauldron when his broth boiled.

  “We are the ancient breath,” Tristan murmured. “Whether born to flesh yesterday or a thousand years ago, we have the ether of time within us. By our thoughts and actions do we make and unmake. No charm, aspect or talisman will gift us additional power, for we are the power. It is in how we use it, that is where we choose for lumin or darak.”

  Arli bowed over his clasped digits.

  Savier had slumped, as if defeated. “Then I do not understand and there is no hope for Eurue.”

  “Actually,” Alusin said, causing his brother to jerk to him, “all hope will be with us.”

  Kila cleared her throat. “Sorry, I don’t see how. I get how we are the power, but not how that helps us for Eurue.”

  Savier gestured at her, clearly in full agreement.

  “We have the miasma within,” Alusin murmured. “We too were formed from the sparks, which means we are just like them, the daetal.” He smacked his forehead. “The daetal we conversed with! Intelligence, awareness, ability to reason and choose. A soul. Like us, like those trapped in the core. Soul, Savier, and that daetal walked a path of light, despite what happened on Petunya. Granted, the light has dimmed for it, but …”

  Kila sighed, stilling the flow of words. “I get it.”

  Savier shifted to improve his line of sight to Tristan. “Talk, Valla. My brother isn’t explaining very well.”

  Arli licked his lips in anticipation, wondering if this Valla was as clever as the other.

  He said two words, and those words had Arli, Kila and Alusin grinning in enlightenment.

  He put a hand over his heart and said, “Sacred space.”

  “Explain that!” Savier shouted.

  “Love, Keeper. We offer them our love.” As Savier growled menacingly, Tristan shook his head. “You need to listen with as open a heart as you can bear to deal with. This,” and he tapped over his heart, “is the most sacred space there is, for all of us, whatever path we walk. Put aside the fact that it’s a biological muscle and hark to emotion instead, from inspiration to sadness. We are the ancient breath because we wed time to love and can therefore make and unmake. You, Savier Algheri, with your long years, you have it as a mighty force within you. I am young yet and, although I understand the concept and even live it most of the time, my power pales in comparison. Your brother has it also, as strong, and your Kemir too. You have lived extraordinarily long, marrying time to the sacredness inside.”

  A tear trickled from the corner of the woman’s eye, Arli noticed.

  “We love them in their freedom?” Savier said, clearly disbelieving.

  “Yes,” Tristan laughed.

  “With a little help from yours truly,” Arli put in. “This is the need I spoke of earlier.”

  Tristan bowed over the hand splayed upon his heart. “A soul ward, exactly as you made for Torrullin, to protect the Kemir who project fear rather than love, because, let’s face it, when a horde of hungry souls come at you, you will be bloody petrified.”


  Arli chortled, liking the man. “And guess what? I have experience making this particular ward!”

  AS HE HAD once with Torrullin, Arli requested a coin of some value in order to begin the process. Real, he said, not conjured.

  That proved to be an obstacle. The two Kemir possessed no coin whatsoever - Eurue operated on a barter system, and Alusin, despite living elsewhere, had never seen the need for coin - and Kila’s few were of a lower denomination and therefore base metal. Tristan turned his pockets out, and found nothing.

  Shaking his head, Arli muttered, “Imagine living without the need for coin.” He pointed at Tristan’s chest, intimating the Medaillon. “That would work.”

  “Ha,” the Valleur smirked, “as if.”

  Chortling, Arli made a suggestion. “We used a Halo Mark before.”

  Alusin laughed. “Those are rarer than the non-existent coins I carry.”

  “Um, I may have, you know, when we helped ourselves to the, well, Beacon artefact, well …”

  “Kila,” Tristan muttered, “Kaval don’t steal.”

  “Well, right now, the fact that I did will help us,” she retorted. “Besides, those idiots had no idea what it is, keeping it in the what-the-hell-is-this cabinet.”

  Tristan held his hand out, his face solemn.

  Muttering, she got to searching her many pockets. Finally she found something and slapped it into his palm. All four men craned in to get a look, causing her to snort something about ‘hypocrites’.

  It looked like a coin, larger than standard. The metal was dull, pocked, and the inscription was unreadable.

  “What is it?” Tristan asked.

  “How lucky you are to have me on your team,” she grunted. “That, my revered leader, is an Orb pre-flood platinum coin. It’s actually …”

  “… priceless,” Arli breathed out. He snatched it from Tristan’s palm and hastened to better light with it.

  “Orb had coin?” Tristan frowned.

  “Indeed. Archaeology is my thing too.” Kila stood hands on hips, challenging him to chew her out.