“A long time ago, then,” Tristan said, ignoring her competitive stance. “Are we talking Diluvan?”
She deflated. “That hasn’t been confirmed.”
“It doesn’t matter. Arli, can you use that?”
The little man returned to them. “Are you certain you wish to alter this? You could buy a world with it … I could, if you gave it to me.”
Alusin laughed. “Running a world is hard work, friend.”
“True.” The Shadof inhaled and released. “It will suit our project nicely, but know you will need a similar metal for the replicas you intend to fashion.”
“That will cost a fortune,” Kila gasped.
“No, it won’t,” Savier murmured. “Eurue is able to supply platinum enough.”
Alusin lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”
Savier smirked. “Just because we chose the simple life doesn’t mean we forgot how to mine. Millennia ago the results were stockpiled; no one has touched it since.”
“How long will this take?” Tristan asked Arli.
“A week. I have sufficient supplies and ingredients to do this, but it will still be a week, or it simply won’t work.”
“We will help …”
“No, you will get in my way.”
“Hold up,” Kila said. “I am here to ensure the replicas will function from your original. Arli, the copies will need to be active for a longer than usual life-wheel aspect, and we need to work the chant in with inception, or the Grunway will bungle it …”
Arli was then adamant. “You stay. The rest of you come back in a week. Shoo. Go.”
Nowhere
HER HEART NEARLY broke. How beautiful they were; such pure souls, so empathetic. Perhaps they would extend their kindness and understanding to her.
Perhaps.
Chapter 27
There are too many trackers in the forest, kid. You’ll stumble over them and scare the rabbits away.
~ Unknown ~
Pendulim
Forest
THEY CAMPED ABOVE the waterfall amid the trees. While they waited, Savier contacted his trusted councillor and instructed him to ready the platinum ingots for en masse sorcerical transport. Tristan communicated the plan to Jimini, telling her to prepare a receiving area, as well as a work space. He would supply an accurate count for the number of wards needed as soon as possible.
Savier’s man agreed without countering questions, but Jimini bent Tristan’s ear across the spaces despite the difficulties of such lengthy communiqués.
Logistics set in motion, Savier asked, “What is your intention, Tristan? That every Kemir wears this charm to ward against soul-snatching?”
“Yes. At the very least they will not be consumed as happened to Frond’s people.”
“And that is laudable and I thank you, but it does not rid us of the daetal or he thus named.”
“I am aware.” Tristan scrubbed at his cheeks. “You are not going to like this.”
“Clearly not.” Savier’s eyes were cold.
Alusin, glancing between them, decided not to get involved, or his loyalties would be tested … on both sides. He prepared himself to soothe tempers, though.
“I aim to flood the Kiln with as many Kemir as I can.” Tristan paused there to check the Keeper’s reaction, but to his credit Savier waited for the rest of it first. “Wearing the wards will keep them safe, if not from their own fears. They are to offer hope and love, compassion and empathy to the rising daetal, thereby muting the power of hate and revenge. If we stand firm, they cannot harm us.”
Both brothers stared at him, aghast.
“That is your plan? To herd my people onto a dead plain as fodder? And they must love the enemy?” Savier’s eyes grew ever colder.
Alusin bit his remonstration down. Tristan was not a fool, and he trusted the man.
“The daetal were unfortunate souls trapped by ignorant souls. The first was ethereal, the latter encased in a vessel, and yet all spring from the same source. We have lived through change of every persuasion while they have endured absolute stagnation. Gabryl is correct to call them his children, for that is what they are; immature souls knowing no other way than to hate. We can change that. We change that by not fearing them, blaming them, seeking justice from them. They were used; they were imprisoned. As a thinking man, Savier, a feeling man, tell me I am wrong.”
Savier looked away, then got to his feet. Without saying a word, he wandered amid the trees, staring at the leafy ground.
Tristan swung his head to Alusin. “What are your thoughts?”
“I think you are an idealist.”
Tristan grimaced. “I accused Torrullin of that.”
“And I’d wager you loved him for it.”
That stilled his response instantly. They stared at each, both aware of what was actually revealed.
Savier returned then, to lower to one knee before Tristan. “Let us say I agree with you.”
Alusin swung his hair forward to hide his smile. His brother had ever been an idealist also. Of course he agreed; he simply chose not to admit it yet.
Tristan gave a nod.
“The Kiln is extensive. To flood that expanse requires many. I believe your plan entails a one on one relationship. One man or woman gifting ‘love’ to one vengeful soul. More strength, and also a greater chance of success.” Savier sat untidily and pointed a finger. “Hear this; when the Oskil were banished, hosts of them contained in those orbs, there were fifty thousand Kemir on the field, each holding on for dear life to one orb. Multiply fifty thousand men by at least a thousand souls per orb, and the result will tell you there are not enough Kemir alive today to achieve what you intend.”
Eyes narrowed, Tristan asked, “How many were contained in each orb? Be more specific.”
Savier threw his hands up. “How must I know?”
“Your guess of a thousand is therefore pure conjecture.”
“It may be half that, Kaval leader, and it may be a hundred times more. Whatever the figure, the Kemir cannot achieve this.”
Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me, how many, if you had the manpower, are able to stand upon that expanse?’
Frowning, Savier stared past the fair-haired man’s shoulder, clearly calculating. When he focused, he also shrugged. “I am guessing once again, but if fifty thousand could achieve the driving feat amid mountains and giant trees, it is possible four times that is able to stand comfortably on the plain.”
Tristan nodded, and waited.
“Clever bastard,” Savier muttered. “That’s less than half our population, correct? Unfortunately a massive percentage of our people are now elderly. Not immortal old, but Kemir lifespan old. Most of them would suffer a heart attack or stroke in the first second. And, let us be real, two hundred thousand hale and hearty men are not sufficient to deal with millions of escaping daetal. Your plan is flawed. A glorious idea, but not attainable.”
Tristan gave a wry sigh. “Then there’s only one solution.”
“I am open to solutions,” Savier murmured, his expression bland.
On the other hand, Alusin shivered. “Tris?”
The Valleur looked at him. “They will help, you know this.”
“Who?” Savier demanded.
Alusin replied in a rush of breath. “The Valleur, brother.”
“A Valleur host becomes a force multiplied when acting of one mind,” Tristan murmured. “One man is thus ten. If we bring in two hundred thousand, we have at least the capability of two million. Add to that their training, and the ability to ‘love’ will be simple for them.”
“And you have that many to call upon?” Savier scoffed, although Alusin noticed he had paled.
Tristan spread his hands. “The Luvanese host, the army, is at five hundred thousand strong.”
For long moments Savier was silent. Then, “How do you expect me to welcome a fucking army? We are discussing invasion here!”
“You are about to be invaded, Keeper, by
bloody pissed off spinning creatures!” Tristan blurted. “Do you wish to prevent that or is your pride in the fucking way?”
“Watch yourself, Valla. I have eons on you. You do not want to fight me.”
“Savier!” Alusin hurtled up.
“Try it,” Tristan snapped. “I have the Elixir and the Danae chant as part of my singing Valla blood. Be wary of your insults.”
“Tristan!” Alusin threw his hands up. “For fuck’s sake, both of you, this is unnecessary.”
Savier’s lips unexpectedly quirked. “I like you, Kaval leader. You do not back down.”
Nonplussed, Alusin stared at his brother. “You’re damn mercurial. What’s the matter with you?”
“Isolation has blunted my social skills.”
Tristan grunted at that, and then burst out laughing. “You’re not that bad.”
As Alusin sat, silence entered the tiny clearing they were in. No one spoke for a fair while, each pondering the options. Eventually Tristan stood and said he needed to walk the frustration of inaction off.
ABOVE THE WATERFALL the land was steep. The clearing they waited in was one of few level areas. Thus a walk meant a climb, but Tristan welcomed the burn in his calves and thighs as he clambered over boulders and skirted fallen trunks.
The air was bracing as well; they were in Pendulim’s highlands. He inhaled huge lungful’s of the freshness and felt how it focused not only his attention but also created a buzz throughout his body.
Beyond a few gnarly pines he came upon a smaller waterfall with natural stone tiers allowing for seating. Misty tendrils crept from on high as the day cooled for nightfall. The setting was isolated, somewhat bleak, and utterly mind opening.
He sat and for a time simply listened to the water’s music.
The Valleur would willingly come to Eurue’s aid. They would come merely because he asked it of them. He did not want to ask, but it made all kinds of sense for the host to deal with the daetal. They were trained as sorcerers and soldiers, they were strong and aware, and they were brave to a fault. He could count on them; Eurue could count on them. Savier’s anxieties could be dealt with; he understood the Keeper had to be concerned about a foreign army in his territory and did not blame him for his outburst.
The problem before him was the fact that he needed to go to Akhavar for Tianoman’s permission to summon the host. Tian would give it, but it meant walking again where Caballa walked, where Caballa died.
Tristan squeezed his eyes shut.
That was personal and he was able to deal with it. Hopefully.
The real issue on his mind was leverage.
Flooding the Kiln with loving Valleur might end the daetal horror and with it Gabryl’s leverage, and yet something was off-kilter. Gabryl used the daetal as threat, but it was not the threat. This entire set-up had been to get him and Alusin into an arena. He was willing to wager, if every soul now in captivity inside Eurue found release whether via benevolent or violent means, it changed little for he thus unnamed.
Tristan laughed wryly. He needed to talk to Tian. His cousin was the wisest of all Vallas to date. He would see the loopholes.
Lacing his hands behind his neck, he stretched until his spine crackled in satisfying release.
Grow a pair, boy; Akhavar is the closet place to home you know. You will find only welcome there. There is nothing to fear.
Yes, he had to keep telling himself that.
Chapter 28
Never underestimate a man alone. A singular state frequently gives rise to multiple actions.
~ Awl ~
Eurue
ALL WAS QUIET in the spaces. Too quiet. The Kaval had vanished and even the Keeper proved untraceable.
Gabryl was decidedly unhappy with the situation.
He understood this had come to pass for the defenders to grant themselves time to prepare. Clever. He knew about preparation and the time needed, but he found himself at the point where he desired for the games to begin. Finally, he had reached the end of his touted and legendary patience.
He was the Original. He had waited too long already. As the first legend and the first vessel created to contain the darkness of the spaces, he truly was Original.
A god of darkness
The Dark God.
Others had unleashed the darkness before him, while he stewed in a casket awaiting his turn, but all were mere forerunners. Every Darak Or worthy of the title were as smudges on the pinprick heavens compared to him. All darak creatures to swarm the universe, from darklings and soltakin to draithen and vengeful biters, knew nothing of the power inherent in wielding the dark as a force. They played at it, danced with it, and understood nothing. Not even Rivalen, the aspirant Timekeeper, in bringing for a time utter lightlessness to the spaces, comprehended the absoluteness of the manipulation.
He was first.
Original.
He would be last.
The Only.
If the Eternal Companions of this time wished to be slippery, well, that was their prerogative, but he refused to bow to their puny tweaks. If they would not come to him, he would bring them to him on his terms.
He needed them to complete his mission, but there were other means to starting it. The time had arrived to change the rules as they understood it.
All would know his name.
Pacing, Gabryl frowned. All would know his name, yes, but he felt as if his ideals were another’s, as if he was being used. He was, point of fact, not the Only. Never had he desired godhood either, whether of darkness or light.
Where was this coming from?
The Fortress
THE VICIOUS WEATHER moved inland, much to Belun’s relief. While it did not warm up significantly, at least weak rays of sunlight put in an appearance.
The turf squelched underfoot, but he ignored that for the sun on his face. His great head thrown backwards, he wandered towards the cliff’s edge. Deep in thought, he almost tumbled over that edge.
Cursing his idiocy, Belun planted his feet and came to a halt. Staring then over the ocean in green guise, he stilled there. Despite the adverse conditions, he had to admit it was a majestic view. Other headlands jutted into the swirling water, high mountains in evidence in the distance. To his right, golden sands below promised paradise when summer made an appearance. To get to it would be quite a hike though. To his left, open ocean beckoned and ominously dark clouds on the horizon spoke of another storm on approach.
Best enjoy it while it lasts, he mused.
A voice called out from behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Assint gesticulating. He also noted the lurking presence of the fortress. By all gods, what an ugly place. Ignoring his Centuar brother, he faced the view once more.
Assint disregarded his obvious wish for privacy and transported the distance to appear beside him.
Alarmed by the action, Belun snapped, “That was a fool thing to do! You just broadcast our presence.”
“Alusin says it’s hidden, so relax.”
“The fortress is, but does that extend to the edge of this cliff?” Belun nodded rapidly. “Uh-huh, right, we don’t actually know that …”
And then it was simply too late to argue the point further.
Gabryl arrived, smirking.
He was not alone.
THE HUGE DOUBLE doors were open to air the place out; Chaim insisted on it. He had also put everyone to work cleaning inhabited spaces, saying the ancient mildew and dust would make them sick. It would not, of course, affect them, as immortals, but no one complained, for action was better than waiting, and the place did stink.
Chaim stood at those doors taking a break from dusting and sweeping. He watched Assint sneak out from another door, and grunted. Belun, he noted, chose to ignore the Centuar when he called out. Ha, that Centuar needed to get his hooves dirty too …
Slapping a hand over his mouth, he glared at Assint. The fool had just transported!
The fine hairs on Chaim’s arms spiked.
No.
Defend! He shrieked it into the thoughts of the Kaval inside.
The word had barely shuddered through the mausoleum when a host of enemies landed to surround the two Centuar at the edge of the cliff. That micro-second of warning, however, was enough to see the Kaval hurtling out, sword and sorcery to hand.
No!
And then it was simply too late to alter the fate of his brothers.
Chaim cowered behind the jamb as the Kaval, all of them, were snatched and taken from there. They had not seen or marked his presence; the fortress itself remained hidden.
The old man lowered to his knees, shaking. As he had done in the past, as many Kaval had in the past, Chaim sent a call through the spaces, the first name that ever came to mind in desperate situations.
Torrullin!
Pendulim
The Highlands
TRISTAN’S HEAD JERKED up. The golden hue to his skin vanished, leaving him paler than Alusin generally was.
“Alusin.”
The Kemir glanced his way and nearly stumbled on seeing his condition. “Fuck, what?”
“Someone just summoned Torrullin.”
Alusin thudded to his knees. “Where? Who? How?”
Savier strode closer, but it was clear neither man was about to answer him and thus he held his peace. His attention flicked from one to the other.
Tristan flinched. “There. Again.”
“Where, Tristan?”
“Your home,” the Valleur whispered, closing his eyes. “I don’t know who …” He flinched once more, and then surged to his feet. “Can he answer such a summons?”
Alusin stared at him, speechless.
Tristan leaned in and gripped the Kemir by his shoulders. “Alusin, can Torrullin answer?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered.
Savier stepped in. “Your home is under attack, brother. Never mind who answers, someone there requires our help.”
Eurue- The Forgotten World Page 21
