Alusin narrowed his eyes in turn. The daetal were no longer a threat, therefore Gabryl had little to hold over them … and that felt off. The man possessed a different form of control, something other than their inability to leave from wherever they were.
“Where are the people the daetal consumed on Petunya?” Tristan said.
Alusin twitched. By all gods, how had he not realised that?
“In another realm, Kaval leader. Safe. Healthy. Alive.”
And that, Alusin understood, was by far the greater leverage. They, he and Tristan, would do anything to ensure they were returned to their homes and loved ones.
“I have a question as well,” he stated before Tristan barged ahead.
Amusement lurked in cold blue eyes. “Of course you do.”
“Cathian Lowry.”
Gabryl slapped once at his thigh. “Intelligence is so very satisfying, I must admit. Very well, your grandmother, the witch. A brilliant woman, one few knew well because she kept to herself. The witch label came after, and was not an accusation - Eurue, after all, lives with magic on a daily basis. She was more than a witch, however; her power was unique, strong. Imagination …”
“… creates worlds,” Alusin whispered. “She said that often. She also said someone imagined her, and we laughed at that.”
The Original smiled, arched an eyebrow, and said no more.
Tristan’s inhalation caused Alusin heart palpitations. He knew, just bloody knew, the Valleur had made the connection Gabryl was now prompting him to find. Alusin grimaced. By all gods, how much revelation could he accept without collapsing under the weight of all this truth?
“What did she look like?” Tristan asked.
Closing his eyes, Alusin brought forth a memory of his grandmother striding through the fortress, except it was a proper castle then, comfortable, warm, and welcoming.
“Pale, like all Kemir, and tall. Slim. Her hair wasn’t white, though, more a watery copper sheen. Her eyes … oh.” Alusin stared at Tristan. “Pale blue eyes. I am describing a Senlu.”
Tristan shook his head. “The Senlu are descended from her kind. She claims to have been imagined into being.”
“Gods, she was Diluvan.”
“Original Diluvan,” Gabryl murmured. “Of the first people Alexander Diluvan, High King of Orb, imagined as companions in his terrible loneliness. That incredible event happened in the same time frame as Filkemir and his experimentation with miasma. Perhaps one day soon you might ask the High King, now known as Emperor Teighlar of Grinwallin, what happened to the Lowry twins.”
Alusin jerked to him, and Tristan groaned. “You are Gabryl Lowry.”
“And there it is at last. With the Song rushing within you, you have finally spoken my true name. I thank you.” Gabryl bowed low.
Chapter 35
Family is complicated; love is simplicity
Glint of the Sagorin
Nowhere
“IMPOSSIBLE!” ALUSIN choked out. “Gabryl is not the name given on your sarcophagus, and yet you claim …” He swallowed his words.
Before their eyes, the man’s dark hair brightened to a more coppery sheen. His presence, which had been far more tangible than before, seemed to solidify, even the final suggestions of shifting states vanishing.
Gabryl straightened and speared them with his pale blue eyes. Those orbs had not changed, but his facial structure was nobler, with higher cheekbones.
Indeed, he was of Teighlar’s people.
“You are her twin,” Alusin whispered. “How was my grandmother your twin?”
“It is no coincidence that our sarcophagi are twinned,” Gabryl said. “Cathian made hers with mine, gifted mine to Filkemir, and hid hers. Truthfully, I still do not know where that is, but I do know that is how I survived the incarceration. My sister kept me alive. There were two spheres left, one for each casket; we communicated via those.”
“She disappeared off the Kemir radar,” Tristan said, “to reappear centuries later as the daughter of a noble family, to marry into the Algheri line.”
“We prepared for this day,” Gabryl confirmed.
Alusin abruptly squatted, and then untidily sat on the damp grass. “Everything was a lie.”
“No,” Gabryl denied, crouching before him, “but it wasn’t the whole truth. Filkemir did pull me from the ether and gave me form. He pulled Cathian also, but was unaware of that, and he inadvertently saved us from the inundation that enveloped Orb, although he knew nothing about it. Worlds were isolated in those times. The Oskil were created with all the drawbacks you hear tell of in the written legend. That happened, and so did the Aleru Orb. Truth, but not the whole truth.”
Alusin was wordless.
“The name on my coffin,” Gabryl murmured, “is the one Filkemir gave me. It would have twitched me into awareness if spoken, but it was never my true name.” He narrowed his gaze. “Say it, Alusin. Release that name to history and its spurious power is negated.”
“Larofil.” Alusin grimaced. He enunciated it with Kemir intonation, and thus ‘Larofil’ sounded far stranger than its spelling would have.
“And thank all gods that isn’t actually my name,” Gabryl laughed.
Sighing, Tristan hunkered beside Alusin, facing the Diluvan. “Were you as evil and vengeful as the legend claims?”
“Evil, no, but I was enraged by the audacity of the Kemir. They played with concepts they knew nothing of. They created from the ether …”
“As you were made,” Tristan pointed out.
“Yes, but Alexander was a good man. He sought companionship, not proof of power. He made us with love and gifted us joy. He did what he did for the best of reasons and brought out in us the appreciation of life. The Kemir, then, were already a numerous people and were taunting the fates. I, previously an original creation, opened my eyes on a new world, but the daetal were abominations and it hurt to witness it. It infuriated me, but no one listened. To them, I was a thing, not true sentience.”
“The name on your casket, was it always ‘Larofil’?” Alusin asked.
“Gabryl Lowry, actually,” Gabryl smirked. “Originally, anyway. Cathian changed it later, afraid someone would summon me before our preparations bore fruit.”
“I am part Diluvan.” The Kemir held his own face and exhaled explosively.
“And I am part …?” Gabryl shifted his gaze to Tristan.
“Danae. Alexander will have created based on his own genetics. He inherited his features from his Danaan father, but his mother was of the dark kind Valleur, which became known as the Danae.”
“See how connected we are?”
“Indeed.” Grunting, Tristan sat as well, shoulder to shoulder with Alusin. “Who and what are you now, Gabryl?”
“And what do you want?” Alusin asked.
“How does Rivalen and the Path of Shades factor into your story? Why did you harp on Agnimus when we met?” Tristan added.
The copper-haired man sat in the dampness also, hands dangling over his knees. “I am Gabryl Lowry, at last in my original and whole form, and I am Diluvan. I want to go home.”
“Where is home?” Tristan murmured.
“Orb, now known as Sanctuary, is my homeworld, but true home is where the heart lies.”
“Where does your heart lie?” Alusin muttered.
“With my father.”
“Gods, you want me to take you to Grinwallin.” Tristan groaned and scrubbed at his face. “Teighlar will not believe you, but you are very aware that I have met Alexander also, and you need me to reach out to the Alexander part of Teighlar. Gods, man, that is easier said than done.”
Gabryl’s lips quirked. “Which is why I need you.”
Tristan stared at him. “Grinwallin, City of Eternity, will spit you out if she does not trust you. I do not trust you.”
Steepling his fingers, his elbows resting on his knees, Gabryl said, “Then we must work towards that. To answer your other questions; I mentioned Agnimus because I needed yo
u to follow the dots to Sabian and his ancient breath, which in turn led to both of you acknowledging yours. Rivalen is a bit more complicated. In the guise of living death I was able to access the Path of Shades. The sarcophagus is, after all, a portal also. Portals bridge time, and I found myself seeing eras long before my creation through the veils the Path is known for. Much like Torrullin and his cycles, I found the means to function in other times and places. Ha, it just occurred to me the Danaan concept of Eurue as their god came to pass due to inadvertent visitations.”
“Rivalen,” Tristan prompted.
“A child exiled and abandoned in a terrible place to the worst kind of existence, but Rivalen, cursed as he was, was definitely the monster his mother believed him to be. I witnessed his exile and, being in exile myself, befriended him. He turned on me, of course, but due to our connection, I was able to follow him out of the Path, to become more than the periodic visitor to the spaces of reality.”
Curiosity evident in his tone, Tristan asked, “Did you ever see Torrullin in the Path?”
“No, but everyone knew when he was there. The resonances were epic.”
“Were you there when Torrullin’s wife, Saska, died there?”
“And Declan the Siric, I heard. No, I was working towards my goal on Petunya at the time.”
“Fooling a lonely woman,” Alusin spat.
Gabryl lifted one shoulder. “That came later, and she was lonely and needed me. I needed her too. It was not love, but it was mutually satisfying, I swear to that.”
“What about Eurue? Everything has led to that long isolated and forgotten world.” Tristan eyed the man. “Given your lengthy incarceration, you must harbour Eurue and her people ill-will. What are your intentions?”
Alusin glared, awaiting the answer.
The coldness re-entered the Diluvan’s eyes. “Eurue needs to be awakened.”
“How?” Tristan queried before the Kemir launched across the intervening space.
“Her isolation is at an end.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Alusin snarled.
“Peace, Algheri,” Gabryl responded. “I have no intention of murdering your people, but they do need shaking up. We are here, now, to determine what comes next.”
Leaning back on his hands, Tristan murmured, “You have your name and form; why are you still talking? Why are we here, beyond determining what comes next? Where are we?”
Gabryl laughed, stood, and faced the darkness. “We are where it all began, and one must run this gauntlet in order to again leave. Name and form, here, is an illusion.”
Tristan and Alusin, glancing at each other, stood as well. Facing the same patch of darkness, they stared into nothing. It was a truth, if you sought truth, you had to face the right way, even when there was nothing out there.
Chapter 36
Judgement alters when perception changes
~ Awl ~
Eurue
The Kiln
AS THE KAVAL stirred on the sterile plain, Valleur trackers descended upon them, to hunker at first, checking for signs of life and then for injury, and thereafter to assist the prone men to their feet.
Belun of the Centuar was in absolute fury. He demanded Gabryl’s foppified head on a goddamn gem encrusted platter for him to spit on. He called for the man’s balls in steel mesh to hang as a trophy from the console in the Dome, something he could sneer at in the future. He roared for …
“Belun!”
The Centuar cut his tirade short and swung around, more than ready to do battle. Blinking a moment later, he muttered, “Krestin?”
The Valleur commander, having been summoned by his tracker team, sauntered closer. Belun noticed he was not alone. At least a hundred Valleur soldiers had accompanied him. That made him feel so much better. One could ever rely on the Valleur.
“Well met, Belun,” Krestin grinned. He knew each member of the Kaval; Tristan had asked for Valleur aid in the past.
“Well met, but I do wish it was over an ale somewhere. What happened?”
Brief and succinct as possible, Krestin explained about Tianoman and the Valleur arrival upon Eurue, and why. The others, including the Valleur, gathered around to hear it as well, although a fair number remained on watch, tawny eyes sweeping the surroundings.
Almost Belun wanted to launch into a new diatribe, but that was petty. Instead he asked, “Where is Tristan now?”
“We do not know. The Keeper should have more. He is at the Fortress.” Krestin’s face scrunched up briefly. “By all gods, what a horrible place. Draughty and dark.” He shuddered.
Belun finally found amusement in the situation. Laughing, he agreed. “Is Chaim all right?” he asked next.
“Bending Savier’s ear.” Again Krestin grimaced. “What happened after you were snatched from the cliffs?”
Inhaling calm, the Centuar muttered, “I have no idea. One moment we were surrounded by a host of that fop, and the next we were waking up here.”
“Then let us get back to that damp castle.”
“Agreed, but leave a contingent here, to watch for … hell, I don’t know what for.”
About to call out names, Krestin paused, his gaze meeting the leader of his tracker team. “Penior? What is it?”
The Valleur closed in, a frown upon his smooth golden brow. “Commander, something happened here. There is much residual signature, including my lord Tristan’s. Also …” He shrugged. “It’s empty.”
“Meaning?” Belun growled.
“My team and I need to thoroughly sift through the residue, but it seems a mass of souls appeared here, dark, dangerous, and then they vanished. They came from below.” Penior pointed at the cracked surface. “And left upward.” He waved at the cloud studded sky.
“The daetal, do you think?” Fuma murmured, twirling as ever his tall staff. It had been captured along with him, it seemed.
Penior nodded, and looked questioningly at his commander.
Krestin said, “Complete your investigation and report back to the fortress when done.” Turning, he rattled off fifteen names; the Valleur thus named would keep watch.
“Fortress it is,” Assint said, and transported out.
Gradually the others followed.
The Fortress
SAVIER, NOTICING Valleur warriors abruptly vacate the area, seeing also Chaim’s suddenly ashen face, hurtled down lonely corridors in search of the entrance to the pit.
There, with the storm having wreaked havoc in the central circle, he discovered the raised trapdoor.
“Alusin! Tristan!” he hollered into the darkness below, while eyeing the slick steps warily.
There was no answer.
“I’ll gut you if you make me come down there, brother!”
Still no response.
Muttering foul words under his breath, he set foot to the first step, but got no further.
“Keeper!” someone hailed from the narrow door that allowed access to this dreadful place.
He swung around, almost losing his footing on the slickness under his feet. Tianoman Valla strode in, his expression filled with alarm. It ratcheted Savier’s already full-blown sense of danger.
“Vallorin?” he croaked, stepping back to level ground.
Tianoman came to a halt before him, breathing hard. “Savier, they are no longer in this realm.”
He shuddered, but had to ask, “What does that mean? Who?”
“Tristan and Alusin.” Tianoman swiped at his long hair, frowning darkly enough to rival the glowering heavens. “They are no longer in Reaume.”
Savier blinked rapidly, attempting to fathom that strange concept. He found himself clearing his throat, as if spiked frogs had suddenly invaded his being. “How?” he managed, hoping the Valleur would answer with more words than he was capable of asking with.
He did.
Tianoman inhaled and released. One hand descended to the hilt of his word. He was no longer clothed in desert robes; the Vallorin had dressed for battle in dark
breeches, boots and tunic. A blue cloak swirled in the eddies created by the circular movement of air in the pit.
“The Valleur have the Elixir and Danae chants, which allows us to remain aware of all in the spaces of Reaume. I was not watching, and yet their sudden absence was an instant void in my perceptions. My wife nearly ran me over in the halls to demand from me what happened to Tristan, thereby proving the state.”
“Another forgotten world such as Eurue was, do you think?” Savier whispered.
Tianoman shook his head. “No world known to Reaume.”
“Look, I know the Reaume concept is meant to encompass worlds …”
“Not merely worlds,” Tianoman interrupted. “Parallels, spaces hidden behind veils, the everything.” He inhaled again. “Some spaces are accessible only in death, such as Aaru, others require a Walker of Realms to enter and exit, but they are not anywhere known or unknown, to us anyway, whether or not we are permitted to enter such a space.”
Staring at him, Savier worked it through. Then, frowning, he swung his head to the stairs under the trapdoor. “They went down there and never came up.”
Peering into the darkness, Tianoman asked, “What’s down there?”
“An ancient cavern. No one has entered since my grandmother died … many ages ago.” Savier shrugged. “I have not seen it; I merely know of it as a final bolthole.”
The two men grimaced at each other, and then Savier led the way into the darkness below.
The Cavern
AFTER WHAT FELT like hours they finally set foot to the cavern floor. The sacred glows appeared as they entered further inward, and both men snuffed the lights they had conjured for the descent.
Savier halted on seeing the sarcophagus. In fact, he found himself paralysed.
Tianoman had no such drawback; he moved immediately to the dark casket, saying, “Is this Gabryl’s prison?”
Eurue- The Forgotten World Page 26
