Eurue- The Forgotten World

by Elaina J Davidson

  Laughing, Tristan rose as well.

  IN THE PASSAGE, Alusin released an inaudible breath. Smiling, he silently made his way to where Vian remained in oblivion.

  Vault of Life

  DAWN BROUGHT with it a settling. Rumbles ceased and winds abated.

  As the last of the rain petered to a few lone drops, Gabryl gave thanks for its presence during the night. At least the great fires were now doused. He also cursed it, for never had he been as wet.

  No matter; wet clothes eventually dried out.

  He spent the night on the edge of the scree circle, hunkered in the lee of a boulder, watching the lights inside the complex, and now it was time to act. He hoped Tristan would keep the others away. An unheralded appearance would upset his plan.

  Four of the turreted towers were unmanned. No lights flickered there during the dark hours. The fifth, the tallest and also farthest away, burned brightly all night, as if to ward off nightmares. That was where he would find Cathian.

  The dome itself, while emulating its space parent edifice, was impenetrable. No light escaped other than from the vaulted arches when they opened. This dome was constructed of rock and denied light; the Dome out there was crystal beauty, drawing all light to it.

  The doorways, however, were exactly that - doorways. No doubt they too were enchanted as the Dome’s ogives were, but here actual doors did open and close. And each time one did, light filtered through.

  The long-lived were within and they kept the vigil throughout the night. Gabryl wondered where their loyalties lay. Would they help or hinder him? It was best to factor them out; fewer surprises. Wherever their mind-set was, it was also true Cathian could control them and use them to achieve deeds to horrify them upon awakening. Best then to negate them.

  In the diffuse light of the new day, he crept cautiously forward, employing the long shadow thrown by the eastern tower to mask him. His tread barely disturbed the crumbled stone underfoot, but an occasional sound proved inescapable. Fortunately a low and whistling morning breeze aided him in his efforts. He blinked, but did not stop. Perhaps nature was helping him; the Danae chant was elemental, after all.

  Fetching up against the smoothed stone, the warmth inherent nearly undid him. For long intense minutes he simply pressed his back to the silkiness, absorbing the heat. The ice that had settled into his marrow melted, and the shivers he had been unable to control abated. He was nowhere near dry, but new energy coursed through him. This dome, he understood then, was as much about succour as the one in the vacuum was.

  Gabryl smiled briefly. Only those who walked in the Light could pass. There was no need to be wary of those within, for they would help him if he asked it of them. Still, they would get in his way. He would apologise after.

  He inhaled as another thought came to him. Cathian walked in the Light once, or she would never have entered this sacred space. Closing his eyes, he wished for the ability to take her back to that point of entry, to her true nature, but it was not in his power. Vian of the Wulvyn placed her in the turret, not only to suspend her need to lash out, but also to protect her from the dome. As with the console, those of darak nature would soon be denied here.

  Stay on point, he admonished himself.

  During the night the doors opened and heads peered out as if checking on the landscape. Every door within his view had opened, and all did so frequently. No doubt a mixture of curiosity and dread forced those within to physically view their surroundings. Not all were two-legged, he had seen, and some were tiny beings, while others were as giants. He noticed one with furled wings, another with antlers. Watching them, he debated whether to scare them into evacuation or to simply seal them in. He suspected a few creatures required a different air mix than what was available on Eurue, which this might space inherently allowed for within, and thus it was safer to simply seal them in.

  A sealing did not prevent interference, however. Whatever the level of their powers, they were sorcerers. And they were frightened. As with Vian, he needed to put them to sleep.

  Thus, drawing from the core of power Tristan had created for him, Gabryl moved swiftly to open the nearest door.

  By all gods.

  The sight that greeted him froze him in position.

  The smooth stone he had gathered warmth from was a mere shell of protection, for glorious crystal and veins of precious metal hosted the true terrestrial dome. Prisms danced and, wonder upon all wonders, bright birds flitted amid filigreed creepers, reminding him immediately of the Valleur Throne-room. It was utterly breathtaking.

  Move!

  Freeing himself from his entranced state, he lifted a hand, palm pressing the air. As his eyes picked out movement on tiered seating, his senses filtered warning. They prepared to converge on him.

  Quickly he shoved at the air, murmuring.

  As they slumped into various poses, some appearing particularly uncomfortable, movement gradually ceased. They too would sleep for two days, but an unconscious state was not sufficient. Asleep or awake, Cathian was still able to siphon from them.

  He did not step over the threshold, for that would no doubt set all kinds of alarms to ringing and thereby warn Cathian. Thus, bracing in the arched doorway, he spread both arms out and released a dampening - of sound, of movement, of space, of time. This ability was given him via the Elixir chant. Until he released it, all was in stasis, including the birds, including the living stone.

  As Gabryl retreated back to the rubble outside, the door snapped shut and appeared to absorb into the surrounding rock.

  Moments later an enraged shriek filled the brisk morning air.

  Gabryl smiled. Now it is you and me, sister.

  Pacing the fortress before stating his wish to do this alone to Tristan, Torrullin Valla’s thoughts briefly swirled into his - not in real time, rather a part of his Elixir persona. In those ethereal ruminations he, Gabryl, harked to the one-on-one situation Torrullin and Margus once enacted. It peeved many, especially those who loved Torrullin, and it also saved multitudes. One would emerge the victor and, in the end, one did.

  Today his plan was not about one emerging victorious. No; either he walked away or neither of them did. No one else needed to die. One-on-one. Mentally he bowed to Torrullin Valla’s wisdom, his lips quirking simultaneously. Torrullin Valla would deny said wisdom.

  Gabryl strode openly towards Cathian’s turret.

  Chapter 51

  Be careful of what you wish for

  ~ Scroll of Wisdom ~

  Petunya

  Stalk

  The Chateau

  JIMINI AND KILA had set up in the chateau where the initial daetal had besieged Tristan, Alusin and the last of the Kor clan. Jala and Fleur accompanied them, and so did two Grunway.

  As the evacuees from Eurue started arriving, they swiftly had their hands full with keeping track of everyone. It was strange to see so many golden heads and a host of white. The Valleur and the Kemir seemed to overrun the locals, and that would eventually lead to strife. It appeared much like an invasion.

  Kila suggested gifting each a talisman as he or she signed a list, and Jimini agreed. It would keep the peace.

  They needed supplies, though, and there the Grunway, with Jala’s aid, came into their own. Food would not be an issue. The Kaval brought in tents and gear, and the Valleur set to constructing tent cities, which soon ran smoothly.

  “Kinda have to hand it to the Valleur,” Kila murmured, watching the organised chaos spreading further and further out. “Very logical, but also creative.”

  Jimini joined her at the window. “It will snow soon, though. Let’s hope this ends soon.”

  Chaim sauntered nearer, clutching a clipboard bristling with more lists. “We will need to call on our allies. From what the Kemir tell me, much of Eurue suffered cataclysmic events and most will return to destroyed homes and fields. I am contemplating creating an ambassadorial team to take along with me to Xen and Beacon and other worlds.”

  Jimini eyed him
. He did not need their permission or input. “What is it, Chaim? Those are good ideas. You introduce the Kemir and set in place alliances while requesting aid.”

  The old man nodded. “But is inclusion good for Eurue? That world has survived and thrived in its isolation.”

  Fuma had just entered the library, for once wearing a fur wrap rather than merely covering his hips and loins. He approached, having overheard.

  “I had this conversation with Torrullin once, about inclusion versus seclusion. He did not particularly like what was happening to Valaris at the time, what with space travellers bringing in gadgets and new ideas. But Valaris needed allies and thus he kept his opinions to himself. Today Valaris is strong and yet she is not overrun. Strong leaders make good decisions, Chaim. It is up to the Kemir, not us.”

  “Wise, my friend. Yes.” Nodding, Chaim and his lists headed out into the cold to a knot of Kemir.

  “Any news?” Kila asked Fuma.

  “Not yet.” The Deorc frowned and went to join Chaim.

  Kila and Jimini glanced at each other. Cataclysmic events did not engender a sense of calm.

  The Dome

  JONAS, SHENENDO and Galarth worked on finding chinks in the seal surrounding Eurue.

  “Damn it, that forgotten world is about to vanish for eternity unless we do something!” Shenendo snarled.

  “Shedo, relax. If we can’t achieve it externally, Tristan will do something from inside. He has the Maghdim,” Galarth murmured.

  “Hush, both of you,” Jonas hissed. “I can’t concentrate.”

  Odd symbols scrolled across his screen, right to left.

  “What is that?” Galarth asked.

  Jonas presented the finger without turning around.

  Spluttering laughter, the other two bent to their research.

  Eurue

  Kemirin

  LARGE PORTIONS OF the palace had fallen, but Savier barely gave it a glance on arriving. His attention went to a team of Valleur digging through the rubble, Krestin among them.

  Krestin saw him coming. “We are searching for survivors. Found six so far.”

  “Thank you, Commander. How many Valleur are still on planet?”

  “About fifty. The host got out with their charges before it sealed.” He gestured at a group of dark-haired and darker-skinned men in now filthy robes lifting slabs off to the side. “Twelve Grunway were caught with us.”

  “Good people?” Savier squinted at them.

  Krestin smiled. “Yes.”

  Savier nodded. “Where are you taking survivors?”

  “We have set up in the bowl-shaped valley east of here.”

  “Excellent. It is well protected.” Narrowing his eyes, he noticed young men with wet white hair emerging from the river. “And that?”

  Krestin glanced over his shoulder. “They are finding those clinging to debris in the current. Good swimmers, your people.”

  Seeing his own kind helping alongside strangers from other worlds caused a warm glow to settle into the pit of Savier’s gut. For the first time he understood people were people, whatever their race or creed. Eurue would thrive with that attitude. Despite the real problems ahead, he realised he no longer stood alone.

  “I understand now,” he said.

  Commander Krestin smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

  Savier touched his brow. “My thanks, my friend.” Smiling also, he headed to the Grunway.

  The Fortress

  VIAN DID NOT even twitch; his oblivion was that deep. Shaking his head, Alusin ensured he was warmly covered and then followed his nose back to the kitchen.

  Tristan had a skillet over low flame in the hearth, busily turning sausages. A sizzling sound revealed they were almost ready. Alusin’s stomach growled. They had not eaten much recently.

  Teighlar hacked at a loaf, muttering all the while. Clearly the Emperor was out of his element. The Kemir grinned, wiping his face clear when the man glared at him.

  “I’ll make coffee,” he offered, and set to.

  “Are we simply intending to wait it out here?” Teighlar demanded.

  “Not likely,” Tristan murmured. Sausages turned with regularity.

  “Glad to hear it. What are we going to do?”

  “Spring the inhabitants of that dome, of course,” Alusin murmured as he moved to the fire with water for boiling.

  Reaching for the butter, Teighlar looked up. “Why are we not doing that already?”

  “We’re giving Gabryl time enough to get into position,” Tristan said. He sliced tomato into the skillet, adding herbs and salt. “Once he has Cathian’s attention, we enter the dome.”

  “He will have disabled them somehow.”

  “Good. Easier for us,” Alusin responded, rinsing mugs.

  Teighlar smirked. “I like it.”

  Vault of Life

  SOON ENOUGH, the three men hunkered behind a tumble of boulders close to the western curve of the scree circle surrounding the stone half-sphere.

  All was quiet. Even birds had abandoned the region.

  “There are no entrances,” Alusin pointed out.

  Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “They are there, just not on display. Gabryl has sealed his sister out rather than them in.”

  “Then we should not interfere,” Teighlar frowned.

  “You may be right,” Tristan nodded.

  “It is too quiet,” Alusin muttered. “Surely there should be some evidence of Gabryl’s …”

  Before he could finish, the northern tower exploded.

  Cathian’s Turret

  Earlier

  HE REACHED THE base of the tower and craned his neck at an odd angle to look up. It was impossibly high; even cliff climbers would deny the challenge, particularly as there literally were no holds for fingertips, never mine toe-holds.

  Reaching out, Gabryl cautiously placed one palm against the sheer smoothness. His skin buzzed, but it was not unpleasant; it merely gave evidence to the presence of magic. As suspected and as Vian claimed, the construction was enchanted from base to apex. Did that include foundations?

  He knelt and placed his other palm flush with the flagstones. Yes, indeed, there were sparks and, on narrowing his eyes in order to look without looking, he noticed tendrils rising from below.

  No wonder Cathian could not escape.

  Also, ingress was as unlikely.

  He smirked. Fortunately, when putting Vian to sleep, he extracted the necessary breach chant from the Wulvyn’s subconscious.

  The sound of manic laughter floated down from above, causing every fine hair on his body to spike. The insanity in that sound was not to be underestimated. A screech of rage followed thereafter, summarily flattening his tiny antennae, it possessed that much presence. For a moment he felt like a frightened dog, wanting only to cower into obscurity.

  “Gabryl!”

  Swallowing, he looked up. Either that was a summons or she knew he stood below. Her voice sounded rough, as if she barely used it and when she did, it was to scream.

  “Where are you, brother?”

  Impatience threaded through those words. She did not know he was already present. She spoke the Danaan tongue - Alexander’s home language - with the ancient intonations. Again, odd sensations assailed him. He had not heard it spoken for a long time; Teighlar of the present conversed in a mixture of the common tongue and a more modern Senlu derivative.

  By all gods, his sister needed him and he was about to betray her. Yes, his inner voice murmured, but has she not already betrayed everyone? Betrayal begat betrayal? That was not how the Light functioned.

  Uncertain, Gabryl stared up.

  Perhaps they could reach her with enough time. Maybe taking her to a place of safety was …

  “I will gut you, Gabryl!”

  He flinched, his thoughts severed.

  “With me or against me, brother!” she screamed. “Queen of the Realms! You can be my consort!”

  Stiffening, he glared upwards. Consort?

  “A
child, brother, yours and mine, a son the realms will quake before! Come to me!”

  Shudders overcame him. A child? Was she utterly insane?

  Yes, she was.

  “Or I will gut you!”

  Inhaling for calm, he shut off the crazy screeches and focused on the well within him. Weaving the breach chant into the Elixir gift of destination, he prepared to move into her space while reaching for the simple but ensorcelled dagger nestled at the small of his back.

  CLAPPING HER HANDS, she twirled around; a belly dancer in a harem. The entire universe had suddenly become so quiet, she needed music and dance to make it turn, move, be.

  Vian never left the Vault; his attendance was ever dependable. She could count on it always. And then, a few days ago, he unexpectedly disappeared, leaving not only a terrible sense of absence in their home, but also a hole in her heart. Even if she no longer loved him - she hated him - ever he was there, giving her the attention she needed - craved. Vian, murderer, child killer, was up to something. His legendary patience had clearly reached a point of no return.

  Liar!

  He claimed to love her still, but conspired behind her back.

  She noticed something when he left; a slight weakening in the shield surrounding her. It was not enough to break through with, but it did allow her access to the others in the Vault below. Thus, she used it immediately. She would suck them all dry, by the gods old and new, and when he returned she would unleash agony upon him, through marrow and into atom.

  Pacing her turret, Cathian realised something else. In a lucid moment, she understood Vian paved the way for someone to fetch her. He had prepared a new prison cell for her, this one no doubt a dungeon in the pit of a world. He wanted rid of her.