Eurue- The Forgotten World

by Elaina J Davidson

  Elsewhere, the Valleur and Grunway returned their charges to Eurue, ferrying in tents and supplies also. Commanders Krestin and Jaken oversaw that side of matters. When the region around the chateau cleared, Jimini and Kila joined the Kaval at the Vault.

  Rumours abounded, but Savier said he would address his people once he reached an understanding with Vian of the Wulvyn. He agreed with Alusin; the Vault was good for Eurue, as was an alliance between that edifice and the one in vacuum.

  A grunt signified returning lucidity.

  The three men straightened.

  Vian propped himself up on one elbow and scrutinised their faces one after the other. Sighing, he looked away. “She is dead.”

  Hand casual near the hilt of his sword, Tristan approached. “It was swift and painless. She appeared calm.”

  “She is free,” Vian whispered. Squeezing his eyes shut for long intense moments, he added, “I am now free.” He sat up, swinging his legs to the floor, and clasped his head in his hands. “As much as I loved her, I am relieved.” He lifted his head and met Tristan’s eyes. “Does that make me a terrible man?”

  Hunkering before the Wulvyn, Tristan murmured, “On the contrary.”

  “Gabryl did it?”

  “Yes.”

  “How is he coping?”

  Tristan sighed. “Not well at all.”

  Closing his eyes again, Vian nodded. “Understandable.” Inhaling strength, he pushed himself to his feet. “The Vault?”

  “Safe. The Kaval watch there as we speak. Gabryl put them to sleep also and they are unharmed.” Rising, Tristan touched the man’s forearm. “This is new beginnings.”

  Savier stepped into the conversation. “We shall discuss this later, but know at the outset that you and yours are welcome on Eurue.”

  Vian studied the Keeper, flicked his amber gaze to Alusin, and then settled on Tristan. He did not speak.

  “We wish for you to become Guardians once more,” Tristan said.

  Tense and silent moments went by, and then Vian bowed low. “My lord, we are at your service.”

  “Don’t bloody ‘my lord’ me.”

  Smiling slightly, Vian straightened. “I will now go to my brothers and sisters.”

  “Eat first,” Alusin suggested.

  “Later, but my thanks. I will return for our discussions.” Hesitating briefly, the man then vanished.

  Grief was now fresh; Vian needed to be among those who knew him, understood him.

  Savier and Alusin markedly slumped shoulders upon his leaving.

  Gripping the Medaillon through his tunic, Tristan stared at the vacated space. “These are new beginnings, indeed.”

  Vault of Life

  BELUN NOTICED THE Wulvyn’s arrival. “They will sleep for at least the balance of this night still.”

  Vian nodded. He glanced at each Kaval member present, which was all of them besides Tristan and Alusin, and then gestured at the archway. “Please. Enter. You are welcome.”

  Chaim moved forward. “I peered inside. My friend, how astonishing. It is so beautiful. You must tell me how you filigreed the gold into the …”

  Smiling wryly, Vian followed the old man into his enclave.

  Kila jabbed Jimini. “Sexy man.” An instant later she spluttered laughter, seeing the look Belun sent her. “Don’t worry, Centuar, you are all I want.”

  Rearing back, Belun glared at her, causing Assint and Mahler no end of amusement.

  Petunya

  Frond

  The Chateau

  JALA, FLEUR, MACKI, Lunas, Dez and Dash waited for him two days later outside the chateau. Tristan waved as he approached.

  “It’s over?” Dash asked, fingering his dreadlocks.

  “It is,” Tristan murmured.

  Jala eyed him. The amber beads in her ears quivered. “From what Kila and Jimini shared, Gabryl ended up being a nice guy. Can’t see that, to be honest.”

  “You will never have to see him again,” Tristan grinned. “This place has been gifted to the Grunway and anything personal will be packed up and shipped out. He is not coming back here.”

  “Where is he?” Macki queried. As ever, his tone was quiet, filled with gravitas.

  “Grinwallin. His life starts anew now, far from Petunya.”

  Relieved smiles acknowledged that.

  “Why have you asked us to gather here?” Jala asked.

  “Well, firstly to tell you that you are now under Kaval protection and we have formed alliance with your Grunway. If anything goes wrong here in the future, just shout. Over the next months we will lend what aid is needed to restore Frond. And then there is this.” Tristan summoned the Aleru Orb and held it aloft. “Jimini told you about your people being in a safe place? This will bring them back, and then it truly is done with.”

  “Really?” Lunas whispered. The young man wished to hope, and yet hope had so often escaped them that he was wary still.

  By way of answer, Tristan ambled around the building to the back where he and Alusin breached the line that was all about perception. It felt as if a lifetime had passed.

  Squatting, with the others in a semi-circle behind him, he placed the flickering orb in the open space, thereby rejoining the line, if only temporarily. While the line was no longer there, the residue of its manipulation remained, and the orb summoned the final threads to it.

  The device unfolded to send a solid beam of white light directly into the heavens.

  Gaping, all craned up, even Tristan.

  It winked out a mere instant later.

  And a woman stumbled on the grass, her dark skin contracting into goosebumps in the chilly air. As she stood, she gazed at the chateau. “I’m home?” she whispered. Then she punched the air. “I’m home!”

  “She was the housekeeper here,” Jala said, a smile erupting to entirely change her features.

  “Folk will reappear wherever they were taken from, as will your domestic and wild animals,” Tristan said, watching the housekeeper stride towards the small courtyard that led to the kitchen.

  Dez grimaced, tugging at one big ear. “Man, it’s a long walk home. Are you sure about this? How do we know what you say is true?”

  “I will take you, each of you, back to your homes. I swear, your family and friends will be there soon enough.”

  The six smiled.

  The continent of Frond on Petunya, but for maintenance and repair that needed doing, was back to normal. Winter was about to unleash, but these farmers knew what to do; they would be fine.

  As he gripped Fleur for transport, Tristan snapped his fingers … and the orb disintegrated. Its power dissipated as if it had never existed.

  Faintly, daetal twirling in the ether whispered of satisfaction and appreciation. That was another alliance, but Tristan hoped to never have need to call upon it.

  Chapter 54

  Home is where family is

  ~ Gabryl Lowry ~

  Luvanor

  Grinwallin

  WHEN HE NEEDED to clear his head, he went for a ride. Thus, as the morning mist lifted, Teighlar persuaded Gabryl to choose his horseflesh. The man could well do with some head clearing.

  They picked their way along the damp forest path and then angled down to the plateau. All was eerily quiet. Folk were still abed.

  Wordless, they cantered.

  Teighlar studied Gabryl’s form. His son sat well on a horse; he was no stranger to riding. This caused him to smirk in satisfaction. Soon he would have the man racing this plateau. Nothing like it. Got the juices flowing.

  “I wish to honour Cathian’s memory,” Gabryl said at last, slowing his mount to a walk.

  Reining in to keep pace, Teighlar gave a sigh of relief. At last. If he wished to talk about it, Gabryl was on the path to healing.

  “I wish that too,” he murmured. “What have you in mind?”

  “She will have wanted to be buried on Orb, I know that, but in present time that means she will be as lost to memory.” Gabryl glanced at him. “
Home is where family is, correct?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Gabryl stared ahead again, nodding. “And her family is here. I know this cuts Savier and Alusin out …”

  “We are her family, son. She belongs with us.”

  A ghost of a smile hovered on the Diluvan’s lips. “That is how I see it as well.”

  “There is a small clearing near the chasm I have always considered truly special,” Teighlar ruminated. “It resonates and yet no one goes there, because folk are too afraid of the mighty drop. If I ever pass on, then that is where I would prefer to spend my eternity.”

  Gabryl gazed at him steadily.

  Teighlar cleared his throat. “The honour would be mine to have my daughter there, waiting for me.” He waved a hand. “Oh, I am aware she will not be there, but memory of her will be. A headstone, one we shall design together.”

  “She will be there. I have her journal now, the words of the real Cathian Lowry. I wish to bury it as if burying her.” Gabryl faced forward once more. “A headstone over a small casket is perfect. She will smile about that wherever she is.”

  “Do I need to read her journal?” Teighlar was surprised how much it hurt, the potential of not knowing his daughter via her own words.

  “Yes. Do you wish to?”

  “Very much,” Teighlar whispered.

  Gabryl smiled, a full and free gesture. “She would like that.”

  “Closure.”

  “Indeed,” Gabryl agreed.

  Their mounts ambled peaceably onward.

  Gabryl sniffed after a while. “Do you ever gallop across this expanse? It lends itself to speed, I think.”

  Teighlar snorted. “Boy, put your money where your gut lies.” He urged his horse to a canter and then to gallop, shouting challenge.

  Laughing, Gabryl soon caught up with him.

  Together, father and son flew.

  A FEW DAYS LATER Alik Diluvan returned to Grinwallin.

  Red tresses bounced as she nimbly leapt the stairs to the Great Hall’s portico. She knew her father well; she would find him under the vines, probably with a bottle of Senlu red at his elbow. Grinning, she jumped the final steps and swerved to her right.

  There he was, as expected, but he was not alone.

  Her grin faded somewhat, and she slowed her progress. More sedate, Alik closed in, studying the coppery head of hair with its back to her. Obviously a Senlu.

  “Alik!”

  Her father rose, his smile of welcome huge, and, laughing, she moved into his arms to be properly enfolded. When they drew apart, she placed a kiss on his cheek and then turned to face the man at table.

  Pale blue eyes stared at her.

  She frowned. “You look like my father.”

  The man rose and bowed. “I am honoured by the comparison.” He straightened, staring into her emerald orbs. “You have glorious eyes.”

  She grinned. “Thank you.”

  Teighlar rested a hand on her shoulder, saying with amusement, “Do not get ideas now, daughter. This is Gabryl Lowry and …”

  “Oh. I heard rumours on Thisseldrum.” She blinked and shifted to look at her father, her gaze filled with questions and concern.

  Hard pressed not to laugh, Teighlar said, “I hope you do not believe mere rumours.”

  A red eyebrow hiked upward. “What does that mean? What happened?”

  “Alik, meet Gabryl, your brother.”

  She swung back again, and then untidily sat in the nearest chair. She gaped at the stranger. “Brother? How?” Puffing her cheeks, she glanced between her father and … her brother. Before either could offer explanation, she grinned. “Brother. I like that.”

  SITTING, TEIGHLAR smiled with satisfaction. He said no more. Let my kids do the talking, he mused, and then smiled even wider. Kids. I like the sound of that.

  He lifted his goblet - Senlu red indeed - and toasted Gabryl with a significant look, and guffawed laughter when the two immediately launched into frantic conversation.

  Life is extraordinarily good to me. Torrullin, do I have stories to tell when you show your ugly face again.

  A DAY LATER, Tristan and Alusin put in an appearance. This time the Emperor was alone in his extensive library.

  He placed his book on a side table and watched them as they ambled in. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Alusin smiled, but Tristan eyed him. Indeed, this Valla knew him well too. As he knew enough of this Valla to know something was on the man’s mind. Teighlar grinned and waved to seats in proximity.

  “How is Gabryl?” Tristan asked, sitting and stretching his legs before him.

  “On the mend, especially now that Alik bends his ear.”

  “She’s back? And fine with having a brother? Glad to hear it.”

  “Hmm. Why are you here?” Teighlar eyed in turn.

  Tristan snorted, leaving it to Alusin to respond.

  “A courtesy call, my lord Emperor. All is quiet in the spaces again and we thought you would like to know that,” Alusin said. His dark blue gaze flicked back and forth, no doubt reading the something extra in the visit, something he was unaware of until now.

  Teighlar nodded. “My thanks.” He stared at Tristan, waiting.

  Lacing his fingers over his abdomen, Tristan murmured, “Who is Karydor?”

  Chuckling, Teighlar said, “All is recently quiet in the spaces and already you search for your next challenge. What is wrong with you Vallas? Take time to enjoy the sunshine for a while.”

  The Kemir now sported a frown. “Tris, this is why we came?”

  “It occurred to me when we arrived,” Tristan replied.

  “Liar,” Alusin snapped.

  “Seconded!” Teighlar chortled.

  Sitting up, Tristan sucked at his teeth, nodding slowly. “That name has been looping through my thoughts ever since you mentioned it in the Dome. A reincarnate?” He inhaled and glanced at his companion. “We came to inform the lord Emperor he now has untrammelled opportunity to get to know his son, but, yes, I thought to ask about this Karydor also.” He shifted his attention back to the Senlu. “I feel as if I should know him.”

  Teighlar sighed. “Because he is a Danae. He is in your race memories.”

  Alusin gaped. “I just know this is trouble.”

  Tristan closed his eyes, lines appearing between his eyebrows. Behind his lids, his eyes moved as if reading. His frown deepening, his eyelids lifted.

  “I feel the recognition, but he remains elusive.”

  “Perhaps he chose anonymity. Most Danae opted for that.”

  “Teighlar, who is he?”

  “Karydor is Torrullin’s true father.”

  Tristan’s features stilled. “Reincarnate? He became Taranis?”

  Inclining his head, Teighlar said, “Yes, but there is more to it. Taranis was unaware, always, of his previous persona. He did not even know he was Danae. This was to protect Torrullin from his birth father …” He held a hand aloft. “It is a complicated tale, but basically Torrullin was born to Karydor in first cycle and that father commanded his death, and thus was Torrullin taken through time to Taranis.”

  Alusin said not a word, but he paled markedly.

  “First cycle,” Tristan repeated. “The stagnation cycle. Before even Lorin time. By all gods, Torrullin really is a man of Time.”

  “So is Karydor,” Teighlar sighed. “And thus I keep the watch, in the event.”

  “In the event of what?” Alusin demanded.

  “That would be the question.”

  “How do you know?” Tristan asked.

  Teighlar grinned. “Sabian, Master Historian, and Shep Lore’s great book of ages.”

  “Does Torrullin know?”

  Teighlar inclined his head.

  Tristan closed his eyes briefly. “Damn, now I will be looking over my shoulder too.”

  Alusin glanced back and forth again. “There’s something more. Was he a terrible man?”

  “On the contrary,” Teighlar said, �
��but time plays tricks. Look what it did to Cathian and Gabryl and, let’s face it, Torrullin and Elianas also.” He huffed wryly. “And to Alexander, hmm?”

  The three men nodded together, and then spoke of other matters.

  ON THE PORTICO, Gabryl waited. Having said farewell to the Emperor and having promised not to let time get away from them again, to visit Grinwallin regularly, Tristan and Alusin were ready to leave, but Gabryl clearly needed to talk to them.

  He did not give them opportunity to enquire after his health.

  “It is done,” he said without even offering greeting. “I am willing to relinquish the All bestowed upon me.”

  “It is part of you now,” Tristan denied.

  Gabryl’s features twisted. “I do not deserve it.”

  Ah. Guilt. Tristan moved to the edge of the steps descending to the next tier, crossing his arms. Gabryl needed an alternative purpose or the march of years would sunder his Light.

  “Gabryl, do you know of Grinwallin’s past?”

  The Diluvan blinked. “Ancient, raised with the blood of Alexander’s line. It waited in abeyance until Tristamil Valla read runes on a wall.”

  Tristan sent him a grin. “Oh, my friend, there is so much more. Grinwallin, city of Eternity. Indeed, because her architect imagined her before life had filled the universe. Grinwallin, City of the Abyss. Literally, an abyss, and I do suggest you speak to your father about it. This is a sacred space, and it is volatile, needs appeasing.”

  Gabryl crossed his arms as well, and sent a frown.

  Alusin smiled. “Grinwallin needs someone with the All, Gabryl. One day your powers may be all that stands in defence of a Grinwallin risen.”

  “Risen to what?” Gabryl whispered.

  Swiping hands through his fair hair, Tristan laughed. “By all gods, no one wishes to even entertain ideas about that, in case Grinwallin hears.” Shifting to grip the Diluvan’s shoulders, he added, “You are needed. Teighlar of the present is so invested in his marvellous city, he will allow her to do as she wishes. You, with his genetics and the All, you are the true defender now.”