“They had further to go, for more layers needed to be stripped away to expose the inner beings.”
Tristan looked to the other. “What do we do now?”
A strange chuckle. “You wait for Elixir to awaken.”
The other added, “They are sleeping only.”
Then, without warning or greeting, the Syllvan were gone.
Tristan looked upon Lowen’s bent head and then at Torrullin. He appeared younger in real sleep. He transferred his gaze to Elianas; saw there fine care lines shadowed by long, dark lashes. Elianas, he realised was closer in age to Torrullin than they had thought. Elianas, he acknowledged, was beautiful as few men could claim. He sighed and bent to lift the man and moved him closer to Torrullin, and stood back a pace.
Elianas moved, curled, and placed his head on Torrullin’s chest. Torrullin’s knee bent and he shifted. A hand was thrown across Elianas’ back.
Lowen rose and walked away, her face like stone. The two men slept on, and Tristan stood a moment longer, wondering what the Syllvan meant when he said they belonged together.
He returned to the others. “Well, we survived the void and all is as it should be. There is that.”
Nobody said anything. Thinking of the void removed the power of speech.
Experiences there were so personal they could not be shared.
TORRULLIN’S EYES SNAPPED open first, and he saw blue sky. Normality. He heaved a sigh of relief, and felt the weight on his chest. Elianas. He shook the man and the weight lifted off.
“Where are we?” Elianas muttered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He noted the others nearby and smiled greeting. The smile was unaffected.
“Aaru knows,” Torrullin said as he stood. He stretched. “Gods, that hurts,” he muttered in astonishment. He, too, saw the others. “We made it, I assume.”
“And succeeded,” Quilla smiled.
Torrullin lent Elianas a hand, pulling the wincing man up.
“The Syllvan brought us to this place,” Lowen murmured, “and told us what happened on the other side of here.”
Torrullin’s good humour curdled. He looked around. “Place of Peace?”
Elianas ceased stretching. “What did you say?”
“I don’t think one can go hungry here,” Caballa said. “Fruit in plenty, fish - what?”
Torrullin strode for the nearest hill.
“What now?” Tristan sighed.
Elianas threaded hands through his hair and ended with a cheek rubbing. “We cannot be here.”
“Well, we are,” Lowen said.
“I meant we cannot stay here. The Syllvan obviously brought us because it is a convenient gathering area for them, but we must leave.” Elianas looked over his shoulder at the diminishing form. “More precisely, he must leave.”
“What does that mean, Elianas?” Caballa frowned.
The man shrugged and headed for the stream to drink. He washed his face and then sat staring at himself in the water.
Nemisin’s son-in-law. What a farce. He made his wife’s life a living hell, and still Nemisin welcomed him every time. And why? Because Nemisin relished the power, and because of the link to Torrullin. His daughter had not mattered.
Muttering a curse, he rose to rejoin the others. “How long have we been here?”
“All in all, we reckon about six hours,” Caballa replied. “Is this dangerous to him, or what?”
“No, it is not like that.”
“Then what?” Lowen demanded.
“This is off the Path of Shades.”
“So?” Tristan frowned.
“He has no power here. None of us will have, but - gods, how to explain? He did not choose to come, thus power was relinquished unknowingly, and he will call to it. It will come, it always does, and then there will be no more Place of Peace.”
“He will destroy it,” Caballa said. “Simply by being here.”
“And the universe will be the poorer.”
“How do we leave?”
“A Walker needs no power to find the veil. He is looking now.”
As they waited they told Elianas what the Syllvan revealed.
At the end of the telling he smiled. “Excellent. It was worth it, then.”
Caballa smiled also. More and more she liked the dark man. “Quite a few wrinkles have been smoothed out, by the sounds of it. Rose’s appreciation took on form.”
Elianas grinned at her. “Despite claims, we do hark to the familiar.”
“That is not a bad thing,” Tristan murmured.
“This time I wholeheartedly agree,” Elianas murmured.
Torrullin returned. “There is no visible portal. It appears we shall be leaving through the Syllvan grotto.” He snorted. “You do not get to pass without answering a few questions.”
Quilla murmured, “We have been through worse recently.”
“You do not know the Syllvan,” Torrullin muttered.
“Torrullin, sit a few minutes and listen to news from beyond,” Caballa ordered. “And, both of you, eat first.”
He gave a grin, sat, and as they ate fruit he heard the tale as Elianas heard it. He, too, smiled at the end of it. “I wonder who Tian married?” He winked at Tristan.
Tristan laughed. “He always said he would marry Vanar’s daughter. The two of them grew up together, always in each other’s hair, until he thought himself a man and started spending more time with us. Her name is Aislinn. I really wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Aislinn? I met her once. A precocious child.”
“A perfect match,” Tristan laughed.
“True,” Torrullin grinned. “I wonder how much time we are talking, though - years, decades? Are you all right with him being Vallorin?”
“Yes, and Teroux will be as well.”
“Good, then all is well.”
Elianas said, “You should touch him.”
Torrullin glanced at Elianas and then back at Tristan. “Give me your hand.”
Tristan extended it, and Torrullin gripped firmly. Trebac sparked.
“You are right,” Torrullin murmured to Elianas.
“Of course.”
Torrullin released and met Tristan’s eyes. Grey stared into grey. “You are immortal.”
A hissed breath, shock, and then, slowly, a smile. “Really? The void?”
“Stripped bare, all of us,” Torrullin said, “and put back together. You were a step away and the step was taken in the void.”
“Goddess, that was a mighty Ritual,” Tristan breathed and then whooped out loud. He gripped Caballa, kissed her soundly, and laughed. “Done! Gods, it is done!”
“We take it you are happy,” Quilla murmured.
“Yes! Heart and head both wanted this.”
Torrullin sighed. Right. And there was no turning back. He looked away, into Lowen’s eyes. He found the same sadness there.
Yes, immortal, until the undying years began to add up.
Chapter 61
No, idiot, a cave is not just a cave! Smell the mites! Did you smell that in the other one? Idiot.
~ Tattle’s Blunt Adventures
Syllvan Grotto
AN HOUR LATER THE six stood before the Syllvan in their grotto of stalactites and stalagmites.
As always the light shone from within those deposits, creating an eerie rosy atmosphere. Torrullin had asked for entry and it was granted. Like to Elianas, the Syllvan understood the danger to the Place of Peace.
One spoke, the one roughly in the centre, which Torrullin always thought of as leader, although the Syllvan regarded themselves as equal in status.
It said, “We shall put one question to each of you, and permit one question from each of you.”
“Rather hasty this time, not so?” Torrullin murmured.
“Is that a real question, Elixir?” the same Syllvan demanded.
“If you want it to be.”
“No. You are not to escape that easily.”
A laugh. A sigh. Gods. Haste or not, this would be bad. “Fine. All
ow me, however, to thank you on behalf of all of us for removing us from the void.”
“It would have ended naturally, but then too much time would pass in reality for you to return and retain equanimity. And it was our pleasure.”
Torrullin bowed.
“Q’li’qa’mz,” the Syllvan on the far right began, “as Ancient you have experienced the pull of your home universe. Has this left?”
Quilla bowed. “It has left and I am relieved.”
“Caballa,” another said. “Has your vision of Tristan changed?”
She gaped at him. “I don’t know.”
“Then look, seer, and when you have seen, tell him everything.”
She nodded, and moved closer to Tristan.
“Tristan, longevity and immortality are poles apart. You cannot have children, you cannot count on those you love being in your future, and even your personality will now begin transformation. Were you to have a final opportunity to reverse your new immortality, would you take that opening?”
This penetrating question came from a Syllvan on the left.
Tristan did not hesitate. “No.”
“We wish you a smooth road, Tristan Skyler Valla,” another Syllvan murmured.
Tristan bowed. “Thank you.”
“Lowen, you are known to us and will ever be welcome,” the central tree trunk said. “We have decided to present you with a gift. Many times you have been unselfish in your choices and we feel it is your due.”
She stared at the Gatekeeper, heart hammering.
“You must answer yes or no immediately,” the Syllvan continued. “Yes or no, will you accept the gift of death?”
Lowen paled.
“Yes or no? Now!”
“Yes!” she blurted.
Torrullin was ashen.
Elianas’ lips thinned.
“Death has been granted. Choice or circumstance will determine your crossing over,” another Syllvan intoned. He sounded pleased.
“Lowen?” Torrullin said.
She did not look at him; in fact, she could barely move.
“Aaru,” Quilla murmured.
The central one added, “One says no to death, another yes. Is that not the contradiction of time?”
“How dare you?” Torrullin growled.
“Is that a serious question, Elixir?”
“Yes.”
“We dare because we understand. Tristan denied it, for he is young. Lowen accepted because the years are heavy now. It does not mean she wants to die; she seeks the choice and now possesses it. Tell me, Elixir, Master of Reaume, if we were to gift you the same, would you accept or deny, knowing what you know, being who you are?”
Torrullin froze in position. “If you offer, only then shall I answer.”
Elianas’ hair swung like a curtain. “You cannot, you must not.”
The Syllvan were silent. Trunk heads leaned as they communicated. Then, “We make the offer. You may have death if you so choose.”
Elianas gripped Torrullin, hauled him about. “Don’t you dare!”
Torrullin smiled. “And leave you? Never.”
“Elianas may have it also.”
Both men jerked back to the Syllvan.
Quilla prayed. Take it, take it, please take it.
Tristan closed his eyes, perhaps realising immortality could be as much a curse as it was a gift.
Lowen stared at Torrullin, but saw only Elianas from where she stood. Elianas, pale, distressed, and then terrible in his resolve.
“I do not want it, but I thank you.” Elianas, breathing deeply, did not again look at Torrullin.
Torrullin turned only his head. First he looked at Lowen and then he looked at Elianas. His gaze revealed nothing, and yet it was clear, when he spoke, he would be speaking a choice that went deeper than death.
Quilla held his breath and Tristan stared at the ground.
Caballa sighed.
Torrullin was given time to choose. He would not choose with instinct. No, he would choose with all the mad places in his mind, heart and soul. A truer choice.
He spoke. “Death lies not in my future.”
Elianas did not move; not by a flicker did he betray whatever he felt, but Lowen laughed. “So that’s it?” She drew breath. “You begin to pay today, Torrullin. Mark me.”
“So be it,” Torrullin said. “Again we dance, blue eyes.”
Contrarily, Lowen smiled.
The Syllvan sighed as a group and, along with them, Quilla.
The central trunk said, “You are now permitted one question each.”
“Mine is simple,” Quilla murmured. “Has the prophecy of the Three Kingdoms been fulfilled?”
“Almost. Emperor Teighlar must acknowledge Elixir as High King.”
Torrullin snorted a laugh. “Bang goes the prophecy.”
Tristan asked, “Does the void require continued protection?”
“It is appeased at present and Grinwallin has been separated from it, but, yes, it requires watching. New measures must be put in place within the next thousand years.”
Elianas asked, “Is Kalgaia whole?”
“She is whole, Eternal Companion.”
Elianas smiled.
Lowen asked, “Is there an end?”
“When the universes cease expanding many ends will come, but not even we can say when that is.”
Caballa asked, “Who invented time?”
A wheezing laugh. “We all did. Anyone who can reason creates time in some fashion.”
Then they waited on Torrullin. He deliberated a while. “Is heart’s desire wish or will?”
“What kind of question is that?” Lowen demanded.
Elianas’ hair slowly covered his profile.
“It is neither and it is both. And as the answer is unsatisfactory, thus is heart’s desire never quite satisfied. Heart’s desire never stands alone.”
“Thank you,” Torrullin said, and bowed. The others followed suit.
The Syllvan bowed in their manner. “Speak your destination and you will find yourself there.”
Caballa and Tristan stood together. “Valaris.”
A chuckle sounded from the left. “Where on Valaris?”
“The Vallorin’s home,” Tristan grinned.
A moment later they vanished together.
Quilla said, “I require a time of meditation. Please return me to the Lifesource Temple.”
He was gone.
Lowen looked at the two remaining with her. “Do we go together or apart?”
“Apart,” Torrullin said, and looked at the Syllvan. “You know where I want to go.”
He was immediately on his way.
Elianas ignored Lowen. “Mariner Island.”
Elianas was gone.
Lowen snapped, “Right on his arse.”
The Syllvan laughed and then she was absent also.
The grotto dimmed and the Syllvan slipped into a period of hibernation.
Chapter 62
History is subjective.
~ Truth
Sanctuary
Mariner Island
A COLD WIND HOWLED around the cottage on Mariner Island and Lowen shivered when she prodded Elianas from behind as he unlocked the door.
“I thought you would come.” He opened, entered, leaving the door ajar for her.
“Whose place is this?” she asked, closing the cold wind out.
“Whose do you think?” He snapped his fingers to ignite the wood in the hearth.
“Ah. Nice. A bit basic, a bit wild, but nice.” She wandered around and then halted at a window. “Fantastic view.”
“What do you want?”
“You. Your head on a platter. I know what you did to him and what he did to you. You are even. Now go away and leave him in peace.”
“He does not want peace.” Elianas extended his hands to the fire.
“Elianas …”
“Lowen.” He rose. “Now listen to me. I am not a pretty boy he has dragged through time to h
ave a plaything nearby. I am Enchanter, Eternal Companion, and I am his brother. Not merely in heart, but by Valla connection. My daughter married his son.”
She slumped into a chair. “I didn’t know.”
“There is much you do not know. A vision cannot do justice to the fullness of time, nor does a view of the curve impart detail.”
“A daughter? A son?”
“I was married, Lowen, and I did sleep with my wife. She bore two daughters, and one fell in love with Torrullin’s son. He was not married, nor was the woman of import to time, but fact remains it happened. Nemisin was most displeased and exiled them, and we became comrades-in-arms then, too. Our children lived on, were generally happy, and died as mortals do. Fortunately they were childless or Nemisin would have hounded our grandchildren also, particularly after Kalgaia. Do not presume to ask me to leave; there is too much history between us.”
“Enchanter?”
“The regret after Kalgaia took us off darak’s road and into the Shadows, where Enchanters are born.”
Lowen got up to wander around. “You were his apprentice.”
“Yes, when young. A boy who showed talent, taken to Lord Sorcerer for training. I was of good family; a good match for Nemisin’s daughter, a marriage decided when we were too young to even remember each other’s names, and a sorcerer as son-in-law? I could supplant Torrullin eventually; I could also be an ally in the enemy’s domain.”
“And?”
“I adored him. He was fair, strong, beautiful, uncaring, wild, talented. He listened and he taught without reservation. I came of age, got married and begged the privilege to continue my studies. Nemisin happily obliged. His number one ally.” Elianas sounded bitter.
“And your wife?”
“We saw each other regularly enough.”
“And?”
“What ‘and’ are you referring to?”
“I am not blind.”
Elianas gave a wry chuckle. “Actually, you are.”
“What?” She glared at him.
“We spent huge amounts of time together doing something that took real will and motivation. We were close, and then Nemisin started pushing at me to spy. I told him and it brought us closer. Later, there were our kids.”
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