Torrullin closed his eyes. “True.”
Elianas rose and began gathering the dishes.
THE ENTIRE VILLAGE and all guests tucked and folded into the head shaman’s cave.
Allith had arrived earlier and now sat with her father. Carlin stood proudly, the sweat dripping from him. It was stifling, but all understood how he could not withstand the touch of sunlight.
He began. “After cross-referencing translations, we think …” He meant the archaeologists who helped him, particularly Muller. “… we have a ninety-nine percent certainty in correctness of language. The wording is definitely Avior, of the Settling Stars Epoch.” He glanced at Torrullin. “I am sure you prefer I do not detail the duality of words, but rather head directly into a common tongue reading.”
Torrullin nodded.
“Very well, then here it is.”
Carlin retrieved a sheaf of dog-eared papers.
“He who enters cannot leave by the same token.”
He looked up. “The warning in the curve.” Torrullin waved him on and Carlin bent to his notes again.
“When all hope is lost, it will be renewed. When all life has ceased, the seed will sprout anew. In the whorl will appear all that was, is and must be. Balance is restored, and the new way becomes fresh. Thus it is foreseen as the stars settle into their patterns. Thus it will be when the dancing suns and dying moons meet …”
“Wait,” Anethor croaked. He craned over to Torrullin. “Does any of that make sense to you?”
Torrullin nodded. “Recently we undertook a journey to restore the balance of past, present and future, thereby renewing hope and life and forging for all a fresh and unburdened future. This is most likely the reason visions have ceased, for all is new. The whorl Carlin refers to is the realm where this journey took place.”
“Why did you feel you had to do such a thing?”
“That, my friends, would take words I do not possess.”
“Ah. And this dancing, dying stars?”
“Epochs. The door was set in place during the Epoch of Settling Stars, which is roughly midway between the Epoch of Dancing Suns and the Epoch of Dying Moons. We are currently in Dying Moons.”
“And Dancing Suns met Dying Moons?” Anethor questioned. “On your journey?”
“Indeed.”
“And these Avior foretold it … accurately?”
“Appears that way.”
Anethor sighed. “Then what comes next is no doubt accurate also.”
“No doubt,” Torrullin echoed.
Anethor gestured to Carlin, who went on.
“Thus it will be when the dancing suns and dying moons meet, when all lost memory is rediscovered, when from sword and seat form is returned, and a city of light is gifted new light …”
Torrullin hung his head. Elianas stared stoically at the Cèlaver.
“Wait,” Anethor interrupted.
Torrullin lifted his head. “Part of the balancing of the whorl, please trust that.”
In the time realm his memory returned to him, Kalgaia, city of light, was restored, and Elianas, well, Elianas reformed from sword and seat - the Lumin Sword and the Throne.
Anethor nodded after a minute. He gestured.
“Ah, um … and a city of light is gifted new life. This is the wording of oracles.” Carlin swallowed. “Er … When these events are seen, thus will be forthcoming a new journey. This will be the journey of unbalance, for it is known in all matters there are two parts, one the opposite of the other. In the whorl lay entrance and exit, in unbalance there is neither. This door before you, travellers, is but a devised means and may be used only once. Know now the journey is beyond and there is no return through this door …”
Elianas and Torrullin glanced at each other.
“The dragon and the sword will enter together as they must, as is foretold. In the dark is found light, and in the light is found dark, and everywhere will be shadow, beyond the veil lies the answer and in the answer lies the labyrinth where shadows mark the corners of curves. Lords of all, bring forth the shadows. Balance will fail, unbalance will sunder, and even shadow will have no power. Nothing exists. This is the wording of oracles. Bring forth the shadows.”
Carlin stopped reading, shuffled his papers and looked up. “That is it.”
Elianas and Torrullin still gazed at each other.
“My Lord?” Allith prompted.
Torrullin mentally reorganised. “Carlin, thank you. A job well done.”
The Cèlaver grinned. “I had help, and we all thank you.”
“Thank you all.” Torrullin gave a general smile. “Anethor, our appreciation …”
“Cut the bullshit,” the old man said. “What does it mean?”
Bloody hell, now would be one of those times it paid to be rude. He wished he could just up and walk.
“I am also called Dragon,” he said, “and Elianas is the sword referred to. The reading tells us what we must do.”
Anethor raised an eyebrow. “Curves, corners, veils and labyrinths? Forgive me when I say it tells us nothing. And to go in is not to leave? You would risk it?”
“We would risk it, yes. You see, the balance we restored has an unfortunate side effect - absolute unbalance. Unfortunately, only now is that clear, having heard these old words, although there have been pointers in the last few days. An unforeseen side-effect, yet now beyond obvious.” Torrullin glared at his hands for a few moments, berating himself for being short-sighted.
Lifting his head, he continued. “In itself, unbalance is acceptable, for the way of most things is to know the opposite, yet the two are now separate, entirely separate. Balance stands alone, and will thus falter without unbalance.
“Did we know this would happen? No. Would we have gone in and restored balance had we known this would happen? Yes. We needed balance in the form of known and accepted reality. Without it we would not now be sitting here. However, it cannot stand alone and continue to function in the current form.”
Beside him, Elianas was stoic, but the tension in his hands was clear to Torrullin.
“Unbalance stands alone and cannot maintain chaos without the balance which roots it. Despite every tenet of morality, friends, the universe requires the chaos factor - chaos is creative, it makes life.”
Allith said, “This is why Echolone suffers. Because the exploitation is part of balance, we are powerless to stop it. If there were unbalance, we could boot them out.”
“Exactly.”
“How do you fix it?” Muller asked.
“By bringing forth the shadows,” Anethor murmured. “Shadows lie between light and dark, thus connecting them eternally. They connect all things that are opposite.”
“Well put,” Torrullin said.
“How?” Allith frowned.
Elianas spoke. “We choose a path in life to follow, all of us. Some choose to walk in the Light where the soul rejoices in all that is good, and others walk in the Dark where evil flourishes …”
“Not everyone is wholly good or bad,” Carlin murmured.
“Agreed, and yet the soul makes a choice. Then there are those who walk in Shadow, from which vantage one can see both light and dark.”
“Many must walk in Shadow, then,” Petin pointed out.
“Few manage it,” Elianas murmured.
“You are one of them?” Allith asked.
Elianas inclined his head.
“Then you must be,” she said to Torrullin.
“I am.”
Muller muttered, “You fix this balance thing by being in Shadow?”
“Shadow is already present in balance,” Elianas said. “Now we must take it to unbalance. Where we exit, we also connect the opposites, and thus both stand. Yes, I am aware that is a simplified explanation, but it holds.”
“It says you cannot leave,” Petin frowned. “I’m not going with you, not for this.”
General laughter followed that statement.
“It says we cannot use the door
to leave,” Torrullin said. “I know it says in unbalance there is no entrance and exit, yet entrance is given. Thus exit will be found.”
“It’s like a realm,” Anethor murmured.
“It is exactly like a realm.”
“Dedication,” Anethor sighed.
Torrullin smiled. “Precisely.”
“I think it’s stupid and dangerous,” a villager spoke up. “That door has been there for ages, it can continue for ages. Nothing will happen.”
“Not immediately,” Caballa said, standing. “I was in the whorl and I saw the beauty that is life in balance and I fought hard to keep it. I have also seen unbalance on Ardosia, where the Darak Or Margus exterminated Valleur as if we were less than animals, and I fought hard to stay it. In both I succeeded, yet hear me when I say I could only appreciate the perfect balance of a good and peaceful life having nearly lost everything. For good to be, there must be evil. For light to shine, there must be dark to drive away, and the shadows tell you of success. If no one goes through that door, you are right, it will remain and nothing will happen … to the door.
“Yet, mark me, in time, anarchy will be the balance you regard as normal, and, no, that is not unbalance, for anarchy will rule. Or everything will be peaceful, perfect balance, and life will stagnate. In the end, sentience will fail. Nothing will exist. No one needs brave the door today or even in a hundred years, yet before too long it must be done.”
There was silence and then a gentle ripple of applause.
Caballa smiled. “Thank you. I wish, though, I’d seen this before we entered the whorl, for we may have circumvented much of what has now happened.”
“Seems to me the door needed finding,” Petin murmured, “which means this had to happen anyway.”
Caballa nodded thoughtfully, and sat.
“Petin is correct,” Elianas said.
“I take it, then, you are going to brave the door?” Allith asked of Torrullin.
“Dragon and sword, yes.”
“When?”
“After the Two Fork Tree meeting.”
Allith lifted a finger. “If this is part of balance, how do we prevent exploitation?”
“We reason, Allith. The issues are not that far gone. But we have to reason now.”
“Will they heed?”
“Oh, they will heed.”
Allith grinned. “All right.”
“My Lord?” Carlin called out. “Is the door a devised means?”
“Anything built by man is devised.”
“How did Avior know?”
“Oracles are not limited to any one race. The Valleur have them, although we call them seers, and here on Echolone the shamans are on a similar path. Soothsayers, diviners, augurs, witchdoctors, sangomas, pagan priests and priestesses, one and the same by various format. Drinic, Deorc, Yltri, to name but three present day races, all trust in the second sight. In older days the talent was more widespread. Avior, of course, was renowned for their oracles, temples and, well, doors.”
Torrullin grinned as he said the last and general laughter ensued.
“Doors are portals, even in daily life. You enter and exit realms every time you pass through a doorway.”
“I never thought of it like that,” Petin murmured. “Interesting.”
“Yeah,” Muller muttered. “Every time I walk through a door I’m going to think about this.”
“That is balance,” Elianas said.
“Doorways?”
“No, to think,” Elianas smiled.
Anethor nodded. “To think is to know and to know is to act with forethought. Balance.”
“Boring,” a teenager called out, and gusts of laughter shook the gathered.
“Are you and Elianas going in alone?” Allith asked.
Torrullin did not look at Elianas. “No warning is given of other travellers being in danger. I would prefer doing this with Elianas alone, but I have also come to realise others are often as dedicated and cannot be dissuaded. I really would not recommend volunteers, though.”
“Is it dangerous?” a young woman whispered.
“We do not know. I simply prefer being responsible for myself. Elianas, luckily, knows how to take care of himself.”
A ripple of laughter.
“I am going,” Caballa said.
“Caballa, for Aaru’s sake,” Torrullin snapped. “Your place is here.”
She leaned forward. “You two need me.”
“Tristan needs you.”
“No, Tristan loves me. There’s a difference.”
He stared at her. “We will discuss this later.”
“We won’t. My mind is set.”
“Gods, why is it my fate to know stubborn women?” Torrullin moaned.
In the new bout of laughter, Allith stared at the fair man. She bent to her father and whispered something. He nodded and she straightened.
“Torrullin, do you have an idea how long you will be gone?”
He bowed towards her. “At this point that is the only sensible question. How long before you can trust the scales are levelled?”
“Yes.”
Even Elianas looked at him.
“I cannot say.”
Petin licked his lips. “You left before for two thousand years.”
“And four years recently,” Muller murmured.
“Time is relative, particularly in other realms.”
“We heard you predicted the time of your return before,” Mullar said.
“Not this time, my friend. This time my second sight is as dark as yours.”
“But as Walker …”
“This is a new realm,” Torrullin interrupted. “I have no clue what awaits beyond the door.”
“That door has been there forever. It isn’t new,” a villager said.
“It has been there forever because someone knew enough to put it in place. Fact remains, the realm is new, created by a state of perfect balance.”
Elianas rose. He needed air, and needed it now. He bowed to Anethor. “I thank you for your hospitality, and that of your daughter. Carlin, friends, thank you for the time you put into this.”
“Elianas?”
He looked down. “Time to gather my wits, brother. I shall see you tomorrow evening, wherever you are.” He bowed to the gathering. “Thank you for everything.” He was gone between a breath and a pause.
Torrullin stared at the vacated space and barely held onto his control. When he had it, he looked to Carlin. “Make enough copies of the translation for everyone requiring one, and then have Caballa take you home. Thank you for what you did here and send my regards to your king.”
Carlin bowed and referred somewhat flustered to his papers.
Anethor rose. “It appears the gathering is over. Go now to your duties.”
The cave emptied.
Caballa approached the Cèlaver to request a copy, and Allith took Torrullin’s arm and walked him out into the sunshine.
“YOU AREN’T ACCUSTOMED to people questioning you,” Allith murmured as she steered him in the direction of the small forest beyond the village.
“On the contrary; I have suffered a few in my time.” He allowed himself to be steered, sensing an ulterior motive.
“Then you don’t like it. On your world you are a king, right?”
“I was. My grandson now holds the position.”
“Surely Elixir is king also?”
“Without kingdom.”
“The Animated Spirit is more like godhood.”
“Aaru forbid.” A step, two. “You are well informed.”
“My ear is to the ground always,” she grinned.
“All right, Allith, what point do you wish to make?”
“No point, a remark or two. You see, Torrullin, I once knew a man much like you.”
“How so?”
“Well, let’s see; alone even when surrounded by people, contrary, strong, and yet able to give of himself when the occasion demanded, like you did today. That kind of man.”
“Fine.”
“Note you do not argue. Men like you are difficult to fathom, harder to hold onto and downright impossible to forget. When you hurt others, and you do, you hurt yourself also. You feel, you feel more than most. And when others hurt you, you lash out, for anger is huge in your kind.”
“What happened to this man?”
“He died before his time, but that is not the issue. I want to say you should curb your emotions - no, not curb, but hide them more. Despite your power, people use you because they see how you feel.”
“I assume you mean Elianas.”
“He is like you, but he hides better. Be wary of him.”
“I am, believe me.”
“It’s not my business, I know, but you helped me, I want to help you.”
“Thank you.”
She grinned. “That’s the most insincere thanks I’ve ever received.”
He laughed. “Sorry.”
“Accepted.”
He looked up at the leafy canopy. “It is restful here. Do you come here often?”
“Yes, mostly to remember the man who died before his time. He was my husband.”
“How did he die?”
“A tree fell the wrong way. I like to think his spirit walks here.”
Torrullin came to a stop. “His spirit doesn’t walk here, Allith; only memory does. You must let go.”
She smiled sadly. “That has proven hard.”
He looked up again. “I understand well.”
“Torrullin, you need Caballa to go with you, as buffer.”
“It is why she insists.” He walked on. “May I ask something? When you see us together, Elianas and I, what do you see?”
“Mine is a more objective view?” She ambled a few paces. “There is much tension between you, unresolved feelings and issues. I’ve heard the rumours of a more intimate relationship, yet it seems an unlikely thing. The tension is there, but you are so close you confuse yourselves. You are brothers, where kinship is of the soul, not of blood.”
Torrullin smiled and walked on beside her, feeling at peace for the first time in days.
Allith laughed and hooked her arm through his.
“Allith, what is sacred space?”
“Why, it’s the heart. Love.”
“And Heart’s Desire?”
“That is personal, individual, and more dangerous than any creature anywhere.”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 78
