Frowning, Saska began apportioning coffee and sugar into three coconut shells and one cup. “I don’t get your point.”
Declan murmured, “I think I do. We have lost our powers, but you two have lost your shadow worlds also. In leaving, you are now missing the alchemical perfection to alter this nothingness.”
“We are looking at it wrong,” Elianas said. “The rules are opposite here.” He paused, and his head swung to Torrullin, hair swirling. “In balance the Path of Shades is within us; therefore, in unbalance we are within the Path of Shades.”
Torrullin’s voice was hoarse. “We cannot define anything, for everything here defines us.”
“Here shadow is tangible, for it is Shadow.” Elianas stressed the final word.
Declan groaned.
About to pour the hot water, Saska stilled to stare at Torrullin and Elianas.
Elianas laughed. “Well, well. Is this Heart’s Desire?”
Torrullin paled. “It cannot be like this.”
“Fight in balance, embrace in unbalance,” Elianas whispered.
Torrullin closed his eyes.
“Are you hearing me, Torrullin?” Elianas leaned forward. “Did I not tell you we should have undertaken this alone?”
“It’s too obvious,” Torrullin said. “Nothing can be obvious here.”
Elianas’ eyes narrowed and he grew thoughtful. “You could be right.”
Saska poured the water and wondered if she read it correctly. Embrace the attraction between them, but to what end? Declan was no help when she glanced at him and that meant he probably understood exactly what was under the surface. She set the pot aside and stirred.
The aroma of coffee wafted up.
“Glare like that and you will make it disappear,” Torrullin said. “I really want that coffee.”
She ceased stirring and handed him a coconut shell.
He took a sip and sighed appreciatively. She handed the other two shells over, and they drank, but Saska watched Torrullin until he gave a wry grin.
Declan finished his brew. “Thank you, Saska; that was the best ever.” He set his shell down. “I did not enter the Void and a three year absence separates my return from the Time realm and your exit from that Void. I have not seen anything of you since, Elianas, and you, Torrullin, only briefly when you informed us Tristan was taking the helm in the Dome. I understand your time in this era has been weeks rather than years, too short a time to have resolved anything.”
He drew breath before continuing. “I think the attraction between you lies in power, unequivocal, unassailable and sole power. You want what he has, Torrullin, and you want what Torrullin has, Elianas. You desire above all else to own each other.”
Saska frowned, but read the truth in them.
“Go on,” Elianas said, eyes glittering.
Torrullin was expressionless.
“It is an unholy craving; therefore it translates as attraction that rules the mind, heart and soul … and body. You both play the game, are aware it will destroy you, and thus you fight and that, naturally, intensifies the situation.” Declan paused.
Torrullin remained wordless, but Elianas murmured, “Say the rest of it, Siric.”
Declan inclined his head. “Very well. You are equal in power, which makes you brothers in a way few understand, and sets you in opposition in a manner highly destructive. Balance and unbalance, and you are the shadows that bind them.” He leaned forward. “Control negates the attraction, therefore you seek to control the other’s power.”
“Torrullin?” Saska whispered.
“Declan is right,” he responded without inflection.
“You omit the crucial factor,” Elianas prompted.
The Siric sighed. “Perhaps it isn’t wise to put words to it.”
Torrullin’s hand clamped onto Elianas’ shoulder. “It is not wise.”
Elianas turned those same glittering eyes on him. “Wisdom is for old men on their deathbeds. You and I cannot die, thus wisdom escapes us.”
“You cannot own each other,” Declan said, “and thus it will be a matter of a winner and a loser. Someone would control, the other submit. It destroys brotherhood, friendship, shared experiences, your future and hope of peace. And I doubt you would overcome attraction. You have had too much time together; it will live on in your minds and that will be what really destroys you.”
“Declan?” Saska whispered. “How would they control each other’s power?”
Elianas said, “Unwise.”
Saska sucked at her teeth. “If we are within the Path of Shades, then unwise is to keep quiet.”
Declan’s eyes flickered.
“We would have to sleep together,” Elianas murmured.
“One would have to dominate and the other submit,” Torrullin amended. “And what we have is sundered.”
“Two men,” Saska murmured. “The nature of the act is one of submission and domination.” Even in the alien light her high colour was evident.
Elianas snorted a laugh. “Big dilemma.”
Saska leaned nearer as if to share a secret. “Do you want to?”
Torrullin did not look away. “Before Elianas appeared in the Throne-room of Akhavar, I would not have thought so. When I still knew who I was a long time ago, I would have said yes out of spite and a desire to hurt him as badly as I could. Before my memory returned, I would have laughed it off, and tried to spare his feelings. Now? I cannot answer, for I do not know where truth and lie divides.”
“You are thinking, Torrullin. Speak with your gut.”
“My gut tells me to stay away from him.”
Elianas grunted, half amused, half angry.
“And you?” Saska prompted.
Declan busied himself with the fire, listening intently.
“My gut has led me astray, Saska. I do not trust it.” For once there was no underlying taunt. “My gut told me to study magic. It took me to my father, who took me to Nemisin, who had me taken to you, Torrullin. My immediate instinct was to stay with you, no matter what happened. I always followed the inner prompt and look where it got me, look what it did. Now my gut tells me to stay away from you. I aim not to listen.”
Torrullin grinned. “I am ignoring mine also.”
“Why?” Saska burst out.
“Prophecy,” Elianas said immediately.
“Fate,” Torrullin said simultaneously.
“Who wrote it?” Declan asked.
“We did, the day I achieved immortality,” Elianas murmured. “We swore to remain together until the end.”
Declan rose, stretched, and flexed his wings nubs. His wings had not returned after the long dunking; he had not mentioned it once. “The glyphs said Lords of all, bring forth the shadows. Both of you, dragon and sword, so put sleeping together aside. Embracing rather than fighting does not figure. You are delving too many opposites, and that isn’t unbalance. You create balance by attempting to think in every opposite.”
“You have a point.” Elianas sounded surprised.
“I choose to follow instinct,” Declan said. “I agree we could now be in the Path of Shades, the area where unbalance rules. There may be a veil between this and balance, and we must find it.”
“The Path of Shades does not look and act like this. We have walked there, and this is not it. There is no balance or unbalance on the Path, no light, no dark, no everything, no nothing,” Torrullin said.
“Gods, you said we may be within the Path of Shades.”
Torrullin nodded. “Yes, within, not into, not inside.”
Elianas laughed. “Try and explain that!”
“Yes, try,” Declan snapped.
Torrullin thought a moment, and stood. He found a long twig and drew two parallel lines in the sand, about a foot apart. He jabbed at the centre space between the lines.
“That is inside. It is the middle of a path, the part away from the edges.” He jabbed again, more arbitrarily. The point of the twig landed slightly to the left of his centre mark. “That is into.
A random point.” He gestured at the centre mark. “Inside suggests specific choice. In other words, you walk where you feel safe. Into suggests a specific arrival site, a choice to begin a journey.”
He looked up. “We did not choose a site on the Path - the door was a devised means - and we certainly did not choose to walk where it is safe. Had any of that happened, we would know the Path as the shades and shadows you imagine. We would also be able to leave right now.”
Declan inclined his head. “I begin to understand. Your mind is filled with nuance, Elixir.”
“And nonsense,” Elianas muttered.
Saska pointed at the lines. “Explain the within part.”
Torrullin sketched an arc through the air from one line to the other. “Imagine this path in three dimensions.” He then sketched the same arc over Saska. “The space we walk in. The laws of physics state different matter cannot occupy the same space at the same time. We displace air when we walk along a path.”
“This is not physics,” Declan frowned.
“No,” Torrullin agreed, “for we walk in the displacement. We are within. We are inside the inner, where inside and into have no bearing.”
Declan covered his mouth, squeezing his cheeks. “Gods.”
Elianas grinned. “Not bad, Torrullin.”
Saska shook her head. “We’re not displacing. The displacing already exists and we are within it.”
“Energy, not matter,” Torrullin murmured.
Elianas twitched.
“Energy.” Saska snapped her fingers. “Potential, kinetic, chemical, light, and so forth. It flows and changes and halts and is.” She paused. “How does one become matter again?”
Elianas closed his eyes.
Torrullin murmured, “That is the answer we seek. Somewhere beyond this state of energy is the true Path of Shades, all around us. Find the answer, and we are on the Path. We exit and thus reconnect balance to unbalance, and save this age.” A sardonic half-smile accompanied the latter.
Elianas said, “We are energy, is that what you are saying?”
Something in his tone caught their attention, most particularly Torrullin’s. “Elianas?”
The dark man stared at the lines in the sand. “Imagine something and it is created. Set it between light and dark and it achieves alchemical perfection. It is the fuel energy requires.”
Elianas looked up and found Torrullin’s gaze on him.
“I believe it is time I tell you of the power matching that of Elixir.”
Chapter 21
Shadowland. Path of Shadows. The Shadow Road. The Shades. Shadow and Shade. The Path of Shades. Many names for the space between.
~ Universal Oracle
Valaris
Menllik
Month of Istelgor
IN THE LAST two days the wind veered between warm and icy. Spring was around the corner, it said, but the cold was not done. A slight thaw was swiftly followed by renewed ice.
Tristan, pacing the patio, wished fervently for warm weather. His pacing, though, had as much to do with keeping warm, as it had to do with forcing his thoughts into coherence.
His main dilemma at present was whether to inform Teroux and Tianoman of the situation.
He tracked Caballa to this cottage under renovation, recognised it was for the two of them, but the appreciation, the sharing, was overlooked, and would be unspoken for the foreseeable future. He discovered Caballa and Lowen locked in trance as he arrived - gods.
Tristan halted and stared over the snow-covered landscape.
The women saw the four beyond the door, in total darkness, then drowning in pea soup and thereafter stranded on an island. That was not the worst of it. Apparently all four were without their powers. Would they get out?
Lowen left yesterday upon his command, ordered to return to the Dome to inform the Kaval of developments, but Caballa was inside entering and exiting trance with too few periods of rest between. She searched for fresh glimpses, perhaps an answer, an answer, as he tried to tell her, they had no way of relaying back to the four.
Tristan swore soundlessly, feeling helpless. This morning he went to Echolone to collect Caballa’s trove of rugs, and lingered to speak with Allith’s father. Anethor revealed they, too, had a return of visitations from the spirit world, but could not add clarity to a cloudy situation. He thus returned with rugs and no new insight.
“Tristan?”
Her voice sounded thin and stretched, and he quickly entered the cottage. She was in the small and empty room she set aside as a study, sitting cross-legged on a threadbare carpet.
She was pale, hair hanging limply, and his heart constricted. “Caballa, please, enough,” he murmured as he sat beside her.
She found his eyes slowly. “I know my limits and, yes, I have reached them. I need to sleep.”
Relieved, he was on his feet again. He bent and lifted her into his arms, carried her through to the bedroom, and laid her on the huge bed she discovered in Galilan. The bedroom was beautifully done in warm tones and romantic lanterns. and on the bed itself was pure comfort and luxury. Downy-soft quilts in rich burgundies and coffee-creams, with fluffed pillows to lay a head forever upon.
“I can manage,” she smiled at him.
“I know, but I want to do this.” He proceeded to undress her with gentle hands and then rolled her into the soft luxury.
“That’s all?”
He sat and took her hand. “My head is in a whirl and you need to rest now.”
“You won’t go?”
“I will be here, promise.”
“You fetched the rugs?”
“Yes. Quite the collection.”
“Liar. You haven’t looked at them. Fetch the wine-red one. It has brown and gold edges.”
“Now?”
“I want to see what it looks like … chose it for this room …” Her eyes closed and she forced them open. “Please.”
He understood it was normality she was after, not aesthetics, and went to sort through the rolled stack near the front door. Muttering, he sorted through all before he found it at the bottom. Of course, at the bottom. Hefting it, he returned to the bedroom. Caballa was fast asleep.
He smiled and laid it out on the dark floor, and had to admit she chose well. It completed the room.
“Go see Tian,” she murmured sleepily. “It looks good, doesn’t it?”
“I thought you were asleep.” He crossed to the bed.
“Almost.”
“It looks fantastic,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.
Her eyes closed and he retreated.
The Keep
TIANOMAN WAS IN the same place Torrullin was usually found in the past - his study.
He looked up and smiled. “I heard you were in Menllik. Took you long enough to show your face. I was going to drop by, but, well, Vallorins don’t do that.”
Tristan laughed and flung into a chair. He gestured at the untidy, paper-strewn desk. “And this?”
“Trade deals, letters of recommendation for new ambassadors, requests for political alliances, boring shit, yet it must be done.” Tianoman shook his head. Then, “Is Caballa ill?”
“Visions,” Tristan replied. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Ah. Fancy a walk on the battlements?”
Tristan rose.
Tianoman paused over that revealing motion. “It is bad, right?”
“It’s bad.”
Tianoman pushed himself up, stretched and joined his cousin. They climbed up to the battlements without talking.
Once up there Tristan took a few long strides back and forth. “Been cooped up,” he explained.
“And I unfortunately do not have much time,” Tianoman murmured. “I have a Beacon delegation arriving in half hour.”
“To discuss Echolone?”
Tianoman’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”
“The Kaval pledged Echolone support. Don’t let them steamroll you. They want mining rights, have promised patient, low
impact delving, and we will ensure they keep their word.”
Tianoman licked his lips. “You are not here to discuss Echolone.”
“Actually I am, but not mining in particular.” He sat on the low parapet and explained, finishing with Caballa’s current state of exhaustion.
Tianoman had listened in silence, and remained silent.
“Tian?” Tristan shivered in the cold air.
“Does Teroux know?”
Tristan shook his head.
“Don’t tell him yet. He remains vulnerable.”
As Vallorin, Tianoman had the right to demand that, but as cousin Tristan understood what he meant. “Agreed.”
Tianoman drew breath, released it, and leaned on his arms upon the low wall. “Hell, how does he get himself into these fixes?”
Tristan stared at him, and snorted amusement.
His cousin gave a lopsided grin.
There was a commotion in the courtyard.
“Your delegation has arrived.”
Tianoman shrugged. “They are early; let them wait.” He sat beside his cousin. “There’s not much we can do.”
Tristan grimaced. “I am thinking there is. Digilan. I look like Torrullin. I could ask the Syllvan to open a portal for me …”
“Why, Tris? Digilan is no joke.”
“Tracloc.”
Tianoman blinked and was thoughtful. “If a Tracloc could get in - and if anybody could, it’s one of them - he could lead them out. But, Tris, ask the Syllvan? How do you even contact them?”
“I was in the grotto. I could retrace the way out to get back in.”
“Would they do this?”
“If they think I am Torrullin.”
Tianoman stared at him. “You look like him to within a hair, but you are not Elixir. They will know.”
“It’s worth a try.”
“Yes, it is, but let me think on this more. Maybe I can help, maybe they will open a portal for the Warlock’s son or maybe my presence will distract them into thinking you are Torrullin, and maybe, Tris, you should speak to Maple first. He is Tracloc and he is in this universe.”
“I spoke to him yesterday,” Tristan admitted. “He says without Digilan’s influence over him, he hasn’t the same tracking skills, or not for realms. He also says I must be mad to consider going into Digilan.”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 82
