Torrullin did not bother covering up. “Too right, Danae.”
“You have desecrated this space,” Teighlar said.
“By the time two others find themselves drunk on power and desire and in this place battling the unholy demons of lust, all three of us will be long beyond every realm in Reaume, Ariann and Lethe. And, Emperor, this place was desecrated before we came here this night. Others lay here and others shot their seed here, and my light has served only to illuminate that twisted time.”
“You are the twisted one.”
Torrullin inclined his head.
“You insult him,” Elianas said.
“You insult him!” Teighlar shouted.
Torrullin growled and both jerked to him. “We stop now or we end friendship.”
Teighlar paled, and he nodded.
Elianas smiled. “My brother in the shadows, they are mighty wings indeed.”
There was a decided flapping sound.
“Damn,” Torrullin said, sounding surprised. He looked behind him and took note of the massive shadow wings soaring out.
He shivered and they furled inward until they vanished at his back. He faced forward again and speared Elianas with silvery eyes.
“We enter Lethe as ourselves, with Elixir and Alhazen, and we fight for Reaume. We dare not choose, come together, cross a line or separate power, do you see that? Do you know why?”
Elianas bowed and two wings soared out behind him. “Of course I know. Am I not Danae? Is my blood not older than yours?”
He straightened, and his wings folded away and vanished. He bent, picking up the Medaillon and ring, and closed in. He took a hand, placed the items there, and pressed Torrullin’s fingers over it.
“I know why, and I know it better than you.”
“Yet you push us to the point, my brother.”
“You brought me here, remember? How am I to blame? But I will not push again.” He released his grip on Torrullin’s hand. “Glorious wings, Torrullin, and tonight mine do match yours in size.” He glanced at Teighlar. “Get dressed. We are leaving.”
Teighlar was frozen. “What the fuck is going on?”
Torrullin looped the Medaillon around his neck, slid the ring onto his finger and flexed it, spoke and was dressed in his usual black garb, with cloak, sword and scabbard. The pants lay trampled on the cave floor and vanished in a cloud of threads.
Elianas licked his lips, intrigued by what he would do next.
Torrullin approached him. He leaned in to suck Elianas’ neck for long moments, and when he retreated there was a wine stain on his skin.
He smiled deeply into Elianas’ eyes. “Don’t mess with me again. You will lose.” He shouted, “Danae!”
One end of the cave burst open and air and dawn light flooded in. The nearest peak in view exploded in spewing rock. The entire range shook and Grinwallin suffered the first earthquake since the night Rixile rejoined Elixir years ago.
Torrullin gave Elianas a mocking salute. “It did not work. Your name still destroys.”
Elianas bowed with a flourish. “Excellent.”
Torrullin laughed. “You will regret this. Tonight, the crucible?”
“Absolutely.”
Torrullin swirled his cloak theatrically and was gone.
“What the fuck?” Teighlar snarled.
“Brinkmanship, Emperor, at an entirely new level.” An instant later he was similarly clothed in black. “Go get dressed.”
“How, why, wings, what?” Teighlar was garbled in his confusion.
Elianas went to fetch the man’s clothes. “I told the truth about my race and Kalgaia, but what you do not know is that Torrullin and I have been in this position before, with your Goddess of Souls between us. That was betrayal, the one still between us now, as you explained succinctly.”
Teighlar dressed hurriedly. “My help was not needed.”
“It was, for it achieved something more. You see, Emperor, we may be in fourth cycle, but there have been countless others for the two of us, in parallels and alternatives, and we have fought each other from opposite sides as Darak Ors and we have fought together as Shadow Wings. Tonight he realised I had not forgotten, and I know now he still keeps score. When you tally it up, we are enemies, and now the war begins.”
Elianas gave a tight smile, bowed, and left the Emperor there in the cave long kept from the light.
Chapter 53
Ah, family. They are family.
~ Tattle
Grinwallin
MORE SNOW FELL and avalanches thundered down mountainsides as an earthquake shook Grinwallin. Senlu tumbled from their homes into the icy cold.
In the Great Hall the pillars buckled like liquid, and Senlu shouted warning. Caballa clutched at Tristan, her eyes wide with shock, and their breakfast crashed to the floor.
Then it was over. The pillars did not break, the mountain did not collapse, and dishes and ornaments shattered were the only items broken. Everything stilled as a city awaited an aftershock, and when it did not come folk returned indoors to pick up the pieces. They spoke in hushed tones about how unusual an event it was.
Caballa and Tristan knelt to set about cleaning up the wasted meal, gathering together broken pieces. Both wondered who caused the earthquake - for it was a who, not a what. Neither gave voice to their suspicions.
When Teighlar entered a few minutes later he was haggard and pale. He halted to confer with Dechend and then came over. Righting a toppled chair, he sat.
“We must stop them, and we must stop them today, before nightfall.”
Caballa pushed her collection of pieces aside, and rose. She sat. “Who did this?”
“Torrullin, using the word of power.”
Tristan popped up. “Gods, why?”
Teighlar’s eyes slid away. “A long story, and the quake does not matter now. We must stop them entering Lethe.”
Caballa was calm. “Tristan, sit. Leave that. Teighlar, why must we stop them?”
“I need a fucking drink,” Teighlar snarled, and shouted for one.
Caballa and Tristan glanced at each other in alarm.
“They are going in as they are, power, form and every piece of baggage with them. Ariann will track them in an instant and Lethe will do god knows what, and never mind that a surge of energy could annihilate Reaume. We must stop them.”
“What changed?” Caballa asked.
“They did!” he said, and grabbed the drink as it was brought to him. He swallowed it back without pause and slammed the glass down. “Noble purpose, my arse. Those two will destroy each other before they find any purpose.”
“Teighlar,” Tristan said, “start at the beginning.”
He shook his head and called for coffee.
Caballa leaned forward. “They need to cross the line to separate their power for Lethe - that’s it, isn’t it? They didn’t know.”
Teighlar laughed. “Oh, they knew! Therefore ethereal form!”
Tristan glared at him and then at Caballa. “I think it’s time you tell me about the line.”
Teighlar glanced at him. “If you do not know, you cannot be told.”
“I’ve heard that, damn it, but are we not discussing the possibility of disaster here?”
Caballa ignored Tristan. “The line is crossed no matter which form, and thus they chose to go in as themselves, right? They discovered the line and you told them.”
“I did not need to tell them, for they were at the point of crossing a bloody long time ago.”
“Betrayal,” Caballa whispered.
“Yes. All I did was put the words to the results of choices made when the line is perceived, but they knew, or had felt it before, if not the actual black and white consequences. They are not unified in choice.”
“They enter as themselves and bugger consequences.”
Tristan was furious. “Explain this to me.”
Caballa shook her head. “Just know we must stop them.”
“Seal the crucible c
hamber,” Teighlar murmured to himself.
“That won’t stop them. They’ll go in somewhere else.”
“Caballa,” Tristan said.
“I cannot tell you. Ask Torrullin. I assume he will say nothing, but if anyone could tell you, it would be him. All right?”
“Fine. Where is he, Teighlar?”
“No idea.”
“Then where is Elianas?”
“No clue.”
Tristan swore.
“We must get Quilla in,” Caballa said.
“Agreed,” Teighlar muttered.
Tristan was on his feet. “Torrullin!”
Everyone came to a stop. Caballa and Teighlar looked at him in astonishment.
“Torrullin!”
The man himself appeared beside Tristan, his face a mask.
Tristan kicked the table over. “I want to know what the fuck is going on.”
Torrullin glanced at Caballa and then his eyes narrowed on Teighlar. “You will not stop it now. Rather think of ways to protect reality.” He returned to Tristan. “Come. It is time you know all of it.”
Teighlar rose.
“Tristan is the Valla who must know. Sit, make your plans, but don’t bloody interfere again.” He turned on his heel and stalked out, and Tristan, hardly sparing Caballa a glance, went with him.
“What the hell?” Caballa blurted.
Avaelyn
THE DAY WAS MORE advanced on Avaelyn and it was decidedly warmer than Grinwallin.
Torrullin arrived with Tristan on the plateau before the dwelling, but before Tristan could say anything, Torrullin slapped his thigh with a strange laugh, and started walking. “Elianas is here.”
“This is your home? It’s beautiful.”
“Neutral territory.”
Elianas, when they got there, waited arms folded on the bridge over the fishpond. “Quilla was enough intrusion.”
“Out of my way.”
Elianas braced. “I said the birdman was enough intrusion.”
“Go for a walk before I cut your legs off.”
Gods. Tristan retreated.
Elianas grinned. “Try it.”
Torrullin studied him. “That is a high collar you have there.”
Elianas was unblinking. “Covering my battle scars.”
“No healing?”
“No.” His gaze flicked to Torrullin’s shoulder, where he knew well the bite mark still sat.
“Tristan is not intruding; he is coming with us into Lethe and must know all of it.”
Tristan blinked, but did not say anything.
“Why do we need him?” Elianas asked after a moment.
“For the same reason we once called Lowen to the fray.”
“And Declan and Saska, and look what happened to them.”
“Lethe isn’t the Path.”
“Protecting your heritage, are you?”
“And yours, imbecile.”
“I wonder.” Elianas stood aside. “Welcome, Tristan Skyler Valla, to the home of Torrullin Agripson Valla and Elianas Danae.”
Tristan’s mouth hung open.
Elianas smiled. “Here it is safe for me to claim my name, the Danae Halfling beside you, with his beautiful wings, makes it safe.”
Torrullin hit him in the jaw, snapping his head back.
Tristan felt as if he had walked into the vipers’ nest.
Elianas laughed and rubbed his chin. “Another battle scar.”
“Back off, Elianas.”
“For now. You should have crossed the line with me, Torrullin. That was the easier future.”
Torrullin walked past him. “Too late now.” He carried on walking.
“It is never too late.”
Torrullin walked backward. “I hope that keeps you warm at night … brother.”
Elianas glared at him and Torrullin laughed. Tristan, filled with foreboding, followed, and Elianas fell in behind.
Tristan felt as if he were caught between two titanic forces; he doubted the Syllvan and Dryads could make him feel this vulnerable.
THE SITTING ROOM was exposed to the elements on three sides, the only wall of amber rock.
The floor underfoot was highly polished, rich mahogany stone. A patterned rug matched the colours of the rock, reminding Tristan of Caballa. The furniture in the chamber was a paler hue of wood, which set the colours off well, with huge, comfortable cushions in a variety of shades. A circular mottled stone rested in a depression upon a low table.
The view, however, was the real adornment, and was of three dimensions. This open air sitting area had been precisely designed to incorporate the stunning, segmented view. On one side the hills climbed into mountains, in the middle lay an unending stretch of autumn forest, and on the third side the ocean was deep blue and tranquil. There was no glass - there was no glass anywhere, he realised - and thus the sounds and smells of nature added a further dimension to beauty.
“Fantastic,” he breathed on entering, forgetting for the moment how vulnerable he felt.
“Torrullin has a good eye,” Elianas murmured. “I love this space.”
Torrullin spared him an enigmatic glance, and gestured for Tristan to sit, but Tristan was too entranced and wandered to the edge. There was no rail, but they were not high off level ground here. A jumble of rocks laid within reach, each crevasse filled with flowers.
“He looks like you,” Elianas said. “And has the same reaction to beauty.”
Tristan discovered the two men regarding each other warily.
“Last night at bedtime you were friends, and today you act like enemies. What happened?”
Elianas looked away first and ventured over to the edge. He stared into the forest. “Restful, don’t you think? It has moods, the forest.”
“Much like certain people I know,” Torrullin muttered. He wandered as if unable to sit still.
“Talking about yourself again,” Elianas murmured and winked at Tristan. Hiding a grin, he said to Torrullin, “Lethe is dangerous enough without adding an element to it. Torrullin, for once, think. Tristan is not trained for realm travel.”
“I think too much. Taking Tristan with us is an act, not a thought. I am weary of thinking, particularly in trying to stay ahead of you.”
“This time you need to think.”
Torrullin shrugged and halted long enough to meet Tristan’s gaze. “The choice is yours.”
“I didn’t even entertain the thought until you mentioned it on the bridge and I must decide right away?”
Elianas snorted. “Thought so.”
Torrullin ignored him to nod once at Tristan.
The younger man frowned and swung back to the view.
“Torrullin, it’s not a good idea …”
“Shut up, Elianas. He can make his own decisions.”
Trust, and now the respect of allowing him to choose for himself. Torrullin needed him. “Count me in.”
Torrullin smiled. “Good.”
Elianas threw his hands in the air. “I am going to make coffee.” He sent Tristan an unreadable look and headed to the steps leading into the rest of the dwelling.
“Bring something to eat,” Torrullin said, watching him go.
Elianas showed the finger over his shoulder and disappeared from view.
TRISTAN CLEARED HIS throat. Like a married couple, that was how it was. Perhaps the current hostility was a facet of long familiarity.
“It’s definitely a facet of familiarity,” Torrullin murmured, sitting with a sigh. “But only a facet. Sit.”
Tristan complied.
Torrullin shifted to make space for his sword and then laced his hands behind his head. “The Danae were the first magicians the Valleur knew formally, a guild that rose swiftly in strength, talent and influence. Elianas’ ancestor was the first guild master. Fennen Danae is the oldest noble known to the Valleur, if you hear the true history told. Elianas is directly descended from him, the most powerful Danae ever, and a man of unique nobility. Had the tale been writte
n correctly, there is a chance you and I would be bowing to Danae Vallorins, not the Vallas.”
“Gods, that must peeve him.”
“It does, yes.”
“Taranis was a Danae?”
“Danae, as in race, yes. He did not know, for at the time of his birth the Valleur of both kinds had been absorbed.”
“How do you explain the contradiction? Valleur absorbed in one cycle, vanished in another, and yet Taranis entered. You suggest he was born more than once.”
Torrullin stared up at the ceiling. “It is hard to explain even having seen the cycles, but Taranis was born only once. In each cycle there were changes, and yet he was born only the once, as most are. Do they go through a cycle to return to the same point, perhaps unknowingly? I don’t think so, yet there is change for us who knowingly return. Maybe the cycles are coils on a spring, and what we think is the same point is, in fact, separated by the spaces time creates. Not even Elianas, who has a greater grasp of this, can answer that question and make complete sense. Some things must be accepted.”
“Like Chaim with his transport theories.”
Torrullin grinned. “He got to you, didn’t he? How, my Lord, can we do this wonderful thing when worlds are so far, far apart? How do ships manipulate the vast distances to travel space in days when it should take centuries? How do we think ourselves over the same distances in the blink of an eye and arrive whole and tangible?”
Tristan laughed. “Exactly like that!”
“And your answer?”
“Magic. I told him ships can be magic also, for they are built by visionaries. Poor Chaim, he went away muttering.”
“You are right, of course. Anything imagined, invented or created from nothing is magic, even technology. The problems arise when the item conceived is misused. The magic is forgotten.”
“It’s strange to me that magic can be forgotten.”
“It happens, and we forget other important concepts also, often deliberately.”
“We’re back with you and Elianas.”
Torrullin unlaced his hands and sat forward with elbows on knees. His fingers steepled and he stared at them as he talked. “Profound events were squashed, some by choice, some by circumstances and yet others by pure accident, by immense trauma.” He looked up, his eyes silvery. “Much is now remembered, and that is the hostility you sense.”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 109
