A twisted smile appeared. “I dare anyone to touch that item and expect to emerge unscathed. Only a fool would try and would thus deserve whatever fate that blade releases.” Teighlar swung to her, directly into her personal space. “Why do you need an innocent, Lowen, and why does Alik fit your requirement?”
“It is not personal.”
Teighlar’s tongue swirled over his teeth, and he nodded. “Then find another to fit your needs.”
“It will take too much time to set up.”
“Explain.”
She rubbed one hand over her eyes to remove the gritty, sleepless sensation in them. “I need someone known to both Torrullin and Elianas, and to find another will take too long.”
“Ah. So it is about them. What is your intention and where does my daughter fit into it?” Teighlar’s voice was soft, but steel and threat ran through every nuance of tone.
Lowen abruptly sat on the cold floor, her head on drawn-up knees. “I have to part them, Teighlar. They need to find who they are without the other as witness. Alik is … she can …” She groaned and said nothing further.
Teighlar hunkered before her. “They are attracted to her? You want to use that? Think carefully now of your answer, Xenian seer.”
“She is attracted,” Lowen breathed out and looked up, meeting the Emperor’s blue gaze directly. “To Elianas. A mighty attraction. It will drive a wedge between him and Torrullin if he reacts to it.”
“Alik is attracted to Elianas?”
“Yes.”
Silence ensued, and then Teighlar muttered, “Surely she sees what we see? You, him and Torrullin, the ultimate triangle?”
“She sees. It does not matter.”
“Excuse me?” His response released as a growl of displeasure.
“What I mean is - it does not stop attraction. But she is wary of stepping in; she understands it will hurt her to make her feelings clear.”
“And you aim to nudge her into doing so.”
“Maybe.”
“I will kill you first, Lowen.”
She believed him, without doubt. Despite their long history, despite mutual respect and a great liking for each other, he would do so to protect his daughter. Alik now came first in his life.
“You will try, my Lord Emperor, and you will fail. I have to do this, even if it means I am banished from your heart and your city into eternity.”
“Eternity?” he echoed. “You need be immor–” He paused. “Gods. You are. Again. An immortal.”
She nodded.
He sat down hard. “You have the Wings.”
She nodded again.
He stared at her. “I told Elianas an hour or two ago that worlds should bow to him, but now I reverse that. You are the one we should be wary of. Alik does not deserve this; she does not deserve you, or him, or Torrullin. She needs someone like the Bannerman lad …”
“Really? A human with a limited lifespan?”
“Preferable to lengthy exposure to pain,” Teighlar blurted.
“Alik will make her own choices.”
“But you will nudge her.”
Lowen continued to stare into his eyes. “I promise not to prod her.”
“Then how will you achieve your result?”
“I shall tell her the truth.”
Teighlar’s hand whipped out and grabbed her neck. He squeezed hard. “Lowen. The truth will kill her.”
“I promise to protect her from them. And I swear she is safe from me.” She did not move under the hurtful grip.
“Not good enough.” He increased the strength of his hold.
“It will have to be,” she gargled. “Let go now.”
He responded by placing his other hand around the back of her neck and applying greater pressure. His eyes challenged.
Into that cavern of magic great shadows unfurled. Huge wings soared out and only when he had marked their presence did he release her. He smiled, a predator’s grimace.
“Nice to meet you, Lowen Dalrish.” Teighlar stood, stretched, and strode from the chamber.
She swore. The man was too clever by far. She stared at the exit opposite, without seeing it. Once, in the city of Menllik, now destroyed, she told Torrullin of the dark wings inside her. Today she wore them on the outside as well.
Destiny was a bitch.
Chapter 5
Power is in words, they say. Listen up now. Words are power, but the intention behind them is where the true manipulation resides.
~ Awl ~
Avaelyn
ELIANAS PAUSED BRIEFLY, one arm lifted in the act of sliding a scroll into its niche, and then completed the action as if nothing had happened.
What did Caballa want with him? He frowned as he slid scroll and parchment in one after the other, utterly complicating any semblance of order there. He kept his back turned towards Torrullin. The man stood at his desk, studying the ancient map.
“Who, I wonder, knew enough to create this?” Torrullin murmured.
“That one comes from the Lizoid archives.”
“Gods, really? How did you manage that?”
“I did them a favour once; they paid me in maps.”
“Why did Akhavar remain unnamed throughout this era?” Torrullin muttered. “Surely someone knew it was inhabited once.”
“Akhavar was dead a long time. No one remembered.”
“We should write a history of this universe.”
Elianas snorted. “We do not dare.” He slid a final scroll into place, returned to his desk and flung into his chair. “Gods, man, this will get ugly.”
Torrullin tapped the map. “Someone knew enough to ring both Akhavar and Danaan in blue. How is that?”
“Ask the Lizoids. Right now I do not care.”
Torrullin sighed and sat. “Danaan. How strange.”
“Hmm.”
“It explains some of the difference among the dark kind. New ideas filtered through.”
“I know. Why did we not sense it then?”
Torrullin offered a brief smile. “I guess we were somewhat isolated here on Avaelyn.”
“Right.”
“What is wrong?” Torrullin frowned, studying him.
“I am tired. And my head spins.”
Torrullin nodded. “Likewise. Let us find something to eat.”
“Not hungry.” Elianas rose. “I need some air. Alone.”
“Go. We both need space.”
Elianas jerked a nod and walked from his study. He moved swiftly through the dwelling into the atrium, over the bridge, and vanished.
Valaris
The Keep
ELIANAS ARRIVED AT A Keep in utter darkness.
“Caballa?” he whispered.
A shadow detached from the wall beside the Dragon doors.
“Here.”
“Where is everyone?”
“Tian closed the Keep as a precaution. He took Aislinn and Lunik to Grinwallin. At an Elder conclave earlier it was decided to halt all work on Menllik. He told them about Tannil.”
Elianas released a sigh. It meant the Valleur in general would soon know the truth about this new Timekeeper wearing Tannil’s face. Now it would certainly get ugly. “Reaction?”
“Shock. Dismay.”
“Where are the Elders now?”
“Clearing the tent city of scientists and onlookers, and then they too will leave. For Luvanor.”
“Tian leaves Valaris unprotected?”
“The Kaval is here, all of them.”
“Is this what you called to me for? To hear this?” Elianas frowned, but in the darkness it went unnoticed.
“Come with me.” Caballa’s shadow moved towards the Throne’s chamber.
He understood immediately. “No.”
She continued walking. “He will not allow you to leave until you hear him, Elianas. That kind of delay will bring Torrullin.”
“So?”
“Torrullin will bring Tannil out of hiding. Valaris is not ready. The Kaval needs more time.”<
br />
Swearing under his breath, acknowledging her logic, Elianas followed.
The chamber was in darkness and they kept it that way.
“Tarlinn,” Elianas said. He did not bow or move closer to the golden seat.
Come sit.
“No.”
You must. It is time to heal you. It is time to divest you of your new burdens.
“Warlock Accruements?”
Indeed. An unnecessary encumbrance, when who you are is greater than all. Sit.
“I do not desire to usurp Tian.”
The Valleur nation would fold if that were to happen; I understand. This is not about assuming a seat of power; this is about healing.
“I do not require it.”
You do. However, if you prefer, I shall concentrate only on the accruements and leave the rest of you as is.
“Swear to it.”
No.
“Then go to hell.”
Elianas made to turn away and found himself hauled unstoppably forward instead. A puppet on a string. He had the presence of mind to extend his arms and brace against the metal rests before Tarlinn could dump him into his embrace. He stood there, pushing against the force bearing down upon him, his face a mask of concentration.
Caballa, in the dark, drew in breath and held it.
“I am not sitting,” Elianas grated out.
The sense of coercion evaporated and a sigh sounded through the space.
I shall not force you, but ask, before you remove your hands from this seat, to feel what is now present.
Elianas straightened somewhat, but maintained contact. Swallowing - a sound Caballa heard in the darkness - he moved his hands, using his fingers to stroke the armrests on both sides. It warmed to his touch and he knew it was proof of recognition.
Few could touch the Valleur Throne and escape it unharmed. An Elder deputised by the ruling Vallorin could do so, but in the present there was not one with such conferred ability. The Vallorin, naturally, could do so. And so too, in all the universe, Torrullin Valla, always. And, clearly, Elianas Danae.
Gods.
Elianas sensed a resonance within the seat, the slight vibration which meant it was aware. This was the sentient seat, after all. He garnered something more. Not words, not feelings; it was not communication. It was …
… he snatched his hands away.
It was another’s hands upon his.
Goddess.
“Don’t,” he growled.
Merely to prove I am, even bound to this seat in this space, more than metal and time and power.
“Ha, we know that, idiot.”
Caballa released an explosive breath.
A complicated soul such as yours is highly intriguing to those who measure time well, Elianas. How many of those passed have now returned to nudge you into the limelight? How many of those present in this age desire the same of you? You cannot escape the stage forever. You certainly cannot step onto one with Warlock accruements, or the universe will suffer. You carry Digilan with you, and Digilan alive, dead or in another realm is ever dangerous. It influences, always. It will burden your soul soon. You know this. Divest yourself. Sit. When the time for limelight comes, step into it as yourself.
“Who am I?”
Alhazen Nezahla, as Torrullin is Elixir Rixile. The then, the now, two parts that are one.
“Esoteric crap.”
A laugh boomed into the space, causing Caballa to twitch in fright, and Elianas to curse under his breath.
Then let us deal in tangibles. You are Elianas Danae. You are Alhazen. You are Eternal Companion. You are Vallorin. You are Time. You are Royal. You are Noble. You are Beautiful. You are Power …
“All intangible,” Elianas interrupted.
He wondered whether Caballa heard Tarlinn’s response; he had gifted her his words, but hoped to keep the Throne’s manipulations to himself.
She hears. And all is tangible. These attributes I have listed are instantly recognisable.
Silence.
You are Perfection, Elianas.
“Fuck off.”
The dark man swung around and strode out into the courtyard, where he bent hands to knees and commenced cursing and swearing under his breath, no word the same. Rage punctuated every syllable.
Return to me and sit. Now. Tannil approaches.
Caballa remained where she was, her head going back and forth between the shadow of the Throne and the shadow of the muttering man outside. She was out of her depth and dared not interfere. She stiffened, however, when Tannil’s name was mentioned and studied their surroundings.
“I do not care who comes.” Elianas straightened and was then unmoving, hands laced atop his head, staring up.
A word breathed through the entire Keep, a word no one past, present or future could recognise and would ever know to understand meaning. It sounded akin to Latin, an ancient language still spoken upon older worlds, and was not.
Amplaxius!
Elianas flew through the air without will and thought, and hit the golden seat hard, a bone-cracking thump that shivered through Caballa’s entire being. He crumpled there and was still.
Time passed.
Caballa chewed at her bottom lip.
A deadness settled into the night, of absolute darkness, of unmoving air, of dreadful silence.
And then … frenzy.
Brilliance flooded the Keep. A hawk screeched overhead. A whirlwind of leaves swirled through the courtyard, rustling the tree’s foliage, whispers of ill intent.
The Timekeeper had arrived.
Tannil alighted upon the cobbles, surreal in the strange light, a manic grin coming and going, as if he was insane.
Elianas hurtled through the doors to land in a heap and lie there unmoving.
Caballa grabbed at her throat in horror, and screamed through the spaces for Tristan, for the Kaval … for Torrullin.
Chapter 6
All is well in the world when women wield the wealth of hearts.
~ Excerpt from Frolic, a Xenian romance novel ~
Valaris
The Keep
TANNIL SAUNTERED CLOSER TO the fallen man.
As he moved, the otherworldly light dimmed, a degree with each step, until it vanished entirely by the time he came to a halt over Elianas. Rush torches whooshed into roaring flame around the perimeter of the courtyard, a lighting device unfamiliar to those stone walls.
Caballa stared at the torches, and nearly bit through her lips. This man came from a time far removed from this present. All gods, here light was usually magical globes strategically placed. The Tannil placed in the gauntlet would be familiar with globes; the man in the courtyard now was someone else. He merely wore a familiar face; who was he truly?
Emerging gradually from the Throne’s chamber, she hoped no one would notice her. It was a fool’s delusion.
Tristan appeared, swiftly to garner a sense of the situation, before his gaze shifted to rest briefly on her. He motioned for her to be still, and she froze where she was.
One after the other the Kaval arrived. Jonas, Fuma, Amunti, Erin, Jimini, Shenendo, Galarth, Chaim, Belun, Assint and Mahler.
Quilla came last, and his tiny hands fluttered up to his mouth. The action was more for Elianas’ state than it was for the presence of Tannil, for the birdman fixated upon the prone form. His feathers appeared insubstantial, though, as if time played with his presence in the present. Caballa noticed, but she ignored his state for the greater events.
Another then put in an appearance. This one was a coiled spring of emotions held under tight control.
Torrullin.
He instantly strode forward and gripped the material at Tannil’s breast and hauled him aside, away from Elianas.
“Now?” he thundered at the Golden man. “You cannot yet be prepared for this kind of fight!”
Tannil calmly removed the hand at his throat, doing so without apparent effort. “Sight-seeing, my Lord Elixir.” He stepped back and shifted sideway
s to look upon the dark man. “He is clean. At last.”
Torrullin glanced down and looked up again. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Ask him.” Tannil’s tawny gaze moved from Torrullin to Tristan to the Kaval and halted fleetingly with Caballa before returning to Torrullin. “You are correct; I am not yet prepared for this kind of fight.”
“Why come?” Tristan demanded.
Tannil gestured at the man on the ground. “For him. It seems, however, he is well protected. Until another occasion, then.”
He simply disappeared, eschewing the fanfare of his arrival. The rush light continued despite his leaving.
Caballa swallowed, sweat cooling upon her brow. Torrullin was utterly expressionless and it scared her. She expected him to go to Elianas, but he did not move.
Tristan said, “Return to your stations.”
One by one the Kaval dematerialised.
“Belun … the Dome …” Elianas’ voice sounded as a rail-thin whisper. “Protect the Dome.”
Tristan nodded once at the Centuar, who gestured at Quilla, and the two of them left together. Tristan knelt alongside the dark man, helping him to sit up. Torrullin remained to one side staring down, impassive. Contained.
Caballa shivered.
“What happened?” Tristan asked. When Elianas did not speak, he glanced up at Caballa. “Caballa?”
She closed in. She said not a word.
Torrullin, into the silence, laughed.
Dark eyes lifted to him. Elianas, too, remained wordless.
Tristan muttered about foolish secrets before asking, “Elianas, can you stand?” When the man nodded, he aided him up.
“Clean, is it?” Torrullin said, all mirth gone. “Tarlinn, I assume.”
“Yes.” Elianas craned his neck this way and that. “He did not give me much choice.”
“Your scars are still in place.”
A hand lifted to a cheek. “These are unimportant.”
“Right.” Torrullin shook his head, and then simply vanished.
“Damn, he is furious,” Caballa said after clearing her throat.
Elianas shrugged.
Tristan glared at Caballa. “What the hell happened here?”
Without Torrullin’s presence to curtail her, she felt able to share, and did. She told Tristan everything, including the words Tarlinn used. She did it for him, so he would understand the dynamics, yes, but she did it mostly for Elianas to hear it again.
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 191
