Sabian grinned. “No problem.” He rose and started fussing in the kitchen section.
“I need air,” Elianas muttered, and strode from the cottage.
TORRULLIN FOUND HIM on his haunches near the vegetable garden.
“Quite a selection,” he murmured, coming to a halt beside him.
“Fuck off, Torrullin, I do not want to discuss vegetables.”
“Walk with me.”
Elianas stood. He gestured at the trees and set off.
It could blow on Echolone, but this day was serenity itself. The leaves made no sound in the still air and nothing moved other than tiny forest birds.
“Everything points to you relinquishing the Medaillon,” Elianas said, slowing his frantic pace. “It feels wrong.”
“I read that doing so will create love in the universe,” Torrullin responded.
“And root out all evil into eternity? Please.”
“No, not root anything out - create its counterbalance. The universal net will feel it.”
Elianas came to a stop under giant boughs. “There is the idealist Tristan disparaged.”
Torrullin’s eyes glittered. “Maybe so, but what if this is our noble purpose?”
Elianas looked away.
“I want you to wear the Medaillon, Elianas.”
Dark hair swung back.
“I thus relinquish it now. You make the choice when the choice must be made,” Torrullin added. “If you choose to keep it personal, I shall follow your lead. If you choose for the universe, then so be it.”
Elianas hauled him closer by his tunic. “I do not want this responsibility.”
Torrullin braced, wrapping his hands around the man’s wrists. “It is not about responsibility. It is about choice.”
“Mine?”
“Yours.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
Elianas jerked away and walked on. He threw the finger over his shoulder, but came to a dead stop when sounds alien in a forest disturbed the silence.
Metallic whispers.
Torrullin stepped around him to face him. He clutched the Maghdim chain and coin in one fist.
“Don’t,” Elianas whispered.
Ignoring him, Torrullin undid the laces of his tunic until he exposed the man’s smooth, amber chest. For a moment he stared at the inviting skin there and then allowed the Medaillon to spool through his fingers until the chain jerked it to a stop.
“If you wear it, you keep it safe,” he said. “If Rivalen does lay hands on me, he will not lay hands on it as well.”
Elianas closed his eyes, hearing the logic.
Torrullin lifted the chain and passed it over Elianas’ crown and along his hair. Holding the coin, he proceeded to lift Elianas’ hair out the way until the chain settled against the skin of his neck. Still holding the Medaillon, his gripped that neck.
Elianas opened his eyes.
Torrullin turned his fist and smacked the device against the man’s alluring chest.
Elianas took a step back and then braced.
Pressing it to his skin, Torrullin invaded his space. “Now I can do to you what you do to me.”
Elianas’ next breath sucked all the oxygen from the space they were in. “Promise.”
“I swear,” Torrullin said.
Air returned to the space and Elianas laid his hand over the one on his chest. “And now choice is mine?”
“It is.”
“This may be your worst decision yet, Torrullin.”
“Then so be it.”
Elianas plunged his free hand into fair hair. “What if this has been my goal for some time now?”
“So be it.”
“You would surrender to my will?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Heart’s Desire, Elianas.”
The dark man closed his eyes again. “What does that mean for you?”
“Every dark space you have inside you, I want to discover and inhabit.”
The man started shaking. “Why?”
“Only then will you trust me.”
Silence for heart’s one beat ensued, before Elianas swore and removed himself from their combined grip. “What the fuck do you mean?”
Torrullin grabbed the Medaillon and hauled him closer. “This moral idealist is sick to death of having to prove himself all the time.”
Elianas caught that hand and jerked it to his mouth. Pressing his lips to curled fingers, he said, “Careful, beloved, you begin to reveal your true nature.”
Shrugging free, he then strode back through the forest. As he went, Elianas redid the laces of his tunic, swiftly hiding the presence of the Maghdim Medaillon.
Torrullin followed more slowly, one hand over his thumping heart.
Finally.
THE COFFEE WAS READY and properly laced.
Quilla’s inquisitive gaze went from Torrullin to Elianas and back as the two men sat and drew their mugs closer. His small sigh was inaudible.
“How we measure the cycles may be inaccurate,” Sabian said without preamble. “It is more about altering events than about actual beginnings and restarts.”
Both men stared at him, wordless.
“Man, I wonder now what decision you made out there, but here is what I know. If we seek to assign a period to the cycles as you know them, it may add up to four, maybe five for this universe. Given both of you spent long ages in hibernation, it could however be disputed. Would you agree?”
Both men nodded.
“Excellent, then this will not be difficult for you. Imagine a lore keeper writing it all down, but he measures time from one life-altering event to another and calls them cycles also. By his count, we have now entered the fourteenth cycle. The next one begins after an event of some great nature serves to close this one. Understood?”
Torrullin said, “Then it isn’t about time itself.”
Sabian spread his hands. “By whose measurement, Torrullin?”
“Touché.”
“Time is relative,” Quilla murmured.
“This lore keeper,” and Elianas gestured at the book over his shoulder, “recorded what amounts to thirteen events?”
“Twelve, actually, for the first ‘event’ is the recording of the acknowledgement of a cycle that went before,” Sabian said, lifting an eyebrow. “It is not an event in itself.”
“Twelve then. He lists them?”
“He does indeed, or his bloodline does. Father to son.”
“That book would have fallen apart by now were that the case,” Torrullin pointed out.
“This one is a copy,’ Sabian said. “The original, it is said, is in a vault somewhere and the lore keepers still do work in it. Copies are made after an update and these are then sent out into the universe.” He stood to bring the book to the table and opened it. “This one was last updated after a Rift tore open between two universes. Sound familiar?” He tapped. “This copy is dated Year 5907, Valaris Calendar.”
“Valaris?” Elianas blurted.
“The year of my birth?” Torrullin exploded, dragging the book to him. He stared in astonishment at the copyright page. “A Valarian lore keeper bloodline, is that what you imply?”
“Valleur,” Elianas exhaled.
Sabian spread his hands.
Torrullin carefully perused the page, seeking a clue as to the author’s identity.
“I have looked,” Sabian said. “It does not reveal the bloodline.”
“Someone in this universe updated it after the Rift opened and closed, correct? A Valleur apparently. One left behind after Rift closure, and all Valleur remaining in the universe went to Valaris, therefore the use of that calendar.” Torrullin glanced around the table. “For it to carry the date of my birth, means someone was still on Valaris even after the settler wars ended.”
“Half-Valleur,” Elianas said.
“Correct. The lore keeper line went underground into the Vall habitat.” Torrullin leaned in close t
o the page, studying every mark. “A line now ended, given the annihilation of the half-Valleur, unless Shep Lore …”
Silence descended as Torrullin straightened.
“Was it coincidence dear Shep carried the name ‘Lore’ also?” Quilla whispered into the quiet.
Shep Lore of Purple Robe fame - purple everything, if truth be known, for the man adored the colour - was the sole survivor of the underground habitat’s destruction when the Darkling Horde unleashed doom there upon the nearby sacred site. Shep, a lover of gadgets also, went on to build the Galilan Hospital, renowned today for its innovative methods.
Two thousand years ago, Shep Lore vanished. He vanished when Torrullin disappeared into another realm for two millennia.
Torrullin was thoughtful. “Is it possible he is still alive? We assumed he died, but did he?”
Elianas drank his laced coffee in three swallows and shook his head in amazement. “Of course he lives. These kinds of parallels are never coincidental.”
“I agree,” Quilla said.
Sabian leaned on his hands to eye Torrullin. “Elixir, can you find him?”
Torrullin stared back at him. “Why is it necessary?”
“Valleur have race memories and if this Shep’s bloodline recorded the lore, his memories will be tailored to it, am I correct?”
“Possibly, yes.”
“Then you want to talk to him, Torrullin.”
Silver eyes narrowed. “Regarding his count of time? Or the events in this mighty book?”
“The latter,” Sabian said. “There is also a possibility he may yet possess the original lore book.”
“And why is that pertinent?” Elianas asked.
“Some of this is deliberately redacted,” Sabian responded, tapping the book. “What the blanked out sections speak of is a matter for opinion, but the original may reveal nuances.”
Elianas glanced at Torrullin. “It is likely a well hidden vault, one probably protected, survived what happened on the Vall Peninsula.”
Pinching his nose, Torrullin muttered, “This is becoming too complicated. Currently there are too many threads in the ether to keep track of and yet they keep arriving. Why? We should be dealing with Rivalen and his Red Cloaks.”
“It ends,” Elianas said. “Have you not sensed it? We, you and me, all the Ancients, our time ends.” He paused before adding, “A mighty tale, which has brought attention back to the Valleur, first sentients of this universe, is about to run its course. We, as those Ancients, have the responsibility to hand over the reins to new blood, but those reins must be free of the dust and grime - and frayed ends - of what we caused.”
Torrullin stared at him. “We vanish into obscurity thereafter?”
“Or move on as Ixion and Adagin have.”
Quilla, when he spoke, sounded utterly panicked. “What? Ending? What happens to the Kaval?” He stood. “I want no part of this universe if all we know and love ends.”
“Likewise,” Sabian murmured. “I am however ready to move on to somewhere new.”
Quilla slapped the table. “This is not a wake! We have things …” He sat, his entire body one of dejection. “… to do.”
Drawing a massive breath, Torrullin stood. Releasing it explosively, he reached for his inner calm, the kind to force acceptance of fate, or destiny.
“Here it is, my friends. Here is the elusive concept the Syllvan alluded to in their grotto.”
“Noble purpose?” Quilla whispered, staring up.
“Indeed. What is more noble than gifting coming generations an unburdened future? Nobility lies in removing from them the twists we are guilty of creating, leaving behind a shining new path, one without shadows.”
Sabian smiled. “I am with you.”
Torrullin bowed his head. “Thank you.”
“It will get frantic for a while, though, understand that,” Sabian said.
“It will.”
Quilla was still staring up. “If you go, I am going with you.”
Torrullin smiled at him. “Quilla, it may not be physical leaving, merely etherical bow out. And you are welcome to build a home on Avaelyn if that is your wish.”
The birdman moved his tiny feathered head side to side. “It cannot work if you are still physically present, Torrullin. You must know that. No future will ever be perfectly unburdened, and thus a day will come when you will feel the need to interfere, to help, to change something or simply wish for action. Chaos will follow. No, an ending requires an eternal absence.”
Elianas rose. “There is only one way to ensure nobility of purpose is successful.” He rested on his knuckles. “It requires all we have discussed here, as in dealing with the threads of the past and finishing Rivalen off, but it also requires something more. We need a goal beyond an ethereal, unburdened future, for no future will be without its unique issues. How do we then determine we have attained goal?”
Quilla nodded. “What do you have in mind?”
“We require a destination. We need a place to vanish to when we feel we have offered all and our duty is done.”
Sabian murmured, “I agree. A place beyond, where we cannot step back to here from.”
“A portal world,” Torrullin murmured.
Elianas slapped the table, two handed. “Exactly. As Immirin discovered Kathin Arne and is now bound there upon the Achen Plains, thus we need one to remove us eternally from this reality.”
Torrullin glanced at him. “Not Kathin Arne, for pity’s sake.”
Elianas grinned. “No, that funny sky will drive us insane.”
“Where?”
“Avaelyn, Torrullin,” Elianas said, straightening. “We break her away from Reaume and she becomes a portal world.”
Torrullin sat. “Can we?”
Sabian murmured, “After the resurrection methods employed, she already begins to recede.”
Elianas spread his hands.
Torrullin stared at him, realising Elianas’ claim about disappearing was linked to Avaelyn’s state. He stared then at the table. “Agreed.” He looked up. “Avaelyn is empty, but she is able to sustain life. We do not want hordes populating her, but a portal world is also a sanctum.”
“Invitation only,” Elianas said.
“Yes, and you two now have a standing one,” Torrullin said to Quilla and Sabian.
Sabian smiled. “I accept.”
Quilla nodded vigorously. “I do, too.”
Torrullin laughed. “You are most welcome.”
Sabian rounded the table to grip Torrullin and Elianas’ arms simultaneously in ritual clasps.
“Who would have thought, Torrullin? Agnimus surely saw the error of his ways, did he not?”
Elianas was serious as he said, “My friend, you have no idea how you have restored our belief in lumin kindred. We thank you.”
Sabian beamed.
Quilla wiped at a tear.
Chapter 50
A Lore Master is often vilified in life, but celebrated in death. Truly, this is what history tells us. Boy, I refuse to join those ranks. I am a teller of tales and everyone will love me while I am alive!
~ Tattle to his scribe ~
Echolone
DISCUSSION FLOWED FOR hours, before Torrullin attempted to employ Elixir’s abilities to find Shep Lore.
He had desired more nuance before doing so. The greatest astonishment lay in the twelve events Sabian had uncovered. As he prepared for Shep Lore, Torrullin stared at the list Sabian had transcribed as they spoke. In brackets, he referred to the events as they knew of them.
One, the time before, the commencement of keeping the lore (the first entry, but this is not technically an event).
Two, the seeds of a vast net is cast into the universe (Cassiopin’s universal net).
Three, a pathfinder travels across the universe when no technology is meant to exist (from Danaan to Orb and back, Teighlar’s story).
Four, a great city of stone is raised inside and outside a mountain to encapsulate time (Gri
nwallin).
Five, of dark and light, great wings unfold and the universe begins to grow at a pace (Shadow Wings causing change).
Six, a great Dome is created to travel space, and the Immortal Guardians are born (the Dome obviously).
Seven, a great city of light and music falls into darkness and silence (Kalgaia’s abandonment).
Eight, time’s golden chair is given a name (Valleur Throne and Tarlinn).
Nine, the most powerful coin in the universe is created (the Maghdim Medaillon?)
Ten, a blue sword and a green blade adorn a wall in a courtly place (the twins’ two swords in the Kallanon realm, to become the Lumin Sword).
Eleven, the Goddess of Souls is born (the line of light and agony between sorcerers).
Twelve, two powerful men assume the mantles Alhazen and Elixir (self-explanatory).
Thirteen, a Rift opens between two universes (when the Valleur left, leaving the Arcana myth behind).
The list did not follow the timeline as they knew it; it jumped the cycles and picked out highlights from all. Either the lore keeper line was far older than they could guess at, or the lore was based on visions. They had already discussed the Medaillon’s inclusion. It did not fit with this list of events, for it came last and was more recent, coming after the Rift. Then, as they acknowledged, it had engendered a thread to pierce the Rift, going back in time; Margus, Darak Or, saw it even before Vannis created it. The Maghdim, clearly, did not quite hold to the laws of linear time.
Elixir, too, came after, but the state of being was in place already in myth and legend when counted time began, as was Alhazen.
Sabian pointed out where text had been redacted. All four of them were of the opinion it referred to the actual cycle the event took place in. The original lore keeper made a conscious choice to hide the reality of time’s loops, while still releasing a book of ‘legends’.
It meant they needed to find Shep Lore or the original book.
Torrullin leaned back, closed his eyes, and returned to the times Shep was part of his life, to garner a sense of the man, his smell, his signature, and his hidden thoughts.
He saw Shep aghast when he heard the name ‘Torrullin’ for the first time in the outlook post on top of the Legend Mountains, meaning as his name did ‘Lifegiver’ and ‘Destroyer’ simultaneously. No doubt Shep would have been as aghast over Elianas’ name as well. The man, after all, was ‘Nemesis’.
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