“I’ll take good care of them, Lord Torrullin,” the young Valleur murmured.
“Good,” Torrullin murmured. He fixed the youth with a stern stare. “Do not draw those blades, no matter how curious you are. This is for your safety.”
The Valleur nodded emphatically, his tawny eyes rounded.
The healing commenced then.
AFTER ALMOST TWO HUNDRED laying on of hands, his body started shaking, but he persevered. Twenty men later, he could no longer make enough contact with skin to do a healing, his hands shook that much. This had never happened to him before.
There was the time of the ship that crashed into the Vall Peninsula of Valaris. How many thousands had he not healed then, over many sleepless days? The time Margus caused disease among the Valleur and they were brought to the Keep in their thousands also. His body hurt throughout, yes, but never had he lost control of his hands.
With tears in his eyes he stared at the young Valleur he sought to heal. He had taken a blade in his gut and would not survive the night. He could not help him. Alik, for all her knowledge, would be even less effective. By all gods, what was wrong with him?
Strong arms surrounded him then from behind and took his weight.
“I am here. Let go.” Elianas whispered in his ear.
He did. His head flopped back onto Elianas’ shoulder. He felt the man half lift him and aid him to an empty bed, lay him down and cover him.
“Sleep. I will be back soon.”
Torrullin slept.
SWALLOWING AGAINST SADNESS, Elianas moved from the bed to return to the young Valleur.
He healed him and saw despair alter into appreciation.
Swallowing some more, he moved on, finishing what Torrullin had started. Finally he looked at Alik and she looked at him, and both inclined heads. Yes, it was done. Wiping at blood-smeared cheeks, Alik shuffled away, exhaustion evident in every spare movement she managed.
Thus, hours later, Elianas sat head hanging on the edge of the bed where Torrullin slept. The space was empty now, but for two women hauling soiled bed clothes off. The healed had spoken their words of appreciation and left to help the other wounded.
His eyelids drooped. Elianas crawled into position beside the sleeping man and closed his eyes.
Oblivion was instant.
THE TWO WOMEN CLOSED IN.
One murmured, and removed two sets of boots, while the other found clean covers. Together they then inserted an extra cushion under Elianas’ head, and covered them as they were.
“Say what folk will about how dangerous these two are, they are also our angels of mercy,” one woman murmured.
“They look good together, don’t they?” the other said. “I have heard they may have a relationship.”
Her friend glanced at her. “That doesn’t happen in Valleur culture.”
The second woman shook her head. “Well, I will say this. If a woman complemented me as well as these two do each other, I might just have a relationship with her.”
“Say what?”
Laughing together then, the two women moved off.
They did not see Torrullin smile.
WHEN ELIANAS AWAKENED he did not know where he was.
Staring at an intricate ceiling covered in amazing renditions of stars in a night sky, he wondered what blow life had now dealt him. These days he never seemed to wake in the same place. Sometimes the hours of oblivion were not of his making.
Groaning, he sat up.
Ah. The Healers.
He noticed Torrullin enter bearing a tray. There was coffee on that tray, thank the gods. He drew his legs up, finger combed untidy hair, and waited.
Torrullin set the tray on the bed and took up position at the foot, one leg dangling over the side, the other folded under him.
They were alone.
Once the first mouthful of hot brew hit his stomach, Elianas felt life return to his veins. “Damn,” he said, “I must still get those coffee trees.”
Sipping, Torrullin studied him. “A portal world does not remove us from supplies, Elianas.”
“Clearly you know little about portal worlds.”
Torrullin shrugged.
Another swallow later, Elianas said, “You lost fuel yesterday. More than usual. Is it the Medaillon?”
“Or lack of, you mean? No. The ability to heal came to me without the Medaillon and there have been times it hid in a box for long periods. The Medaillon has nothing to do with what happened.”
“You did not swing your sword overly much on Millwold,” Elianas frowned.
“The Lumin Sword, Elianas. I meant to use it, really meant to use it, and it no doubt took from me.”
Elianas nodded. “Yes. When I carried it, I needed fuel from you to bear it.” He paused there and added, “You feel far away, Torrullin. What is going on in your head?”
Those grey eyes silvered to their otherworldly sheen.
“Talk to me,” Elianas said.
“Tristan reminded me of something yesterday.” Torrullin curled his fingers before his face. “This. The masks I am forced to wear. Goddamn, Elianas, I remember times I would blurt out exactly what I felt as I felt it. I would berate someone for stupidity or cry over a child lost. Anger? Everyone knew when I was angry or irritated, frustrated. Now I hold it in.” He leaned forward. “In the days when Vannis was around, all knew how to read me. Many used my emotions to waylay me or anticipate my actions.”
He lapsed into silence.
Elianas stared at him. “I find it enlightening how you tend to regard your true life as this one, from birth on the shores of Ren Lake through time spent with Vannis until this moment. Sometimes I feel you do not see your previous cycles as real.”
“They are real, and you mean more to me because we experienced those times together, but in this cycle I learned. I grew to know myself, far more than before. Particularly since Rayne walked the streets of Galilan have I felt life as a tangible force, and I loved. I realised it was all right to love and care.”
“And lose?”
Torrullin dipped his head. “Losing those you love is part of the process of knowing. It hurts, but memories are never forsaken.”
“And yet you don your masks.”
“Yes, and now it pisses me off holy. When so many die by my command, as they did yesterday, how is it right that I stand there with a bland face? Am I that unfeeling? Or is my mask so well engineered I cannot show what I feel?”
“What did you feel?”
Torrullin stared up at the starred ceiling. “Satisfaction.” Lowering his gaze, he added, “I desired to crow my triumph for all to see.”
Elianas lifted an eyebrow and took another sip. “In my opinion, it was as well you kept your mask in place.”
Torrullin’s lids lowered over those silvery eyes. “Perhaps, yes.”
“Or is it that you know you should have felt terrible? Death is horror, and you should have been shocked by what you saw and what you felt the need to issue command for. Should have, and could not.”
Those eyes impaled him.
Elianas leaned in and gripped his neck. “Torrullin, had you been strung up and I brought in an army to fuck them up, I too would crow my satisfaction.” Releasing his mug to the tray, he gripped with that hand as well. “Wear your masks in public, for it is safer for them, but know that I know you.”
“How are we good for this universe, Elianas?” Torrullin whispered.
Elianas released. “Which is why we bow out soon.”
“What lies with a portal world?”
Torrullin had understood he would be leaving behind those he loved in this time, Elianas realised, watching him. His grandsons, their loved ones, little Lunik, friends like Max Dalrish and Chaim of the Kaval, would no longer walk through his life. Torrullin, Elianas understood, sought reassurance. He also needed to know whether it was his last opportunity to allow those he loved to really know him, in order for them to remember the real Torrullin Valla.
“Severa
nce,” Elianas said. “Yes, we will be severed and there is no direct pathway back. There will be no access to supplies from this realm. Why do Kathin Arne’s spaceships not work beyond its atmosphere? It has naught to do with composition of air. Kathin Arne is a portal world and is therefore isolated from all else. Avaelyn will be the same. In fact, we shall enter Ariann, the realm of lonely worlds.”
Torrullin closed his eyes.
In a flurry of movement, Elianas left the bed and bent to find his boots. “What lies with a portal world, you ask? Every possibility you can imagine. As Alexander Diluvan imagined a people into being, thus we can, for Avaelyn is outside of all restraints.” He sat on the adjacent bed to put his boots on. “You will not be bored.”
“You think the thought of boredom is of concern to me?”
Tugging at his laces, Elianas muttered, “I know you, remember?”
“Fuck off.”
“Show them the real you, if that is your wish, if you seek longevity in memory to remain in this realm, but do not cry on my shoulder when you realise you do more harm than good.”
Torrullin glared at him, anger clear in his expression. “The real me does more harm than good?”
“At this crossroads, absolutely.”
“And you?”
Elianas smiled and shrugged. “No one can know the real me anyway.”
“Why is that?”
Elianas stood and stretched. “I am not as closely bound to the now as you are. To those you love, I am but a visitor, and how do we treat visitors, Torrullin? With respect, offering them the best in our natures, for we are aware they will soon move on. I receive respect and the good in most, and reciprocate, as a guest should, and thus what they see of me is not the real me. I am given few opportunities to reveal what is hidden inside. They expect me to move on sometime soon.”
“I beg to differ. Many have seen you stand forth.”
“As a reflection of you. Everything about me is seen through how they believe you expect me to act.” Elianas shrugged. “I am fine with that, for I am moving on sometime soon. All that counts is that you know me.”
“Elianas.”
Busy with righting his clothes, the summons in his name gave the dark man cause to pause. Slowly he looked up.
“You lie,” Torrullin said.
Jerking his belt straight, he snapped, “About what?”
“You are not so fine with it.”
He stood arms akimbo, glaring at his tormentor. “So you do know me.”
Torrullin grinned. “Shall we allow them to know us? To make such an end as to be remembered forever?”
Elianas grimaced. “I do not think you understand what it would mean.” He headed out. “I am off to get my sword and cloak.”
Boots on tiles told him Torrullin followed.
Grinwallin
“THOUGHT YOU MIGHT COME for breakfast,” Teighlar laughed as they climbed the stairs to the portico.
“We are starving,” Elianas grinned.
“And I am a good host. Come.” The Emperor led the way to his favourite spot under the vines, where a table was loaded with the makings of decent breakfast.
All three sat and started eating with unseemly haste.
“Why are you so hungry?” Torrullin asked of Teighlar, around a mouthful.
“Up all night with my commander,” Teighlar responded, wolfing down sausage and bacon. He was a meat eater and made no apologies for it. “Apparently Millwold’s king made a surprise landing, having heard of the rout. He has sworn to sterilise the entire continent - his words - and hopes his treaties with other worlds will allow him to call for aid.”
“Tristan will see to it,” Torrullin said, and then frowned at the man. “How in hell do you talk so much when your mouth is that full?”
Elianas spluttered into laughter, nearly choking on his dripping-with-butter bread. “I was just thinking the same!”
“Bugger off,” Teighlar muttered and shoved a hunk of tomato in. “What is next on the agenda?”
“Engineering a lonely meeting with Rivalen,” Torrullin said. “He is a slippery one.”
“Can you engineer it?”
“We have a few ideas,” Elianas said, pouring their coffee. He passed filled mugs around. “Will you lend me four soldiers, Emperor?”
Immediately all eating ceased.
Teighlar stared at Elianas. “Whatever for?”
“Valaris. I was on my way to the co-op there when the Red Cloaks nabbed me. I still need to pay a visit, therefore the guards.”
“You are welcome to them, of course, but I cannot see someone fooling you twice. Is it not overkill?” Teighlar said. “And … what, a co-op? What in the netherworld is a ‘co-op’?”
Torrullin started laughing. Tears of mirth soon streamed over his cheeks and he slapped the table in appreciation. “Emperor, you were definitely born with a jewel-encrusted platinum spoon in your mouth!”
“I do not deny it,” Teighlar shrugged, grinning. “But what is it?”
Laughing, Elianas said, “Likeminded folk get together to buy and sell wares to the profit of all.”
Teighlar stared at him as if he had just uttered alien words.
Torrullin laughed even more, as Elianas went on, “In this case, the co-op buys and sells vegetable and fruit tree seeds and saplings we want for Avaelyn.”
Teighlar gaped at him. “You intend farming?” Torrullin lowered his head to his arms as mirth shook his entire body. He rocked back to crow laughter when Teighlar said, “Like make little holes in the soil and put little round things in them?”
Gusts of mirth overtook Elianas as well. Wiping streaming eyes, he nodded.
“Well, I do not see why you need guards, unless you need them to carry the little round things?”
Laughter entirely overcame reason then.
Chapter 56
Blood is power
~ Sorcerer’s secret ~
A mountain somewhere
FEELING THE SHIFT IN power, Rivalen crouched on the flat rock on the edge of a mountain top.
He sensed how the Slayers were decimated, as well as how survivors would no longer deal with him. Yes, it was a fact; he had lost his army. It was a truth, though, he was somewhat relieved to be divested of their presence. Stupid creatures. The greatest gift they lent him for a while was a place to hide and plan.
It was time, now, to choose another path to supremacy.
As he hunkered there, his thoughts moved through many options available to him.
It was also a truth that many in this universe walked the darak path and it made them useable. Usually they proved less than effective, however, for they had not the staying power he required. The instant something went wrong they turned tail and fled. He needed something that would not buckle under pressure.
Did it mean he required someone special?
Or was it better to rely only on himself?
The weak sun overhead passed behind the clouds and Rivalen shivered. Other realms were both hot and cold, but some, like the last one he spent so much time in, could not be called either. Temperature had not featured. It was a place of internal contemplation rather than external influences. Sometimes the lack of change in conditions had frustrated him, and yet it was infinitely preferable to the severe alterations in nature’s cycles he had needed to accustom himself to in this reality.
He had learned he preferred heat, if he had to make a choice. However, heat meant too much light, and it was difficult to hide where the sun shone down without interruption.
Thus he was here, a place of shadows. The damn cold, though, did not sit well with him.
Dragging the cloak he brought with him around his shoulders, he lowered to the rock to draw from it any vestiges of heat it contained. Sitting then for hours, he shifted through his options.
In the back of his questing senses he felt how Torrullin’s healing brought hope to many, and then sensed the man fail in his endeavours. A shiver of ice moved through the spaces, as if the mu
ltiverse harked to his failure. Frowning, he concentrated on that particular phenomenon, and thus knew when Elianas took over the process of succour and how the spaces ceased shivering.
In that moment Rivalen understood.
He had spoken of it before, specifically to Teroux, the weak Valla, and he had entertained thoughts of it in private, but then it had been about ease of manipulation. Now he understood separation was the key.
Elixir and Alhazen were two faces of the same being this universe required. Together they created the scales for balance and unbalance.
Apart, they were not as effective.
Separate them, and great fissures would result, not only in perception amid the resident sentient species, but also in actual state of being. The physical state of the universe would alter.
Killing the Xenian seer might have been a hasty and ill-informed action on his part. Her participation would have worked miracles. He shrugged. As it was no longer an option, he needed to find something new.
Someone new?
Or was the Dome the real answer? Just this morning he captured one of the Drinic, a keeper of the records. Needing to learn all he could of the Dome, he understood few would share what they knew of it. The Drinic, fortunately, knew quite a bit.
He revealed the Dome’s long history, the various inhabitants, from ancient Guardians to present day Kaval, the numerous agreements many worlds had made with it, the power wielded by not only the presences within, but the Dome as an entity.
Sacred ogives, the man said, wailing his terror. Magic! And, most revealing of all, energy.
After ending the Drinic’s mortal time, Rivalen allowed that particular snippet to work its way into his subconscious, leaving it there to inveigle itself into other pieces and bits of knowledge.
Fingers tightened on his knees.
Yes, he desired the master mechanism and, according to the Kaval leader, it was resident in the Dome. Thank the gods he had not killed the man that day on the beach or he would not now know of this.
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 238
