An older couple and their four grown sons had fled Ymir with a number of child slaves, seeking to give the children a new life. He was an administrator, she was a doctor, and of the sons one was a pilot, another a farmer, one was a paramedic and the other a surgeon. This was the kind of family needed to run a sanctuary for the dispossessed and those seeking asylum.
With Teroux’s permission, who now owned the deed, he gifted them use of the Villa and placed the couple in charge of Mariner Island. In the future the Kaval could decide, but for now it was another task completed.
Thereafter he spent an hour answering Mikhail’s questions about what Alik of Grinwallin was up to.
Avaelyn
Lifesource site
QUILLA MEANWHILE WAS EVER present at the Lifesource site.
The Dome was currently safe and did not require his full attention. Most of the Kaval, in fact, had deployed to various worlds to offer aid where nature’s skewed cycles had caused some damage. Belun and Jonas remained with the Dome, awaiting the new Kaval member. No one had yet requested admittance.
As the walls of the Lifesource rose and the arches were set in place, Quilla meandered through, beginning the installation of Q’lin’la magic in the foundation phase already. Once the Valleur stepped away from a task completed, he would summon to him the Q’lin’la homeworld realm and join it to this new Lifesource.
The Temple on Valaris would continue as before, but no longer would the portal to the homeworld be situated there.
Elianas left the Lifesource to the Valleur sorcerers and Quilla’s supervision after a time, to give thought to what would usually be the second site erected on a world.
The Throne’s sacred place.
There would, however, be no Throne on Avaelyn.
Monklicopin Dwelling
BUMPING INTO TORRULLIN at breakfast one morning - one of few they now enjoyed together, for one was ever here and the other there - Elianas voiced his concerns.
“The Palace is generally regarded as the site for the Throne,” Torrullin said. “Why not our palace? The emerald tower.”
Elianas grinned. “Perfect.”
“What of the third site, the one to pay homage to the past? A Rock of Ancients is not welcome here, for I want nothing that smacks of Nemisin.”
“Agreed,” Elianas muttered. “And a wall like to the one on Ardosia would be a mere copy of something already done.”
Torrullin sat back in his seat, hands curled around a mug. “I had a dream last night about a giant stone mandala. The colours created patterns that reminded me of events in Valleur history.”
“I like it.”
“The ley line running through the Lifesource peters out to the south upon the dry plain. Such a place could host a massive circle in the sand.”
“A sacred site there would aid the wildlife of the region.”
“Exactly.”
“Can you draw it?”
Torrullin grinned. “I will do it after breakfast.”
“I will set it in motion. Where are you off to next?”
“Healer’s Facility. Shep has ideas.”
Elianas groaned. “Gods, hopefully not a brick and mortar monstrosity.”
“If so, I aim to put a stop to it,” Torrullin laughed.
Elianas poured more coffee. “I miss you,” he said. “We seem to be hit and miss right now.”
“I know, but we are also forging our new future.” Torrullin stared at him. “All I ask is that you make no decision regarding the Medaillon yet.”
Silence followed that statement. “Why not?”
“I have a steamy promise to keep first.”
Elianas’ hand shook on the jug of cream. “I shall wait until then.”
They stared at each other.
Muttering words about not having his blood boil at this time, Torrullin rose and left the kitchen, taking his mug with him. To make a drawing, he threw over his shoulder.
Laughing, Elianas watched him go.
Healer’s Facility
SHEP COLLARED TORRULLIN the instant he arrived.
“It cannot work,” he wailed.
“What cannot work?” Torrullin asked in surprise.
“This!” Shep threw his arms out. “This will not do to heal the sick.”
“Shep, I healed many thousands right here. Do not tell me it cannot work.”
Shep Lore swallowed, worried he had overstepped a line.
“Make your point, though,” Torrullin prompted.
“Well …” The round man looked around for the logs that served as seating around a fire pit and sat as if his strength had failed. He stared helplessly up.
Hiding his amusement, Torrullin sat opposite him. “Say it, Shep.”
“It is like this. Yes, this worked for the kind of healing you do, but is too basic for the longer means other healers require. It is too rustic, my Lord. Here germs will creep in and delay a healing.”
He made sense. “What do you suggest?”
“A more open location, my Lord. I am aware you seek for everything to remain in harmony with nature here, and therefore suggest a low stone building, one able to spread as needs demand. A place where the air is dryer, but there is water available.”
Torrullin nodded. “I am able to live with that, but, Shep, how many do you think will be living on Avaelyn, to need such a specific place of healing?”
Shep Lore leaned onto his thighs. “My Lord, we need to eat, thus we need farms, which may also be situated so as to make little impact, and farms need farmers, possibly families of farmers, to run efficiently. Avaelyn, as portal world, requires a little bit more than us few invited to stay here. The little more, therefore, will need a specific place of healing.”
Torrullin lowered his head. He was afraid it would come to this.
Shep went on. “This should be a place of rest. The beautiful cottages back there in the trees lend themselves to introspection, to spending time relaxing, at one with the forest. The open air kitchen would be more suitable to a communal cooking facility for visitors …” He lapsed into silence, perhaps realising now he did overstep.
Torrullin looked up. It was clear it had become a communal place. The Valleur builders fell into sleep here at night, ate here, washed here. Thus it already supported visitors; in the future it could be a more restful place for those seeking it.
“Do what needs doing, Shep.”
“You agree?” Shep Lore gasped.
“Not necessarily, but I see the wisdom in being prepared. Shep, I will request a nature guardian from the Lady of Life. If even one foot unnecessarily crushes a flower or steps on a lizard, he or she with that foot is banned from Avaelyn, understood? Make it clear and if anyone disagrees with this guardian, he or she is out as well.”
The man nodded vigorously.
“Very well.” Torrullin rose. “You will need more men for your stone building. I shall have them sent to you from Luvanor. They will come with supplies also.”
Shep bowed. “Thank you.”
“A reminder, my friend. No one is to know as yet this will become a portal world.”
Shep nodded.
Torrullin left him there and wandered over to the concourse where the Mercy Ships landed. Staring at the hard packed earth gradually being covered with grass and wildflowers, he swore no one would again land on Avaelyn.
This stretch of ground would become a venue for sports such as target practice and sword fights.
Bloody hell, would Avaelyn survive an influx intact?
Were they making a mistake?
Trezonadr Mountains
SABIAN’S COTTAGE WAS WELL hidden amid a forest, just as he preferred. Monumental rock edifices lent the view from his clearing majesty and engendered awe.
As Torrullin approached, Sabian came out and wandered closer when Torrullin halted to look up at the mountains.
“I call them the Trezonadr,” Sabian said.
“Catharsis and magnificence,” Torrullin murmured. “A good name, a
fitting description.”
Sabian smiled.
“Are you content here?” Torrullin prompted.
“Very. I have what is familiar to me around me, but now I do not have to wonder when a shaman or two from Echolone will surprise me,’ Sabian laughed.
“Am I not the shaman?” Torrullin grinned.
“True, but I would rather talk to you than suffer their questions.” Sabian eyed him. “You have come about the book.”
A nod. “How far are you?”
“It will take years to read it, and that will be skimming. It requires decades of intense study to fully understand, even with Shep’s input and access to his race memories.”
“Are you willing to undertake the task?”
Sabian laid his hands upon his breast. “I am.”
Torrullin looked up again. “Perhaps another kind of catharsis will eventually come from understanding the lengthy past.”
“Indeed, and perhaps it will aid the longer future.”
“Longer?”
Sabian nodded. “Nothing ends when we abandon Reaume, you must know this. Not only will they continue out there, but we shall forge new paths here.” The fair man, brother to Margus, stepped closer. “You and Elianas own this world. You have right and privilege to it. You are also a Walker, Torrullin, beyond all the facets both you and Elianas additionally encompass.” He stepped even closer, his blue eyes intent. “We shall be in Ariann, a lonely world amid others swerving in aloneness, but will it be forever? By choice, maybe, but what of reality?”
“What are you suggesting, Sabian?”
“Music does not end merely because no one listens, and the Song in the Spaces ever marks the harmonies even in silence. You can run, Torrullin, and you may choose to hole up, but you are who you are. Elianas is who he is. Together you make the music the Song harks to. Do you truly believe eternity will ignore your notes?”
Closing his eyes, Torrullin whispered, “No.”
Sabian jerked a nod. “You understanding will aid your future, and I shall aid that by delving the long past.” He tapped Torrullin’s shoulder and Torrullin opened his eyes. “Switch a sacred site on and listen to the Song.”
Staring at him, Torrullin simply nodded.
The historian stepped away, grinning. “Relax, it is good.”
Releasing a breath, Torrullin murmured, “Sometimes you do remind me of Margus … Michael.”
“Thank you for saying his name. He was a good soul once.”
“You prove it for him.”
Sabian bowed. “And you do us both honour.” He straightened. “Now go. We both have things to do. Oh, when Elianas gets around to making Avaelyn’s map, tell him these are the Trezonadr.” He waved at the mountains.
Torrullin squinted. “He will make a map?”
“Trust me, it is already fully conceived in his mind. He merely has not had the time to chart it physically.”
Laughing, Torrullin left then.
Yes, Elianas did like his maps.
Dwelling
AS HE ARRIVED BACK home, Elianas drifted in waving the mandala drawing.
“Perfection,” he muttered, staring at it, unaware he was being observed. “The blue stone from the north will …” He looked up. “Oh. Good. I had a look and it will work. There is enough space … what is up with you?”
“Something someone said to me earlier,” Torrullin said, standing on the edge of the sitting area’s platform into the garden.
“Mind altering stuff? Torrullin, by god, there is enough to deal with.”
“Apparently this will be good.”
Elianas set the drawing on the low table and weighed it down with an apple from the fruit bowl. He closed in. “So tell me.”
“We infuse the Emerald Tower tonight and when it comes online we are to listen to the music it makes.”
Elianas licked his lips. “Really?”
A surge of heat poured into Torrullin’s veins. “Wear nothing … except this.” He tapped the Medaillon under Elianas’ tunic.
The dark man inhaled sharply.
“Gods, now I cannot think,” Torrullin murmured.
Elianas cleared his throat. “Yes, you have managed to entirely alter the dynamics of this day.”
Torrullin closed his eyes against the response he saw before him and laughed under his breath. Then, opening them, he jumped from the ledge to the grassy slope below.
“Midnight,” he threw over his shoulder as he strode away.
Chapter 65
Second chances are not always wise. Extend them with due caution.
~ Valeri of the Valleur ~
Akhavar
Linard
CABALLA AWAKENED TO sit up in darkness.
She was alone in bed. She had been alone for many nights now as Tristan and the Kaval worked at Dome duties. He was with them earlier, for dinner, but they did not share anything personal.
How she missed him sometimes.
Linard’s population kept her busy - it was strange still to call the mountain city Linard - for she was a renowned seer. Many came to her for advice, as they ever had in the past on both Ardosia and Valaris. Others came seeking visions, which she generally denied them, and often she found herself closeted with an Elder or two. A few of the Elders dreamed prophetically and asked to see her in order to compare what they saw with her sight.
The latter was frustrating, but it kept her mind ever active.
These days their dreams and her visions made little sense, almost as if a veil had been drawn over what lay ahead. She hoped it was not like the time the Avior door on Echolone absorbed all sight.
Thirsty and cursing the lack of facilities in the Valla family suites, Caballa left her bed and slid her feet into slippers, donning a warm robe over her nightdress. She was awake anyway; might as well take a walk.
The mountain habitat’s halls and corridors were largely deserted. Most were abed, other than the guards on duty and a few stragglers like herself. Passing by them, she offered greeting and received in return.
She thought of the woman who came to her earlier in the day, a girl really, recently from Luvanor. Her name was Ami and she sought a change in her circumstances and came thus to Akhavar, not only to seek the seer’s counsel, but in the hopes of finding a new place to live.
When Caballa heard why, she nearly went to Luvanor to bash the woman’s husband’s face in. He did not hit Ami, but he abused her in other ways. Leaving her without food and income for long stretches, he went adventuring in the name of philosophy. He sought enlightenment, apparently, and a wife got in the way. It was an arranged marriage, but it did not excuse him.
Ami kept her dignity by taking in sewing from her small community, but she no longer saw a future where she was. She desired to have children …
Caballa gritted her teeth as her slippers slapped a rhythm on the cold stone floor.
The Valleur too possessed some unsavoury characters. Beating up a man who probably did not even realise how selfish he was would not help young Ami. She sent the girl to the Elders for a separation decree and then took her to the seamstresses. Those women were already overworked and welcomed Ami with glad cries.
Men.
Tristan, too, was in danger of receiving a beating.
Grinning then, and imagining what form such a ‘beating’ would take, she walked on and discovered her feet and her introspection had led her to the Throne-room.
It too was deserted, but for guards.
She wandered over to the Throne, stepping onto the dais. Moonlight filtered in from above, near full, and a few tapers burned near the exit to the ledge. Light falling onto the golden seat was diffuse, but it always had presence.
How amazing that something this simple possessed so much power. How astonishing the age of this object.
Caballa.
She frowned, before she understood. Tarlinn.
The Valleur need you to do something for them.
When she did so much already? Caballa drew her ro
be close and glared at the Throne.
Even a disembodied voice could reflect amusement. Nothing strenuous, Caballa. Merely place a few well-chosen words in the right ears.
Now what did that mean? Which words? Which ears?
The ears I leave up to you. The words are thus. Avaelyn requires at least two Elders to maintain the Valleur way.
Her arms loosened. Forgive me, but I need more than those cryptic words.
You are aware of the plan to untie Avaelyn from this reality, and thus the duty falls to you. Torrullin is not thinking at the moment or he would understand. He builds fourteen sacred sites, but he also needs Elders.
Torrullin does not need Elders, Tarlinn.
Again, amusement transferred. Yet he will have them, for they are the means to record keeping.
Long moments passed while Caballa reasoned out the meaning behind the directive. One day Avaelyn will rejoin Reaume and therefore its history needs recording.
Indeed.
When?
Time is now relative, Caballa, more so than it has ever been, but not long after the new Syllvan again step into Reaume’s grotto will this come to pass.
How long did it take an immature Dryad to grow into a mature Syllvan? She did not know, but understood it was a lengthy period.
Do not reveal this to either the Valla or the Danae. They will at this stage deny it and possibly jeopardise future inclusion.
Yes, she understood that. This would give the Valleur hope, she also realised. When grief threatened to overwhelm, this news would engender acceptance. She would take Emeren into her confidence. The Elder could be trusted with secrets and would reveal when the time came. She, Caballa, might not live long enough to see Avaelyn’s vanishing act come to pass.
When should they go to Avaelyn?
They should go soon, perhaps as part of the builders.
That could work, indeed. Two Elders to aid with the sacred sites would not appear odd at all, and they could ‘fall in love’ with Avaelyn and ask to stay. Perhaps Torrullin would not question it. Elianas might.
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 245
