The Echolone Mine (18 page)

“I would be
surprised if you have peace of mind to destroy.”

A smile.
“Touché.”

“In the
Syllvan grotto I said I would make you pay for choosing Elianas,
and you said we would dance again. It thrilled every nerve in my
body, and for a time I was prepared to give you all kinds of grief,
knowing you would react in a way I could sink my teeth into.” She
smiled at the look he gave her. “Yes, like that, just like that.”
Her smile vanished and she turned away from those eyes. “No more,
Torrullin. I’m weary of uncertainty, indecision, and
insecurity.”

She placed her
hand over his heart, as Elianas had earlier.

“I know the
dark places inside, for I have them also, and put some of them in
place, but I know there are light spaces also. I see it when you
smile at a child, when you look at your grandsons, when you speak
to Caballa - a host of little things. To dance further is to darken
those spaces, for both of us.”

His hand
rested over hers on his heart. This was a day to be remembered, a
revelatory day. He wondered if she would ever comprehend how
closely she now mirrored Elianas.

“Was it love,
Lowen?”

“It was
complicated, but love is the one I want to take away whole. Can you
understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She
withdrew her hand and moved away. “Go do what you must beyond that
door and know I am not coming with you. Unlike Caballa, I do not
mourn my visions, but if you return them, I hope new sight will
tell me only we have made peace with what was and will be. The next
time we meet, I hope we meet as friends, and we may find the kind
of easy togetherness you and Caballa have attained. I am no longer
your nemesis, Torrullin.”

“You always
will be. Potential remains, and choice only subverts it for the
moment.”

She inclined
her head. “Perhaps, but it will prove a long, long moment.”

A wry laugh.
“Today, suddenly, the women in our lives are so understanding.”

“I wish you
could see how you and Elianas are together, look at yourselves
objectively. We see it and thus we make new choices.”

“How are we
together?”

“You are
inside each other’s skin.” She dared look at him; he was staring at
her. “Do you want me to qualify that?”

“No need. I am
merely astonished it is that obvious.”

Her resolve
crumbled. “Damn it, I don’t get it! There’s this silent language
between you, all the bloody time, and Caballa says it’s because you
both probably know exactly what the line is - what line, Torrullin,
for pity’s sake?”

He was
wordless.

“Damn it, she
says that’s why Elianas pushes so hard! What does she mean? She
says it’s unlikely you’re not aware of it. What, what?”

“She probably
also told you I would not tell you.”

“And neither
would Elianas,” Lowen muttered.

“Clever
Caballa.”

Lowen sighed.
“I want to walk away with only peace between us.”

He closed in
on her, put his hands into her hair and stared into her incredibly
blue eyes. Those eyes had called him across worlds and realms, and
would probably haunt him eternally.

“Peace will
escape us, accept that, but calm is attainable. Elianas and I will
probably dance into forever, because the alternative defies all
hope. Make peace with this, knowing it is the dance that counts,
not the last note in the music. You and I, we go dancing on in
memory and there the music plays loud and clear.” He kissed her
gently. “Take what remains whole away with you, please.”

“What do you
take away?”

“Sacred
space,” he murmured, and claimed her lips again, deeply. “When we
meet again, who knows? Friends? I hope so, but I would not be
averse to repeating past interludes.”

She smiled.
“We shall see, then.”

A moment more
she stared at him and then she walked blindly away.

Back in the
village, she ran into Elianas and it was obvious he engineered the
encounter.

“Relax, I’m
leaving,” she muttered, pushing him out of the way.

“I am sorry,
Lowen.”

“As you are
over Cassy? Spare me.” She stalked away, but he waylaid her on the
deck of Allith’s cottage. “What, damn it?”

“Take Cassy
with you.”

“Fine.” Lowen
pushed past him into the cottage.

He followed.
“Lowen.”

Tears ran over
her cheeks. “Leave me, all right?”

Elianas closed
his eyes and then reached out and took her into his arms. “He will
be fine, I promise. You will be fine, too, with time.”

She sobbed
against his chest. Caballa, entering, took one look and
retreated.

“Lowen, I must
thank you for something,” Elianas murmured and lifted her head.
“You could have lashed out at him, driven us all onto a different
path, and yet you are too noble. Thank you.”

She swallowed
her sobs. “Gods, you would have let me do it.”

“To see him
react, yes. What does it say about me?”

Lowen pushed
away from him. “Had you and Cassy chosen to reinvent your marital
vows, Elianas, he would have seduced her eventually. What does it
say about him?”

He drew
breath.

Lowen smiled
sadly. “The women see it, fortunately. We bow out.”

He nodded.
“When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I
find Cassy.”

“She is at the
herbalist.”

“Have you
spoken again?”

He pulled a
face. “No. Rather not.” Elianas laughed. “I think I shall go for a
long walk right now to escape more words. Go well, Lowen.” He bent,
kissed her forehead and then deliberately stepped away. “Another
time, perhaps.”

Lowen watched
him walk to the door and wanted to lash out at Torrullin, to take
Elianas and … and … she drew a sharp breath when he turned.

“Do you want
to see him react, too?” he asked.

She closed the
gap, reached, found his mouth, pulled him against her, they fell
against the wall, hands searching for skin … and then Caballa was
there, jerking them apart.

“Do
not
do this,” she heaved, pushing them into opposite directions. “Do
not make this terrible mistake.”

Elianas worked
over Caballa, pulling Lowen to him.

Cassy walked
in. “Elianas!”

He stilled and
then, “Saved, I think.” He left the cottage.

Cassy stared
at Lowen. “You would be hurt, not him. Torrullin would be hurt, not
him. Elianas has more dark spaces, have you not realised it
yet?”

Lowen closed
her eyes. “I know now. I am sorry, Cassy. And, Caballa - thank
you.”

Half an hour
later Caballa was the only woman left.

Listen to the
old and wise. They have experience youth cannot fathom.

Book of
Sages

Echolone

N
ot in the mood for socialising, Torrullin and Elianas
took their evening meal inside Allith’s cottage, while Caballa
joined the fireside gathering outside.

Anethor, head
shaman, found them there, coming up onto the deck with enough noise
to warn of his approach. He discovered them standing in his
daughter’s sitting area, watching the doorway.

Waving, he
said, “Sit, sit, my friends.” He came closer slowly and sank with a
groan into an armchair. Alert eyes watched the two men sit on the
same couch opposite him, far apart. “Two of your party left today,
I am told. Is something wrong?”

“They have
duties elsewhere,” Torrullin murmured.

“Ah,” Anethor
uttered, not fooled.

“I hope Carlin
isn’t imposing,” Torrullin said.

“No, no. He
nears the end of his translation. My daughter will return tomorrow
with news of the meeting, and we shall have little opportunity to
speak on matters other than those concerning Echolone.”

“There is
something you wish to discuss.”

Anethor
pointed his walking stick at Torrullin. “You.” He moved his pointer
to Elianas. “You.”

Elianas raised
a brow.

Torrullin said
nothing.

Anethor
laughed. “Now I know why they say ‘poker face’. I have no doubt it
sits ill that folk discuss you, yet you must know it is the nature
of status. Here it is no different.”

“It would be
rude to repay hospitality with ill humour,” Elianas murmured.

Anethor
smiled. “I am glad you said so, for now I have my opening.” He
shifted on his chair. “Have either of you entered the spirit
world?”

Elianas
blinked, surprised.

Torrullin
leaned forward. “I had not expected this question, to be
honest.”

“You thought I
would discuss the relationship between you. That is not my
business.”

Torrullin
relaxed. “The spirit world? It would depend on how you define
it.”

Anethor’s eyes
twinkled with challenge. “Ah, I knew it. Not just one - many.
Disembodied?”

Torrullin
frowned. “I do not understand the direction you seek.”

Anethor placed
his walking stick between his legs and used it to lever himself to
the edge of his seat. Leaning forward intently, he said, “Will you
answer my questions to understand direction?”

Torrullin
nodded.

Anethor
glanced at Elianas. “You answer every alternate question.”

Intrigued,
Elianas inclined his head.

“Is there a
spirit world?” Anethor asked of Torrullin.

“Yes.”

“Are there
ancestors?” he asked of Elianas.

“Yes.”

“Can they be
spoken to?”

Torrullin, “If
properly connected to.”

“Do all races
have this ability to talk to those beyond?”

Elianas, “Yes,
but most require a medium.”

“Is there only
one spirit world?”

Torrullin,
“There are many.”

“Are my
ancestors in one spirit world and, say, Carlin’s, in another?”

Elianas, “The
spirit realms make no such distinctions.”

“Are they
always disembodied?”

Torrullin,
“No.”

“Is there an
Aaru?”

Elianas, “Yes,
and there is a netherworld also.”

“Are you able
to contact those in Aaru?”

Torrullin,
“No.”

“The
netherworld?”

Elianas,
“No.”

Anethor
nodded. “Those of the spirit worlds we do reach are in limbo?”

Torrullin,
“They are on another path. From there they may attain the realm of
bliss or eternal gloom, or they may move onto yet another
path.”

“Is there such
a thing as a final death?”

Elianas
nodded. “For unawake souls.”

“How do we
reach from this life to theirs to connect with them?”

Torrullin
frowned. “The unawake?”

“No, the
ancestors.”

Torrullin was
silent and then, “That is not as easy to answer.”

“Try.”

“The realms
are not far and neither are they apart, and yet they do not
interfere with each other. They overlap, they even touch, and
sometimes occupy exactly the same space, but the dimensions of
space-time prevents the kind of anarchy such events would usually
herald. Thus, when you enter the trance that releases your
conscious, you are able to touch these points where the realms
overlap, and they may hear you, as echoes of a previous life. It is
highly stressful for them, as it can be for you. It is not a
natural contact and requires dedication.”

Anethor stared
at Torrullin and then flicked his gaze to Elianas. “Are you a
medium?”

“No.”

“Torrullin?”

“No.”

Anethor leaned
so far forward he was in danger of toppling over. “Then how can you
answer these questions and why do I believe you tell the
truth?”

Elianas
smiled. “Ah, direction.” He shrugged “When one lives long, one
learns certain talents. The mind, when freed, is able to wander
other realms.”

“Then you are
a medium.”

“No, for I do
not make contact. I merely witness.”

“You enter,
look around, withdraw?”

“Something
like that.”

“Can you do it
now?”

“My mind is
not free.”

“A
trance?”

A beat. “No.
The mind must literally be free, for the body is no more.”

Anethor
stared. “How?”

Elianas
sighed. “An Immortal is able to release his body for long periods
to lay claim to again in the future. During such a release the mind
is free to roam where it wills.”

“That is
extraordinary,” Anethor breathed.

“And often
disorientating.”

“Is that how
it is for you, Torrullin?”

“No. I am a
Walker of Realms.”

“Which means?”
Anethor asked.

“There are
portals into most realms, and a Walker uses them to enter and
exit.”

“And make
contact?”

Torrullin gave
a slight smile. “Most realms are pretty much as we know reality.
Yes, I make contact, for they are no different there than we are
here. Of course, there are exceptions.”

“Such as?”

“The
disembodied realms require transmuting of form for travel, and
others are so strange one prefers remaining on the outside. Not all
races are humanoid, Anethor, and some realms do not come close to
emulating reality. Other realms simply have no portals and one
cannot enter. The netherworld is forbidden unless you are bound for
it, and the same applies to Aaru.”

Anethor’s
mouth hung open. He closed it with a snap, sighed and rose. “Thank
you for this revelation. We are not that clever here, are we?”

Torrullin rose
to help him. “Few do what you do, Anethor,” he murmured as he
walked the other man to the door. “Our talents are a product of
immortality; yours is achieved in this life. That is amazing and,
besides reincarnation, the closest anyone may get.”

The shaman
stopped. “Reincarnation? Is it real?”

Torrullin
sighed. “Yes, if you know the how of it.”