The Echolone Mine (39 page)

“You see, the
real Torrullin still exists. Don’t forget him.”

“Saska, fight
this!”

Her eyes
widened and she looked beyond him. “Look, look at that.”

He followed
the direction of her gaze, expecting to find emptiness, assuming
she was looking into realms beyond, and then was on his feet,
screaming, “No! Go away!”

“It’s all
right, my love, it really is.”

A huge black
featureless cube hung in the blue space, intrusive, ominous,
threatening and powerful. It neared and bumped against the
transparent ellipse, and opened like a flower unfolding, a flower
of death. In its unfurling the other cube immediately behind became
visible.

“Destroy the
hope!” Elianas shouted.

Torrullin
sobbed in desperation and fell to his knees, knowing he was as
helpless as a newborn. “Gods, no, don’t do this,” he begged of all
things wherever they were.

A horse-like
figure appeared in the centre of the black open cube and Torrullin
stared at it. It neared and then stepped off onto the transparent
ellipse.

“Torrullin, it
is time to let go.”

“Mahler?”
Torrullin whispered. “Here?”

The Centuar
bowed. “Our deaths left an undoing in place and this was our
purgatory. Unfortunately, only a death would restore life.
Torrullin, I have come to collect Declan, to take him home so he
may be interred with all honour, and then I shall be free also. I
am sorry.”

Torrullin drew
a shaking breath. “Belun will be happy.”

Mahler smiled.
“I know.”

“Take him, my
friend, for he deserves every honour.”

Mahler bowed
and bent. For a brief moment he transformed into humanoid and then
the Siric was on the Centuar’s back.

Torrullin
stared at his friend of long years, touched his forehead in homage,
and watched the two step back onto the black platform.

“I shall see
you soon, Torrullin,” Mahler murmured.

The cube
folded up, moved away and then hurtled outward at a speed faster
than any light.

The second
cube bumped up, and it meant only one thing.

He looked
down, his heart breaking into tiny pieces.

Saska smiled
up at him. “The time is now. I love you.” Saska closed her eyes and
did not ever open them again in a place he would see her do so.

The cube
unfolded and Assint, Centuar, stepped out. He waited
wordlessly.

Torrullin
stared down at Saska’s lifeless form, and stared and stared.

Assint
retrieved her and walked away, still wordless. He clearly
understood what grief this death caused.

“Bring her
back!” Torrullin shouted.

Assint bowed,
the cube closed, and was gone.

Saska was
gone.

Torrullin’s
mind unravelled and he fell into oblivion deeper than any void.

Chapter 30

What use this?
Let me die.

The lament of
grief

The Dome

B
elun and Tristan were alone in the
Dome discussing the merits of freeing the Dome from Sanctuary’s
orbit when the Centuar ogive chimed.

“What?” Belun
muttered. He stalked closer and Tristan followed with a drawn
sword.

Both braced to
defend, and then the blade dropped and Belun reverted untidily to
Centuar form.

In came Mahler
and in his arms was the lifeless Declan.

Belun, caught
between joy and terrible grief, could only stare.

The ogive
chimed again, and Assint entered, with the lifeless Saska.

Tristan cried
out, sinking to his knees.

Mahler spoke,
“We have brought them to be honoured. Their deaths have returned us
our freedom and it is a bittersweet feeling. We grieve and rejoice,
and know not anything beyond that right now.”

Assint said,
“They are free in death as we were not. Do not mourn them.”

Belun beat at
the air with raised hoofs.

Tristan rose
and took Saska from Assint. Gently, carefully, he laid her on the
marble slab. Knotted hair, scratched face, torn clothes, swollen
feet, torn fingernails, hollowed cheeks. The signs of severe
deprivation. Her death had not been easy.

Belun reverted
to humanoid and took Declan. He laid the Siric nearby. Dirty,
bruised, scratched, blood behind one ear. Wing nubs. No glorious
Siric colours. A hard death.

He looked up
at the two Centuar. “My friends, it gladdens my heart to see
you.”

Mahler bowed.
“We understand, Belun, and we cannot reunite under these
circumstances. We shall leave for a while and reacquaint ourselves
with this reality. Call when … well, call.”

“Wait,”
Tristan said, looking up. “Torrullin?”

Mahler sighed.
“He is inside, for he has not an answer yet.”

“How is
he?”

“He is
injured, and now needs to find a way through the turmoil Saska’s
passing has caused. There is no way to tell how long it will be
before they exit.”

“And
Elianas?”

Assint
answered. “He is injured also, and in delirium. He cannot build
bridges at the moment.”

Tristan
nodded.

Belun said,
“Go now, my friends, and thank you for bringing them to us.”

Mahler and
Assint bowed and left. The ogive chimed.

“A prophecy
fulfilled,” Belun said. “I never expected it to be like this.”

Tristan
squeezed his shoulder. “Bittersweet indeed.”

Belun looked
down. “They suffered.”

“Seems so,”
Tristan muttered.

Belun
swallowed. “Let us restore their dignity.”

“Yes,” Tristan
whispered.

The entire
Kaval were in attendance

Nearby were
the shrouded forms of Saska and Declan. Tristan, pale and resolute,
stood behind the console. Assint and Mahler were briefly recalled
to present exact descriptions of Torrullin and Elianas’ state, and
left again.

Quilla and
Lowen sat with heads bowed low.

Finally
Tristan spoke. “Would anybody know of their wishes in ceremonies of
death?”

Belun said,
“Saska wanted to be cremated and asked that her funeral pyre be lit
on Valaris, where her heart lay, she said. In the desert, where the
air is hot and pure. It is cold there now, but she would have
wanted it so nevertheless. She asked that her ashes be strewn over
Torrke and no memorial plaque be raised.”

“Thus it will
be,” Tristan said.

“Declan told
me he would want the Sentient Lady of Valaris to take him into the
depths,” Belun went on. “No memorial either.”

Belun, of all
Kaval present, had known them the longest. Saska, at least five
thousand years, and Declan a lot longer than that.

“Then that is
what we do for them.”

Quilla lifted
his head, his cherubic face streaked with tears. “You must wait for
Torrullin.”

Lowen looked
up. “Yes, he would want to scatter her ashes.”

“How long do
we wait?” Tristan asked.

“We hold the
memorial services as soon as possible, but we wait for the other as
long as it takes,” Quilla said.

“We cannot
keep them, Quilla.”

“We will. I
will. I shall take them to the Lifesource …” His face dissolved in
tears. “Now they get to enter, when they cannot appreciate the
beauty. Now they are truly immortal.”

Tristan held
tight to the console. “None of us here dare enter the Lifesource to
help you.”

Quilla nodded,
wiping his face. “I can do it alone.”

Lowen rose and
ran out. Her ogive chimed.

“We shall post
notices of the services,” Fuma offered.

Tristan nodded
his thanks. “Three days, the Graveyard.” He straightened. “I must
speak with Tian.”

“I’ll go to
Canimer,” Erin said. Saska’s homeworld.

“Do that.”

“Come, Quilla,
Gal and I will help take them to the lightbridge,” Shenendo said,
rising.

Gradually the
Dome emptied of both living and dead.

The Path of
Shades

Elianas opened
his eyes and stared up at the unchanging blue.

His dreaming
had been dark, nightmares to shy away from. He tried to swallow.
His throat was swollen and his mouth so dry his lips cracked when
he moved them. Pain came in waves throughout his body, except where
he had lost all feeling from being in the same position too
long.

His head
pounding, he found Torrullin lying nearby, motionless, pale,
rivulets of sweat tracking over his face and chest. It meant he was
alive, at the very least.

He croaked,
but could not speak. He tried swallowing again, but there was no
moisture to aid him. He moved and then silently screeched at the
onslaught.

Breathing
through brittle nostrils, he lay still until it passed somewhat,
and then tried again, this time biting down and bearing it. He came
within touching distance of Torrullin and collapsed. Torrullin’s
mouth was similarly cracked, his breathing ragged. Some pair they
made.

He reached,
gripped Torrullin’s wrist and pulled. Torrullin’s eyes were
fever-bright.

How long had
they been there? They had wasted away, skin to bone now … and where
was Saska?

Elianas could
not talk and he was not certain Torrullin would understand
anything. Beyond the fever, he noted, lay madness. He could not say
what he needed to, could not tell the man he considered both friend
and foe that he, Elianas, was not a true Immortal. He stared death
in the face now, as Declan had, as Saska had … ah, she died - it
explained the madness.

He could not say,
do not grieve, I
shall be back, and this time it will be eternal.
He could not even send it without magic. He could
not say he was sorry, that he lied about longevity to remain at his
side, that he knew how to use Reaume to make it seem he had true
long life. He could say nothing, and thus tried to put all of it
into his eyes … and knew it was not enough.

When the bump
came he knew what it was, but was not sure whether Torrullin
understood. When he suddenly slid away from that beloved man into
black space, Torrullin did not react. He lay there, staring. Blind
to everything.

Elianas cried
out within, crying out all he wanted to say, and never had, and
there was no sound.

Blackness
enfolded him, a fair face was lost, and he breathed his last.

Valaris

They came from
everywhere to pay their respects to Declan and Saska, and many
spoke of times and events that honoured the dead.

The memorial
service ran into hours and when it was over mountains of flowers
covered the Graveyard site.

Drained and
beyond feeling, a few gathered together in private - Tianoman’s
study. Tianoman was there, Tristan and Teroux, Rose, Caballa,
Aislinn, Belun and Quilla.

“It’s the
fourteenth day,” Caballa said. “No bone can heal without proper
aid. They will be feverish by now.”

“Assint said
they felt the surges we created,” Belun said. “That means they must
have direction. We must hope.”

“They may be
too hurt to do anything about it,” Aislinn said. She sat with
Tianoman, her hands protectively over her rounding stomach.

“We must
hope,” Belun insisted.

“Yes, we
must,” Teroux murmured.

Tristan leaned
forward to cover his face and sat like that, unmoving, for a long
time.

No one spoke
again.

The Path of
Shades

Lucidity
returned, as did terrible agony.

Torrullin
swallowed and found no moisture. Weak, shaking uncontrollably, he
sat up.

Where was
Elianas?

He froze and
even his shaking ceased.

It had not been a dream. Elianas had not left in a black cube
in a nightmare. Elianas had left … by dying.
Dying?

He fell back
and surrendered entirely. There was nothing left to live for.
Nothing.

In surrender
there was the answer at last. The veils parted, the shadows
reflected upon the maze of sentient souls, throwing dimension into
corners and curves, and he understood.

He had to lose
everything in order to know.

The knowing
left him empty, for he was empty. There was nothing left to hold
onto.

When the black
cube swallowed him, he did not care.

He was
empty.

Chapter 31

When all else
fails, know silent support is the best you can offer. Be
strong.

The lament of
grief

Valaris

Q
uilla stood on the path beyond the
Keep’s mighty dragon doors and stared over the mound of flowers
obliterating the Graveyard.