The Echolone Mine (41 page)

Having
achieved a state of perfect isolation, he picked up the pace. He
stopped less, walked further, and another two weeks passed. The
countryside was wild and beautiful, alive and free, and he drew
energy from it. He thought little on his personal journey and it
suited him as much as the walk did.

Shadows were
hard to shake off; thus he ignored them.

On the morning
he viewed the ridge and the blue ocean beyond it, he was ready to
face what lay atop that cliff.

Time, himself
… and Elianas.

His hair had
grown again, the fairness constantly in his eyes, and he was lean
and fit. His clothes were dusty and torn, and his boots had holes
in now. His cloak he had rolled up, using it as a sleeping roll at
night; not once had he used magic in the preceding six weeks,
eating off the land, making fire the laborious way, and the
cessation of constant reliance on magic showed in the easiness of
his silvery gaze.

He walked a
further two days, relaxing the pace, before he hiked around the
ridge. The sun set over Avaelyn before he was able to view the
place where the dwelling of the Lord Sorcerer and his apprentice
once stood proud and strong, and he was relieved.

Dawn light
would be better, for the shadows would be kinder than sunset.

He camped,
drinking water and eating berries for supper. His stomach no longer
protested the minimal fare. He slept soundly soon after and was
awake and ready to go on as the sun peeped over the ridge to the
east. A great shadow lay over the cliff top and he walked into
it.

Saska told him
to go home even if he was alone. She accurately described what once
was. Was he coming home?

Mount St Moor,
that is what Elianas called the ridge a long time ago. He had no
real reason for it, for there were no saints in Valleur culture,
and moor would not describe the setting. He said it sounded good,
easy on the tongue, and innocuous enough not to rouse Nemisin’s
interest.

Mount St Moor.
Torrullin smiled. Why not? When had anything really made sense? And
why did everything need a reason? A name sounding good was reason
enough. In Valleur it would be Monklicopin and that was a mouthful,
without musical quality.

Elianas, in
cycle two, loved the sound of common tongue words. Elianas loved
many things … Elianas was gone.

Perhaps his
spirit lingered nearby.

Yes,
Torrullin, when you do not think spirits linger. Did you not tell
Allith on Echolone? Listen to your own advice.

He rounded the
jumble of rocks that kept the southerly winds to a low breeze and
looked towards the outcrop. The shadow was deep; he could not see
anything clearly.

His heart,
however, was no longer his to control. It beat a tattoo that
revealed how tense he was. Did he want something to remain as
evidence of a long ago living space? Or would he prefer to see it
dust, with nothing whatsoever left? What were his current
expectations? He no longer knew, but was aware disappointment now
lay in either direction.

He closed in,
his sight sharpening.

The
cloak-cum-bedroll fell from nerveless fingers, and he stopped,
staring ahead.

His gaze
flicked left, then right, beyond, down, closer.

Torrullin fell
to his knees and gagged over emotions he thought buried.

In the Time
realm this place remained untouched.

In reality it
still waited. Untouched. Unmarked. As if he built it yesterday. As
if Elianas had just stepped out.

Disappointment? No. Terror.

Lord
Sorcerer’s home, and he hated it for the first time.

He found the
courage to stand and the strength to retrieve his cloak.

Shivering, he
donned it and wrapped it tight about himself. Then he mustered the
will to step forward.

Over the
bridge where bright fishes swam. Through the atrium where plants
flourished. Beyond, into the solarium where he once placed prisms
to play with the light. Further, into the spaces of memory.
Reality, time and dream merged.

Go home, she
said. Go home, he said. Well, here he was, home and alone, but
there was no peace here, no hope, no future.

He wandered
through and sunlight lit the spaces. All soft furnishings were
gone, lost to time, but the dwelling stood as if eternal, and the
natural features renewed its energy season after season.

Elianas did
this, he thought. The power of energy, that was what this was. Who
had he done it for? Himself? Lord Sorcerer? Or had he merely been
lashing out?

Torrullin
found the ledge where they sat to witness a storm, where Elianas’
mouth and hands roamed over his back, where betrayal wrought a
pleasure he still felt in dreams. He stopped there, sat, and stared
out.

The sun shone
from a cloudless sky, the ocean was calm and the plateau shone
emerald. He closed his eyes and saw the other, preferred view, the
one of dark clouds roiling closer, with lightning in their depths,
with thunder shaking the foundations and rain in torrents.

He had fallen
asleep in the warmth of the afternoon on this very ledge, lying in
the amber glows on a soft mattress. The approaching storm went
unnoticed, as had Elianas dropping a mattress beside him. He knew
Elianas would orchestrate this betrayal, but not the timing of it,
or the place. The fact that it happened on the ledge still
surprised him, and, perhaps, not so. Poetic, after all.

Elianas had
lain down, probably without intention, and had fallen asleep also,
and in the mind truths tended to surface.

Torrullin
opened his eyes and rubbed at his forehead with a shaking hand. Too
soon for that memory. He drew a breath, stood and stared over his
domain. It was his, by virtue of time, by an energy manipulation,
and by formal deed.

The name on a
piece of paper somewhere read Torrullin Agripson Valla. He had used
Agripson with Nemisin and forced kinfire into abeyance every time
he went near the man, but on that deed he revealed his true name,
and Elianas found it. Agripson was Taranis’ family name, but he was
Valla first and last. Elianas, curse him, bless him, started the
dance soon after.

He left the
ledge and wandered inward again. Home yes. Love it, hate it, he had
chosen this the moment he set foot on Avaelyn.

It was time to
start the process of comfort, for he was not leaving too soon, and
when he did go he would come back.

Elianas was
here, not in spirit or sense, but living on mightily in memory.

Chapter 33

Land
, territory over which rule or
control is exercised; Domain, badlands, kingdom, realm, terra
firma; Bring into a different state (verb)

Titania
Dictionary

Month of
Skileiken

S
pring Equinox was behind them and
Spring Festival a distant memory.

Summer was
around the corner; days grew ever longer.

Of Torrullin
there was no sign or word.

Trade
increased with the coming of spring, as did tourism. Torrke hosted
a great variety of offworlders, among them Allith of Echolone, who
reported Beacon was granted a mining licence. She brought beautiful
crafts to thank Tianoman for sending a team of expert Valleur
gardeners.

Beacon
recovered from the communications glitch, none the wiser as to
source. Lax discovered renewed spirit and went from strength to
strength. Xen dispatched a new ambassador to Valaris in the person
of Lowen Dalrish. She was often at the Keep.

Tianoman
instituted a program of human and other settlements on Akhavar with
Teroux’s aid. Most of the settlers were drawn from Sanctuary’s
asylum seekers, and a process of building new towns commenced on
the oldest recorded Valleur world. Tianoman’s ideal was to create a
shared world on Akhavar from the outset.

Tristan and
Belun removed the Dome from Sanctuary’s orbit. This had dual
purpose. One, the Dome would be freed as it was before the Three
Kingdoms prophecy and, two, Teroux could get on with the business
of Sanctuary without the ever-present eye-in-the-sky.

Aislinn
approached her final trimester, and Rose and Teroux looked forward
to getting married. Caballa completed the renovations of the
cottage, and she and Tristan often hid from demands in its new
comforts.

Lowen
relinquished her duties to the Kaval, and Assint and Mahler were
unanimously voted in to take her and Declan’s places. Declan was
missed. Saska’s urn was locked away in Tianoman’s study.

Life went on,
but through it all the search for Torrullin continued. The Kaval,
by unspoken agreement, spent private time looking and listening;
Tristan periodically followed a lead; Caballa watched her visions;
Tianoman sent Valleur trackers out, and to date no word was
had.

Many asked
after Elixir and were informed he was on hiatus after the
unforeseen death of his wife.

The tale of
balance and unbalance was never told, not even to the Elders.

Valaris

The Keep

Around
mid-Skileiken Quilla came to the Keep to confer with Tianoman.

He was
welcomed in the Vallorin’s study.

“Busy, I see,”
Quilla remarked, pointing at the loaded desk.

“I never seem
to get time for a simple walk anymore,” Tianoman complained.

“It does not
get better,” Quilla promised with a smile. “I hear Isaiah Kronig is
retiring.”

“He says
Valaris needs a younger Electan to keep up with a younger
Vallorin.”

Quilla
laughed. “He likes his fishing trips too much. Do you have someone
in mind?”

“The decision
isn’t mine, Quilla.”

The birdman
raised a brow.

It was
Tianoman’s turn to laugh. “All right, yes. A woman, actually, by
the name of Glory Meritas.”

Quilla
blinked. “Excuse me?”

Tianoman
laughed heartily. “Quite a name, I agree!”

“When is the
election?”

“Two weeks
from today. Quilla, you didn’t request this meeting to discuss the
new Electan, did you?”

“Anything that
affects Valaris, affects me.”

“Granted,
but?”

“I am thinking
it may be time to have a Valleur Electan.”

Tianoman
chewed at his lip. “Why?”

“It is time to
cross old borders, Tian.”

“It won’t go
down well. Certain prejudices remain even now.”

“You should
put a few Valarians on your Elder Council,” Quilla murmured.

Tianoman
snorted, and then, “You are serious.”

Quilla sighed.
“No, I am not. I merely sought to show you the old prejudices are
not so one-sided.”

Tianoman
nodded. “Point made. Why?”

“Torrullin.”

Tianoman
leaned forward. “I don’t make the connection.”

“Prejudice,
Tian. We should be looking for Elianas, but we are - how shall I
put it - displeased with his role in Torrullin’s life. Yet I
believe Elianas might be easier to find.”

Moving papers
at random, Tianoman said, “Fine, I see your point about us being
too narrow, but, Quilla, find a rebirth?”

“I do not
think he is a rebirth.”

Silence and
then, “Have you mentioned this to Tristan?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Quilla raised
a brow again.

Tianoman
shrugged. “He can be impulsive.”

“Like
Torrullin.”

“Very.”

Quilla smiled.
“You have your head about you, yet you are not straight and linear
in thought. A good Vallorin, Tian, you really are.”

Tianoman
inclined his head. “That is high praise. Thank you.”

“You are like
Vannis, I think.”

“Enough with
the compliments. How are you thinking about Elianas?”

Quilla edged
forward on his seat. “Elianas duped us into thinking he is a true
Immortal, which means he was close and no doubt why Lowen assumes
he is in his seventh birth right now. And at one stage she surmised
his immortality stems from manifold realm entries, and that could
still be the case. Why, however, would he lie? Torrullin would not
think less of him, thus Elianas felt inferior for some reason or
has another goal in mind.”

“All right, I
follow.”

“If I am
right, that goal cannot await the recall point. We are talking at
least thirty, thirty-five years, a period of years he would not
even remember an ultimate goal in, a period in which Torrullin
could move away from a set of plans.”

“Ah, while he
may be at the point of true immortality, he won’t choose rebirth;
he will choose realm exit, in which he is conversant.”

Quilla nodded.
“And it means he may be out there right now.”

“That’s pretty
diabolical.”

“I do not
think Elianas planned for this to happen, not now. Neither he nor
Torrullin expected the hell beyond that door and neither intended
for anyone to die. Elianas, particularly, meant not to die
yet.”

Tianoman
frowned. “The line?”

“No, that is a
personal vendetta for them.”

“Then I do not
follow.”

“There is a
goal, Tian, but it isn’t due. His hand was forced by horrific
circumstances and he cannot afford to wait thirty years. I suggest
his immortality is linked to this goal and the reason he remains
unfound is that he must reconfigure his strategy.”

Tianoman
nodded. “What goal?”

Quilla sighed.
“I wish I knew.”

“How do we
find him? Where, in god’s name, do we even begin searching?”

“We ask the
Syllvan.”

Drawing a
breath, said, “They may know where Torrullin is.”

“They are sure
to, but will not say. They may not extend the same courtesy to
Elianas’ whereabouts.”

Tianoman
murmured, his brow clearing, “Tristan is more familiar to the
Syllvan.”