The Echolone Mine (46 page)

And Saska. In
the end he knew it was right between them, love survived, and thus
he could let her go. The pain and betrayal now lay in the knowing
of love. He would miss her eternally, yet would not mourn her more.
She had moved on and would find happiness beyond no longer depended
on him. That was good for both of them.

He shifted,
knowing where his thoughts would go next. This bloody healing, the
product of damnable dreams, was part of a journey intrinsic to
rediscovering Elianas. He wondered whom the puppet master was -
himself, or the dark man? It no longer mattered, he realised, for
both pulled the strings at various times, and would continue to.
The current string was one of time. How long before they danced
again?

There was
shift in the air and he opened his eyes on a sigh.

Quilla, with
two stumbling women, and a load he relinquished with relief on
landing. Behind him, Tristan, as encumbered, then Belun, Caballa,
Fuma, and a fair host of Valleur men.

It was time to
begin.

He touched the
Medaillon, and rose, called out.

They saw him
rise, noted his preparations, and found they were relieved.

He was
expressionless as he helped them take the sick to the logs, there
to sit them down, and he was as expressionless when he greeted
them.

Quilla
informed him of the decision to use the first day to ferry in goods
and people simultaneously; setting up tents could commence with
nightfall. Torrullin nodded, and everyone left, except Caballa.

She took him
to a blonde woman first.

“It’s Rose,
Torrullin. She will be part of the Avaelyn team once she’s
healed.”

He knelt
before her, lifting her head. He was shocked by the depth of
suffering he saw there. “How did this happen, Caballa?”

She heard
emotion return to his voice, and shivered. Now it would be hard for
him. “She was with the children and soon infected.”

He laid a hand
across her brow and helped her stand. “Rose, welcome back.”

She flung into
his arms.

He held her
and then set her aside. “We need your help, Rose. Be strong
now.”

She nodded
tearfully, and she and Caballa headed out to accept the new
arrivals.

Torrullin,
after a moment, knelt before the next woman … and from there it
never ceased.

As the day
wore on and the teams shifted - Caballa, Rose and Tristan leaving
for Sanctuary, Quilla, Belun and Fuma staying to help move the sick
along - he found it impractical to move from person to person, and
found a chair to sit on. The sick were brought to him. One by one
he healed them.

When night
fell, Caballa called a halt. She told Torrullin to sleep and then
organised the healed for a return transport to Sanctuary, which
thirty of the Valleur men undertook, finishing at midnight. The
waiting sick were warmed with blankets and what food they could
keep down, while ten men commenced raising tents among the trees.
They were not done by midnight, but the sick were taken into those
that were up, and then everyone collapsed until morning.

The next day
it was much the same, except for finishing the tents and
distribution of food. Torrullin was tireless, wordless, and at
nightfall fell into deep sleep in one of the tents.

By the fourth
day Caballa had the food flowing without a hitch, all tents were up
- they were used to house those unhealed as night came, and for the
team and Torrullin - and the levelling of the landing area
commenced. Ablution facilities were soon erected and in use. The
only unforeseen aspect in their initial planning was the return of
healthy folk; every night, exhausted as they were, multiple
transports needed to take place.

By the eighth
day, despite Caballa’s enforced rest, everyone neared breaking
point.

That night she
tackled Torrullin, and the others sat around a fire surreptitiously
listening.

He swayed on
his feet before a table of food and she strode up to him. She took
his plate, loaded it with wholesome fare, and then moved him firmly
to a log beside the fire. She sat him down, saying, “Don’t argue,”
and handed him the plate.

He started
eating.

She straddled
the log to face him.

“Torrullin, we
can’t keep this up. Now you listen to me.” He did not react.
“First, we are too tired to transport healthy folk back at night.
Second, we can’t ferry and aid in moving sick at the same time.
This is killing us. A day, two at the most, and we call this a
failure.”

He did not
look at her. “What do you suggest?”

“We need extra
people to do the transporting. That way the six of us are freed to
organise the line without having to concern ourselves with bringing
more in. Alternatively, the healed stay here until the ships
arrive.”

He glanced at
her. “No, not that.”

She was grim.
“Then we need more people. These Valleur need to concentrate on
building. They have slowed because they are too exhausted after a
night of taking folk back to Sanctuary.”

“How
many?”

Quilla said,
“Another thirty.”

Rose added,
“And a team of cooks. We can’t do the food as well.”

Torrullin
chewed some more and set his plate aside. “Fine, do it.” He rose
and vanished into the night.

“Bloody hell,”
Caballa said under her breath.

Tristan rose.
“I’m off to see Tian about more people.” He was gone.

Quilla said,
“Torrullin cannot maintain this schedule. This saps energy and
therefore diminishes his fuel.”

Caballa
frowned at him.

The birdman
shrugged, but knew he had to find a way to make it easier on the
man.

Belun, unseen,
followed Torrullin.

He caught up
at the edge of the growing camp where the trees rose steeply into a
series of hills. He saw the man standing in the shadows.

“We have been
friends long, Torrullin, and I know you have suffered shocks
lately, but, as a friend, I am telling you, you’re going about this
the wrong way.”

“Which ‘this’
do you refer to?” Torrullin hunkered and leaned his head against a
trunk.

“The way you
treat your friends.” Belun sat nearby and sighed wearily.

“I cannot
share more right now.”

“You’re
becoming a hermit.”

“That suits
me.”

Belun muttered
under his breath, and then, “Slow it down, the healing, for all of
us, but especially yourself. You’re burning purpose faster than you
can conceive it.”

“I know. That
was not the intention.”

“So hear me.
Make more potion so we can halt deaths out there, and allow time to
build a decent facility. Heal a certain number only, per day, to
conserve your energy and, for pity’s sake, let us help you
properly.”

“Belun, I hear
you, I hear Caballa, and every unvoiced thought, but know this, the
fewer I heal daily; the longer it will be before the disease is
eradicated. At this point I calculate at least ten months before
the last one sits, kneels or stands under my hands …”

“Gods, you
will be a ghost in ten months!” the Centuar burst out.

“If I slow the
process, it will take years,” Torrullin said. “Even if scientists
discover source, serum and cure. I have given this a year and, come
fire or ice, after a year Avaelyn’s skies will close.”

Belun was
silent.

“Go back to
the others, my friend,” Torrullin said. “There is a storm brewing
and I need to go home to secure it. The storm will renew my energy.
Go, go now.”

Belun
retreated without a further word.

Had he turned,
he would have seen Torrullin already gone.

The storm came
from the east and it meant strong winds and hail.

Torrullin
stood on the ledge and smiled. A furious bout of hail once knocked
Elianas unconscious and the man was livid after.

He headed in,
undressed. He took a long, hot shower, put a warm robe on. Motions,
he thought, the actions that define normality. When he returned to
the ledge the storm was overhead, but the wind did not enter. The
shielding held the fiercest of the elements at bay, which he
regretted, but was not about to relax his vigil over privacy. He
sat, this time a spectator, not a participant; still, he had not
lied when he told Belun it would renew energy.

Memory did
that, and this place was filled with memory.

He closed his
eyes to sharpen the images …

… and opened
them to streaming sunlight. He lay sprawled on his bed and frowned,
trying to remember how he got there.

A moment more
and then he was in motion.

The sun was
already high.

Caballa pulled
a face when he came striding over.

“You put
something in my food last night.”

She shrugged.
“Maybe.”

“Caballa,
bloody hell, look at the line …!”

“And today you
will cope better for the decent sleep. Here, have some coffee, then
get going.”

He stared at
her a beat, and offered a grin. “Ever my protector, aren’t you?”
Torrullin took the offered coffee and drank as he headed to his
seat, which he found, when he reached it, was more comfortable. He
snorted a laugh, finished his coffee, and gestured.

Caballa
brought a boy over, winking at him over the child’s head.

A quick smile
flitted, and then he laid hands on the boy.

Mid-morning
saw the arrival of thirty Valleur with new patients.

They dropped
their charges and headed back with healthy folk. Twice more they
came and went, and then a different thirty did three shifts.
Obviously Tianoman figured a shift system, but Torrullin did not
notice.

A while later
five women arrived, hauling with them a special tent for stores,
another for washing up, one for utensils and another for sleeping.
By evening the cooking process was in full and efficient
operation.

Torrullin
overdid it, attempting to make up for lost hours, and Quilla
wracked his brains for a solution. Nothing came to mind.

At sundown
Caballa called a halt. Torrullin crawled to a nearby tent and was
instantly asleep. She collared Fuma and Tristan.

“It’s easier
for us, but not for him. More frequent arrivals means more healing.
Something must be done.”

Tristan was as
worried. “He barely eats, too.”

Fuma was
thoughtful. “And today, if you noticed, there were four cripples
among the epidemics. Word is out and he will soon be healing more
than this disease we attempt to halt.”

Caballa
swore.

Tristan had a
brilliant idea. “Teighlar!”

“What about
him?” Caballa frowned.

“He’s an
enchanter, Caballa.”

She blinked.
“Are you saying he can heal?”

“It’s worth
asking.”

Quilla
overheard; his tiny face was animated as he joined them. “Even if
he cannot heal, he can share his power with Torrullin, thereby
halving impact.”

Fuma murmured,
“Then we should ask him immediately.”

They looked at
each other.

Quilla
shrugged. “Fine, I shall go. I need a change of scenery. Keep my
food warm, will you?”

He was
gone.

Chapter 37

Friendship is
first in the call to duty. Aiding a friend is aiding yourself.

Book of
Sages

Grinwallin

Q
uilla blinked in bright sunlight
and took a moment to orientate to the time difference, and then
strode into the Great Hall.

The Senlu
Emperor, he discovered, was waiting for him.

“Took you long
enough, Quilla. Sit. Have some wine.” Teighlar gestured at the
spread on the table before him. “It is lunchtime,” he added. “It
only appears as if I eat all the time.”

Quilla sat,
accepted a glass, and started eating heartily from the grape
platter, his metabolism craving sugar. “You heard?”

“About
Torrullin’s latest mission? Oh, yes. And by now he must be near
collapse. I can help.”

“And you did
not think to offer?”

“I did,
actually, but I know him. In this he will be stubborn.” Teighlar
leaned forward. “Luvanor has the disease now, as has Valaris. A few
isolated cases, but that is all it needs. This is not a biological
illness. Magic is at work here.”

“Torrullin
mentioned a void created by his withdrawal of Elixir.”

Teighlar
leaned back. “He thinks it is his fault. It is not. It is not
Elianas either.”

Quilla lifted
a brow.

“I heard about
the scientists looking for energy deficiency, possibly
neurological, and I put the numbers together, Quilla. Do not blame
Elianas for this, not even in thinking it was accidental.”

“You knew of
Elianas’ energy powers?”

“Please, it was as clear as daylight,” Teighlar said. “Come,
Quilla, have you forgotten how to think? The man needed the
Lumin Sword
to retake
form.”

Quilla stared
at him. “It was right there, in the open, and Torrullin did not see
it.”

“Well, in
fairness, his mind was otherwise engaged.”

“Mine was
not,” Quilla muttered. “How do you think this disease came
about?”

“It is a
biological weapon.”

“Pardon?”
Quilla spluttered.

“It was
accidental, but that is how it started. It began before Torrullin
and Elianas entered the Path of Shades and spread slowly at first.
Now it is airborne and out of control.”

Quilla sipped
at his wine. “And you say there is magic involved?”

“Now there is,
and that is part of its virility. Find that source and we reduce
potency. It will not halt the spread, but folk will not die as
swiftly either.”