The Echolone Mine (49 page)

On Avaelyn the
daily process of healing continued. Those sickened by Titan’s
Disease - as it was now dubbed - those crippled, those ill and
dying of other incurable diseases, and those hoping to be young
again with revitalised organs.

Caballa
generally managed to weed the latter out, but some slipped
through.

The Mercy
Ships came and went regularly.

Autumn came to
Avaelyn and still the long lines were present. Torrullin was an
automaton and Teighlar eventually succumbed to the stress.
Torrullin healed him and sent him back to Grinwallin with his
thanks.

Teighlar
promised to return.

On Valaris the
month of Hatubrath drew to a close and Aislinn went into labour to
deliver a healthy boy.

Tianoman wept
and then shouted his joy. He and Aislinn chose to delay the naming
until Torrullin could be there.

On Avaelyn
autumn intensified and was beautiful. The weather was cooler, the
lines no shorter. Then, two weeks after the birth of the Valla
heir, word came that Titan’s spread was halted. Only those already
ill required healing. The end, finally, lay in sight.

On Valaris the
Elders confronted Tianoman and told him he could no longer delay
the ceremony. Reluctantly he agreed and the boy was named Lunik,
meaning ‘of the moon’, and the Valleur celebrated.

Torrullin
managed a smile when he heard. Tristan and Caballa were at the
Naming.

On Sanctuary
Rose and Teroux began planning their wedding in earnest. Rose
elected to return home after the ceremony on Valaris. Teroux was
overjoyed.

Gradually the
line grew shorter.

One ship was
decommissioned and put in a hangar on Sanctuary, the crew sent
home. The other undertook one final voyage and then underwent the
same fate.

Ten men still
worked the transport system, bringing in the stragglers for
healing.

Quilla and
Fuma returned to the Dome to ensure the disease was eradicated.
Teighlar, knowing the end neared, did not return.

Four months
after it began for Torrullin, it ended.

Winter was in
the air, he could smell it, feel it.

Torrullin
awakened early, dressed and headed to the kitchen, where coffee and
breakfast awaited. Only Caballa and Tristan were resident, and
already eating.

He drew a
plate of eggs and sausage closer, and then pushed it away.

“Eat,” Caballa
frowned.

“Later.” He
poured coffee … and was then astounded.

Caballa
smiled. “Only twelve, Torrullin. They are the last.”

He sat. “Thank
the gods.”

“They will be
taken back when you are done. Tian made it known this facility is
now closed. We begin clean up later,” Tristan murmured.

“You two have
been a godsend,” Torrullin said. “Thank you.” He rose, winked at
the women in the kitchen and headed out. He was done within half an
hour.

It was
over.

Chapter 39

Catharsis is
an intangible gift, and yet is a gift, a healing of the soul.

Book of
Sages

Avaelyn

T
he facility was silent, clean,
cleared.

Torrullin sat
on a stump overlooking the concourse and Tristan and Caballa stood
nearby. They were the only three left.

“What now,
Torrullin?” Tristan questioned.

“I aim to stay
a day or two longer, just in case.”

Tristan sat on
the grass and stretched out. “We will wait with you.”

“Torrullin,
have you tried to transport out?” Caballa asked.

“Yes, this
morning. I cannot.” Torrullin pointed. “Five come for healing.”

Indeed, there
were five forms moving slowly across the concourse, four of them
hooded and cloaked, the other wearing bright garb.

“They aren’t
from Sanctuary,” Caballa frowned.

“Someone else
brought them, probably that prancing peacock there,” Tristan
muttered.

“I’ll meet
them,” Caballa said.

“They will be
here in good time,” Torrullin murmured.

Slowly they
neared.

Torrullin’s
mouth dried out and his heart started beating erratically. A
shaking hand found the Medaillon, clasped it.

The peacock
was first. “My Lord, I am …”

He was pulled
aside roughly as a hooded figure took over. The man knelt, lifted
his hood and dropped it back. “My Lord, I ask for healing. I have a
cancer within no doctor can cure.”

Torrullin put
a shaking hand - the one not clasping the Medaillon - on the man’s
forehead and did the healing. The man rose with thanks, retreated,
taking the loud man back with him. Clearly the peacock facilitated
the transport, no doubt charging a fortune to do so.

The next man
kneeled and also requested healing of a fatal illness.

Caballa gripped Tristan’s hand, staring at Torrullin. She
knew, she
knew
,
something was about to change. She infected Tristan, who sat in
tense, coiled silence beside her.

The third man
knelt, throwing his hood back. He asked a healing for the terrible
disfigurement on his face. Torrullin stroked gently and then sighed
as the man cried silent tears.

“You are
healed,” Torrullin whispered. “You need not fear a mirror
anymore.”

The man bowed,
murmured strangled appreciation and backed away.

The fourth and
last man kneeled and Torrullin said to the others, “You may go
now.”

The peacock
spluttered and was dragged aside again. A moment later only the
kneeling man remained.

Caballa held
her breath.

“Caballa,
Tristan, leave us.”

A moment of
utter stillness came, expectant and filled with nuance, and then
Tristan was on his feet. He helped Caballa stand, and they
retreated.

Torrullin
relinquished his hold on the Medaillon. “You have brought something
I lost.”

Movement
ensued, and a sword lay on outstretched palms, glinting.

Torrullin took
it, ran a hand over the blade and then stood it point in the
ground.

Trezond.
Catharsis.

“I was not
referring to my sword … Elianas.”

Caballa
clutched Tristan, her fingers digging into him.

Two hands
lifted, and a hood fell back.

Beloved
face.

Torrullin
rose, drew Elianas up and pulled him close. A moment later they
were gone.

Catharsis, the
sword, went with them.

Utter
stillness, the quiet of tangible expectancy, enveloped the entire
universe.

The echoes of
silence penetrated Reaume also, and Ariann.

A tree is
letter, a stone is number, the molecule of water is word and the
wind is harmony. Together they sing and dance and rule the
universe. When they fall silent, when they are not seen, the next
note could be discordant; the ensuing symbol could be beautiful
beyond description. It depends entirely on how you wait and what
you expect. If you expect nothing, you will not be disappointed,
but you will also never know the difference between beauty and a
note out of time. If you expect everything, you will be
disappointed indeed, for nothing is ever as expected, but you will
know … yes, you will know.

Arun, Druid

Avaelyn

T
hey stared at each other long, silently communicating
the pain of parting, and then Elianas lifted his gaze to their
surroundings, and Torrullin watched him devour it.

Elianas turned
on the spot, missing nothing, and faced Torrullin again. He undid
the clasp at his neck and allowed the cloak to fall rustling to the
stone floor. He stepped closer to lay his hand splayed over the
place the Maghdim Medaillon rested.

“I felt it,
and then felt you.” His hand dropped away. “It was a terrible
journey.”

“It is
over.”

Elianas laid
the same hand on Torrullin’s cheek. “Now it begins.” His fingers
lingered and then fell out of sight. “I know absence has led to
certain expectations, from both of us, about what comes next, but
…” He paused and then said it, “I am afraid.”

“Of
disappointment?”

“Never that.”
Elianas wandered to the ledge. “I wager you have not returned to
the night of betrayal, for it frightens you. It frightens me. Until
we are able to face it squarely, we live in expectation.”

Torrullin
joined him, hands clasped behind his back. “It is enough that we
are together.”

“For now.”

“For now,”
came a soft echo. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“Every time
you healed another, you healed me also, know that. The long months
of laying on hands was not without greater purpose.”

Torrullin met
that gaze. “You should rest now.”

Elianas looked
away. “I am afraid to close my eyes. I am afraid to find this a
dream.”

“I shall rest
with you, for I am weary beyond words.”

“Then let us
sleep, and we may forget for a time.” Elianas stepped out of his
boots, headed for the bed, fell onto it and closed his eyes.

Torrullin
removed his boots also, lay down, and a moment later, despite the
bedevilment of minds, they were oblivious in deep sleep.

There were no
dreams.

Has wholeness
arrived? How does it feel? Can you tell me?

Tattle’s
scribe

Valaris

Redlef
month

C
aballa and Tristan went home first, preferring their
personal space to rediscover self before informing others that
Elianas had returned.

Avaelyn and
the recent tensions needed to recede first. They went straight to
bed, held each other wordlessly, and slept long.

Tristan
awakened first to the birdsong of dawn. For a long moment he was
disorientated and then knew where he was. He smiled and curled
around Caballa, dozing off again.

She awakened
next and lay in those comforting arms many minutes before
extricating herself. She kissed him when he mumbled, laughed
softly, and headed to the bathroom. On her return, Tristan made
coffee and brought it to bed.

“There’s no
milk yet,” he said, gesturing at the mugs.

She sat
cross-legged in a fluffy gown and sipped the hot brew. “Fine, Tris,
start talking.”

“I can’t
believe I would rather talk than make love to you.”

She grinned
and wagged a finger.

Tristan
straightened and put his mug down. “I think we shouldn’t say
anything about Elianas being back yet. They need to be alone.”

“To do
what?”

His eyes
shifted away. “You know.”

She set her
mug on the side table. “Tristan, what they are going to do is find
a way to bury the last few months and then they will go on as they
have in the past.”

He looked at
her.

She crawled
closer and snuggled into him. “Stop thinking about it, all
right?”

He fell back
with her on top of him. “Is it all right to think about you?”

She bit his
neck. “You better.”

He laughed and
rolled her over.

Tianoman lay
entranced beside Aislinn and Lunik, watched her feed their son.

He could not
believe anyone could be as happy as he was.

She smiled at
him, knowing his mind. “You have other duties, Lord Vallorin.”

He sniffed
dismissively. “It can wait.”

She laughed
and then, “You know what I’m thinking?”

“Hmm?” A
finger stroked a fat baby thigh.

“Rose and
Teroux should wed on Harvest Festival. What do you think?”

“Fine.”

Aislinn
laughed again. “Are you listening to me?”

“Harvest …
what?”

“Rose and
Teroux, dummy.”

“Oh. Well, you
talk to them.”

“Can they wed
here?”

“If they want
to.”

She gave a
contented smile. Good. She loved the thought of planning a wedding,
and Rose was a dear friend. A special celebration would bring the
family together again.

Tianoman sat
up. “Aislinn, have you noticed how silent it has become since
yesterday?” When she frowned, he added, “In the spaces around
everything?”

She gazed down
at Lunik. “Yes.”

“I wonder what
it is.”

“Go and find
out, my husband, or it will trouble you.”

He smiled at
his small family as he stood up. “You understand me. Maybe that’s
why I love you.”

She tossed a
pillow at him and then settled to continue feeding their son.

The Dome

Quilla, Jonas
and Prima checked and rechecked every report.