The Echolone Mine (55 page)

Elianas bowed
his head, hiding his surprise. “I am, Brother Tas.”

“The colours
are mixing on Luvanor,” Tas murmured. “Our beloved Tristamil
couldn’t be described as a Golden in appearance, hmm?”

“He was Golden
where it counted,” Elianas said.

Brother Tas
nodded sagely. “Yes, he was, and is.”

Torrullin
shifted and said, “Brother Tas, it has been told me a package was
left here nineteen years ago.”

The Brother
nodded. “Krikian’s legacy, yes.”

Torrullin
lifted an eloquent brow, and Wixell said, “Tas, where is it, I will
get it.”

“My bones are
slow now, yes.” A sigh. “Go back to Testament Section, Wixell.
There’s a blue lockbox with a small dragon on.” The old man sighed
again as Wixell headed in.

Elianas
approached him. “Sit, Brother. I hope we did not overly disturb
you.” He helped the man into a seat.

“No, no, it’s
the weather - slows me further. Thank you, young man.” He sat and
then sent Torrullin an amused grin. “I guess I need not ask you to
identify yourself as claimant of this legacy.”

Torrullin
smiled, liking the old man. Probably a crotchety individual, but
with a pure heart. “Yet, for your records, I shall place my mark
where you require it.”

Tas inclined
his head and looked up at Elianas. “Young man, fetch that great
tome there, will you, and take it to my Lord Torrullin.”

Elianas saw a
massive leather-bound dossier lying on a solitary desk. “Torrullin,
perhaps you should go to it.”

Torrullin
laughed. “Right.”

He headed over
and opened it. It was a register. Books and scrolls were signed
out, visitors were required to sign in, including young students,
and recipients of legacies were to sign a receipt. He paged
through, seeing familiar names, which included Lowen’s, the Kaval
and various Elders, until he came to an empty sheet. He was
three-quarters through the hefty tome. Years lay under his left
hand, many years.

Tas said,
“Describe a blue lockbox with dragon symbol and quote document
47384 and sign it, my Lord, identifying yourself by name. I shall
match it to Krikian’s document later.”

Torrullin
found quill and ink, dipped. With a firm hand he did as bid,
describing the box, quoting the number, and inscribing his name in
full - Torrullin Agripson Valla - and the date. It was Valaris
calendar, for he tended to mark time passed by it. 16
^th
day of Redlef, 13905.

He replaced
the quill and waited for the ink to dry.

“You must
sign,” Elianas said, standing nearby.

“I don’t want
to smudge the ink.” He waited a minute more and then, as Master
Wixell’s returning footsteps sounded, flexed the fingers of his
right hand to reveal a gold ring with a dragon seal imbedded. He
turned his hand and pressed the ring to paper, leaving a perfect
dragon symbol behind. He flexed his fingers again and the ring
disappeared.

Elianas
watched the action. “That is Nemisin’s.”

“It is mine.
Nemisin ‘borrowed’ it. He was never Dragon,” Torrullin said in a
low voice. He closed the file. “He initiated symbiosis; I ended it.
Who would you call Dragon?”

Elianas was
sombre. “I see why you thought you might be him, before you
remembered.”

“Opposites and
parallels.”

Then Wixell
was there and he placed a fair-sized blue metal box on the table
beside the closed file. “There was no key.”

“There is no
key,” Tas called out. “Krikian’s note said you would not need one,
my Lord.”

Torrullin
rested a finger on a tiny rendition of a dragon. “I need no
key.”

Wixell helped
Tas to rise. “My Lords, we shall leave you here in private.”

Torrullin
looked up. “Thank you for your help. We shall leave directly after
opening this.”

Brother Tas
and Master Wixell bowed and left, closing the door behind them.

Elianas was
beside Torrullin. “Krikian knew something of Reaume?”

“Accidentally,
he claimed once. I always thought he learned something profound,
but he never told me. I do not think he told anyone.”

“Would you
prefer I wait outside?”

“No, Elianas,
I prefer you next to me.”

Silence, and
then, “Open it.”

Torrullin
touched a finger to the locked clasp and it sprang open. He lifted
the lid and lowered it. An envelope lay on top of other papers.
Torrullin’s name was on the envelope.

Drawing
breath, he lifted it out and turned it over. A generic Valleur seal
was used to wax it closed. He broke the seal and withdrew a single
sheet of folded paper. He glanced at his companion.

“A communiqué
from the known dead is far harder to read than an inscription on an
ancient tomb.” He passed the sheet over. “Read it to me.”

Elianas took
it and unfolded. “A letter, dated Dormire 13886, Menllik.”

“
My revered
Lord

I know my time
has come, for the date of my dying was revealed to me in a dream.
How hard that was to accept and how hard it is for a dream
specialist to decipher his dream of death. I welcome the knowing
now, however, for it has gifted me the privilege of preparing. How
many can claim they are ready to die?

This letter
forms part of my preparations, my Lord, and it is a relief to
finally do so. I saw you yesterday on Sanctuary, with Lowen, and am
saddened by the distance between you. I believe had Lowen come to
you in another time, your future would be different. I know what
lies ahead for you, although she does not. The seer is too
frightened to look closely at her own future, as I was in
confronting mine. You, my Lord, you must know, and thus you set her
aside already. It was after seeing you that I decided to write
this, while your face remains clear and the questions in your eyes
prompt me to truth.

I had a dream
of a blue-eyed woman needing a friend, and became her friend. I had
another of a grey-eyed man needing certain knowledge, and thus
choose to reveal it here. By the time you read this, my Lord, I
shall be gone and Lowen will be in your past. Another stands at
your side, and dear Saska has passed on. You are no longer
Vallorin, although in my heart you will always be so. I am not a
seer, as you well know; yet another dream revealed all this to me.
Imagine my shock, and imagine how hard it was for me not to say
something. The dream also revealed you would not be ready to hear
any of this until the dark man stands at your side. I would further
hazard a guess here, and say he is the one reading my words to you
…”

Elianas and
Torrullin stared at each other, and then Elianas returned to the
letter, his voice more hoarse.

“
Allow me
now to proceed with the knowledge I know you seek. You asked
whether I had travelled realms during my time with Lowen and her
cycles of rebirth, and I replied it was accidental, and that it
made neither of us a traitor. Agnimus put that in your mind, and I
cursed him until Lowen told me Agnimus has a future role, a service
to perform for the Valleur.

My Lord, it
was accidental, a stupid move made in fear over Lowen, yet I
believe I learned something Beyond that Lowen knows not, and you
remain unaware of. Every Valleur knows there are realms after death
and you gave us a name to encompass them: Reaume. A Walker, of
course, would know, a Walker wanders Reaume, but an Ancient, my
Lord, would wander Ariann also. You are an Ancient, you have
remembered by the time you read this, and you know of Ariann.
Reaume and Ariann are at war, are they not? And what happens Beyond
could well affect our reality, for are we not merely another realm
and therefore part of the whole? We are not outside of Reaume or
Ariann, and if we claim such, we are fooling ourselves and the
concept of uniqueness becomes an arrogant oversight.

My Lord, you
seek a way into Reaume, possibly to prevent the war, possibly to
aid the Syllvan, or just to know which way the winds of war will
blow. The way in is sealed, the direct route, and thus you require
means to circumvent a long wander through Reaume, a walk that may
take too long to help anyone. By the time you read this, Lowen
knows more and will have prompted you to find my lockbox. Do you
see how it all fits? Eventually? Nothing remains unconnected
forever, for even the vacuum is a realm.”

Elianas looked
up. “The man had great insight.”

“More than I
expected. Go on.”

“
This is
what I learned Beyond, my Lord. On the borders of Reaume and
Ariann, between, amid and over them, lies another collection of
realms known as Lethe …”

Torrullin and
Elianas glanced at each other in astonishment.

“…
Lethe,
as you may know, is a mythological river in ancient tales, the
River of Oblivion. This Lethe is much like a river in that it
snakes between two beyonds, and I think it may well be much like
oblivion also, although that is beyond my knowledge.

Lethe is a
shortcut, a backdoor, and from it you may view both Reaume and
Ariann and read both Syllvan and Dryad, but, my Lord, only the
Enchanter may function there, for Elixir will be uncovered by the
shivers he creates automatically in all three spaces. You must
leave Elixir behind, truly separated, in our universe, but you do
this not only for Lethe, but to prevent the voids of suffering
removing Elixir from this realm will result in. Your companion, my
Lord, must leave Alhazen behind, separate it as you separate
Elixir, for his energy will buckle Reaume and Ariann will be
victorious.

How do I know
all this? Long hours of dreaming, more of deciphering, and years of
research to place it all with a brief travel inadvertently into
Lethe itself. Have I worked it out right? I think I have, but ask
that you remain wary of those little points that nothing is able to
account for. Now you ask how do you separate Elixir and Alhazen and
leave them behind? You know the answer, my Lord.

You cross the
line.”

The letter
fluttered from Elianas’ nerveless fingers and he bent over the
table, ashen.

Outside
another bell sounded.

Torrullin
forced himself to move. He retrieved the letter; found the place
Elianas stopped reading - the line jumped out at him.
You cross
the line.
With his voice barely audible, he read on.

“
My Lord, I
know you are aware of the line between sorcerers of equal and great
power, but, I wonder, do you know how to cross the line and what
the result will be? I admit I do not know, and there isn’t any
advice I may offer even in ignorance … except, perhaps this, No
line is eternally crossed, not unless that choice is made. I think
I am saying the line could be re-crossed after, but you would know
more than I.

This is what I
know, my Lord. In the lockbox you will find a map designating the
two points of portal entry into Lethe. They are vague, for the
locations were given me in a dream - yes, another dream - but the
general area should aid you in finding them.

And now my
task is done. All my assets have been distributed, my farewell
spoken, and I have seen your beloved face a last time. I hope my
words find you well, my Lord, and further hope Lethe is proven an
unnecessary journey for you. If you do go, know I am thinking about
you, and my prayers are with you both.

Yours
eternally

Krikian.”

Torrullin
folded the letter, put it back and closed the box.

Then he, like
to Elianas, leaned against the table and could say nothing.

Aw, hell,
secrets again? Blithering blabber, you’re all stupid!

Tattle’s Blunt
Adventures

Grinwallin

T
hey moved eventually and transported to the Great
Hall.

Night was
falling, the temperature plummeting further, and they entered the
massive space with cloaks wrapped. The lockbox was under
Torrullin’s arm. He and Elianas had not yet spoken after the
reading, and they would not discuss any of it with the others. This
return to Grinwallin was for the sake of manners.

Teighlar had
other ideas. He had ordered a full supper and had the table placed
near one of the fireplaces. He invited them to stay, eat, and they
did so rather than have to explain the need to get away.

“Well?” Quilla
demanded as they settled into a starter of thick chicken soup. “Did
you find the package?”

Torrullin had
slid it onto his lap as he sat, not about to let it out of his
sight. He tapped it metallically. “Yes.”

Tristan,
dunking bread, asked, “And?”

“A letter,
that is all.”

“You have read
it?”

Torrullin
undid his cloak and let it fall over the backrest of his chair. “We
read it, but there isn’t much to tell. Krikian knew the date of his
death and was saying farewell.”

Tristan was
disappointed. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”
Torrullin ate methodically.

“That is not
all, or you would not have had to wait nineteen years,” Teighlar
murmured.

Torrullin
shrugged. “Tell me of Alhazen.”

Quilla’s eyes
flicked to Elianas, and his mouth formed a circle.

A wry chuckle.
“Never mind. That says it all. No doubt Elianas can fill my blanks
in.”

Elianas rose,
pulling his cloak around him. “Thank you for the invite, Emperor,
but I find myself without appetite. Torrullin, I shall see you at
home.”

He walked
away, and as he walked he vanished.

Torrullin had
not looked at him, but he had pushed his bowl aside.

“Gods, what?”
Caballa burst out. “Don’t you go off without explaining.”

He stared
around the table and then stood and fastened his cloak in place.
Tucking the box under his arm, he said, “It is a letter, but what
it contains is personal, very, and explosive. Forgive me, but this
I cannot share with you.”