The Echolone Mine (59 page)

“In the
beginning the Mother created a race of amazing bipedal creatures.
They were indeed clever and all the rest of it, but they were not
merely Golden. They were the Valleur, yes, and there were two
kinds, the Golden - or Lorin - and the Dark - the latter taking on
the name I shall not speak. They lived together in harmony, for
there was little difference between them, and all was good. Nemisin
never became Vallorin, for a ruler was not needed.

“That was
first cycle, and I was not born, and Torrullin would come only
later. The Valleur moved on, were absorbed within other races, and
time meandered on. There was peace, a perfectly balanced universe.
Perfect balance, as you now know, is not an ideal situation, and it
did not work long. The Mother was still young when everything
simply stagnated. Enter Torrullin, the One who would shake it
loose.”

Caballa
frowned and while Elianas did not see it, he felt the question.

“Allow me to
unravel this little conundrum. How could Torrullin be born in a
stagnating universe to a Guardian and a Golden raised in awareness
of what the Golden were, when both dark and gold were absorbed into
the fabric of a general society? First, Millanu, his mother, was
different. She was aware of parallels, and that never changed.
Taranis, of course, was of the race I cannot mention by name. He
was
not
human. Torrullin, in birth, was gifted the trueblood
of the Valleur, and in him lay both kinds. It unsettled him,
agitated him, and he asked questions.”

“A trueblood?”
Tristan said.

“Not by Golden
standards,” Torrullin said. “Don’t interrupt again.”

“Wait,”
Teighlar said. “Taranis was not human? Did he know?”

Torrullin
shook his head.

“Did you
know?”

“Not until I
remembered before the restoration of Kalgaia.”

“Neat,”
Teighlar murmured, “these puzzle pieces. And I thought my tale was
a complicated one.”

“Uncomfortable, my brother?” Elianas whispered. “We reveal not only
that you are a trueblood, but the truest blood. You are half my
kind, yet I alone carry the curse.”

“Go on with
the story.”

Elianas
inclined his head and looked at no one in particular.

“Torrullin was
born asking questions. He chose immortality over longevity, because
Valleur long life slowly vanished. At the time of his birth, life
expectancy had dropped to two hundred years, when it should have
been a minimum of three thousand. He sensed the Valleur were meant
for more, but had to stand by with a limitless future at his call
and watch stagnation strangle most everything. He went on, and when
he found himself in those early times, change set in.

“He loved the
ancient Golden, but he was enchanted by the grace of the dark
people. Of course, he had power and rose to the fore as a renowned
sorcerer, and it naturally had a domino effect. Others rose up to
counter one they believed could be a threat, and thus mediocre
talent became full-blown, a life’s work. The Valleur as a race of
sorcerers was born. This was when they began to separate. My people
saw Torrullin as a leader, while the Golden regarded him as a
threat.

“Enter
Nemisin. Torrullin built Kalgaia, Nemisin his glorious mountain
enclave. Torrullin healed, Nemisin bribed … and so on. They were at
loggerheads from the start. Torrullin conceived of a Throne,
Nemisin stole the design, and on and on it went. Enter Elianas,
dark youngling of a good, noble family, betrothed to Nemisin’s
daughter Cassiopin, and with a talent potentially to rival that of
Lord Sorcerer. I was born in second cycle, in Kalgaia, the most
beautiful city ever built, and I was apprenticed to the man I was
to spy on.”

Elianas drew
breath.

“By now you
have guessed some of what happened after, but I shall lay it out.
In cycle two I found I was attracted to Lord Sorcerer, and fought
it. He said nothing, and I got married. That is where it ended. In
cycle three I knew at birth there was more. I chose immortality and
betrayed Torrullin. How is not your business. It was betrayal,
however, which led to murder, and murder led to more killing, which
led to the greatest cover-up in Valleur history.

“The
annihilation of Kalgaia became a tale of myth, for it was so
terrible it could not be real, and Lord Sorcerer was branded Darak
Or and I his creature. It was a crime used as an example of what
not to do, and the dark Valleur became synonymous with evil and
their name became a curse.”

He drew breath
again.

“As Immortal I
went on with guilt and like to Torrullin found Valleur in the
future who were not the ideal of a master race. It was not
stagnation - it was chaos. Power, as Teighlar mentions, had not
been protected. Nemisin was revered as the one who routed Lord
Sorcerer, his creature, and an evil city and its people. If you
wanted to curse someone, you used that name. The name of my people
became a word of power.

“And then came
fourth cycle, and the tale of the Valleur, as you know it,
commenced. Nemisin came to power. The Throne he sat on was not his
creation, although he did cast it. He perceived Torrullin as a
threat, me as an ally, and Kalgaia was a myth to him, a scary
fantasy of what-if. He abused his power and we decided to teach him
a lesson. The truth about Kalgaia was revealed to him and, trust
me, he could not doubt, and thus he learned the concept fear. The
word of power took on terrible meaning, Lord Sorcerer was the
ultimate enemy and Elianas the ultimate betrayer.

“He made a
deal with Neolone, he became the first enchanter, the first
Vallorin, and he tweaked time to destroy the Diluvans, thereby
consolidating his power base, and cursed us anew. In this fourth
cycle Torrullin and I realised we could not again alter everything,
and thus commenced the long ages of hiding. Torrullin chose a
forced, magically induced amnesia, and I chose to make the Throne a
sentient entity. Nemisin started writing, the Oracles were born and
once born could not be removed. We had to go into hiding until
now.”

Elianas
stopped, and spread his hands.

Silence.

Then the
questions began.

“This is
fourth cycle?” Caballa asked.

“Yes.”

“Where did you
go after third cycle?” Tristan asked. “Were you and Torrullin
together?”

“No. What
happened to Kalgaia sundered the team we could have been. He went
his way until his transference, and I went another way. When we met
up again in this cycle, ancient time, it was with full knowledge
and full guilt. The fear we put into Nemisin was perhaps unwise,
but it did lead to an illustrious future for the Golden.”

“Which was
paid for,” Caballa murmured. “Illustrious did not equal peace.”

“Indeed.”

“Did Nemisin
know you were of Kalgaia?” Teighlar asked.

Elianas gave a
grim smile. “All I had to do was claim the name. The tale of
Kalgaia, as he wrote it, was of the X who was so evil he
annihilated his city - X being me, and the name of my destroyed
people.”

“Why did he
record it wrong?” Caballa frowned.

“Payback. I
can never claim the name, not without consequence.”

“Who did the
killing at Kalgaia?” Teighlar asked. “What I mean is, who did it
first?”

Elianas was
expressionless. “I was first.”

“Why, by god?”
Tristan burst out.

“I refuse to
elaborate.”

“Torrullin?”

“It stays
between us.” He was as expressionless.

“Torrullin,
you should claim trueblood status,” Caballa frowned.

“Then I would
have to explain more than I care to.”

“It’s not
fair,” she whispered.

He leaned
forward. “Fair does not enter into it. First, I would have to claim
half Lorin and half the other, thereby unlocking a great horror the
current Lorin may never recover from, and, second, I am not
enamoured of trueblood status. I do not deserve it, not after
Kalgaia.”

“And Elianas?
Does he not deserve a place in Valleur society?”

Elianas
answered. “Mine was the betrayal and first kill. Mine is the name
synonymous with evil. Deserve a place, Caballa? I deserve far less
than the hearing I was given here.”

“We deserve
only each other,” Torrullin muttered.

“But,
Torrullin, since then?” Caballa frowned. “Have you not been saviour
and healer? You battled Margus, ended the Dragon symbiosis …”

“Why did the
Valleur need a saviour? Why was there a symbiosis to end? Cause and
effect, Caballa.”

“You restored
Kalgaia.”

“In another
time and parallel, but, yes, it has somewhat lessened the burden.
It is not enough, however, to reclaim lost innocence.”

“And you,
Elianas? You fought a Darak Or also, saved many lives. You healed
and aided,” Caballa said.

“It will never
be enough to expunge the past.”

Teighlar
sighed, long and loud. “This is so depressing.”

“You have not
had it easy either,” Torrullin snapped.

Teighlar sat
up. “I annihilated a city, Torrullin, murdering thousands,
including my sons, and yet a second chance was given me. Why is it
so hard to trust there is a second chance for you also, and for
Elianas?”

“The Syllvan
said ‘noble purpose’,” Quilla murmured.

“It may be so,
but we dare not hope,” Torrullin murmured.

“You know, my
friend,” Teighlar said, “I am ancient, although not as ancient as
Quilla is and until recently Declan and Sabian were. Yet you, and
you, Elianas, are beyond every number. I wandered ninety million
years as an aware ghost in the city as a ruin, a long time, forever
when you are the one wandering - how, in all gods’ names, do you
cope with so much time?”

“With
difficulty,” Torrullin said.

Elianas
laughed.

Teighlar was
serious. “How?”

“Transference
helps, reincarnation, but those were short-lived. I cannot speak
for Elianas, but for me it was either challenge or oblivion. I
travelled, which included realms, I reinvented myself periodically,
I offered my services to various rulers at various times, I spent
time intimately with certain individuals along the way, marriage,
sons, family, friends, new sights, new knowledge, study …”
Torrullin shrugged and was silent.

“That accounts
for maybe a tenth of your time.”

Torrullin
laughed and was, for the first time in many days, amused. “Yes,
Senlu, a tenth … if.”

“The
rest?”

“Realm travel
shortened this time, while being uniquely challenging, and there
were periods of deliberate oblivion.”

“How?” Caballa
asked.

“A cave, a
fifty thousand year sleep,” Torrullin said. “Other holes to hide
in, other lengths of time. Hibernation.”

She was
aghast.

“Did you do
that?” Tristan asked Elianas.

“Yes.”

“In this cycle
you had the Throne.”

“It helped,
yes, for I shut down when the Throne was cloaked.”

“It was often
cloaked,” Tristan said. “The Valleur were often at war.”

“Right.”

“Someone
should record this,” Caballa murmured.

“Someone
should not,” Torrullin said. “And especially not in the
Oracles.”

“Teroux and
Tian should know,” Tristan said.

Elianas swung
to Torrullin to see how he would answer.

Torrullin
said, “Tian, as Vallorin, will be honour bound to reveal this
terrible tale, and it would be a mistake. The Valleur civilisation
of the present is built on lies - it would fail. Tian cannot know
of this.”

Tristan
blinked. “And Teroux?”

“I love that
young man, but Teroux would not understand. Leave him to a future
he is able to deal with.”

“He’s right,
Tris,” Caballa murmured.

“Yes,” Tristan
admitted.

“One thing,”
Teighlar said. “A word of power is not unassailable. Surely this
curse of a race name can be undone?”

“If you find a
way, please tell me,” Elianas said. “I am proud of my heritage, if
not of myself.”

Teighlar
inclined his head. “I shall give it thought, my friend, this I
swear.”

Elianas bowed
his head. “Thank you.”

Quilla tapped
the map. “With Tristan’s curiosity satisfied, may we return to
this?”

Torrullin
walked with Tristan from painting to painting explaining what each
signified.

The long
discussion about stasis and open portals was now finally over, and
all other eventualities looked at. Quilla returned to the
Lifesource on Valaris for a few hours’ sleep and Teighlar went up
to the Great Hall to organise a decent meal. He also suggested a
guesthouse, and was organising that as well.

Caballa and
Elianas talked quietly together; they were the only four in the
chamber.

“Torrullin,
before we go on, I want to apologise.”

“Whatever
for?”

“Earlier I
spoke unwisely.”

“Tristan,
there are few people I really trust. On that list now are Quilla,
Belun, Caballa and you. I know you can guard tongue and
thought.”

“Thank you. I
am sorry.” Tristan stared at a painting of fluttering doves.
Apparently it meant disturbed peace, a Luvan allusion to the
Brotherhood of old. “You don’t trust Teighlar?”

“Teighlar is
also a ruler. Some secrets can never be kept when your people are
at risk.”

“And
Elianas?”

“In some
things I trust him implicitly, but in others not.”

“Do you love
him?”

Torrullin
moved to the next painting. “This is the vault of the secret
royals. Much wealth was hidden here. How do love him? Is that what
you would like to ask, but dare not?”

Tristan pulled
a face. “I guess.”

Torrullin
moved on, walking slowly. “Every soul requires a companion, but
this is not to stave off loneliness or to avoid being alone; it is
a facet of recognition. We know ourselves most completely through
another, much like you and Caballa. I had no such recognition until
Elianas entered my life, and that is how I love him. He is my soul
mate, which has absolutely nothing to do with gender or desire. I
know myself because he is; it is as simple as that. All the rest is
the contradictions of our natures and in the end cannot affect the
true bond.”