The Echolone Mine (60 page)

“Some would
say a soul is by nature alone, and reliance on another subjugates
one.”

“You have
misunderstood. I do not rely on Elianas to make me whole. My view
of self must by nature be subjective, and is, as you are to
yourself, but through him I am able to see objectively as well. He
does not fill in a blanked facet, he adds to, makes more, and thus
I am different to myself. I believe I do likewise for him, but all
this happens on a level we do not see, question or even feel. It
just is.”

“I can see
that for Caballa and me.”

Torrullin gave
an amused smile. “Elianas would call this esoteric bullshit. He
doesn’t like to admit he can think deep thoughts.”

“There is no
shame in it.”

“Says a
cosseted Valleur,” Torrullin said. “They laughed at him when
younger over certain pronouncements he made in youthful innocence.
He has not forgotten.”

“Is he the
kind to bear grudges? Yiddin says one can tell a man’s character by
how long and how severely a grudge is nurtured.”

“Yiddin speaks
through his arse. The man will not live long enough to understand
how certain things keep coming back to haunt one.”

Tristan was
surprised by the vehemence. “Elianas bears grudges, I take it.”

“He does not
deliberately seek justice, but if a grudge takes form on his path
at some point, he deals with it. In this, Tristan, I am no
different. Your immortality will teach you this truth as well.”

“What about
forgive and forget?”

“A myth. We
forgive, but we don’t forget.”

Tristan
glanced at Elianas and Caballa. “I guess that’s true.”

Torrullin
caught the nuance. “Did you feel you had to forgive her for what
happened between us?”

“Not
consciously, but yes.”

“And you
cannot forget.”

“No.”

Torrullin
nodded. “That is how we are made.” He touched Tristan’s arm. “But
you answered the real question about the real bond just now. It is
the one that matters.”

“Everything
else is the contradictions of our natures. I can live with
that.”

Strange eyes.
“As do I.”

“If the hidden
word is a race name,” Caballa said, “is your family name, it
implies you would be as the Vallas are to the Golden.”

“It is in the
function of name, Caballa. Valleur means
the magic that
travels
, Lorin means
golden kind
, Valla means
guild
of witchdoctors
. When names were assigned, my kind became known
as the
guild of dark kind
. There was an actual guild of
magic practitioners, and an ancestor of mine was its first patron.
The guild assumed his name, and more time assigned the name to all
my kind. Thus, calling me X takes us right back to the first formal
meeting of minds. My name is older than Valla.”

“Elianas, it
is nobility that should be celebrated.”

“A word of
power is not lightly sundered.”

“If it can be
done, will you stand forth to claim your ancestry?”

Elianas
glanced at Torrullin, his gaze enigmatic. “There are too many
variables to answer.”

“What is it
you really want from him?”

“Can you
handle the truth, lady seer, and are you able to keep it from
Tristan?”

She nodded
after a brief hesitation, but was firm in her agreement.

“Torrullin has
come to believe the fantasy of the Vallas, the right to succession,
the arrogance, the unbroken line in history. This is not a bad
thing, believe me, but it blinds him to another truth. Do you know
how Valleur blood sings when it courses and surges? Of course you
do; this is how we access our magic. Valla blood goes one better,
or a fair few steps better, or octaves, if you will, and that blood
is characterised and recognised by trebac, the blue kinfire. If
Torrullin has his way, he would mix his blood with mine, and we
would be brothers of the blood, Valla kin, and trebac would prove
it for all sentience to see.”

Elianas
swiftly checked the other two were still walking away.

“He is half my
kind, and our blood acts in a different way. My blood sings, yes,
and that is how I tap into magic, but my kin is recognised and
characterised by another sign. Until he knows it, he cannot know
the other truth. I want him to know. That is what I want of
him.”

Caballa
understood. “Taranis was of your family.”

“Taranis had
the singing blood; this is how he was able as a ‘human’ to become a
sorcerer and achieve immortality.”

“You are
saying you and Torrullin are already kin.”

Elianas dipped
his head. “Yes.”

“He harks to
the Valla blood, overlooking what is already between you.”

“Caballa,
before you have sleepless nights about the forbidden nature of a
relationship, we are not brothers. There are too many generations
between Taranis and myself. He seeks a blood brother, I think
because it would be a perfect way to walk away from attraction,
which would then be absolutely forbidden, but I seek a recognition
of kinship.”

Caballa stared
at him. “If he does, it could sunder the curse of your name.”

Elianas’ eyes
crinkled. “So clever. Perhaps, but that would be an added gift. It
isn’t the goal.”

“Tell me,
Elianas, is this attraction between you a facet of kinship?”

“Too clever by
far.”

Caballa leaned
back. “You two dance around each other, missing some of the
steps.”

“It is part of
the allure.”

“Is that all
he wants of you? A blood brother?”

Elianas
smiled. “Of course not. What we spoke of here are only partial
truths.”

“And the
rest?”

“Part of the
dance.”

“I think you
enjoy it.”

“It hurts, it
leads to destruction, but, yes, I enjoy it. I am alive due to this
dance, and I would wager a world on him replying exactly as I
have.”

A sigh. “I
know.”

“I am not
darak fallen, Caballa.”

“Why would you
think I think that? I know no evil as complicated as you are. Evil
is a oneness with a set purpose, and that doesn’t come close to
describing you.”

He studied her
frankly. “You are clever, astute, and a truly good person. I see
now why he trusts you. You are the only woman he has trusted to
this degree, and you know this, I think. I think you also know this
is why Tristan will fight an inner demon called jealousy for some
time yet.”

Caballa did
not look away. “Yes.”

“Your
dance.”

“I love
Tristan, Elianas.”

“A part of you
will always love Torrullin more. That is his charisma, however, not
your failing.”

She blinked
and then looked away, nodding without speaking.

Elianas
laughed. “Why wasn’t I born a woman? Gods, it would be much
simpler.”

“Being a woman
isn’t simple.”

“I simply
comment on an attraction that shouldn’t be.”

She pulled a
face. “It would not be half as powerful an attraction.”

He was silent
a beat and then rose and stretched. “I guess not.” He called out,
“We are starving here! Can we eat now?”

They walked
through the tunnels, Tristan with Caballa ahead, Torrullin and
Elianas trailing ever slower.

“They peel us
back layer by layer,” Elianas said.

“Only to find
more layers.”

They walked a
pace, two, and then halted by silent agreement. Ahead, Caballa drew
Tristan out of sight.

Elianas,
drawing breath, faced him. “I have agreed, but I do not like it. We
are circumventing the dance.”

“We change the
steps,” Torrullin said.

“Do ethereal
forms feel, do you think?”

“We shall find
out.”

They stared at
each other and then slammed together, holding on tight. There was
no desire in it; it was merely a prayer they would emerge from
Lethe unscathed enough to go on. Then, embarrassed, they pushed
apart and hastened to catch up with the other two.

Safety in
numbers.

When souls
band together something marvellous comes to pass.

A note in the
Ancient Oracles

Grinwallin

D
espite the long day and night, Torrullin could not
sleep.

He finally
tossed the covers off and rose from a rumpled bed. Barefoot, he
padded up onto the roof. All Grinwallin’s houses had flat roofs, an
added dimension to a city with spectacular views. When he got
there, he shivered. He forgot it was winter. He turned to fetch his
cloak, and a shadowy form revealed itself.

His relief was
huge when he realised it was Teighlar.

“Expecting
someone else?” the Emperor said.

“What are you
doing up here?”

“Waiting for
you. I knew you could not sleep.”

“Why so
secretive?”

“Come with me,
Torrullin. There is something I need to show you.”

“I do not like
the sound of that.” Torrullin frowned, but he never walked away
from a challenge. “Fine. Let me get dressed.”

“You will have
to take it off again. Where we are going we may enter naked
only.”

“Now you are
scaring me.”

Teighlar
laughed, and then, “Fetch Elianas.”

The request
slammed into his gut. His overriding vision was of the dark man
naked at his side in a forbidden place. It frightened the daylight
out of him, for he doubted his control.

Teighlar
nodded. “I know what you see, but I will be there, and the sight of
my pale body is bound to shrivel even iron rods.”

Torrullin
grinned. “Wait here.” He hastened down the stairs to Elianas’
room.

Elianas tossed
on a bed as he had minutes ago. He laid a hand on a sweaty shoulder
and shook. Elianas grunted and then he moved swiftly. A sword point
rested under Torrullin’s chin.

“You have not
lost your touch, I see.”

Elianas
frowned, withdrawing the blade. “Torrullin?” His gaze flicked over
the man, noting loose pants and not a thread more.

“Come,
Elianas. I think we are about to be tested.” Torrullin turned away.
“Do not bother with clothes, my brother. We are going in
naked.”

Goosebumps
raised on his flesh when Elianas hissed in surprise behind him. He
carried on walking, heard the sword hit floor and then footfalls
behind.

Elianas,
wrapping a sarong around his hips, caught up. “What’s going
on?”

“Teighlar and
a secret. He is on the roof.”

Wordless, they
went up, and Teighlar looked them over. “You suit each other.”

“Don’t get
cutesy, Senlu,” Torrullin snapped.

“What’s this
about?” Elianas growled.

“We are going
before the Goddess.”

Torrullin
glared at him. “You got me riled for a mythical figure? What, a
prayer before a shrine? I am going back to bed.”

Elianas caught
his arm. “The Goddess within.”

“Esoteric
bullshit, Elianas.” But Torrullin did not leave.

Teighlar
smiled, his gaze resting curiously on Elianas. “We shall see how
esoteric it is soon enough. Come.”

He vanished,
leaving them a clear, pulsing trail to follow.

They were in a
cave with darkness all around.

It was
surrounded by rock without an opening to the air outside, and
smelled stale and disused. Teighlar’s voice came at them from the
dark.

“Do not put
light in this place.”

Torrullin and
Elianas unconsciously moved closer, and skin seared skin.

“A long time
ago, before Grinwallin was excavated, the Luvan Brotherhood sent
their magicians and soothsayers into these mighty mountains. The
priests walked among the people, but the magicians were kept
separate.”

Teighlar’s
voice was trance-like, and they heard rustling. He was
undressing.

“When certain
members of like talent of a society are forcibly removed from that
society, something comes to pass. We would today call it a cult.”
He paused. “Take off what you have on. We cannot pass beyond this
darkness unless we are stripped of civilisation. Torrullin, it
includes the Medaillon and your signet ring.”

The Medaillon
hit rock underfoot metallically, and a smaller plink signified the
ring. His small movements caused his skin to slither against
Elianas, who breathed raggedly.

“Torrullin, I
cannot.”

“If you want
to be forewarned of what lies ahead for you in ethereal form, then
you can do this,” came Teighlar’s voice. “Feel it now or lose your
control when you cannot undo it.”

Torrullin
swore, and undid his drawstring. His pants slipped down and he
stepped from them.

Elianas
moaned, “Gods, get me out of here.”

“The gods do
not hear here, Danae,” Teighlar said.

Utter silence.
The end of time itself.

Teighlar said,
“This place is sealed. A word of power cannot pass through the
barriers.”

“How do you
know that name?” Elianas demanded.

“I am an
enchanter, remember?”

Elianas’ hands
found Torrullin, his fingers digging into flesh. “Get me out!”

Torrullin
stepped closer in the dark. “Elianas Danae,” he whispered in the
man’s ear. His fingers found the knot in the sarong and started
untying. “Feel it,” he whispered. The knot loosened.

“Dear god,”
Elianas whispered. Hands lifted to Torrullin’s hair and twisted in.
“I am coming undone, you must stop this.”

Torrullin
pulled the sarong away.

Everything
froze again.

“Teighlar, I
think you should go now.” Torrullin could barely speak.

“I must stay,”
came the Emperor’s voice, filled with understanding. “To guide you
now and to witness.” He cleared his throat. “Loose the holds.”

For a moment
longer there was utter stillness.