The Echolone Mine (70 page)

Torrullin
strode over. “Elianas, talk to me.”

Elianas
straightened. As Torrullin neared, he stepped deliberately away.
“No, Torrullin, not here, not now, not among witnesses. I know you
are angry now, but I am asking that you trust me. Please.”

Torrullin came
to a stop, his expression unreadable.

“The Danae is
right,” a Syllvan murmured. “This is not the place.”

“The issue at
hand is how to strike a balance between us and the Dryads, without
forcing either into extinction,” another said. “Let us set aside
personal issues.”

Torrullin
turned from Elianas. “What of Lethe? Who controls this place, and
can we negotiate with them? Is there anyone here able to broker a
ceasefire?”

“This, my
friend, is a place hard to grasp. We know in order for it to be
there has to be a controlling body, and yet there has been no
sign.”

“What of those
fur balls and snakes we found at the portal?” Tristan enquired.

“Toys,” came
the dismissive answer. “Torrullin, you were meant to keep Elixir
out of Reaume …”

“Technically,
that still holds.”

“… yet you
came. No doubt aware the sentinels are failing. Despite the danger
of using your power in here, Elixir is the only one now able to
discover the controlling influences of Lethe. Find them, agitate
them, and perhaps they will be sufficient as a barrier between
Ariann and Reaume.”

“I doubt a
barrier will be enough,” Elianas said. “They are angered beyond a
request after my presence in Ariann; we saw fury on the plain.
Something drives them, yet it isn’t power or an opportunity for
dominance over Reaume. Does it not follow if you know they are part
of you, they are aware of the link also? Something else is at work
here.”

“They are
unlikely to be aware of the link with us,” the main Syllvan
murmured.

“Forgive me,
but sentience knows every time.”

“Elianas is
right,” Torrullin said. “In an intrinsic manner, they know. I
further agree using Lethe as a barrier will not hold them back.” He
paced around the clearing. “I heard laughter. Who would laugh
here?”

“Laughter?”
Tristan frowned.

Elianas’ eyes
narrowed.

All four
Syllvan heaved a sigh simultaneously. One said, “We have heard it
also, but have no more to add. Elixir, that laughter has a voice.
Here.”

Torrullin
nodded. “We shall track it. In the meantime, will you be safe? Can
you withdraw from all confrontation until we have a solution? In
other words, vanish, and thereby enforce a ceasefire?”

The Syllvan
conferred.

Elianas
approached Torrullin. “Laughter?”

“Faintly. I am
not sure it means anything.”

“Torrullin, we
must …”

“We must
nothing, Elianas. Circumstances will dictate.”

“I understand
your reluctance …”

“You
understand anger, my brother. Leave it, or we go head to head right
now.”

Tristan called
their attention back to the Syllvan. The tree-like creatures were
in the process of rising and as they rose they grew in height and
girth. It was quite a sight.

“We shall now
enter a trance state permitting long periods of hiding. For that
time we shall appear as like to any tree, and our voices will be
stilled until you call, Elixir. This, as you suggest, may force a
temporary truce; the Dryads will not find us. However, beware
leaving us too long hidden, for they will attempt to cross Lethe
into Reaume; you must throw a barrier up as soon as you are
able.

“Keep it
stable, and keep it in place long enough to discourage them from
returning at a later date, whatever form this barrier takes, and
whatever drives the Dryads. Torrullin, Elianas, Tristan, we thank
you for coming, aware the decision to do so was not easily made. We
have come to a point where we realize we cannot succeed alone.”

There was a
rustling sound, a shift in the air and a sigh through the leaves, a
shiver through the grass underfoot, and four tall trees were
imbedded as if they had been there since seedpods. They were
perfectly camouflaged; in fact, had the three men not seen it
themselves, they would not have known the difference.

Torrullin
called out via his mind. He was relieved to hear no echo; the
Syllvan had entirely retreated.

“We return to
the forest where we were caged. We start over.”

Coma can mimic
oblivion, but this is rare. Degeneration of brain tissue heralds
oblivion, a physical enforcing. Forgetting is oblivion.

Book of
Sages

Lethe

T
he forest was restored.

There was no
sign of the Syllvan-induced earthquake, no flattened trees, and no
depressions in the earth to give evidence of a tearing through the
forest floor. Even the leaves seemed undisturbed. In fact, as
Tristan remarked, the leaves appeared artificial. The forest itself
was far more manufactured than was previously evident.

“Now we know
Lethe has intelligence,” Torrullin murmured.

They wandered
for a time, searching for the smashed cage, finding nothing, and
then headed back to the plain where the Syllvan was in battle with
three Dryads, and found a lake where before there was churned turf.
This water, when they went to it, was like to the emerald water in
the caldera; there was no reflection.

Elianas dipped
a hand in, brought some of the liquid to his mouth to smell and
taste. “It certainly smells normal.”

As he was
about to taste, Torrullin sank in utter silence down to his
haunches beside him. He caught a wrist, and pointed into the
depths.

“What is
that?” Tristan asked softly from behind them.

Torrullin put
a finger to his lips; then rose pulling Elianas up with him. He
motioned, and they wandered into the trees.

Just inside
the tree line, Torrullin said, “The water is filled with
nano-creatures that absorb reflections. Now I am convinced
something greater is at work here. Lethe itself has been
altered.”

Elianas
wandered, clearly deep in thought. Tristan found himself watching
the dark man rather than concentrating on what Torrullin said.

Elianas
discovered a new lie this day to upset his idea of self. It altered
everything for him, which included past and present. Only the
future could still be shaped. How would he now shape it?

Torrullin drew
a breath, saying, “You two are not concentrating.”

Tristan
remarked, “I feel like the proverbial third wheel anyway; I follow
your lead right now.”

Elianas
continued pacing aimlessly.

Torrullin
asked, “Would you give us a few minutes of privacy, please? But,
Tris, remain within sight.”

Tristan
inclined his head and moved where he could see and not hear.

Torrullin
approached Elianas, who for once seemed unaware. Eventually he
leaned against a tree and waited until sufficient focus returned.
Tristan watched curiously, yet knew to be circumspect.

Elianas
surprised again. He swung around to encompass Tristan also in his
statement.

“It occurs to
me we are being used by Syllvan, Dryad and whoever the hell thinks
it has control here. In fact, were I to wager, I would suggest to
you Elixir was purposefully warned, because it would bring about
the notice required. Why? I do not yet know, but let us assume
nothing in this place and, by the way, I am thinking we should get
away from here. This make-believe forest gives me the creeps.”

Tristan shared
his gaze between both men. They said the same things in different
ways and they acted the same for different reasons. Torrullin and
Elianas were headed towards a major confrontation, and be warned
anyone standing in the way when it came to pass.

Of course, he
could be that one, and hopefully he
would
be the one between
them when the blow-out was due; he also hoped he would be strong
enough. Tristan drew breath, for it was time to earn his due; the
two men duplicated thoughts and actions because they were not
listening to each other.

“Elianas, you
have just said what Torrullin said a few minutes ago.”

“Did I? Well,
then there is no doubt, is there?”

Torrullin
shook his head. “Tristan, obviously you are more objective. What do
you suggest we do next?”

Tristan paced
forward. “First, we must leave here, and I would suggest we make
our way to the opposite side of that strange lake. Why? If
nano-creatures can suck reflection, they can transmit also. In
other words, they watch. They hear. We need to find out how the
cards flutter when we are beyond this artificiality. Thereafter you
two need to stand still long enough to at least agree to work
together. This absolutely is not the kind of place to lay ghosts
and lies to rest, not if you desire a lasting solution.
Agreed?”

Torrullin
nodded.

Elianas sucked
at his teeth, flicking Torrullin a glance. “Tristan determines the
route. We decide how to operate in the frames he creates.”

“Agreed.”

“What? I
wasn’t asking to lead,” Tristan snapped. “Elianas, you twist what I
say.”

“No, he sees
what I see,” Torrullin said. “You see both of us; you see we are
not hearing each other. Besides, your lead would probably be the
better choice; it leaves us free to choose an action in a situation
faster and with greater objectivity. Thus, Tristan, lead us
on.”

“Go for it,
brother,” Elianas grinned.

“Gods, how do
I get myself into these idiotic situations?” Tristan muttered, and
set off.

Whoever did
the leading did not matter. He needed to get out from under the
trees. He was sure they were constituted of the tiny creatures
also, therefore watching every move and listening to every word and
probably aware of the undercurrents. The latter was unsettling.
Torrullin and Elianas could be set-up to do their worst and he
dared not mention it.

Perhaps, yes,
it was better he led for a time. He would be alert. Gods, he hoped
he would see it coming before they did. He walked out with firm,
decisive steps, and all three felt less oppressed once the trees
were left behind.

They gave the
lake a wide berth and hiked around to the opposite curve. It took
them approximately six hours, and in those hours nothing changed.
The light remained constant, the temperature, and the curious lack
of sound. As if there was no time. Had the artificial forest not
gradually shifted around the curve of the equally artificial lake,
they would have thought they walked on the spot also.

When they got
there, they were at the top of a steep rise.

Below lay
patchwork colours of material they could only guess at. The
strangest thing was, after six hours hiking, they felt as if they
had walked no more than six steps. No one was winded and no one was
sweaty or thirsty or hungry. Not tired, not footsore.

It felt,
Tristan thought, much like the last hours had not happened. It
felt, he realized, akin to oblivion, and thus he began to
comprehend the true dangers they faced, and further understood the
Syllvan could not escape it either.

A workable
solution had to be found fast.

He glanced at
the other two, then shrugged and set off down the slope. It was
firm underfoot and they made swift progress. At the foot of the
rise they discovered a path. Whether manufactured or not, it led
somewhere and thus they set to it and wandered along its curves
between the patchwork quilt of colours.

Still there
was no sound, no sense of time, no smell. He thought there should
be smell; even an empty vessel had a smell. This lack of everything
began to work on his nerves. He said as much.

“This is
pissing me off.”

“Likewise,”
Elianas muttered.

“Just go on,”
Torrullin said.

They went on.
Four or five hours of purposeless wandering ensued before sense of
change came and it was a sense only, for the landscape remained
unaltered.

It came first
in feeling, the sensing of emotion at the edge of perception; next
came the connections made when the three of them suddenly looked at
each other, and in doing so established the altering.

Imagine
something and it was, after all, real.

“Be careful,”
Torrullin whispered as Tristan resumed walking.

On the left
there were diamonds of blue and red ‘fields’ and to the right
squares and triangles of various hues competed for dominance. The
path itself constantly changed - gravel to smooth, shifting colours
- yet now it stabilized, acting like and becoming what a path
should be.

Around a
curve, around another bend, and change was there, unmistakable.

Colour fields
surrendered to the normality one would expect in usual reality. The
fields themselves were soon farmland. Barley vied with lucerne,
oats sat alongside hops and wheat grew emerald with borders of
tiny, staked tomato plants. After the patchwork, this was glorious,
this was normal, but for Lethe, damn it, in Lethe, this was odd,
this was trouble.

Elianas moved
forward and Tristan relinquished the lead to him without complaint.
He noticed how Torrullin periodically looked back. Torrullin
brought up the rear and it was clear both men expected trouble.
Tristan did too, yet knew he was not as prepared as they were.

They went on
in that manner for an hour - fields of normality accompanying them
- before trouble came in its new form.

Elianas,
leading, saw it come as a dark cloud on the horizon. Torrullin, in
the rear, saw it rush up from behind as a dust storm. Tristan, in
the centre, felt two hurricanes shift their first breaths of doom
at him from either side of the path.

There was no
time to compare the different concepts of trouble, nor was there
time to shout warning.