The Echolone Mine (8 page)

“I hear
you.”

“Gods, you are
not helping,” Elianas growled.

“What do you
want me to say?”

“Tell me what
you think.”

Torrullin sat
up, a gloomy form in the darkened room.

“What do I
think? I think you should not put yourself through this. Banish her
and live with the guilt; it will be less than what comes next.
However, I will not deny her escape from the netherworld. I think
you should tell her upfront how you see your future and not allow
her to dictate it. I think you could avoid making the same mistakes
if you tell her you cannot be a husband. She may be hurt, but the
truth could also set her free to make different choices. If you do
decide to renew your marriage, you must stay away from me. That is
what I think.”

“I cannot stay
away from you.”

“Then you have
a problem.”

“You can,
naturally, stay away from me,” Elianas said.

“If I have
to.”

“Can I stay
here tonight?”

A long silence
ensued and then, “No.”

“What if this
is the last time?”

“Do not let it
become that,” Torrullin said.

Elianas loosed
a sigh and rose from the bed. “I shall try. Get some sleep.” He
left quickly.

Torrullin lay
down again, doubting sleep would come. He again noticed a form in
the doorway, and it was not Elianas. Her timing was perfect.

“Lowen.”

“I saw him
leave. He looks shattered.”

“And you have
come to capitalise on the fact I may be as well.”

She entered,
heading straight to the bed. “Yes.”

His hand
whipped out and he dragged her onto him. “You know how to use me
against myself.”

“I do, don’t
I?” She found his mouth, dug her fingers into his skin and moulded
herself to him.

He rolled her
over and under him and began undressing her, his mouth following
where his fingers went.

Perhaps you
should have regarded the message only. Why did you choose
action?

The poet Arc to
a friend in need

Akhavar

T
he region around the Chamber of Biers was deserted
when they arrived there.

The Valleur
knew when to stay away.

Torrullin,
last to arrive, was relieved. Nevertheless, he threw a shrouding
chant over and around the chamber to protect anyone who ventured
close.

Saska did not
react to it; her focus already transferred to what was inside. In
no manner did she betray the sleepless night past.

Elianas was a
portrait of misery, his movements nervous; had Torrullin greeted
Lowen with a kiss he would not have reacted to it.

Torrullin
touched Saska on her shoulder. “Lowen first?”

She nodded.
“More souls, but the easier banishment.”

Torrullin
faced the Xenian. “Ready?”

She twisted
her fingers together. “Let’s do it.”

The two women
stood together, and entered.

An instant
later there was pandemonium. Sound, movement, light, emotion, and
Lowen gasped aloud, shouting, “
Oh, my God
!”

Elianas’
fingers dug holes into Torrullin’s arm.

The majority
of caskets pushed into niches in the walls exploded open, raining
wood, plaster and dead dust, obscuring light. Forms clambered out
of those niches, stiff-legged, like automatons, walking skeletons,
and voices were raised in words, shouts, calls.

Lowen started
sobbing and Saska gripped her, putting an arm around her waist.
“Courage, Lowen; they will be gone soon.” She began to speak
rhythmic words, her tone even, her body serene and still, all the
while holding a shaking Lowen.

Faces peered
from the swirling dust, some like cadavers, others fleshing out,
yet others taking on the glow of health, and there were questions
in those eyes, and mouths asked things, words that were
incomprehensible … and then a loud wail rent the air and bodies
elongated, stretched to breaking point. Points of light danced in
the dust and one by one snuffed out.

Skeletons lay
scattered, littering the Chamber of Biers.

“Oh, God, no,
no,” Lowen gasped out, and Saska turned her, led her out.

Outside, the
ashen faces of Torrullin and Elianas.

Lowen threw
up, waving help viciously away. She scuttled to the wall, huddled
downward and sat there in traumatised silence.

Saska said,
“Most of them have now moved on.”

Torrullin,
glancing at Lowen, shuddered.

Elianas was
paralysed.

“Elianas,”
Saska murmured, “come.”

The man could
not move.

Torrullin
moved to stand behind him. Putting his hands on Elianas’ shoulders,
he pushed forward. “My brother, you must do this. Be firm in your
resolve.”

Elianas dug in
and would not be moved. Drawing a deep breath, finding his own
resolve, Torrullin moved his hands down to rest splayed on Elianas’
stomach and chest. He exerted firm pressure, pulling the man
against him.

In his ear, he
whispered, “This is life, feel it, and know it goes on no matter
what. I shall be here waiting for you. Nothing changes inside,
Elianas.”

Elianas’ hands
rested briefly over Torrullin’s. Deep pulls at the air. Then he
straightened and moved forward and Saska went with him. They
vanished into the swirling dust.

Torrullin felt
as if his life slipped away.

In the residue
there was a lone explosion; Cassiopin’s bier on the other side.

Elianas stood
in monumental calm, waiting.

Saska
marvelled at the control after the reluctance witnessed
outside.

A form came
wandering in erratic steps, ever closer, and a thin voice called,
“Elianas!”

Fingers curled
into claws and a rictus of a smile settled onto his face. “Cassy!
Here!”

“The banish …”
Saska began.

“No
banishment.” He took a step forward. “This way, Cassy.”

The form was
skeletal, naked, hair in patches. A gold pendant swung crazily,
bumping against breastbone. It came nearer.

Elianas gave a
small and appalled gasp and then stepped forward with majestic
control. The form saw him and stopped.

They stared at
each other.

Flesh grew
over bones and swelled. Hair started growing at an insane pace.
Elianas’ right hand settled on the hilt of his sword and for one
crazy moment Saska thought he would use it to lob Cassiopin’s head
off.

She would
never know what entered his mind then. Or what changed it.

Fingers flexed
and a hand stretched out.

“Come, Cassy,
let me help you.” His voice was even, a trace of pity underlying
concern.

Flesh had
taken on normality and by the time Cassiopin took the offered hand
she was a woman in perfect health.

Elianas drew
her nearer and put his other hand over the clasp. Saska removed the
thin outer garment she had donned over her dress and presented it
to the naked women. Cassiopin dragged golden eyes from her husband
and took her hands away as well. Smiling sweetly, she accepted the
offered garment and shrugged it on, crossing her arms over her
breasts.

“It is cold,”
she murmured.

It nearly
undid Elianas. He twitched and then closed his eyes.

“It is warmer
outside,” Saska said. “Come with me.”

“Who are
you?”

Saska smiled
and put an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “I am Saska and I am a
friend. Come, let me help you. Husbands are notoriously
ill-equipped to handle these situations, don’t you think?”

A throaty
laugh. “True.” She allowed Saska to lead her away.

Elianas
followed, everything inside him chaos.

Torrullin
inhaled when he saw Saska leading the woman out and Lowen
whimpered. His gaze, however, focused on Elianas, and cold invaded
him.

Saska stopped.
“Everyone meet Cassiopin.”

“Cassy, my
name is Cassy.” She was a lovely woman. Petite, fine bone
structure, long and curling gold hair, full, pink lips. Valleur
eyes. She smiled. White teeth, dimples in both cheeks.

“Welcome,
Cassy,” Torrullin managed, his voice like glass.

Her eyes
settled on him and her smile vanished. “You.”

Saska
intervened. “Cassy, first you need to wash, hmm? Eat, sleep a
while. Then we can deal with who has come to greet you.”

Cassy looked
at her and another sweet smile came. “You are my friend?”

“I am.”

“Then I shall
do as you suggest. I must be perfect for my husband.”

Saska smiled
at her. “Yes.” She glanced at Lowen. “Lowen, will you please take
Cassy to my quarters and help her. Lowen?”

Lowen blinked.
She rose. “I am Lowen,” she said, her voice steady. “I find I am
need of a wash also. Let the men finish their duties and we shall
join them later.”

Cassy’s large
eyes swung from Lowen to Saska. “Is she my friend?”

“Yes. Go with
her. We need to clean up here.”

Cassy allowed
herself to be steered away.

In the
following silence Saska stared at the two men. They were looking at
each other as if dying inside.

“She is mad.”
Elianas’ voice shook.

“Askew,
Elianas. The Lifesource of Valaris will reverse the damage.”
Torrullin’s voice was emotionless.

Elianas
groaned and Torrullin caught him as he slumped. “I thought I could
do this.” His face buried into Torrullin’s neck.

“We will do it
together.”

Elianas lifted
his head. “Promise?”

“God help us,
yes.”

Elianas
separated himself, nodding. “I will need your strength.”

“And now I
need yours. I cannot do Nemisin alone.”

Elianas
stilled and then a wry look flitted across his face. “I would
rather deal with Nemisin than Cassy.”

“Are you with
me?”

Elianas
twisted his neck this way and that and flexed his fingers. “I am
with you.”

Saska faced
the chamber. “Then let us get this over with.”

The nature of
the chamber shocked Torrullin.

“I cannot
function in this. Wait.”

Saska frowned.
“They are not waking for you.”

He looked to
Nemisin’s bier covered in ancient dust after the explosions.
“Neolone.”

“The others
too?” Elianas whispered.

“The ones who
don’t want to move on,” Saska understood.

“Well,”
Torrullin murmured, “surprise.” He drew a breath. “First we clear
away.” He walked boldly forward. Dust, wood and plaster vanished.
Remains of biers disappeared. The half-light gave way to the usual
internal glows. “Help me pile the bones.” He bent to retrieve a
skeleton, his face impassive, and carried it to a corner far
removed from Nemisin’s bier.

After a moment
Saska and Elianas helped him.

They worked at
it for an hour.

After, the
chamber was different. Most niches were now empty, each space
sterile. The dark floor shone like a mirror, Nemisin’s bier stood
in splendid isolation, with twelve niches occupied in the opposite
wall.

In a corner, a
terrible pile of bones.

“Now we do
this,” Torrullin murmured. “Now I can see him.”

He looked upon
the bier. His reflection stretched behind him in the polished
floor. He studied the engraved likeness and gave a grimace. It was
Nemisin all right. He read the flowing Valleur script, name and
epitaph.

“…
may our
beloved rest in eternal peace
.”

Torrullin
snorted. How could they have known? He sensed Elianas beside him
and pointed at it.

Elianas gave a
similar ironic grunt.

The dates were
correct. Epoch of the Dancing Suns. What an idiot to lie here
waiting so long. Torrullin and Elianas looked at each other and
both gave strange smiles. They understood the concept of waiting
long.

Below the
epitaph, Neolone’s scribble. “
Here lies the man of power who
gave power to his descendants in a mighty symbiosis. Revere his
name as you will revere the One to come
.” The stylised ‘N’ was
an arrogant afterthought.

“What was he
thinking?” Elianas whispered.

“Thank the
gods he
was
thinking,” Torrullin replied. “Neolone did us a
favour.”

“How do you
want to do this?” Saska asked.

“When I erase
Neolone’s markings, Heart of Darkness will have the upper hand,”
Torrullin said. “But …” and he looked up at the twelve untouched
biers. “I shall keep Nemisin contained until you banish the others.
That way he cannot use them to distract me.”

Saska
nodded.

“Can you do
them alone?”

“I will start
the chant now.” She began the low rhythmic words she used earlier
with Lowen.

Torrullin,
with a manic grin, sat on Nemisin’s bier. “Elianas, you may have to
hold us down.”

Elianas went
one further. He clambered up to stand legs spread on the tomb. “He
will not get out. Erase Neolone.”

Torrullin
grinned at him and then slid his hand over Neolone’s markings. They
vanished letter by letter … and twelve biers exploded. The one
under the two men bucked, but did not disintegrate.

Skeletal forms
fell and clambered from dust-ridden niches to converge in hissing
fury on Nemisin’s remains. They were all men and filled out faster
than the others had.

Saska’s voice
rose, an edge of desperation to it, and she chanted faster. The
twelve men glanced at her and ignored her.

“It’s not
working,” Elianas muttered, and his eyes narrowed. He listened a
moment and then joined Saska, matching her word for word,
intonation for intonation.

She glanced at
him, astonished, and smiled around her words. Together they built
the chant, and the twelve began to falter.

A hiss of
fury, and one fell as skeleton to the floor. Another followed, and
another, but nine surged forward.