The Echolone Mine (80 page)

They answered
no questions as they set about binding heads, and neither did the
men.

The women then
gestured for them to lie down and, bizarre tool in hand, proceeded
to scoop out the arrows.

All four men
lost consciousness.

Torrullin
returned first.

He noted the
emptiness again, and then their bandages. They were thoroughly
wrapped and fire roared under it. Gods. Elianas was beside him, on
his back, his skin pasty even in the dim light.

How long had
it been? How many hours remained in the escape window?

He stared at
Elianas.

Groaning, he
understood what he had to do next.

Torrullin
moved then, and dragged Tristan and Tymall closer until they lay
one on each side of Elianas. Neither awakened; they did not even
groan. He pushed Tymall’s nearest hand under Elianas’ back and then
did the same for Tristan. Touch. The connection that would bind
them in a portal, and take them through together.

He sat back,
breathing hard.

Not one of
them would like this.

Gritting his
teeth against pain, he leaned in and jerked Elianas’ tunic down. It
was already in pieces from the ministrations of the women as they
made space to reach skin for binding wounds. He placed his hands on
Elianas’ chest and pressed lightly. The man’s skin was hot; he was
feverish.

He leaned in
and called quietly. Slowly Elianas opened his eyes. Dark stared
into grey, and an instant later Elianas understood. He felt the
hands shoved under him and he saw Torrullin’s intent.

Despite fever,
or perhaps because of it, his entire being fired. It was more than
expediency now and thus every atom in his blood boiled. He gasped
and his hands lifted into Torrullin’s tangled hair and he pulled
that head down to his.

In that moment
all holds sundered and fire took precedence. Hot skin slid against
hot skin and lips seared together. Arousal was complete. All
thought fled, and intent and expediency and every other nuance
vanished. Only sensation counted.

The Goddess of
Souls pulsed between them, firing agony into pain that could sunder
worlds.

Torrullin
cried out.

Elianas
arched.

When he
smacked back down to regain the connection with the other two, a
bright blue hole appeared under him and they fell through.

Beaver, rat,
wolf, stand together now.

Tattle

Nowhere

T
ime went by unmeasured.

Then a pair of
hands jerked roughly and a voice called urgently.

Torrullin
opened his eyes.

It was a
cavern, amber and flickering in firelight, and Sabian bent over
him, fair hair tangled, blue eyes concerned.

Torrullin sat
up.

“Gods,
Torrullin, how did you pull this one?” Sabian demanded. “You all
look like hell and what is that prick Tymall doing here?”

Torrullin held
a hand aloft. “Let me get my bearings, will you?”

He clambered
to his feet and doubled over. Gods, it hurt. Without thinking, he
touched the first wound he could find, and it healed. Only then did
recollection flood in. He swore under his breath and swiftly healed
the rest, tearing bandages off at the same time.

He stumbled to
Elianas. The man was slowly sitting up, face drawn. He stared at
Torrullin for a beat and then attended to his injuries.

Torrullin
moved to Tristan, healing him, and then saw to Tymall. As he
completed that task, the two stirred into awareness. He
straightened to find Sabian nearby. The man was clearly bemused.
His gaze lifted to their surroundings.

It was a large
cavern. There were many levels, stairs hewn into the rock and a
small pool was amber liquid. A fire burned merrily in a
depression.

“Where is
this?”

Sabian stepped
closer. Upon examination he was exhausted, his face drawn. “This is
nowhere, courtesy of Nemisin.”

Torrullin
nodded. “He escaped.”

“He is
slippery.”

“Indeed. How
long?”

“A couple of
weeks.”

Tymall was on
his feet. “How did we get here?” He stared at Elianas as he said
it.

Torrullin
muttered. “We are here, that is what matters.”

“Where is
here?” Tristan asked. He approached Sabian. “Are you all
right?”

“All the
better for seeing you lot. It is a slow walk along this path and I
am starving. As to where we are? Nowhere, literally. One step at a
time on a path that leads eventually to home. How did you get
here?”

Tristan
sighed. “We got entangled in the war between Ariann and Reaume, and
Nemisin must have tweaked Cassy’s sacred network to dump us onto a
plane.”

Sabian moved
his attention to Torrullin. “Only at one point do all existences
overlap.”

“And we used
it.”

Sabian nodded.
His gaze shifted to Elianas. “It took something this time.”

Elianas rose.
“No, it returned something lost.”

“How sweet,”
Tymall sneered. “You are lucky I was unconscious.”

Elianas
ignored him. He snapped his fingers and conjured a flask of coffee
and a tray of sandwiches, catching them as they materialised. He
set it down. “Eat, Sabian.”

The man needed
no second invitation, and Tristan joined him a moment later.
Tymall, muttering, wandered to a set of stairs to look up.

Elianas moved
into shadows and Torrullin followed.

“No
platitudes, Torrullin.”

“No.”

“How long
before we get out?”

“Depends on
Sabian’s speed, I believe. He needs healing. It might go faster
then.”

Elianas folded
his arms.

“Something
lost, Elianas?”

“You.”

“I am not sure
how to take that.”

“Do not
over-think it now. Let us get out of here.” A sigh erupted from the
man in shadows. “Gods, Torrullin, give me some time, will you? It
was … intense.”

“Yes, it was.”
Torrullin moved to leave, and was held back. He took the hand on
his arm and pressed it against Elianas’ chest, moving in. “I do not
see how we are ever going to reach the kind of consensus we can
live with. Always I am in two places with you.”

“Likewise.”

“Perhaps it is
time to stop.”

“Stop what,
exactly?”

“Attempting to
cross.”

“That does not
remove temptation.”

“Maybe it is
the only future we can hope for.”

Elianas moved
closer. “It isn’t real, Torrullin. It will not last. We need
more.”

“I haven’t an
answer,” Torrullin sighed.

A smile. “One
day soon, perhaps.”

Somewhere
Tymall growled and somewhere Sabian told him to shut up.

Around more
coffee and many sandwiches, Sabian gave an account of Nemisin’s
slipperiness.

“After the
Chamber of Biers he was a wreck, gibbering in angry craziness. He
nearly drove me crazy. We were on a plane far removed from home, an
empty place. There were people, but not near enough to interfere
with his learning curve. When he calmed sufficiently, I started
teaching him a few salient truths. I told him the real tale of Lord
Sorcerer and Eternal Companion …”

“What?” Tymall
hissed. He was ignored.

“I laid it out
for him. The history of the Valleur into assimilation, the history
into stagnation, the one into war and confrontation, the lot, and
how you and Elianas featured in each. It made him really mad, I can
tell you. He hates that the Throne was conceived by you, that
Kalgaia is your greatest triumph and your greatest tragedy, that
you bested Neolone, you are regarded as the father of the Valleur
in this era, that you had the audacity to ascend the Throne, and
much more before he started on you, Elianas. He hates that you were
disloyal, his wife thought highly of you, Kalgaia was built for you
and destroyed for you. He hates most that you loved Torrullin more
than you loved him.”

“What?” Tymall
said again.

Again he was
ignored. “I told him almost everything, I believe, to rattle him
more and more. I told him he made the darklings and thus made me,
explaining naturally in vivid detail who and what I was - Agnimus,
draithen, who hated his maker more than even the Warlock of
Digilan.”

“You are
nothing, Agnimus!”

“I was
nothing, Tymall, but now I am made whole. I claim ancient status
because of what Nemisin did and that places me closer to your
father than to you, and I claim the heritage of love Margus, my
brother, left for me before it all went wrong for him. Path of
Shades? Decidedly, and more so than you. The love you have for your
father and son redeems you slightly, but you have not been remade
as I am. You do not sit in the same august company.”

“You are an
amalgam.”

“So? There are
no cracks in my facade.”

“And him,
Agnimus … Sabian, whatever you call yourself, what about him?”

Sabian’s blue
eyes sparked. “I assume you refer to Elianas.”

“What do you
know about him?”

“More than
you.”

“What sets him
into your august company?”

Sabian glanced
at Elianas, but the man was expressionless.

“You know,
Tymall, if I was Elianas, I would be flattered by all the attention
he gets wherever he goes. When he enters a space, worlds move. When
he passes a stranger on a path, that stranger is refreshed simply
by proximity. Women look at him and wonder, and men do exactly the
same. He is Danae, oldest blood in the universe, and he is
Nemisin’s son-in-law, and he is Alhazen and Eternal Companion. No
one is unmoved by him, not even you.”

Elianas stared
at Sabian, but remained expressionless.

Tymall
spluttered. “Like my father.”

“Yes, Warlock,
like your father. Are they not perfect for each other?”

“Enough,
Sabian,” Torrullin said.

“Let him
talk,” Elianas murmured. “I like the bit about moving worlds.”

Tristan
laughed, and Tymall swung to him. “How do you stomach it?” Tristan
shrugged at him, and said nothing.

Torrullin
frowned. “Get back to Nemisin.”

“A few weeks
into his instruction Nemisin became sly. Let us interact with
people, he said, which I denied him, but not because he could do
harm. I wanted him to suffer. I swore never to kill someone again,
and thus that was the form justice would take. Let us hike that
hill, let us build a boat and sail downriver, let us enter town for
a meal; the kind of everyday things to lull the senses, and the
adventurous suggestions to turn focus aside. It worked after a
time, for I hankered after a bit of normality in what could never
again be reality, and my guard slipped.

“Nemisin did
not take advantage, not at first, and then I caught him weaving an
enchantment on a hilltop. The plane we were in took his power, or
so I thought. Then
he
started instructing
me
. His
magic is arcane, it cannot be subservient, ever, and besides, his
demented daughter Cassiopin left a legacy he could tap into
wherever he was. A network that transcended every barrier simply
because it was founded upon sacred geo sites. Of course my goose
was cooked then, and he slipped from my grasp.”

“A blow to the
head?” Elianas murmured.

“And tied to a
tree. It took days to get out of it, but he left me alive, so I am
not complaining too much. After, I searched for the outward path
and here I am.”

“How long to
home?” Torrullin asked.

“I do not
know. I know there is a path and it must be walked step by step,
but how long? A guess, at best.”

“A bridge can
be built,” Elianas murmured. “If you know where the exit is.”

Sabian
blinked. “I do.”

Elianas
inclined his head. “Then it could be hours.”

Torrullin
looked at him. “A bridge transcending realms, planes and perhaps
even time?”

“Energy is
sacred too, Torrullin.”

“Why are you
in such a hurry?”

“Why are you
not?”

Torrullin
sucked at his teeth and chose not to answer.

“Tymall cannot
come with,” Sabian said.

Tymall
bristled.

“Is that a
personal remark?” Torrullin demanded.

Sabian
shrugged. “He is Warlock, Torrullin. You dare not allow him back
in.”

Tymall looked
at his father.

“And what
would you have me do? Abandon him here? Send him into an alternate
realm? Find Digilan along the way? I do not care what anyone here
thinks; I am not leaving my son behind.”

Elianas
muttered, “I am building nothing until you decide what to do.”

“Fine. Then we
walk step by step.”

Sabian poured
more coffee and sat there sipping in silence.

“Stubborn.
That describes you,” Elianas muttered. “Misguided, yes. Blinkered,
definitely. And fucking
stupid
. Gods, you
know
what
he is.”

“He is my
son.”

“Yes, so fuck
off,” Tymall sneered.

Elianas
shifted closer to Torrullin, tangled a hand into his hair and
jerked him closer. Tymall was on his feet an instant later, across
the fire and had hurled himself at the man. He smashed into both of
them, and his fist connected with Elianas’ nose. Elianas rolled,
kicking Torrullin out of the way before shifting his weight to
unbalance Tymall. He pinned him to the rock.

“You want the
absolute truth, Tymall? I have seen what you are and what you have
done. I have floated in Digilan and I have seen what it took to
become Warlock. I know what you did to Margus. Do
not
sit in
judgement when you have fucked more men than anyone here can begin
to count. Do you want my arse, is that it? And dare not encroach on
territory you believe your father’s? Let me tell you right now - it
will never happen. You threaten to kill me, but I am warning you
now to get out of my face, for I will not threaten, I will just do
it. Your head will roll,
Warlock
.”