Tianoman set his coffee down. “I want to see my father.”
“You will with Torrullin at your side. Son, if anything happened to you, Tymall would …” Quilla sighed and held his tongue.
“What?” Tianoman demanded.
“Seek vengeance,” Quilla said. “A Warlock’s vengeance is a terrible force and, trust me, it will find Valaris again.” Quilla glanced at Tristan. “Torrullin will dismantle Digilan drop by filthy mist drop were you to go in as him and were you then hurt in his stead. If you must, go in as yourself, but seek dispensation from the Warlock ahead of it. It is likely Tymall will meet you at a portal and you may put your request to him, and Tian could go with you. Do not enter in deceit or in the hope you will cope. Tris, Tian, neither of you can envision the hell of Digilan unleashed, but I can. At the end of it we will not talk of balance and unbalance, dark and light; we will talk in terms of eternal chaos. Let this notion go forthwith.”
Caballa thought she should have called Quilla in herself.
Tristan and Tianoman looked at each other before Tristan said, “Would the Syllvan be capable of arranging a portal meeting?”
“You could ask,” Quilla smiled. “You will find they would do most anything if it is to Elixir’s benefit.”
Tianoman muttered, “Sometimes I wish I was like him.”
Quilla smiled sadly at the young man. “That is a terrible wish.”
Nobody said anything, and then they moved on.
“Do you recommend sending a Tracloc in?” Caballa asked.
“No,” Quilla said.
“Then it’s moot,” Tristan frowned.
“No, it isn’t. You should inform Tymall of the situation.”
“Why?” Tianoman asked.
“Because Tymall might offer insight we are unaware of. Digilan, after all, is a huge portion of unbalance.”
“Gods, that makes sense,” Tristan murmured.
“And,” Quilla added, “the Syllvan will know better than anybody if an exit exists.” He waggled a finger in Tristan’s direction. “Talk to the Syllvan and Tymall, and we shall know what to do next, but do not ask for a Tracloc. That poor soul would be as trapped as our four friends, were he to enter, and is less likely to escape.”
Tristan drew breath and released it. He gazed at Caballa. “I am not like him, I know that.”
She smiled. “Then there is no trap.”
Tianoman moved to something else. “Elianas has a power they can use? Which power?”
Quilla’s cherubic face stilled. “I wish I knew.”
“You believe it is dangerous.”
“Power alone is not dangerous; people are. Elianas, unfortunately, appears as contrary as Torrullin, and this may be a way to establish control.”
“Over?” Tianoman frowned.
“Torrullin,” Quilla said. “Easy if only one retains power.”
Caballa said, “No, he won’t use it until Torrullin has power returned. Elianas doesn’t want a hollow shell.”
“You think he seeks to control Torrullin?” Tristan asked.
“Torrullin seeks to control Elianas,” Quilla murmured. “The two are locked in an ancient battle of wills.”
“How do they control each other?” Tristan asked.
Tianoman said, “I cannot tell you. Some matters are for Vallorins only.”
“Quilla?” Tristan demanded, after glaring at his cousin.
“It is different for different races.”
“Fine, then how would a Q’lin’la control a Q’lin’la?”
Quilla smiled. “Friendship needs not control.”
“You know what I mean.”
Quilla shook his head. “As Q’lin’la leader I cannot reveal that.”
“Forgive my bluntness, but you are the only Q’lin’la.”
“It matters not, Tristan. The transferral of power we are talking of here is not a matter for light discussion, nor should the knowledge be made known. It is not a matter of trust; rather it is matter of truly knowing. Your own journey must take you to it.”
Tristan glanced at Caballa. “Do you … gods, you do! Tell me.”
“I am forbidden to say.”
“By whom? Torrullin?”
“By the laws that govern this knowledge.”
“How did you find out? Caballa, please. We said no lies, no pretence.”
“I cannot tell you, Tristan. It is forbidden.”
“But you can tell me how you found out. Tell me, so I might follow the same path.”
Tianoman laid a hand on his cousin’s arm. “The journey is different for all who stumble upon this knowledge. Leave it, leave Caballa.”
“Easy for you, with your Throne,” Tristan snapped. “Surely the head of the Kaval needs know how to exert control over a recalcitrant power?”
“It is not exerting control; it is absolute control. It is taking power away, making it your own, using it, and leaving a husk behind,” Quilla said. “Unless you have that kind of power, you need not know how to take it from another. Both Elianas and Torrullin must know the price and are locked in this battle. One day one will win … or both will walk away.”
“Did you see it?” Tristan demanded of Caballa.
She glared at him. “Tristan, I love you, but now you push too hard.”
“Caballa!”
She hurtled to her feet. “I slept with the man about to become Elixir! I am a seer and so is he, and knowledge flowed. Goddamn it, you are stubborn!” She strode from the chamber.
Tristan, aghast, did not see the look Tianoman and Quilla shared.
Caballa had revealed too much.
Chapter 22
The best advice anyone is able to share, when advice is sincere and may be regarded as less than criticism, is to be yourself always. On the other hand, to follow it, you have to know yourself.
~ Book of Sages
Syllvan Grotto
ANGRY WITH CABALLA, Tristan did not return to their cottage.
He began the retrace to the Syllvan and found it easy. When he stood before them he realised he was expected.
The sentient tree trunks sat in their ponderous silence waiting for him to speak.
He bowed and spoke greetings.
The central Syllvan said, “We welcome you, Tristan Skyler Valla. You may put your first question. We shall be answering at random this occasion.”
Tristan drew breath. “I was expected?”
“Of course. You are Kaval leader.”
“It had nothing to do with Caballa’s vision?”
“That, too,” another chuckled, and added, “You are wasting questions.”
Tristan inclined his head. “Would you open a portal to Digilan for me?”
“Straight to the point,” a Syllvan murmured. “We like it. We shall open the way, but you may not enter as Elixir. In fact, we prefer you do not enter at all.”
“How do I converse with the Warlock without entering?”
“We shall send for him.”
Tristan stared at the grotto floor. “Do I need to speak with him?”
A long silence in which the Syllvan pondered how to answer, and then the answer came. “He cannot tell you anything we cannot, yet we feel Tymall Valla is an integral ingredient in understanding Elixir. You need to see him to know more about Torrullin. Tianoman will aid you in this.”
Another Syllvan spoke. “Be at the site of portal this night. A meeting will be arranged for ten bells.”
Tristan bowed. “Thank you.”
The central trunk warned, “Do not tell the Warlock where Elixir is.”
Tristan blinked. “Why not?”
“Tymall remains impulsive where his father is concerned. We do not want the Warlock demanding access.”
“I shall guard my tongue, be assured. Now, is there an exit from the Path of Shades?”
“Yes, always, but not from the space Elixir occupies at present.”
“Then how does he get out, all of them?”
“They do not, young l
ord,” a Syllvan on the far left murmured. “There is no exit, no entrance.”
“Yet they are in,” Tristan snapped.
“We shall regard that as question, and answer thus; the door was an alchemical process, which means the four entrants were altered in state. They are no longer matter; they are energy, and energy flows even into a place where there is no doorway. I hear you think if energy flows in, energy flows out, and you would be correct; however, energy requires direction in order to flow to a point where it can again become something else, and there is no direction within the Path.”
“They are trapped?”
“Yes … and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they cannot exit, but they can be removed.”
“How?”
“This we do not know with clarity. We do know it will come to pass.”
“You have two questions left,” a Syllvan murmured.
Tristan, about to question how they knew it would come to pass, paused to think. He stared at then, but did not look. A minute ticked by before he focused.
“Does Elianas have a power to be employed within the Path?”
Utter silence.
Then the Syllvan all moved. Giant heads craned towards each other and a rapid, intense communication ensued, mostly in silence, but with significant arm waving and otherworldly grunts and clicks.
Tristan watched them and realised he had stumped them. Thus he waited and wondered what form the answer would take.
“How do you know Elianas has power?”
“We all know he has power.”
“We mean an added power, young lord.”
“Quilla suggested it,” Tristan frowned.
“Ah, the Q’lin’la would not make a mistake, we agree. He further suggests Elianas has a power that may be used to exit the inner space of the Path?”
“That was my reading, yes.”
The central Syllvan remarked to his fellows, “Elianas must have control of energy.”
“Is it possible?” a companion asked.
“Elixir has control over all space and time, thus it is not unlikely the Eternal Companion controls energy. They do complete each other.”
“Can it be used to break from the sanctum?”
“We have wondered how they would be removed,” the central one murmured. “Perhaps this is the way of it.”
“Perhaps,” another affirmed.
Tristan paced forward. “I have a boon to ask.”
“Yes?”
“Three questions, please.” He bowed.
“Three we grant.”
“Thank you.” He retreated to his position. “Would you agree Torrullin and Elianas are locked in an ancient battle for control of each other?”
“Yes,” the central trunk said.
“In what manner would eternal control take place?”
All the Syllvan moved to look at the central figure, which was quiet so long Tristan feared he would not receive even a semblance of an answer. He exercised patience, knowing it was his only weapon.
“They were equal once, and yet walked away from ultimate control. We assumed they had not again achieved complete equality, engaged still in a battle of wills from an ancient time. Now it is revealed Elianas has added power and it places them level once more. We must assume both are aware of this, if not the form of it. Awareness must lead to the desire for control as it has before. They walked away then, and may do so again.”
The Syllvan paused. “I have not answered your question, for I am not certain it is an answer you have the right to. Yet I shall say this in the hope it satisfies; there is a line between sorcerers of equal power that must be crossed by one for ultimate control to be assumed. It means one dominates, the other submits. How they cross the line may not be revealed, and we may not tell exactly what that line is. That is all.”
Tristan swore inwardly.
“Final question,” another prompted.
“Beyond speaking to Tymall, is there anything we might do to aid our friends on the Path?”
He was shocked by the answer he was given.
“Not directly, no, but in the aftermath Torrullin will require your support to overcome his grief,” the central trunk replied.
Tristan burst out, “Grief? Who dies, damn it?”
No answer came forth.
“Please tell me!”
The Syllvan as a team watched him sadly and then the grotto was gone, and he stumbled on the cobbles of the Keep’s courtyard, without an answer he now desperately sought.
He swore, this time uncaring of who heard or what anyone thought.
Valaris
Near the Eastern Range
TIGHT-LIPPED, TRISTAN waited with Tianoman at the designated site of portal in the hilly farmland of north-eastern Valaris.
He stomped about for warmth, wearing his anger like armour. It was a few minutes to the ten bells hour.
“Gods, Tris, what’s gotten into you?”
“Cryptic fucking answers, that’s what.”
“Not Caballa?” Tianoman muttered.
“Leave her out of this.”
“Cousin, sometime you have to accept she slept with Torrullin and loved him.”
“I do, damn it. Shut up.”
“I know you do, but it only goes as far as learning they shared something you have not. You must accept Torrullin has power beyond our imagination and Cab…”
“Shut up!”
Tianoman shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“How would you feel if Aislinn had a relationship with, say, me, and it is over, was over before you married her …”
“Did you have a relationship with her?” Tianoman snapped out.
Tristan gave a wry grin. “See?”
Tianoman glared at him.
“No, dumb ass, I didn’t have anything with Aislinn,” Tristan sighed. “Gods, I am at least twelve years older than her. Use your head, man.”
Tianoman looked away. “I get your point.”
“Fantastic,” Tristan muttered.
The portal opened as a rough doorway-sized opening, with grey-white mists swirling beyond. In the dark of Valaris, it was unmistakable.
A shadowy form moved there.
“Tian?”
“Father!” Tianoman called out, forgetting everything. He rushed at the opening, but was brought up short by an invisible barrier. “I cannot pass through!”
From the mists Tymall emerged. He stood a foot away. “This is as far as I may go also.” He smiled. “It does my heart good to see you, son.”
“I miss you,” Tianoman said. “Every day.”
“As I miss you,” Tymall said, a catch in his voice. He cleared his throat and looked beyond Tianoman. “Ah, Valaris, stars, night, winter, beauty.” His eyes squeezed shut. When he reopened them, he found Tristan. “You must be Samuel’s son.”
“I am Tristan. My god, you look like my father.”
“And you look like mine,” Tymall murmured.
“Father,” Tianoman said, and then could say no more.
“I hear you are Vallorin, my son. I am very proud of you; your mother would be proud of you.”
Tianoman nodded, unable to speak.
Tristan said, “Tian will be a father soon.”
Tymall’s grey eyes brightened. “That is wonderful news!”
Tianoman laughed. “A boy!”
“Vallorin, married and an expectant father? You are blessed indeed. Your mother and I did something right,” Tymall said. “My father saw that clearly. How is he?”
“He is well,” Tristan said. “Presently, shall we say, challenged?”
Tymall stared through the transparent barrier, his smile slipping. Tianoman, after a blink, remained neutral. Tymall glanced at his son, and then, “What trouble is my father in?”
Tristan said, “Nothing he cannot handle, uncle.”
“Then why was this meeting requested?”
“For me,” Tristan replied. “For understandi
ng. I am now Kaval leader and …”
“He abdicated? Why?”
“He could not do it anymore.”
Tymall nodded. “I knew it would get to him. You seek to understand the enigma that is Torrullin, do you? Why ask me?”
“I was told you could help.”
“I do not see how. I don’t understand him.”
“I think it has to do with the Path of Shades.”
“I put my life in danger to speak of shadows?” Tymall frowned. “I stand here eagerly, because I die every day to see my son’s face, but I cannot believe the Syllvan orchestrated this meet for a mundane reason. You want honesty from me, Skyler, you be honest with me. What trouble is my father in?”
“I was warned to say nothing.”
“Why?”
“You would demand access.”
Tianoman drew slow breath.
Tymall glanced at him again and refocused on Tristan. “That bad? Tell me.”
“No.”
“Then we have nothing further to talk about.”
Tristan inclined his head. “Very well. I shall leave you two to it …” He paused with a strange smile. “Ah, I see. You are as stubborn as he is, except I could never have denied him the way I have you. I must learn to say no.”
“He demands of you?”
“I demand of myself to emulate him.”
“That will destroy you.”
“As it nearly did you?”
“Tris!” Tianoman gasped.
Tymall blinked. “They call you ‘Tris’? Gods, run into another realm, and still my brother can haunt me. And, Tris, trying to emulate my father did destroy me. It has been a long, hard journey back to a sense of self, and the only reason I achieved it is the young man beside you - his birth, his newness. You are immortal - yes, it can be felt - and thus you will not know the salvation that comes with fatherhood.” He shrugged. “Whoever told you to speak to me to gain understanding, did well. Learn from that.”
Tristan bowed his head. “I intend to.”
“Good. Now, as regards the Path, it cannot be told, only shown.”
“And we have a barrier between us.”
“Fortunately,” Tymall said. “Tell me what is wrong with my father.”
“Tris, tell him,” Tianoman said.
“Not without guarantee,” Tristan said. “And that is already pushing it.”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 84