“Your name, master?” Torrullin prompted.
“Wixell, my Lord.”
Torrullin gave Elianas’ name, who was similarly clasped. “Master Wixell, who is presently in charge of the archives?”
“That would be Brother Tas, my Lord.” He gestured to the left. “Shall I call him?”
“If you would have him meet us in the archive chamber. And, Wixell, we prefer anonymity, we are not staying.”
The master nodded and headed off to the left.
Torrullin led Elianas to the right.
“You always prefer anonymity.”
Torrullin did not reply. They came to ornate double doors set below ground level, reached by two descending broad steps. The doors were closed due to maintenance of climactic conditions for the old scrolls, but not locked. He drew one side open and they entered a gently lit space, closing the door behind them.
Inside it was a cool. A comfortable chamber was filled with desks and easy chairs. All was in silence. The study area, a place to read in peace. Beyond laid shadowy shelves filled with scrolls and books. Luvanor’s long history, stemming from the time of the Nine and the Taliesman, lay documented in there somewhere. The far older history of the Luvans lay documented only in Teighlar of Grinwallin’s head.
The door opened behind them and Master Wixell preceded an older Brother in. Brother Tas was a Valleur in every sense of the description, but had reached the concluding century of his long life, for he finally showed his age in the lines upon his face. Valleur aged markedly into old age only in the last hundred years.
“My Lord.” Brother Tas bowed.
“Well met, Brother. This is Elianas.”
The Brother studied the dark man frankly. “Well met, Elianas. You are Valleur, if I am not mistaken.”
Elianas bowed his head, hiding his surprise. “I am, Brother Tas.”
“The colours are mixing on Luvanor,” Tas murmured. “Our beloved Tristamil couldn’t be described as a Golden in appearance, hmm?”
“He was Golden where it counted,” Elianas said.
Brother Tas nodded sagely. “Yes, he was, and is.”
Torrullin shifted and said, “Brother Tas, it has been told me a package was left here nineteen years ago.”
The Brother nodded. “Krikian’s legacy, yes.”
Torrullin lifted an eloquent eyebrow, and Wixell said, “Tas, where is it, I will get it.”
“My bones are slow now, yes. Go back to Testament Section, Wixell. There’s a blue lockbox with a small dragon on.” The old man sighed as Wixell headed in.
Elianas approached him. “Sit, Brother. I hope we did not overly disturb you.” He helped the man into a seat.
“No, no, it’s the weather - slows me further. Thank you, young man.” He sat and then sent Torrullin an amused grin. “I guess I need not ask you to identify yourself as claimant of this legacy.”
Torrullin smiled, liking the old man. Probably a crotchety individual, but with a pure heart. “Yet, for your records, I shall place my mark where you require it.”
Tas inclined his head and looked up at Elianas. “Young man, fetch that great tome there, will you, and take it to my Lord Torrullin.”
Elianas saw a massive leather-bound dossier lying on a solitary desk. “Torrullin, perhaps you should go to it.”
Torrullin laughed. “Right.”
He headed over and opened it. It was a register. Books and scrolls were signed out, visitors were required to sign in, including young students, and recipients of legacies were to sign a receipt. He paged through, seeing familiar names, which included Lowen’s, the Kaval and various Elders, until he came to an empty sheet. He was three-quarters through the hefty tome. Years lay under his left hand, many years.
Tas said, “Describe a blue lockbox with dragon symbol and quote document 47384 and sign it, my Lord, identifying yourself by name. I shall match it to Krikian’s document later.”
Torrullin found quill and ink, dipped. With a firm hand he did as bid, describing the box, quoting the number, and inscribing his name in full - Torrullin Agripson Valla - and the date. It was Valaris calendar, for he tended to mark time passed by it. 16th day of Redlef, 13905.
He replaced the quill and waited for the ink to dry.
“You must sign,” Elianas said, standing nearby.
“I don’t want to smudge the ink.” He waited a minute more and then, as Master Wixell’s returning footsteps sounded, flexed the fingers of his right hand to reveal a gold ring with a dragon seal imbedded. He turned his hand and pressed the ring to paper, leaving a perfect dragon symbol behind. He flexed his fingers again and the ring disappeared.
Elianas watched the action. “That is Nemisin’s.”
“It is mine. Nemisin ‘borrowed’ it. He was never Dragon,” Torrullin said in a low voice. He closed the file. “He initiated symbiosis; I ended it. Who would you call Dragon?”
Elianas was sombre. “I see why you thought you might be him, before you remembered.”
“Opposites and parallels.”
Then Wixell was there and he placed a fair-sized blue metal box on the table beside the closed file. “There was no key.”
“There is no key,” Tas called out. “Krikian’s note said you would not need one, my Lord.”
Torrullin rested a finger on a tiny rendition of a dragon. “I need no key.”
Wixell helped Tas to rise. “My Lords, we shall leave you here in private.”
Torrullin looked up. “Thank you for your help. We shall leave directly after opening this.”
Brother Tas and Master Wixell bowed and left, closing the door behind them.
Elianas was beside Torrullin. “Krikian knew something of Reaume?”
“Accidentally, he claimed once. I always thought he learned something profound, but he never told me. I do not think he told anyone.”
“Would you prefer I wait outside?”
“No, Elianas, I prefer you next to me.”
Silence, and then, “Open it.”
Torrullin touched a finger to the locked clasp and it sprang open. He lifted the lid and lowered it. An envelope lay on top of other papers. Torrullin’s name was on the envelope.
Drawing breath, he lifted it out and turned it over. A generic Valleur seal was used to wax it closed. He broke the seal and withdrew a single sheet of folded paper. He glanced at his companion.
“A communiqué from the known dead is far harder to read than an inscription on an ancient tomb.” He passed the sheet over. “Read it to me.”
Elianas took it and unfolded. “A letter, dated Dormire 13886, Menllik.”
“My revered Lord
I know my time has come, for the date of my dying was revealed to me in a dream. How hard that was to accept and how hard it is for a dream specialist to decipher his dream of death. I welcome the knowing now, however, for it has gifted me the privilege of preparing. How many can claim they are ready to die?
This letter forms part of my preparations, my Lord, and it is a relief to finally do so. I saw you yesterday on Sanctuary, with Lowen, and am saddened by the distance between you. I believe had Lowen come to you in another time, your future would be different. I know what lies ahead for you, although she does not. The seer is too frightened to look closely at her own future, as I was in confronting mine. You, my Lord, you must know, and thus you set her aside already. It was after seeing you that I decided to write this, while your face remains clear and the questions in your eyes prompt me to truth.
I had a dream of a blue-eyed woman needing a friend, and became her friend. I had another of a grey-eyed man needing certain knowledge, and thus choose to reveal it here. By the time you read this, my Lord, I shall be gone and Lowen will be in your past. Another stands at your side, and dear Saska has passed on. You are no longer Vallorin, although in my heart you will always be so. I am not a seer, as you well know; yet another dream revealed all this to me. Imagine my shock, and imagine how hard it was for me not to say something. The dream also rev
ealed you would not be ready to hear any of this until the dark man stands at your side. I would further hazard a guess here, and say he is the one reading my words to you …”
Elianas and Torrullin stared at each other, and then Elianas returned to the letter, his voice more hoarse.
“Allow me now to proceed with the knowledge I know you seek. You asked whether I had travelled realms during my time with Lowen and her cycles of rebirth, and I replied it was accidental, and that it made neither of us a traitor. Agnimus put that in your mind, and I cursed him until Lowen told me Agnimus has a future role, a service to perform for the Valleur.
My Lord, it was accidental, a stupid move made in fear over Lowen, yet I believe I learned something Beyond that Lowen knows not, and you remain unaware of. Every Valleur knows there are realms after death and you gave us a name to encompass them: Reaume. A Walker, of course, would know, a Walker wanders Reaume, but an Ancient, my Lord, would wander Ariann also.
You are an Ancient, you have remembered by the time you read this, and you know of Ariann. Reaume and Ariann are at war, are they not? And what happens Beyond could well affect our reality, for are we not merely another realm and therefore part of the whole? We are not outside of Reaume or Ariann, and if we claim such, we are fooling ourselves and the concept of uniqueness becomes an arrogant oversight.
My Lord, you seek a way into Reaume, possibly to prevent the war, possibly to aid the Syllvan, or just to know which way the winds of war will blow. The way in is sealed, the direct route, and thus you require means to circumvent a long wander through Reaume, a walk that may take too long to help anyone. By the time you read this, Lowen knows more and will have prompted you to find my lockbox. Do you see how it all fits? Eventually? Nothing remains unconnected forever, for even the vacuum is a realm.”
Elianas looked up. “The man had great insight.”
“More than I expected. Go on.”
“This is what I learned Beyond, my Lord. On the borders of Reaume and Ariann, between, amid and over them, lies another collection of realms known as Lethe …”
Torrullin and Elianas glanced at each other in astonishment.
“… Lethe, as you may know, is a mythological river in ancient tales, the River of Oblivion. This Lethe is much like a river in that it snakes between two beyonds, and I think it may well be much like oblivion also, although that is beyond my knowledge.
Lethe is a shortcut, a backdoor, and from it you may view both Reaume and Ariann and read both Syllvan and Dryad, but, my Lord, only the Enchanter may function there, for Elixir will be uncovered by the shivers he creates automatically in all three spaces. You must leave Elixir behind, truly separated, in our universe, but you do this not only for Lethe, but to prevent the voids of suffering removing Elixir from this realm will result in. Your companion, my Lord, must leave Alhazen behind, separate it as you separate Elixir, for his energy will buckle Reaume and Ariann will be victorious.
How do I know all this? Long hours of dreaming, more of deciphering, and years of research to place it all with a brief travel inadvertently into Lethe itself. Have I worked it out right? I think I have, but ask that you remain wary of those little points that nothing is able to account for. Now you ask how do you separate Elixir and Alhazen and leave them behind? You know the answer, my Lord.
You cross the line.”
The letter fluttered from Elianas’ nerveless fingers and he bent over the table, ashen.
Outside another bell sounded.
Torrullin forced himself to move. He retrieved the letter; found the place Elianas stopped reading - the line jumped out at him. You cross the line. With his voice barely audible, he read on.
“My Lord, I know you are aware of the line between sorcerers of equal and great power, but, I wonder, do you know how to cross the line and what the result will be? I admit I do not know, and there isn’t any advice I may offer even in ignorance … except, perhaps this, No line is eternally crossed, not unless that choice is made. I think I am saying the line could be re-crossed after, but you would know more than I.
This is what I know, my Lord. In the lockbox you will find a map designating the two points of portal entry into Lethe. They are vague, for the locations were given me in a dream - yes, another dream - but the general area should aid you in finding them.
And now my task is done. All my assets have been distributed, my farewell spoken, and I have seen your beloved face a last time. I hope my words find you well, my Lord, and further hope Lethe is proven an unnecessary journey for you. If you do go, know I am thinking about you, and my prayers are with you both.
Yours eternally
Krikian.”
Torrullin folded the letter, put it back and closed the box.
Then he, like to Elianas, leaned against the table and could not utter a single word.
Chapter 48
Aw, hell, secrets again? Blithering blabber, you’re all stupid!
~ Tattle’s Blunt Adventures
Grinwallin
THEY MOVED EVENTUALLY and transported to the Great Hall.
Night was falling, the temperature plummeting further, and they entered the massive space with cloaks wrapped. The lockbox was under Torrullin’s arm. He and Elianas had not yet spoken after the reading, and they would not discuss any of it with the others. This return to Grinwallin was for the sake of manners.
Teighlar had other ideas. He had ordered a full supper and had the table placed near one of the fireplaces. He invited them to stay, eat, and they did so rather than have to explain the need to get away.
“Well?” Quilla demanded as they settled into a starter of thick chicken soup. “Did you find the package?”
Torrullin had slid it onto his lap as he sat, not about to let it out of his sight. He tapped it metallically. “Yes.”
Tristan, dunking bread, asked, “And?”
“A letter, that is all.”
“You have read it?”
Torrullin undid his cloak and let it fall over the backrest of his chair. “We read it, but there isn’t much to tell. Krikian knew the date of his death and was saying farewell.”
Tristan was disappointed. “That’s it?”
“Yes.” Torrullin ate methodically.
“That is not all, or you would not have had to wait nineteen years,” Teighlar murmured.
Torrullin shrugged. “Tell me of Alhazen.”
Quilla’s eyes flicked to Elianas, and his mouth formed a circle.
A wry chuckle. “Never mind. That says it all. No doubt Elianas can fill my blanks in.”
Elianas rose, pulling his cloak around him. “Thank you for the invite, Emperor, but I find myself without appetite. Torrullin, I shall see you at home.”
He walked away, and as he walked he vanished.
Torrullin had not looked at him, but he had pushed his bowl aside.
“Gods, what?” Caballa burst out. “Don’t you go off without explaining.”
He stared around the table and then stood and fastened his cloak in place. Tucking the box under his arm, he said, “It is a letter, but what it contains is personal, very, and explosive. Forgive me, but this I cannot share with you.”
Quilla was on his feet. “Promise me this, Enchanter.”
“If it is in my power this time.”
“Promise you will not enter Reaume without saying so first.”
“I must go.”
He vanished, and Quilla slumped in his seat.
Avaelyn
ELIANAS’ CLOAK LAY in a dark, discarded pool in the atrium, and Torrullin retrieved it as he walked through.
He went on to the library, left the box there, and then headed the other way to the chamber Elianas refitted as a study. He found the man amid a pile of boxes, tearing them open. He threw the cloak through the air and Elianas jerked when it smacked into him.
“We must talk about it,” Torrullin said, unclasping his own cloak. With studied form, he hung it over his arm.
“I am not sleeping with
you for expediency’s sake.”
“Perhaps it will hurt less.”
“Fuck off; it will hurt more. Go away.” Elianas kicked the cloak and started removing books from the carton at his feet.
“Elianas, I was awake the night of betrayal.”
The man stiffened and then launched a book. A moment later he tossed book after book in fury, his face a mask of pure hatred.
Torrullin stood quite still as volume after volume smacked into him. Then Elianas tore across the space and flew into him. He gripped, dragged him out and through the dwelling until they stood on the ledge of Torrullin’s bedroom. There he tossed him aside.
“You were awake, here? I have gone on thinking the betrayal was mine? Not only did you know what I would do, but you participated knowingly? Who betrayed whom, for fuck’s sake? And then went on to wipe my people from the face of Akhavar? Where was my betrayal, and how could you allow me to think it? I should kill you right here, but you are a true immortal, and so am I! Where is the right in all this?”
“We discovered the line, Elianas.”
“And we have been fighting it ever since. If you were awake, you could have prevented all of it.” Elianas loosed a punch to hit Torrullin squarely on the jaw.
He reeled back. “I deserve that.”
“You deserve to die,” Elianas said. He paced away and stood there staring into the star-filled night.
“I deserve to live forever. Death would be too easy.”
“How great are your wings, Torrullin?”
A shadow moved in the dwelling and both saw it simultaneously. They hurtled after it at a full run, and laid hands on the intruder at the same time.
Quilla quivered. “I wanted to help, I swear.”
“You intrude!” Torrullin roared.
Elianas’ stare was an icy glare as he released the birdman. “Did you tell Tristan where we are?”
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