Elianas was on his feet. “Torrullin, I came here to play your little niche game, but this I shall not stand for. Kalgaia must be left out of this.”
Torrullin folded his arms. “The responsibility is yours.”
Teighlar leaned back, preparing to enjoy himself.
Quilla, more aware of the truth behind Kalgaia, said, “Elianas, let it rest.”
Elianas licked his lips. “You are right.” He lowered to a seat.
Caballa reasoned, “It’s a race name, and you, being the last, became known by it. The Oracles weren’t started until second or third cycle, were they? Nemisin as we know him knew only one dark Valleur. It’s the myth of Kalgaia that scared him.”
“It is not relevant,” Elianas said.
“It is now,” Tristan said. “Speak of the danger or it could get loose.”
Elianas glanced at Torrullin. “My responsibility, you say?”
“I know my part in it.”
“Very well. Allow me to tell you why I am known by a name that is a word of power. It will explain why I remain in the shadows, and why Torrullin keeps me from the Golden.”
Chapter 51
Students of magic will have heard of a line, a magical concept no one will explain. There is a line, yes, but the student needs become a master of masters to also become aware of its truth.
~ Steps of the Magical Condition
Grinwallin
Painted Chamber
ELIANAS WAS HYPER-TENSE on the edge of his seat.
He tucked his long hair behind his ears and when he spoke it was in an emotionless tone, almost as if he spoke by rote.
“In the beginning, when the Mother was still quite young, she created a race of amazing bipedal creatures. They were clever, talented, swift and beautiful. The Golden, the Valleur, Masters of the Universe, or thus it was written by Nemisin. However, as the lady seer says, Nemisin did not put quill to parchment in the first cycle, and he was not lying either; he did not know better. Thus, let me start again.
“In the beginning the Mother created a race of amazing bipedal creatures. They were indeed clever and all the rest of it, but they were not merely Golden. They were the Valleur, yes, and there were two kinds, the Golden - or Lorin - and the Dark - the latter taking on the name I shall not speak. They lived together in harmony, for there was little difference between them, and all was good. Nemisin never became Vallorin, for a ruler was not needed.
“That was first cycle, and I was not born, and Torrullin would come only later. The Valleur moved on, were absorbed within other races, and time meandered on. There was peace, a perfectly balanced universe. Perfect balance, as you now know, is not an ideal situation, and it did not work long. The Mother was still young when everything simply stagnated. Enter Torrullin, the One who would shake it loose.”
Caballa frowned and, while Elianas did not see it, he felt the question.
“Allow me to unravel this little conundrum. How could Torrullin be born in a stagnating universe to a Guardian and a Golden raised in awareness of what the Golden were, when both dark and gold were absorbed into the fabric of a general society? First, Millanu, his mother, was different. She was aware of parallels, and that never changed. Taranis, of course, was of the race I cannot mention by name. He was not human. Torrullin, in birth, was gifted the trueblood of the Valleur, and in him lay both kinds. It unsettled him, agitated him, and he asked questions.”
“A trueblood?” Tristan said.
“Not by Golden standards,” Torrullin said. “Don’t interrupt again.”
“Wait,” Teighlar said. “Taranis was not human? Did he know?”
Torrullin shook his head.
“Did you know?”
“Not until I remembered before the restoration of Kalgaia.”
“Neat,” Teighlar murmured, “these puzzle pieces. And I thought my tale was a complicated one.”
“Uncomfortable, my brother?” Elianas whispered. “We reveal not only that you are a trueblood, but the truest blood. You are half my kind, yet I alone carry the curse.”
“Go on with the story.”
Elianas inclined his head and looked at no one in particular.
“Torrullin was born asking questions. He chose immortality over longevity, because Valleur long life gradually vanished. At the time of his birth, life expectancy had dropped to two hundred years, when it should have been a minimum of three thousand. He sensed the Valleur were meant for more, but had to stand by with a limitless future at his call and watch stagnation strangle most everything. He went on, and when he found himself in those early times, change set in.
“He loved the ancient Golden, but he was enchanted by the grace of the dark people. Of course, he had power, and rose to the fore as a renowned sorcerer, and it naturally had a domino effect. Others rose up to counter one they believed could be a threat, and thus mediocre talent became full-blown, a life’s work. The Valleur as a race of sorcerers was born. This was when they began to separate. My people saw Torrullin as a leader, while the Lorin regarded him as a threat.
“Enter Nemisin. Torrullin built Kalgaia, Nemisin his glorious mountain enclave. Torrullin healed, Nemisin bribed … and so on. They were at loggerheads from the start. Torrullin conceived of a Throne, Nemisin stole the design, and on and on it went. Enter Elianas, dark youngling of a good, noble family, betrothed to Nemisin’s daughter Cassiopin, and with a talent potentially to rival that of Lord Sorcerer. I was born in second cycle, in Kalgaia, the most beautiful city ever built, and I was apprenticed to the man I was to spy on.”
Elianas drew breath.
“By now you have guessed some of what happened after, but I shall lay it out. In cycle two I found I was attracted to Lord Sorcerer, and fought it. He said nothing, and I got married. That is where it ended. In cycle three I knew at birth there was more. I chose immortality and betrayed Torrullin. How is not your business. It was betrayal, however, which led to murder, and murder led to more killing, which led to the greatest cover-up in Valleur history.
“The annihilation of Kalgaia became a tale of myth, for it was so terrible it could not be real, and Lord Sorcerer was branded Darak Or and I his creature. It was a crime used as an example of what not to do, and the dark Valleur became synonymous with evil and their name became a curse.”
He drew breath again.
“As immortal I went on with guilt and like to Torrullin found Valleur in the future who were not the ideal of a master race. It was not stagnation - it was chaos. Power, as Teighlar mentions, had not been protected. Nemisin was revered as the one who routed Lord Sorcerer, his creature, and an evil city and its people. If you wanted to curse someone, you used that name. The name of my people became a word of power.
“And then came fourth cycle, and the tale of the Valleur, as you know it, commenced. Nemisin came to power. The Throne he sat on was not his creation, although he did cast it. He perceived Torrullin as a threat, me as an ally, and Kalgaia was a myth to him, a scary fantasy of what-if. He abused his power and we decided to teach him a lesson. The truth about Kalgaia was revealed to him and, trust me, he could not doubt, and thus he learned the concept fear. The word of power took on terrible meaning, Lord Sorcerer was the ultimate enemy and Elianas the ultimate betrayer.
“He made a deal with Neolone, he became the first enchanter, the first Vallorin, and he tweaked time to destroy the Diluvans, thereby consolidating his power base, and cursed us anew. In this fourth cycle Torrullin and I realised we could not again alter everything, and thus commenced the long ages of hiding. Torrullin chose a forced, magically induced amnesia, and I chose to make the Throne a sentient entity. Nemisin started writing, the Oracles were born and once born could not be removed. We had to go into hiding until now.”
Elianas stopped, and spread his hands.
Silence.
Then the questions began.
“This is fourth cycle?” Caballa asked.
“Yes.”
“Where did you go after third cycle?�
� Tristan asked. “Were you and Torrullin together?”
“No. What happened to Kalgaia sundered the team we could have been. He went his way until his transference, and I went another way. When we met up again in this cycle, ancient time, it was with full knowledge and full guilt. The fear we put into Nemisin was perhaps unwise, but it did lead to an illustrious future for the Golden.”
“Which was paid for,” Caballa murmured. “Illustrious did not equal peace.”
“Indeed.”
“Did Nemisin know you were of Kalgaia?” Teighlar asked.
Elianas gave a grim smile. “All I had to do was claim the name. The tale of Kalgaia, as he wrote it, was of the X who was so evil he annihilated his city - X being me, and the name of my destroyed people.”
“Why did he record it wrong?” Caballa frowned.
“Payback. I can never claim the name, not without consequence.”
“Who did the killing at Kalgaia?” Teighlar asked. “What I mean is, who did it first?”
Elianas was expressionless. “I was first.”
“Why, by god?” Tristan burst out.
“I refuse to elaborate.”
“Torrullin?”
“It stays between us.” He was as expressionless.
“Torrullin, you should claim trueblood status,” Caballa frowned.
“Then I would have to explain more than I care to.”
“It’s not fair,” she whispered.
He leaned forward. “Fair does not enter into it. First, I would have to claim half Lorin and half the other, thereby unlocking a great horror the current Lorin may never recover from, and, second, I am not enamoured of trueblood status. I do not deserve it, not after Kalgaia.”
“And Elianas? Does he not deserve a place in Valleur society?”
Elianas answered. “Mine was the betrayal and first kill. Mine is the name synonymous with evil. Deserve a place, Caballa? I deserve far less than the hearing I was given here.”
“We deserve only each other,” Torrullin muttered.
“But, Torrullin, since then?” Caballa frowned. “Have you not been saviour and healer? You battled Margus, ended the Dragon symbiosis …”
“Why did the Valleur need a saviour? Why was there a symbiosis to end? Cause and effect, Caballa.”
“You restored Kalgaia.”
“In another time and parallel, but, yes, it has somewhat lessened the burden. It is not enough, however, to reclaim lost innocence.”
“And you, Elianas? You fought a Darak Or also, saved many lives. You healed and aided,” Caballa said.
“It will never be enough to expunge the past.”
Teighlar sighed, long and loud. “This is so depressing.”
“You have not had it easy either,” Torrullin snapped.
Teighlar sat up. “I annihilated a city, Torrullin, murdering thousands, including my sons, and yet a second chance was given me. Why is it so hard to trust there is a second chance for you also, and for Elianas?”
“The Syllvan said ‘noble purpose’,” Quilla murmured.
“It may be so, but we dare not hope,” Torrullin murmured.
“You know, my friend,” Teighlar said, “I am ancient, although not as ancient as Quilla is and until recently Declan and Sabian were. Yet you, and you, Elianas, are beyond every number. I wandered ninety million years as an aware ghost in the city as a ruin, a long time, forever when you are the one wandering - how, in all gods’ names, do you cope with so much time?”
“With difficulty,” Torrullin said.
Elianas laughed.
Teighlar was serious. “How?”
“Transference helps, reincarnation, but those were short-lived. I cannot speak for Elianas, but for me it was either challenge or oblivion. I travelled, which included realms, I reinvented myself periodically, I offered my services to various rulers at various times, I spent time intimately with certain individuals along the way, marriage, sons, family, friends, new sights, new knowledge, study …” Torrullin shrugged and was silent.
“That accounts for maybe a tenth of your time.”
Torrullin laughed and was, for the first time in many days, amused. “Yes, Senlu, a tenth … if.”
“The rest?”
“Realm travel shortened this time, while being uniquely challenging, and there were periods of deliberate oblivion.”
“How?” Caballa asked.
“A cave, a fifty thousand year sleep,” Torrullin said. “Other holes to hide in, other lengths of time. Hibernation.”
She was aghast.
“Did you do that?” Tristan asked Elianas.
“Yes.”
“In this cycle you had the Throne.”
“It helped, yes, for I shut down when the Throne was cloaked.”
“It was often cloaked,” Tristan said. “The Valleur were often at war.”
“Right.”
“Someone should record this,” Caballa murmured.
“Someone should not,” Torrullin said. “And especially not in the Oracles.”
“Teroux and Tian should know,” Tristan said.
Elianas swung to Torrullin to see how he would answer.
Torrullin said, “Tian, as Vallorin, will be honour bound to reveal this terrible tale, and it would be a mistake. The Valleur civilisation of the present is built on lies - it would fail. Tian cannot know of this.”
Tristan blinked. “And Teroux?”
“I love that young man, but Teroux would not understand. Leave him to a future he is able to deal with.”
“He’s right, Tris,” Caballa murmured.
“Yes,” Tristan admitted.
“One matter,” Teighlar said. “A word of power is not unassailable. Surely this curse of a race name can be undone?”
“If you find a way, please tell me,” Elianas said. “I am proud of my heritage, if not of myself.”
Teighlar inclined his head. “I shall give it thought, my friend, this I swear.”
Elianas bowed his head. “Thank you.”
Quilla tapped the map. “With Tristan’s curiosity satisfied, may we return to this?”
TORRULLIN WALKED WITH Tristan from painting to painting explaining what each signified.
The long discussion about stasis and open portals was finally over, and all other eventualities looked at. Quilla returned to the Lifesource on Valaris for a few hours’ sleep and Teighlar went up to the Great Hall to organise a decent meal. He also suggested a guesthouse, and was organising that as well.
Caballa and Elianas talked quietly together; they were the only four in the chamber.
“Torrullin, before we go on, I want to apologise.”
“Whatever for?”
“Earlier I spoke unwisely.”
“Tristan, there are few people I truly trust. On that list now are Quilla, Belun, Caballa and you. I know you can guard tongue and thought.”
“Thank you. I am sorry.” Tristan stared at a painting of fluttering doves. Apparently it meant disturbed peace, a Luvan allusion to the Brotherhood of old. “You don’t trust Teighlar?”
“Teighlar is also a ruler. Some secrets can never be kept when your people are at risk.”
“And Elianas?”
“In some matters I trust him implicitly, but in others not.”
“Do you love him?”
Torrullin moved to the next painting. “This is the vault of the secret royals. Much wealth was hidden here. How do I love him? Is that what you would like to ask, but dare not?”
“I guess.”
Torrullin moved on, walking slowly. “Every soul requires a companion, but this is not to stave off loneliness or to avoid being alone; it is a facet of recognition. We know ourselves most completely through another, much like you and Caballa. I had no such recognition until Elianas entered my life, and that is how I love him. He is my soul mate, which has absolutely nothing to do with gender or desire. I know myself because he is; it is as simple as that. All the rest is the contradictions of our natures and i
n the end cannot affect the true bond.”
“Some would say a soul is by nature alone, and reliance on another subjugates one.”
“You have misunderstood. I do not rely on Elianas to make me whole. My view of self must by nature be subjective, and is, as you are to yourself, but through him I am able to see objectively as well. He does not fill in a blanked facet, he adds to, makes more, and thus I am different to myself. I believe I do likewise for him, but all this happens on a level we do not see, question or even feel. It just is.”
“I can see that for Caballa and me.”
Torrullin gave an amused smile. “Elianas would call this esoteric bullshit. He doesn’t like to admit he can think deep thoughts.”
“There is no shame in it.”
“Says a cosseted Valleur,” Torrullin said. “They laughed at him when younger over certain pronouncements he made in youthful innocence. He has not forgotten.”
“Is he the kind to bear grudges? Yiddin says one can tell a man’s character by how long and how severely a grudge is nurtured.”
“Yiddin speaks through his arse. The man will not live long enough to understand how certain issues keep coming back to haunt one.”
Tristan was surprised by the vehemence. “Elianas bears grudges, I take it.”
“He does not deliberately seek justice, but if a grudge takes form on his path at some point, he deals with it. In this, Tristan, I am no different. Your immortality will teach you this truth as well.”
“What about forgive and forget?”
“A myth. We forgive, but we don’t forget.”
Tristan glanced at Elianas and Caballa. “I guess that’s true.”
Torrullin caught the nuance. “Did you feel you had to forgive her for what happened between us?”
“Not consciously, but yes.”
“And you cannot forget.”
“No.”
Torrullin nodded. “That is how we are made.” He touched Tristan’s arm. “But you answered the real question about the real bond just now. It is the one that matters.”
“Everything else is the contradictions of our natures. I can live with that.”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 107