“We were ripe for renewed battle. We have scores to settle and the period of calm is now sundered. Last night, in this reality, our wings were spread - it has never been seen in this realm. Whether we like it or not, we must enter Lethe, because it is an opportunity to fight together before we fight each other.”
“Torrullin, explain the line.”
Torrullin clambered to his feet, kicking bare toes at leaves.
“Beyond magician lies sorcerer and beyond is enchanter. There the Goddess of Souls steps in. She is the gathering of knowledgeable souls, and together they are like a river of pure light preventing equal powers colluding to become gods. It is a boundary, for beyond it lays terrible strength. Even lumin power dare not make a pact with another lumin to cross over, for Light joined would blind all eyes.
“Yet, and this is the potency, the Goddess can be crossed, and nothing can prevent what lies beyond. There is massive agony to overcome, but even that ceases if will is strong. The line exists only for men, Tristan, and is crossed during sex.” He paused to shrug at Tristan’s stony expression. “It is the physical path - briefly two can become one.” He paced away, his voice hoarse. “There is a way to cross the line as brothers of the soul, but this must absolutely be the choice. Crossing as brothers is harder to achieve.”
Tristan stood and stretched. “Did you attempt to cross the line last night?”
“We brought it out and tested how far the possibility of unity goes, and discovered it beyond reach.”
Tristan paced away, and it became an angry stalk before he came to a halt again.
“I don’t get how this happened to you. I see how time has been a burden, but not this. I remember when I was ten how you spoke to me about dreams on the castle battlements. I remember how calm you were, how … whole. There was no sense of this turmoil radiating from you now. Where is that man? How did he allow this?”
“I recently returned from the Hounding, and released guilt. I was calm.”
“But you didn’t release all guilt, did you? You hadn’t remembered the longer past. And if that larger guilt was with you then, you proved above it. You were whole, Torrullin, and now you are not. Why this baggage?”
“The simple answer is Elianas. The man himself. He is the reason there is turmoil, guilt, fracturing, attraction, power, desire, shadow wings, evil, light, nobility, a line, a purpose, a clouded future, a past, war, taunting and brinkmanship.”
“You are not explaining why.”
“I am not going to.” Torrullin crossed his arms. “I have told you more about my past than I have another, and have broken the enchanter’s law in revealing the line, and now I ask you to help me, but I am not going to tell you why Elianas is important to me, not the real reasons, or why I do not turn my back on him. If you need that understanding as qualification of aid …”
“Of course not.”
“Then let it rest. All you need understand now is that you must keep us apart physically and stand as conscience to temper the excesses of war.” He smiled without guile. “Can you do that, please?”
Tristan laughed. “Try and stop me. I am intrigued.”
ELIANAS HAD COFFEE brewing.
As they entered the kitchen, Torrullin asked, “How much did you hear?”
Elianas flicked an upward glance. “Most of it. You left stuff out.”
“Naturally.”
“I wish you answered the why question.” A laugh. “You knew I was there. Damn.”
Torrullin laughed as well and said to Tristan, “I’m off to have a shower before we return to Grinwallin.” He inclined his head towards Elianas, and left.
Tristan understood he was to pick at Elianas now. The thought did not sit well.
Elianas put two mugs on the counter. “I will not add anything, so forget it.”
Tristan shrugged and accepted a mug. With murmured thanks, he left the kitchen to wander around the dwelling that was part mountain and part man. He wandered into the atrium and then beyond into the natural garden until he came to a stone bench. There he sat; sipping the brew and watching the sun go down an Avaelyn.
As expected, Elianas was not long in joining him.
They sat a time in silence before Elianas said, “You look like him, yet I am not remotely drawn to you in the manner you question. That should prove it isn’t about appearance, but more about what is under the surface. Unlike Torrullin, I do not regard it as a trap. I see it as freedom.”
Tristan finished his coffee and twisted on the bench to look at Elianas. He did so openly, his gaze travelling the entire length of the man.
Dark eyes smiled into his. “You are wondering where the allure is.”
“No, I see that. There is no denying how you look.”
A blink. “You wonder then what it is like to touch a man.”
“I guess - not that I want to touch you.”
“I wasn’t about to offer. And it is about touching Torrullin, not a man.”
Tristan looked away.
“I did not understand either; until I did touch.” A faraway look settled into the dark man’s eyes. “His blood sings loud and the melody ripples in his skin. When you touch it, you hear it, you are part of the song within.”
Tristan swivelled back to him. “Power?”
“Magic. Natural, unfettered and gloriously beautiful, entrancing, altering.” He turned his gaze on Tristan; deep sadness lurked there. “It is the music. In the end, in the very end of everything, it is his music. He does not know, but when he understands, this will be done at last.”
“My god, Elianas.”
A ragged breath. “Someone needed to know. You, because you know much else now.”
The sun dipped below the horizon and the chill of an autumn night was in the air. “Elianas, I want you to touch me.”
“I am not drawn to you. I doubt you have music.”
“Nevertheless. Call it a control experiment.” Tristan undid the buttons on his tunic and pulled it wide. “Will this do?”
Elianas shifted to place one hand on Tristan’s stomach. His touch was warm and he pressed down, closing his eyes to listen.
Then he withdrew his hand and shifted so that his head dipped below the bench’s backrest. He laid his cheek on Tristan’s stomach, and Tristan felt a chill travel up his spine imagining Torrullin seeing that vanishing head.
Elianas straightened, grinning. “I heard that and it scared me too. Cover up and relax. There is nothing to hear.”
“Thank god.”
“By the way, you feel completely different.”
“Why tell me that?” Tristan buttoned up.
“Thought you would like to know.”
Ah, Caballa. “Yes, you’re right. Thank you.”
Elianas rose and bowed his head. “He was right to bring you.”
He headed back in and Tristan followed when the cold finally got to him.
WHEN HE ENTERED it was to find Torrullin dressed and armed.
“There you are. Tris, come, we must get you ready.” With a jerk of his head he indicated Tristan come with him and led the way from the library to his bedchamber.
Tristan looked around curiously. He wondered how Torrullin slept when winter arrived; it had to get freezing in here. A noise caused him to look beyond the arch in the far wall - ah, Elianas. Well. He followed Torrullin into a dressing room.
“United front, Tris, that is what we must project. I want you to dress as I do.”
“No problem.”
“Help yourself, then, and join me in the library after.” Torrullin left.
Elianas, lounging in the doorway a few moments later, enlightened him. “He expects resistance when we return to Grinwallin. Thus we are to come sauntering in looking and acting like a team.”
The dark man was in black, including gloves and cloak, and was likewise armed. Sword, dagger, knife and probably a few other surprises.
“Are we a team?”
“We must be, and then we hope Torrullin and I do not lose sig
ht of the real target.” Elianas pushed away from the wall and entered. “Hurry - tensions mount.” He eyed the array of clothes. “Be warm, yet able to take off, we are not taking gear, and we will be moving fast. How sharp is your sword?”
“Sharp.” Tristan disrobed to pull Torrullin’s black clothes on. Within minutes he was transformed.
Elianas stared at him. “Remarkable. Now it is hard to tell you apart.”
Tristan strapped his sword on again. “Caballa won’t like this.”
“Don’t say much, is my advice. The more you say, the more anxious she will be.” He tossed a cloak. “Go wash your face, Tristan; you are tense.”
Elianas ambled away, leaving Tristan staring after him.
TEN MINUTES LATER he joined Torrullin in the library. He was scrutinised. “How sharp is your sword?”
Tristan, amused, replied, “Sharp.”
“It’s not funny.”
“Elianas asked the same thing,” Tristan murmured by way of explanation.
“Ah. Come, choose a dagger. Have you a knife?”
“One in each boot.” Tristan closed in on the desk and noted the row of blades displayed. “We’re going in armed.”
“We have not been to Lethe, may as well be ready.”
“A gun would be better.” Tristan lifted a dagger, then another.
“Guns do not work in realms.”
Tristan was astonished. “Really?”
“Yes, and thank the gods. At least we will not find cannons and missiles pointing at us.”
Tristan chose a slim dagger and hooked it to his belt.
“Elianas!” Torrullin hollered.
Elianas came in and approached the table, looking down. “I see you have added to your collection. An Aldari hooked knife? Nice. Rare?”
“Very. Do you need anything?”
Elianas opened his cloak eloquently and let go.
Torrullin waved a hand and the daggers vanished. “Is the house secure?”
“Done.”
“Then one thing left to do.” Torrullin pulled a dagger from his belt and raised it to his head. He gripped a handful of hair.
Elianas caught his wrist. “What do you want to do that for? You always get pissed off when you hack at your hair. Why take it off? To draw attention to yourself?”
“I sincerely hope you mean attention in Lethe.”
“Yes, I mean Lethe.”
“Valleur traditionally shave their heads before battle,” Tristan murmured. “I will do it, too.”
Elianas did not even look at him. Staring at Torrullin, he said, “Leave your hair. I like your hair.”
Torrullin pulled away. “You are taking yours off, too.” He put the knife up.
“No fucking way.” Elianas passed a hand over the straight smoothness of his dark hair. “This face was not meant for the shaven look.”
The knife froze in Torrullin’s hand and then he loosed a snort. “Vanity, Elianas?”
The man crossed his arms. “Absolutely.”
Torrullin’s knife hand dropped and he doubled over in laughter. “You are priceless!”
Elianas winked at Tristan. “Let me be vain for you. Just leave the hair.”
Torrullin straightened, swallowing his mirth. His eyes glittered. He replaced the dagger at his belt. “I like your hair, too.”
Elianas grinned. “I know.”
Tristan drew breath. “Listen, wait. I feel singularly unprepared, hair or not, armed and dressed to look the part notwithstanding. You two have spent hours figuring strategy. At no time today have I given thought to the fact I might be fighting for my life soon. I am stumbling over my feet here and, damn it, I’m hungry.”
Both men stared at him and Elianas laughed. Torrullin said, “You are right and I am sorry.”
Elianas paced forward. “Let us get out of here and go eat and talk somewhere else - an interlude. I could use the downtime myself.”
“Fine. Where?”
“The lake,” Elianas suggested. “The moon has risen.”
Torrullin stared at him. “You are aware of the moon before a confrontation?”
“Elemental, that’s me. Well?”
Torrullin’s eyes narrowed. “Lead the way.”
Elianas gave a mock salute and was gone.
Torrullin stared at the empty space, muttering, “What is he up to?” He then turned in a slow circle. “All is secure. Let’s go.”
Chapter 56
Elemental magic begins with nature’s beauty. Harnessing it to effect, whether benign or to cause harm, is sorcery.
~ Steps of the Magical Condition
Avaelyn
ELIANAS WAS ON the lakeshore looking for all the universe like a marauder in the night.
The moonlight cast him in silhouette, its bright beam a streak across the water that ended at his feet, and his cloak moved in the low breeze.
Torrullin hissed when he saw him.
Tristan frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“Just stay like that, Elianas. See how long you can stand it.”
Mocking laughter came at them.
“Bloody man,” Torrullin muttered, and set about conjuring a meal.
Every so often he glanced at Elianas, shaking his head. When a sumptuous feast was ready for consumption, he sat and started to eat. Tristan, bemused, folded down and began wolfing in food.
“What’s he doing?”
“Nothing.” Torrullin was clearly peeved.
“Torrullin, sort it out. You need a clear head.”
On his feet immediately, Torrullin strode to Elianas. He took the man’s arm and pulled him roughly along the shore until they were beyond hearing.
Tristan chewed on, wondering when he would get the opportunity to eat properly again. The thought of going into Lethe was more and more uncomfortable.
“TRISTAN’S RIGHT. You are messing with my head.”
“He said that?”
“It’s what he meant.”
“He means you are letting me mess with your head.” Elianas walked on. “We have gone beyond reasonable tally, Torrullin. I am weary of this.”
Torrullin was behind him, keeping pace. “That was not the impression I had in the cave.”
“Maybe I cannot help myself.”
“Nonsense.”
“Your wings spread first and you dared do so in this reality.”
“What the fuck do you want from me? Really?”
Elianas swung around and stopped. His features were in shadow. “Ceasefire.”
Dead silence.
“Ceasefire, Torrullin. A mutual ending of hostilities.”
More silence.
Elianas laughed. “I knew you would not agree. This is not my war, is it? I am fighting your war.”
“Elianas, when you stand in the beam of the moon you are not saying I want to end this. You are saying look at me and know me.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
More silence. “Maybe you need to be more specific.”
“Maybe, my brother, you should look harder. These days you delve no further than surface.”
“You halt me as I look deeper.”
“You halt yourself. I have not given as much as I do now.”
Torrullin muttered an oath. “I remember the night you stood in icy water and shouted at the moon. I remember the wounds you had and how you dared the gods to scoop you up in the beam to take you away forever and, by god, I remember how angry you were when I pulled you away. Do you know why I did so? It was not because I thought you were being fanciful and it was not the sight of your blood dripping into the water or that I thought you might be cold, or crazy. I pulled you away because I thought you might succeed. I was being fanciful, but I was also terrified I would blink and you would be gone and I would not again find you.”
Torrullin took a step that took him into Elianas’ space.
“Do not tell me I look no further than surface. I know how much you mean to me and I also know I am not alone in this.”
&n
bsp; “Do you know why I wanted it to take me? Did you understand and do you understand why I request ceasefire? The reason is the same for both. Can you answer?”
Silence again.
“Do you know why I was angry, and do you understand it is that anger I remind you of now?”
Torrullin lowered his head. His forehead rested on Elianas’ shoulder. “I am lost, I think.”
Elianas’ chest rose and fell. “Yes, you are, and thus we fight on. We continue to dance.” He lifted Torrullin’s head and his fingers spread over those cheeks before he stepped away. “We need to talk to Tristan, set his mind at ease.”
He stepped around Torrullin to return to where Tristan ate.
Torrullin returned more slowly, deep in thought.
TRISTAN DREAMED.
He was in the Throne’s presence back at the Keep, except it was different. The walls were not fawn stone, but ebony black, and the dais seemed an extension of it, while the small space was hexagonal and far larger. A blue star on a rounded ceiling gave off eerie light. The Throne was most changed. It was a-fire, a cold blaze, and in that illumination was a figure embraced by two fiery arms. He dared step closer to see who it was. The fire touched him and he was shivering cold.
Torrullin.
Tristan awakened and sat up, disorientated.
It was dawn on Avaelyn, and beside him Torrullin slept.
On his other side Elianas twitched.
ELIANAS DREAMED.
In his hand was a bloody knife and he stared at it, and then moved his gaze. Someone lay nearby; a hand clutched at a neck, a man dying. He stared at the knife again, and dropped it. He crawled. There was blood everywhere, he could not see the man’s face and did not know how it happened. Had he done this?
He reached out. And snatched his hand away. Ice cold. How? The man was alive, if dying. He reached out again to wipe blood from the face, to know who it was, to help.
Torrullin?
Torrullin - dying.
He screamed soundlessly, and fought free of his sleeping bag, lurching from it.
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 111