“I am not a great being, Torrullin, merely a witness to the greatness of others, including you. I have learned salacious tricks along the ways of time, largely by watching sorcerers such as yourself, but I am not a sorcerer or not much of one. My power lies purely in my ability to remember and in the willingness to share what I remember. I would make a poor Elixir for I need stand back in order to see and thus remove myself from the ability to fix anything.”
Torrullin nodded. “What is it you need to share?”
Ixion shot Elianas a glance. “The Danae has been told.”
Torrullin stilled. “And what did the Danae have to do to hear these truths you wished to share?”
Ixion smiled. “Those truths lie between you now.”
Torrullin closed his eyes. “Elianas?”
“Ixion merely confirmed something we already suspected. About what is beyond everything.”
Torrullin opened his eyes, but did not turn to look at Elianas. “That is not quite what I meant.”
Elianas shrugged. “Here, that is all I am giving.”
A nod followed, which appeared fatalistic even to Tristan’s less jaded perceptions. “Very well, we leave it to another time and place.” Torrullin addressed Ixion again. “Reaume is safe?”
“It is and so is Ariann. Lethe will be a barrier far sterner now, but I think you are aware the realms are too linked to place an unassailable divide between them. A time comes when all realms must flow into each other. For now, all will be quiet, particularly Reaume. The Syllvan will require time to restore the Gatekeepers. If you are able, stay away as long as you can and, Torrullin, close the entrance that heralds Digilan; the Syllvan will be too engaged on renewal to watch it as closely as it must be watched.”
“Why this aimless wander in Lethe?”
Ixion grinned. “Weariness leads to a desire for an ending. Your aimlessness brought you here at a point where you were willing to be done in order to go home.”
“You turned him to stone,” Tristan frowned. “Where is aimless and acceptance in that?”
“And I had you on a torture bed, yes,” Ixion murmured.
Torrullin swung around. He stared at Elianas. “Is this true?”
Elianas inclined his head.
“Were you bound?”
Silence.
Torrullin wandered closer with measured steps. “Sacrifice, my brother, is that it? What did you surrender to free us?”
“I told you, not here.”
Torrullin halted before Elianas. “Was this journey about you? Tell me that at least.”
An unblinking stare. “No, it was about you.”
Torrullin licked his lips. “Crap.”
Blink. “Believe it.”
Torrullin glanced at Tristan. “You?”
“Hell, I know less than you,” Tristan muttered.
Torrullin moved away. He ignored Elianas, until he swung around to catch the dark man in the act of pinching his nose with a hand that clearly shook. Elianas froze, dropped his hand and swore.
TRISTAN DREW BREATH, then jerked when Ixion tapped him on the shoulder and bade him retreat, saying there were certain matters that required sharing, matters not revealed to Elianas, matters to be told to Torrullin when he was less concerned with the dark man, matters Tristan would have to reveal, for he, Ixion, was leaving and would be gone before Torrullin finished with Elianas over there, and he was not returning. His time was now complete.
Reluctantly Tristan retreated with the generic man and was soon spellbound by what Ixion told him in a measured voice and showed by placing fingertips on the pulses at his wrists.
TORRULLIN MEANWHILE stalked Elianas, who walked in the opposite direction, saying, “Torrullin, this isn’t the place. Let that clown do his vanishing trick and take his clever words with him, and let us be done with the Syllvan and out of Lethe, and then we may discuss what happened here today with greater equanimity.”
“We require equanimity?”
“We do. Now let it rest.”
“Elianas.”
The dark man stopped. “Do not use that tone with me. I am not a child.” He spread his hands. “Look at this place, Torrullin, this is the between, the nowhere and all over. This is no place to settle a dispute.”
“A dispute was settled here though?”
“Not ours, never ours. Gods, do you want all of it now? Do you even know what you did today?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Elixir was in stone, Ixion’s containing, and Elixir fought to get out and as he fought he visited destruction on the weak worlds. I had to stop you before you did the same to Valaris. I had to make a choice and I stand by that choice, but what form it took is not to be told you here. Gods, be patient, will you? We get to the finer points soon enough.”
Torrullin swirled his tongue in his mouth, eyes darkening with renewed ire. “You saw the destruction I was causing? Did he show you? No? Then how do you know? Is it not likely he used a plausible scenario to force your hand?”
A brief silence. “It is not impossible, but even so, there was Tristan. He was bound, gagged, blindfolded and strapped to that contraption over there, and he was trapped in a glass cage I was unable to break into. Was I meant to leave him like that, because maybe it was in my imagination? Be real, will you? I had no choice.”
Elianas paused and then hurled out, “I am happy with my choice, know that. I do not give a shit what you think. I am relieved certain matters are now beyond my control, and yours. Now, again, I ask that we leave this to another time and place, so we may exit Lethe without further sacrifice. Torrullin, Tristan can still get out alive now. How far will you push this before you see it?”
It halted further argument. Torrullin was aware sacrifice had been in the offing, a necessary device to appease the fates, and he knew before entering Lethe.
Elianas had known, as had Quilla, Teighlar, Declan and even Caballa. They assumed the sacrificial lamb would be Tristan, and now Elianas pointed out that death could be evaded. In fact, he said it had been avoided, but would hold only if questions ceased.
Torrullin sighed. “Fine. Another time and place.”
Elianas paced forward. “This damnable place is strange. Where are the rules? We have not done anything and we expected to fight Dryads.”
“I freely admit I am relieved we avoided it, especially now we know they are Syllvan in nursery. At least the Syllvan will be happy with the outcome, even if Ixion did engineer this sorry mess.”
“You know he engineered it?”
“It was obvious the instant I heard him. He needs to move on. I hope he did not exact too high a price from you.”
Elianas sniffed and gazed into the distance. “I think not.”
“Can it be undone?”
Elianas returned his gaze to the fair man. He ambled nearer and placed his hand on Torrullin’s shoulder.
“It cannot be undone, but it can be remade with time. If you ask that I remake what I lost, however, know your words must have great power and terrible truth in the asking or we find ourselves sundered in a way neither of us have foreseen. Something would be broken, perhaps irreparably.”
“Or the way is made new and the properties of battle are altered. A challenge, Elianas?”
“Indeed, my brother, but you must be prepared to pay the price also.”
Torrullin moved out from under that hand. It was, this once, too heavy. “Fine. I promise to think before asking you to do anything to alter the sacrifice of today.”
“Today cannot be altered, not ever.”
“Let us be gone from here,” Torrullin said. The dark man had shown strength today, and the uncertainty instilled in him a sense of displacement, therefore a sense of vulnerability. He did not particularly enjoy the feeling.
Together they headed back to Tristan and Ixion, and found the generic man gone. Tristan gazed back at them with an enigmatic expression and both men groaned, recognizing the expression for what it was - future trouble.
“Let us go home,” Torrullin suggested.
“Yes, let’s do that,” Tristan said.
Chapter 66
Aw, hell, appearances are deceiving!
~ Tattle
THE WAY BACK to the Syllvan at rest was easier than the way in.
They discovered the trunk sentients in the same state of hibernation and it took concerted calling to wake the four creatures.
A period of explanation followed, which they did not interrupt, not even to enquire after what Elianas sacrificed, and then a period of appreciation ensued.
Thereafter the Syllvan clambered ponderously to their ‘feet’ and stated they were returning to the grotto, there to commence the process of reinstituting the gatekeeper system.
Once that duty was successfully completed, the men returned to the site of portal and found the way barred. Fortunately the Syllvan were aware of the dilemma, and they were taken up by the Gatekeepers of Reaume and released via the grotto into Valaris.
Never had a world’s air smelled as wholesome.
Valaris
THEY BARELY ARRIVED to know themselves back on Valaris before Torrullin had a hold of Elianas’ arm and dragged him aside.
Tristan threaded an irritated hand through his hair and moved away to abet them in the need for privacy, although he doubted Elianas welcomed it. The dark man was not fighting the coercion, but it was also clear he was not happy.
Torrullin stopped, and flung Elianas aside. “Talk.”
Only silence ensued.
“Fine, I will talk,” Torrullin muttered. He hooked his thumbs into his waistband and paced nearer. “Before we entered Lethe we knew there would be sacrifice.”
Elianas interrupted. “Hogwash, Torrullin - we suspected. And everyone thought Tristan would pay the price, while Tristan and I thought it would be you. Well, hello, my brother, every expectation we had has come to naught.”
Grey eyes silvered. “You thought I would pay a price?”
“Yes, but it has not happened.”
“Wrong, it has. I sacrificed you.”
Elianas inhaled raggedly. “What do you mean?”
Torrullin lost interest in the conversation. “I am heading to Grinwallin right away. Gods, go home, will you, and think about what you say to me next.” He gestured at Tristan, calling out, “Grinwallin!”
Tristan inclined his head and was gone from there.
“Wait,” Elianas blurted. “Torrullin, for god’s sake …”
“We are the gods, Elianas. You use our names in vain.”
A slow blink. “Fuck off.” Elianas was gone.
“Yes, brother, that is highly likely,” Torrullin whispered, and followed Tristan to Grinwallin.
Grinwallin
IT WAS MORNING in the Senlu city and a wet fog drifted in to obscure view of the continent beyond the plateau.
The steps of the portico were slick and dangerous. It was early, an hour when few were about. As Torrullin trod the stone steps, he wondered for the first time how much time Lethe had sapped from the linear concept in this reality.
Lethe was a realm of hours interspersed with periods of oblivion. Add it up and the sum could be a few days at the most, but what happened beyond was not often measured the same here.
The Time realm took a year out of reality when it was mere days, and the Void took three years when it was only moments, and the Path of Shades took lifetimes as well as lives.
He slid on the portico and righted himself with a muttered curse. A white-faced Tristan tore through the arches, skidding to a halt when he saw Torrullin.
“Hell, Tris, slow down,” Torrullin said. He shivered in the cold and looked down into the silent city. “It must be earlier than I think.”
“That’s just it,” Tristan whispered, “when is it? Where is everybody, where is Caballa?”
Torrullin frowned. “Meaning?”
“It’s empty. There isn’t a soul in the Great Hall, not a sound or smell. Torrullin, it has an air of abandonment.”
Torrullin strode past him, paling as he went. A discordant note had sounded and it meant something was indeed wrong.
He entered the great space where the Senlu at any time of day and night could be found, and discovered the eerie silence Tristan turned round and around in moments ago.
Tristan was behind him, a heart beating rhythms of fear.
Torrullin, sending a puzzled glance his way, wandered to a nearby pillar. He squinted in the wintry gloom at the spring vines he knew curled around the pillar, and drew a breath and stepped away.
“Check the library,” he told Tristan as he set off towards the stairs that led to the royal chambers.
“What does this mean?” Tristan asked, heading to the library. His voice echoed in the space.
“We could be in the wrong time,” Torrullin called out. He climbed the stairs swiftly and vanished into the system of grottos Teighlar uniquely made his own. He was out an instant later, and stood hyperventilating at the top of the stairs.
Tristan, upon an ashen exit from the library, stared up. “Wrong time or wrong realm?”
Torrullin took in several breaths before he could force himself to move calmly down the stairs.
“Wrong plane,” he said after a few more moments of silence and self-debate. “Teighlar’s apartment shows no sign of ever having been renovated, the paint on the pillars isn’t just faded; the pillars have never been painted. What did you find in the library?”
Tristan stared at Torrullin. “Nothing, not even a shelf, not a rusted nail or a torn page. Nothing.”
Torrullin came to a halt, blinked owlishly in the gloom, and then headed back out into the wintry city. He stood on the portico staring down.
Tristan joined him.
“The Syllvan would not make this kind of error, sending us into another plane. Ixion would not need to flout his power and the sliver has moved on anyway.” He glanced at Tristan. “Do you know anything of the sacrifice Elianas made?”
“You think Elianas caused this? Goddamn it, Torrullin, where’s Caballa in all this?”
Torrullin gazed outward over the snowscape that was Tunin continent. “Caballa is safe where you expect her to be safe. This place does not interfere with that.”
“Would there not be a Caballa here?”
Torrullin shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. I cannot tell from this kind of abandonment. Tristan, talk to me about Elianas.”
“There is nothing to tell. I don’t know. How did this happen? It’s not Elianas, he wouldn’t do this.”
“You don’t know him the way I do.”
Then the dark man put in an appearance. He alighted on the slippery portico, stumbled, and found his footing. A moment later he studied their expressions and then he nodded and faced the view.
“Avaelyn is not Avaelyn as we know it and our house has not seen a sentient sweep in centuries. The bugs and snakes claimed it as home.”
“Grinwallin is deserted,” Tristan supplied. “There is no trace of recent habitation.”
Elianas sucked his cheeks inward and stared in silence over the city.
“Who has the power to force us into an alternate?” Torrullin wondered.
Elianas heard something in that tone. “I did not do this.”
“Am I blaming you?”
“You think it’s possible.”
Tristan cleared his throat. “Let us not argue now, please.”
He was ignored. “I did not do this, although I will grant anything is possible.”
Torrullin stared fixedly at the dark man. “Elianas, sometimes I do not know you, thus I am not able to judge objectively.”
Elianas raised a smile colder than the winter stone around them. “You do not trust me, in other words. You need to know what the sacrifice is before you reverse that judgment here.”
“Please, we have other issues right now,” Tristan said.
Again he was ignored.
“Ixion took your wings, didn’t he? Wings you would normal
ly spread in the planes, wings you would use against me in battle.”
“No, he did not take my wings. And, my brother, our battles are about more than wings.”
“You are lying, Elianas.”
“I am not. He did not take them. I gave them freely.”
Utter silence.
“I gave them to him to use as a barrier between Ariann and Reaume. It was time for us to leave Lethe before we did more damage in both realm and reality.”
Tristan said, “And to secure me my freedom.”
Torrullin made a sound in his throat part pain and part disbelief. “And mine.”
“I relinquished them freely,” Elianas insisted.
Torrullin jerked his head dismissively. “If that is what you want to believe, then good for you.” He stepped off the portico and made his way into the silent city.
Elianas watched that stiffly retreating form. “He is disappointed.”
“Well, you thought he might be - that’s why you didn’t want to tell him,” Tristan murmured. He set off after Torrullin.
The dark man stared after the two bobbing fair heads and thought it was not disappointment he feared, it was fury, and the offer of sharing Torrullin’s wings. He found he was the one disappointed - disappointed the offer was not forthcoming.
He inhaled frigid air and lifted his gaze to the gloom-laden heavens, wondering how he could even entertain the notion, and snapped into awareness when a warm hand settled amid his hair at the nape of his neck.
Elsewhere Tristan set up an aimless wander, having seen a different expression in Torrullin’s eyes as he asked for a few minutes of privacy with Elianas.
“Why, brother? Why give them away?”
“I had no choice.”
“Ah, it was not freely given.”
Elianas’ dark eyes were unreadable. “I know you may not hear me, but I made the choice freely.”
“Why? To save Tristan? To save me?”
“Tristan would have been harmed had I hesitated longer, thus, yes, he was part of the choice, but I knew you would break out eventually. I was not too concerned about you. Two things I know you cannot forgive, my brother, and that is standing idly by while your beloved grandson is tortured and doing nothing to prevent disaster befalling your beautiful homeworld. I made the choice freely, because I could not stomach more accusation from you.”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 119