“Bad?”
“For them, yes. Elianas is unsettled now, but I suspect he already was.” She leaned forward. “I do not care what you hear or read or believe, Quilla; you and the others must leave them alone. Leave them be.”
“I may not be able to stem the tide.”
“Then you are in for a rough ride. I have warned you.” She rose decisively and called out to Belun. He came over. “Belun, recalibrate the ogives to ignore me. I am resigning permanently from the Kaval, no matter what Tristan says, and I am going where nobody will find me now.”
He stared at her open-mouthed. “Why?”
“I no longer want to be involved, not even by default. I am done.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, all right?” She kissed Quilla also. “And you, Enchanter’s conscience. Tell him sometime I love him, will you?” She strode away.
An ogive chimed for her a final time.
“Gods,” Belun muttered, and Quilla silently echoed it.
Lowen had chosen to vanish before Torrullin resurfaced.
Chapter 9
Batten down the hatches! Secure yourselves! Here it comes, me hearties!
~ Tattle’s Blunt Adventures ~
Avaelyn
ELIANAS STRODE THROUGH the darkening dwelling, mind churning, heart thudding, mouth dry, body shaking.
Gods, it would actually happen this time. The vagaries of autumn’s moods were about to bloody undo his hard work. For days now storms had threatened and then passed by with only the merest of whispers, and each time Rayne’s eyes glittered in anticipation.
Every time he held onto his sanity and hoped, and every time he wondered how close Torrullin was to the surface of Rayne’s persona; those glittering eyes sent shivers of foreboding through him.
Now the threatening weather showed no sign of moving peaceably aside.
For the umpteenth time he stood at the place that afforded him a view of the point where the man sat waiting. Rayne had not moved, attention riveted to the ever-darkening ocean. He did not turn to see the storm gather its momentum over the land behind him, but he was aware of its approach; it was clear in the lines of tension posture exuded. Rayne waited.
Did that mean he knew what the storm could potentially achieve? Was he awaiting it in order to complete his return? Did he seek to use its unleashing to unleash also?
Gods. Elianas threaded shaking hands through his hair. The tension would probably fell him before that silvery and knowing gaze impaled him.
Lowen had offered warning and it helped to know nothing would be easy. In a sense it prepared him for immediate confrontation. Why then did he stand back here instead of meeting it directly with his head held high? He had nothing to apologise for and he certainly was not afraid of Torrullin.
He bit back an oath. Everyone was about to demand Torrullin’s participation. Perhaps it was better that the transformation came within these insane terms; now, while it was still possible to mitigate the man’s rage before he vented it on friends and family.
All gods, let him just hear tell some obscure writing had surfaced to plague him anew, and chaos would erupt. Let him know what had happened to his grandson … gods, let it be contained within the barriers already in place to keep others at bay.
Elianas frowned, sensing a shift in the weather. His hair was moving, the sweat of humidity cooling upon his skin. He breathed in, out and in again. The wind had shifted unexpectedly, and dark eyes jerked to the man on the point. That fair head had risen to stare upward. For long moments both of them were entirely paralysed, before Rayne rose to stretch. Elianas slumped against the wall.
It seemed nature had offered a stay of execution.
Then Rayne did something so out of character, his blood froze.
The fair man’s stretch altered.
His hands clawed as he extended his arms to either side. His arms lifted, hands balled into fists, and he jerked them sharply forward to smash his fists against each other. Thunder pealed out and lightning crashed into the sea, and darkness that was complete for an instant descended to shroud the world. In the return of grey light, Rayne’s head was thrown back …
… and Elianas ran.
ALL TIME HAD FROZEN for a small and isolated world.
Elianas ran through treacle and had no legs to carry him where he needed to be.
The fair man seemed impossibly far away.
Rayne turned. There was a smile upon his face.
Time sped up, falling into the other extreme. Elianas stumbled in the sudden and unexpected burst of speed, and fell hard.
Rayne stood over him a moment later.
“Elianas, you should be more careful.”
The dark man could only stare up. His wits and the power of speech had deserted him.
Rayne held a hand out. “Come; your face is cut.”
Licking his lips, Elianas reached out to take that hand and used the leverage to stand. His face was cut. Gods. His mind was empty and his body felt as if it had crashed into a mountain at light speed, but his face was cut.
He dared not speak, for he knew not whom it was he stood beside.
“Let us put something on the wound,” the fair man murmured. He walked on, looking up at the dark heavens. “Seems the storm will let loose after all.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I could not bear another disappointment. I hope I was not too theatrical.”
Elianas, tongue-tied, followed him indoors. His legs wobbled. His head pounded.
In the kitchen Rayne searched for a medical kit and Elianas watched him dry-mouthed, unable to say a word. Eventually the man stood there at a loss.
“How is it we have no medical supplies?”
Elianas found his voice. “We do not usually need them.”
Rayne frowned “Why not? Isn’t that a bit odd?”
“We are healers.”
A sunny smile erupted. “We are? Funny that you never mentioned it before, but never mind. How practical. Do I heal you in the way I prevented the storm from leaving?”
He thought his heart would give out; he had no clue what went on in that mind. “Well, I would hope you would not be quite as rough,” Elianas managed.
“Of course not; that would hurt you. Why would I hurt you?” Rayne paced closer. “Sit; let me see if I can do this.”
Elianas retreated. “No need. I am able to heal myself.”
A new frown came. “And I am able to heal myself? I can heal only myself?”
By all gods, this was a quagmire. “No, you are able to heal others …”
A new smile erupted. “Then allow me to do so, A learning curve, right?”
He had to submit or too many questions would be forthcoming. He had to, in case this was still Rayne. Elianas gave a reluctant nod and sat on one of the high stools at the counter.
He spread his hands. “Would you like me to talk you through it?”
An inclined head followed and then a considering gaze. “If I stumble, yes.”
Elianas folded his hands into his lap. “How bad is the cut?”
“Jagged, but not too deep.” Rayne paced closer to study the wound on the dark man’s left cheek. “In usual circumstances you would require a stitch or two and a small dressing, so let us see if we can accomplish the stitching part. Do I use my hands?”
Elianas swallowed. “Yes.”
The smile that hovered on the man’s lips caused Elianas’ blood to freeze.
Slender fingers lifted and played in the vicinity of the cut. Elianas was aware of the sting of the wound, but it was as nothing to his inner tension. Then he felt the warmth of a first knitting together; a healer’s hands indeed. It was Torrullin’s greatest talent. Those fingers descended to rest on his cheek. He knew he was completely healed, and yet those fingers did not lift.
“Elianas, what am I going to do about you now?”
An intake of breath followed, somewhat shaky. “I am not sure I know what you mean.”
Grey eyes smiled into dark ones. There was nothin
g brotherly in that gaze. “You have lied to me.”
“Rayne, please …”
The fair head lifted. “Hmm, rain - yes, it is raining now. How we need the rain. The autumn storms have been oddly tardy this year.”
Elianas sat utterly unmoving.
Those fingers pressed down. “My Elianas.”
Sweet gods.
Those fingers lifted and curled into a fist, and smacked directly into Elianas’ face. “You bastard. You lied to me.”
Elianas went sprawling onto the counter. “Rayne …”
“What is my name, beloved Elianas?” The words erupted much as the storm had, and the dwelling reverberated.
Elianas sat up and wiped at his bloody mouth with the back of a shaking hand. “Fuck you.”
A low laugh. “There it is.”
Elianas vaulted down. The time was now. “Bring it on, then. I have been waiting.”
“What is my name?”
One’s true name set one free. He would not give him the satisfaction. Elianas snarled, “You tell me!”
The fair man reached out and gripped that dark head hard. “My name is Torrullin, not Rayne. I am Elixir. You are Alhazen, and I love you more than life itself. You are not my brother; you are the reason I exist.” Grey eyes skittered into silver as mighty rage surfaced. “You lied, Elianas, and you are going to pay.”
It had come, at last.
His tension vanished then and Elianas straightened to throw that hurtful grip off. “Torrullin, I did what was best at the time and if you want to hate and hurt me, then so be it. You asked that I pick up the pieces. You knew you were shattering.”
Torrullin stepped back. “I did not ask you to lie this completely. I almost forgot who I was, you were that good. As Rayne I knew peace and now I know all of it was a mask. Release the barriers. I am leaving.”
“No. Now they are there to contain your fury.”
“Release them or we dance right away.”
“No.”
“Then we dance.”
Elianas broadened his stance. The time for confrontation had arrived. He smiled. Despite it all, he preferred the might and insanity of Torrullin to the questionable peace that had been Rayne. He had done his best, and now the tale could go on.
The storm unleashed.
It went unnoticed, for a greater storm had let loose within.
MONTHS AGO, THE FINAL confrontation with Nemisin, on the heels of Tymall’s death, sent Torrullin’s mind skittering over the edge into madness.
He used Destroyer to foil the Throne’s intent and the Throne subsequently employed Elianas to fell him. It cost Torrullin awareness, and Elianas, afraid he would fracture beyond recall, stepped in to aid it further, removing residue from the recent past and all the emotions that accompanied it, to restore balance to a mind he revered.
He regressed Torrullin to a point in his history where he had been close to what he was without actually knowing himself. The time of Rayne, a human sorcerer born to Valaris during a period the humans were abhorrent of magic. Rayne was a phenomenal sorcerer and forced to hide it and, in hating the duality he lived with, he was much like the Torrullin he was reincarnate of. Elianas reasoned Torrullin had lived as Rayne once before; he could do so again without causing permanent damage. While he recovered as Rayne from a terrible ‘accident’, he could then recover within as Torrullin.
Many - most - had not understood why he reverted Torrullin. Most vilified him for doing so. He understood it would only be a matter of time before they invaded to remove the man from his influence and, thus, knowing how dangerous it would be for a fractured mind, he instituted barriers to withhold sorcery, transports and every technological device the universe had to offer.
No one could enter, and they vilified him more. He did not care; the sum total of his existence was the health of one man and the universe be damned with everyone in it.
Now those barriers needed to contain the man unleashed.
Elianas prayed they would hold.
Torrullin could not be reasoned with, not yet. The man would regard his actions as betrayal, and betrayal already lay as massive spectres between them, a shared past in which they had hurt each other on numerous occasions.
Torrullin’s anger would know no bounds.
Valaris
Torrke
The Keep
TORRKE WAS INSPIRING IN spring glory and Tristan, on the battlements of the Keep, breathed in the new fragrances of the season of awakening.
He leaned on the low wall with a mug of coffee and his thoughts, and watched birds dart through blossoms and small buck jump from rock to rock and over streams. As always, he was renewed by being in the valley. A small period of calm for what would come next.
He tried not to think of the meeting with the Elders earlier.
Panic was close now.
Caballa, beautiful Valleur seer and periodic Elder, found him there and, as ever, she was struck by his likeness to Torrullin.
“My love.”
He turned, a smile blossoming. He opened his arms and she walked into them; they held each other for a while, requiring no words.
Then she withdrew to look up at him. “Setting aside everything, what bothers you? About us?”
He returned to the view. “You have not mentioned him once.”
She was silent for a beat. “You would prefer I bay at the moon, Tristan? Anything I say about Torrullin is bound to set you off.”
“I am over that.”
“Yes, you are, as long as all is calm and Elianas takes his attention.”
“Elianas has his attention now.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “I am worried about him, as you are, but that is it. I have not spoken of him simply because it will not help us.”
He glanced down at her. “I want you to talk about him, please. I cannot share my own concerns unless you are able to.”
She sat on the wall to face him instead of the view.
“And you want that I talk first.” She made a sound of displeasure. “You still do not trust me - rhetorical, my love; no need to answer. Fine, how do I feel about the fact Torrullin is a prisoner in his own home on his own world with the man who is his equal in everything? I am beyond furious it ever reached such a point and I am beyond concerned Torrullin will not have the presence of mind to break out of the subservience.
“And yet I know the man Torrullin very well and I know the Elixir part of him better than most and I knew the Enchanter and Vallorin he was before, and that means I am very aware of how powerful he is, even in subservience. Elianas may think he has the upper hand, but behind those silvery eyes Torrullin is far closer than anyone trusts right now. The real truth, Tristan? I am more concerned for Elianas’ well-being. Torrullin will not be kind when he breaks loose.”
Tristan blinked. “You could have said some of this before now. It changes how I see that situation.”
“Why? To put you on edge? To stir already muddy waters?”
“Have you seen anything?”
She pursed her lips briefly. “No.”
“Caballa, I believe you just lied to me.”
She closed her eyes and then looked up at him again. “I have not seen anything that will help you. What I have seen is not your business.”
He swore.
Caballa twitched then as if stung, but it was not due to Tristan’s reaction.
“Tristan,” she breathed, clutching at the wall.
He glanced at her and her ashen face caused him heart palpitations. “What is it?”
“Torrullin is back.”
“H-how do you …?” He cleared his throat. “How bad?”
She licked her lips. “You had better put the Kaval on alert for this also, in the event Elianas cannot contain him. I am not joking, Tristan. Torrullin will be cruel as he lashes out. Go. Go now.”
Gods. He vanished.
Grinwallin
“QUILLA! QUILLLAAAA!” Teighlar shouted, pacing the Great Hall as a maniac wo
uld.
“Right here,” the birdman said.
Teighlar swung around to find the tiny being near his elbow. “Have you not felt it, bloody hell?”
Quilla’s cherubic face transformed. “Shivers?”
“Goddamn earthquake-sized rockers! Where is your head … hell! Dechend!”
The Emperor was frantic and Quilla put his tiny hand on the man’s elbow to calm him. “Tell me what it is you feel.”
Teighlar shook his head. “I cannot explain. All I know is, it is huge.”
Quilla was about to question further when he received a summons to the Dome, a direct call from Tristan. He lifted big eyes to the Emperor. “Oh, dear, it’s Torrullin.”
Teighlar glared at him. “What does that mean?”
“Our beloved Elixir is at this very moment tackling his gaoler. I must go.” Quilla bowed and was gone.
Teighlar was aghast. He paced … and then, “Dechend!”
“Here, my Lord.” The Elder was out of breath.
“Get me the box.”
Dechend’s jaw dropped. “Now? Why? What are you going to do with it?”
Teighlar was grim. “I am going to insert myself into the thick of a battle. Get it and bring it down to me on the plain. Now.”
“My Lord, is this wise?”
“It may prove the stupidest thing I ever do. Get it.”
Teighlar turned on his heel and strode from the Great Hall.
Sanctuary
The Villa
ROSE AWAKENED SCREAMING and her husband took her into his arms to soothe her.
Sunlight filtered over them in the bed and yet her emotional state darkened the day.
He wiped her damp hair from her face as he leaned over her. “Rose, love?”
She punched at him. “Teroux, do you love me?”
He frowned, truly worried. “Yes.”
“Do you love your family?”
He grimaced, but admitted, “Yes.”
“Then you must get up and do something right now, for me and for them.”
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