Belun pulled a face and moved to the console, focusing there. After a few minutes he looked up, his entire expression altered. “My god.”
Quilla whistled, wondering what that meant.
Torrullin broke his stance to shift his weight. He did not sever the contact with Elianas. “Alhazen created a dome of pure magical energy, and because he is energy it survives into eternity, unless he snuffs its light.”
Elianas smiled and moved away. He wandered on and around, looking up again.
“I am impressed, Elianas.”
“Thought you might be one day,” the dark man threw laughingly over his shoulder.
“For Taranis?”
“For you, brother. You inhabit a space I created, as I have inhabited one of your making. Tit for tat.”
“Ah. Noble.”
A laugh floated back as Elianas vanished into the opposite curve.
Belun whispered, “How does this change the dynamics?”
“Do not piss him off,” Torrullin shrugged, and then burst out laughing. “All gods, he can surprise, can’t he?”
Quilla’s tiny hands were fluttering.
“Elianas, surely you can move her as she is now?” Torrullin called out.
The dark man wandered back. “Hand me that coin.”
Torrullin pulled the Medaillon free of his tunic and extended it without removing the chain from around his neck. Elianas’ hand closed on it.
An instant later the Dome was gone and they were left floating in vacuum. As Elianas released the Medaillon, Torrullin pulled him close.
“I am astonished.”
Elianas lifted the coin to drop into Torrullin’s tunic, fingers lingering on skin after. “That pleases me.”
Palisade
“WHERE THE HELL HAVE you been?” Teighlar demanded as they entered.
Torrullin gestured at Caballa and the Elders. “Caballa called,” Torrullin said, “and matters changed from there. I am sure they filled you in.”
Tristan said, “I do not like that Caballa is here.”
The lady in question tapped his arm. “Caballa wants to be here.”
Tristan closed his eyes. Clearly it was a conversation they already had.
“They could not tell us much,” Teighlar said. “Beyond that bloody Throne of yours acting up, there was nothing they could say to fill us in. What is happening?”
“The Dome is now beyond Excelsior’s passage,” Torrullin said.
Tristan strode forward. “I told you the Dome will not be placed in danger.”
“Too late.”
“Gods, Torrullin!”
“There is a neutral zone, a grass circle.”
“You are not explaining well,” Elianas murmured.
A laugh erupted. “I know. I am weary of explaining all the time.” Torrullin perched on one of the beds. “Listen, will you?” He gave the explanation in a few minutes, keeping it toneless and without detail. “… and thus, the Dome, this place and our two protagonists.”
“Wait a bloody minute!” Teighlar shouted. “You cannot simply make those decisions without us.”
“Senlu Elders follow us in, in a few hours.”
“What? No! Not only is Grinwallin in danger of …”
“That is being sorted.”
Teighlar marched forward. “I shall aid you in everything to stop Tymall and Beacon, but …”
“Bannerman’s citadel will be moved, Emperor, and have nothing to target. Only then will Grinwallin be safe.”
Teighlar swallowed his ire to think, before nodding. “And we are the witnesses to an ending?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Get it done.”
Torrullin took hold of the Medaillon and closed his eyes. Elianas stepped up and placed his hand over that clasp. A bridge appeared in the space constructed of air. A point of light shimmered at the end of it.
Alik gasped and moved to her father’s side, and the palisade and everything and everyone in it vanished.
Leaving Elianas and Torrullin standing upon a cold circle of ice.
They shivered.
“I wonder if the unicorn went along?” Torrullin murmured.
Elianas glanced at him. “Are we meant to talk to it together?”
“Yes.”
“Then it is there.”
“Likely,” Torrullin said.
“The citadel next. And before we return to the circle of confrontation, we go to Avaelyn.”
“Why?”
Elianas smiled. “Because for an instant in time there will be no witness whatsoever.”
“An instant in time is not near enough.”
“A taste is all we need right now, Torrullin. The insanity of completion will then drive us onward.”
Torrullin slid the Medaillon out of sight. “That pleases me.”
Ymir
THE CITY OF RINGS was a hive of activity.
Thousands worked on construction and thousands were engaged in laying in supplies. Many thousands more were encamped beyond the precincts - Bannerman’s army.
Below the earth a train thundered and on the concourse ships landed and took off. Two stealth vessels were parked in brooding malevolence. They were responsible for nuking Menllik and destroying the farspeaker enclave.
They chose their point of entry carefully, appearing beyond a rock outcrop. It was late evening and dark shadows hid them from view.
“Technological and mechanical weapons do not work in realms,” Elianas murmured, giving the whole careful scrutiny. “Will that be true of the place of confrontation?”
“Technically it isn’t a realm. We wait and see.” Torrullin was grim in his perusal. “Damn, this will be hard to move.”
“We have to take the sorcerer out.”
“And disable those ships.”
They glanced at each other and grinned. This was action.
Elianas relaxed against the rock, folding his arms. “A lure for the sorcerer is easy enough, but getting to those ships? What do we know about disabling technology?”
“So we blow them up.”
“And if there are nukes aboard?”
“Then this place is dealt with, isn’t it?”
“We would also be dealt with, Torrullin,” Elianas laughed, and was then serious a moment after. “Into another realm with us, but our friends and family would be stuck in a place they cannot escape from, with Tymall baying at the doors.”
“I hear you. From what I have heard nukes do not simply blow up, something about arming them first.”
Elianas sighed. “That is a risk. We do it another way.”
Torrullin grinned. “We do it another way.”
Elianas laughed again. “Gods, how many gauntlets have we run now?” He pushed away from the rock and wandered aimlessly in the shadow. “Fine, so technology can be disabled by …” He halted. “… an energy overload.”
“You would have to be real close.”
Elianas shook his head and tapped his sword. “I can use this to channel a flow.”
Torrullin gave it thought. “So boring.”
Elianas slapped his thighs in appreciation. “True!”
“But we need be circumspect. Do it.”
Elianas flashed a grin and drew the sword. Then, serious, he approached the outcrop and started searching for the line of sight that would rest the blade in unmoving direction upon the rock.
Torrullin left him to it, wandering in the shadow himself to give thought to a lure for a sorcerer that would not spark suspicion inside the citadel.
A shiver of signature? That would probably bring the entire army to them.
A nuance in the atmosphere? Probably have missiles on their arses in no time.
“Torrullin.”
He returned and Elianas gestured. The sword was wedged into a groove pointing in the general direction of the citadel. It seemed precarious and Elianas looked at it doubtfully. He leaned in to sight along the length of the blade.
“Direction is there, but if this t
hing moves …”
Torrullin leaned over his shoulder to take the measure also. “You are on target.”
A tiny scraping sound, and the blade moved. Elianas hissed in frustration and fiddled again.
Torrullin reached around him. “I will hold it still. You channel.” He placed fingers along the blade’s length.
A moment of silence, and Elianas murmured, “I cannot concentrate with you pressing against me.”
He laughed into Elianas’ neck. “Just do it.” He exerted pressure on the blade and was motionless.
Elianas muttered under his breath and gripped the hilt in one hand, the other resting on the blade’s edge. “You could get burned,” he warned.
“Stop fussing.”
Elianas muttered again and shifted. A moment later he was as unmoving. “The line of kin is spoken as the male line.”
Torrullin’s heart gave a thud. “Yes.”
“After me there is Menlore. My uncle.”
“Hmm.”
“He died childless.”
Torrullin was silent.
“Skynis is next.” Elianas sighted one last time, one eye closed.
A spark crackled at the head of the blade and then swiftly charged along the length. It collided with Torrullin’s fingers, but without heat, and then the spark erupted from the tip and vanished.
Elianas released immediately and knocked Torrullin’s hands aside. He turned. “Skynis was my son.”
Torrullin straightened, rubbing his hands.
“I am telling you this, for it is one of those hidden things I do not want you to ferret out.”
In the distance shouts were raised in the region of the stealth ships - clearly something had happened there - but they did not bother to look. Torrullin continued rubbing hands.
Elianas swore and gripped a wrist to force those hands apart. “I did not know, I swear. Cassy committed suicide in the minutes after she gave birth to a boy; our son. Apparently Nemisin was so angry … well, suffice to say, Valeri took the babe away and told her husband it was stillborn. She gave it to Menlore to raise as his own, and the Danae line went on.”
Torrullin cleared his throat. “How do you know? When did you know?”
Elianas released his wrist and leaned against the rock. The sword slithered down; both ignored it.
“Sabian told me. He chose to vanish into obscurity on Echolone after sending Nemisin and Cassy through the Avior door, and asked me to come about a month into your healing as Rayne. Nemisin told him when they were baiting each other in that other place.”
A slow nod. “How did Nemisin know?”
“Valeri revealed the truth on her deathbed.”
“And Skynis led eventually to Taranis. You and I, a direct line.”
“Yes.”
“Did Cassy ever find out?”
“No. Thank the gods.”
“And how do you feel, Elianas?”
The dark man did not move from position. His eyes bored into Torrullin’s. “I am so angry I can obliterate worlds.”
“Is the fault mine?”
Finally Elianas moved. Those eyes closed. “It is mine.” Eyes snapped open. “How do I atone?”
“There is no answer.”
Elianas swore again. “I knew the boy in passing, thought him my young cousin, and went on with my life. He grew up, wed, and had children. They would be grandchildren, goddamn it. And then we took Kalgaia on … for fuck’s sake, how do I atone for that?”
“Someone lived, Elianas, or Taranis would not have become my father. That is a comfort.”
Elianas stared at him. “Have you any idea how frightening that is to me? You are a link to my son, Torrullin. We destroyed the Danae, and here you are.”
“Sabian should rather have kept his mouth shut,” Torrullin muttered, his heart thudding again.
A nod. “Maybe.”
“What do you want of me? I cannot correct this. I do not have the words after a minute of knowing. Do you want me to tell you how he lived, how he died, if he was happy, if he knew you were his real father - for pity’s sake, how?”
“You are Lorinin.”
“Ah.” Torrullin leaned closer. “Once I knew what that was, and now I am aware I knew, and it is pretty academic at this point. Touch someone and one knows every secret? How does that actually make relationships better?”
“You can find the answers.”
“Delving you will not grant them, Elianas. He came after, remember?”
“And you came after, Torrullin. You know.”
Torrullin moved away threading his hands through his hair. He seemed to do that a lot in the present. How utterly confusing the situations of this present was. Elianas bent to retrieve the Lumin Sword and slammed it home, saying nothing more.
Then Torrullin was in his face. “If this is a secret you can tell me, what more are you hiding?”
“Now you understand why touch is dangerous for us. Unfortunately, without the Goddess of Souls, I am now at a disadvantage.” He prodded Torrullin’s chest. “Lorinin power would have been mine also and I would have the ability to read your hidden depths.”
Torrullin’s eyes glittered. “Lorinin power may be shared. I can give it to you right here, right now.”
Elianas’ eyes fired.
Torrullin shivered. Gods. When would he learn to guard his tongue in this man’s presence? “I am willing to share.”
Elianas’ eyes hooded. “So share.”
Torrullin leaned in even closer. “First I have to place obstacles, Danae. When we go home, when there are no witnesses for that moment in time, then I shall gift this power. Be wary of what you wish for.”
“You do not know what I wish for,” Elianas whispered, and dragged Torrullin’s mouth to his, shoving him away a moment later. “I do not know what you wish for either.” He straightened away from the rock and glanced back. “Seems the ships are in trouble.”
They were. A crowd swirled in gesticulating frenzy around the vessels, and Torrullin did not give a shit. He moved his hand, and a portal formed.
Elianas jerked around.
Fortis, Bannerman’s tame sorcerer, was there. His shock was profound when he realised his error of haste. Torrullin shoved him through, and the portal snapped closed.
“Now we move this place. And then we deal with Grinwallin.”
Elianas raised a brow. “You are in a hurry to get to Avaelyn.”
“I am in a hurry, yes.”
“Why?”
“I am sick of having Lorinin thrown in my face. Let us be equal in that also.”
“You are angry.”
“To obliterate worlds.”
Elianas smiled. “Excellent.”
THEY CLASPED THE MAGHDIM Medaillon and a wide bridge soared from the rocky outcrop to the frenetic activity of the citadel.
Together, employing energy and the coercion of Elixir, they dragged the anti-magic stronghold onto the edge of the bridge, grunting with effort.
Minutes later the entire building vanished.
The two stealth ships remained, as did every other type of vessel. Below the train thundered on, having nowhere to offload now. The volunteer and conscripted builders milled in confusion in the empty desert, but unluckily every soldier made the transfer. It meant that army would have to be fought.
“We are done here,” Elianas murmured.
As they were about to dematerialise, other ships screamed into the region to park belligerently in the sky.
“Gods, they are Xenian,” Torrullin muttered. “Max Dalrish is prepared to go to war.”
Elianas released his hold on the Medaillon. “Get them out of here before they land up in that place as well. There is residue.”
Torrullin glanced at him. “We could use them.”
“They will probably fall to their deaths from the sky there. Get them out.”
Elixir murmured, and the ships vanished. “They will be back in Xenian airspace within minutes. Max must be informed.”
Elianas inclined his head. “Lead the way.”
Chapter 45
Play fast and loose with rocks and you’ll end up with dirt on your face.
~ Lintusillem saying ~
Xen III
Dalrish Palace
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN they are back?” Max roared when they appeared in his study.
One of his generals stood white-faced on their side of the desk and the Peacekeeper fumed on the other side.
His eyes bulged when he noted Torrullin and Elianas’ arrival, and then he shouted, “Have you anything to do with this?”
Torrullin approached, shook hands with the general, and said, “I sent them away, yes.”
Max Dalrish nearly had a fit. “Why, for Christ sake? Do you know what is going on here?”
“The citadel has been moved, Max; there is nothing there to fight now. Calm down and allow us to explain.”
The Peacekeeper swallowed his ire and ran a hand along his chin. “Jesus, the shit has been flying. Sit. You, too, General.”
They sat.
“Welcome, Elianas, to Xen III,” Max said after he, too, sat.
“Thank you.”
“The citadel moved?” Max fixed Torrullin with a piercing blue-eyed stare.
“We moved it,” Torrullin said, and went on to explain in some detail what was happening, why and where they were planning to enact confrontation. The general’s mouth hung open about halfway through, but Max managed to control his astonishment to the end.
He burst out, “Almighty God!”
Elianas grinned.
Torrullin leaned forward. “The citadel will not return, whether or not we are victorious, thus the threat of Beacon is over. Bannerman will not return either. It is time to start the negotiations for new political alliances there.”
“Lucia Bannerman runs the show,” Max said. “That woman will not relinquish power easily.”
“You tell her, in private, if she wishes to see her son again, she must step down.”
Max sighed. “Beacon has a law that states a kidnapped president must be granted six months before he is declared permanently missing.”
“Then tie her hands. I leave it up to you.”
A nod. “We heard what happened to Menllik. I am sorry, Torrullin.”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 168