“May not? Why is that?”
Elianas stared at him. “This then, and no more, I may not speak of her because of who and what she was. Even dead, her name retains too much power.”
All gods. Now he had to know. He would make it his life’s work to find out. Torrullin released a breath. “This universe, Elianas?”
The dark man was expressionless. “I am not saying more.”
Torrullin looked away and then clambered up from his knees. He held a hand out. “What of my secret?” Elianas took the proffered hand and Torrullin levered him up. “I do not think mine is half as profound as yours, but now I remain as unwilling to share.”
“Fine.”
“You are part Lorinin. You could quest.”
“That would sunder my barriers also. Keep your secret.”
“Truly?”
Elianas scrubbed at his face. “You drive me insane, you know that?”
“Nothing pure here, after all.”
Elianas hit him.
“And there you are.”
Elianas glared at him and slammed from the cottage.
Torrullin let him go.
Grinwallin
LOWEN AND ALIK TROTTED across Grinwallin’s immense plain as the sun rose on a new day.
Early mist meandered low at hoof level and the grass was still wet with night’s dew. Teighlar would hate it; both women had already remarked on it.
Their mounts were docile, two mares from the stables Grinwallin maintained for visitors. Neither had a wish for temperamental horses and the resultant action riding them would bring. Neither had slept much.
Alik was markedly quieter. During the night, through revelation after revelation, she had asked questions and frequently offered insights, drawing conclusions Lowen had not previously considered. Now it was as if she had lost her voice.
“Are you all right?” Lowen asked as they turned their mounts for the switchback path that led to the valley below the precipice.
“Quite a bit to take in.”
They spoke no more, the path requiring too much attention. At the foot of the precipice they allowed the horses to choose both direction and pace. The pace remained unhurried.
Soon they were under trees, a leafy lane filled with birdsong. Wisps of moisture meandered with them and, far away, the faint clink, clink of a hammer on metal. They rounded a bend and the path opened up. To either side there were green fields; wildflowers peeked out shyly along the borders. Further in, lone trees dotted the horizon. All was still.
The path dipped and thereafter flattened noticeably … and Lowen drew her horse to an abrupt halt. Ashen, she stared ahead and then moved her head right and left, repeatedly.
“Lowen?” Alik asked, coming to a halt beside her.
The Xenian shifted in the saddle to stare back the way they had come. Hands gripped the reins as if they were a lifeline.
“Alik,” she whispered, “this is somewhere else.”
Frowning, Alik looked back also, and drew a slow breath.
The path had vanished. Dark vapour had lowered to obscure what had been there, vapour with every appearance of being as solid as the damp earth their horses pawed. The vaporous substance enclosed gradually on both sides, an insidious manipulation.
One by one the lone trees snuffed from view.
“What is this?” Alik breathed on the edge of hearing.
Lowen gulped air down. “I don’t know how, but this path is one I walked in a vision with Torrullin and Elianas.”
“Am I caught in a vision with you?”
Lowen snorted a laugh, as incongruous as that was in their situation. “Funny how you know that can happen, but no, this isn’t a vision. This is …” and Lowen shrugged.
“You do not know?”
“Just don’t get off your horse.” Lowen edged her mount ahead, still clinging to the reins as if for sanity.
“We should turn around.”
“No,” Lowen said. She stared fixedly ahead.
“What was at the end of this path in your vision?” Alik asked, nudging her horse to keep pace.
“A dead city.”
Then it lay before them.
They stood on a ridge overlooking a city. Underfoot all was black, grass and bush and flower burnt to cinders. It was eerily quiet, the kind that followed when all life had fled. Not a bird made a sound; no insect droned.
It was a city of some size, home to a million and more. Tall buildings reached for the heavens and grand thoroughfares dissected the ground scape. Suburbs of fancy homes and outskirts of hovels; the contradiction present where too many people pressed into the same space, and this was no different. A city folded into itself when overwhelmed with numbers.
Smoke curled in still air. The smell of intense fire. The taste of charred meat. The city was not empty, but life had fled.
“How?” Lowen asked the emptiness, although she already knew the answer.
This is what happens when a Timekeeper is incomplete, Ixion said to her in the vision.
Thus she asked another question, “Where?”
This time there was no answer to be had, but it was already clear to her - and to Alik - this was reality. The vision had not offered much by way of smell - suggestions only of what lay below. Now the stink of death, putrefaction and smouldering fire was a physical presence. Both women gagged and clamped hands over nose and mouth.
Alik released her reins to point and the horse nearly bolted. Some fancy scrambling later, she regained control, now holding tight and breathing shallow, uncovered breaths. She did not need to point again or say anything, for Lowen had seen who ambled up the path towards them.
Tannil.
He came to a halt a few feet away. “You have to traverse the city to find the end of this doorway on the other side. If you cannot stomach the stench, then stay here, but you will be staying forever.”
Lowen cleared her throat. “Where are we?”
“Same timeline, but far, far away from a farspeaker chain, and death will have curtailed all transport abilities.”
“What is the city’s name?” Alik dared.
He did not even look at her. Eyes only on Lowen. “Seer, he cannot find you here.”
“This is what happens when a Timekeeper is incomplete,” she murmured.
He smiled. “Yes! How clever of you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “An incomplete result. But, then,” and he faced them once more, “the device employed is incomplete also.” He tapped his chest and squinted up.
Of course she had to bite. The more she knew, the better to construct defence with. “Device?”
“So easy,” he murmured under his breath, causing her to grit teeth. He fumbled under his tunic and drew forth …
Lowen paled almost to the point of death.
… the Maghdim Medaillon.
Laughing then, Tannil lifted the device up high and began to dematerialise. A moment before he vanished entirely, he solidified briefly. “The city’s name was Balconaru.” His laughter echoed against the enclosing vapour as he did then disappear.
Lowen was unmoving, her skin ashen.
Alik closed in. “Lowen?”
Lowen shook herself, mentally and physically. “Balconaru is a city built on an ancient Valleur sacred site, population a humanoid race known as the … oh, dear God. The Danaan.”
Alik stared at her. “I do not know what that means.”
Lowen hyperventilated. “Mother of God, I do. And it’s not good.” She speared the Senlu woman with her bright blue eyes. “You do know what it means when I tell you that it’s the Maghdim Medaillon he revealed to us?”
“The Valleur sacred …” Alik paused there and then went on a rush, “… but how did he get it? What would have happened to Torrullin for him to possess it now?”
Lowen nodded. “Exactly.”
“What do we do?”
Lowen stared down into the dead city. “We go through it as fast as we can and then we get to Avaelyn.”
TE
IGHLAR SCREAMED, “FIND HER!”
Senlu Elders, soldiers and retainers scattered from the Great Hall, leaving only Dechend at the Emperor’s elbow.
“Do not try my patience,” Teighlar growled at him.
The Elder remained calm. “You are not thinking, my Lord. If you cannot sense her, it means she is not here.”
Teighlar glared at him. “And that is why we are looking!”
“But in the wrong place, my Lord.”
Teighlar almost hit him before his eyes narrowed. “Realm?”
Dechend grimaced. “I would hesitate to present that at this point. There has been too much realm travel recently and this new Timekeeper seeks justice in our reality.”
“Then what in the netherworld are you saying?”
“Shielded, my Lord, as Avaelyn was for Torrullin.”
“Bring the box.”
Again Dechend pulled a face. He did not like the thought of the box that could create doorways and he certainly would not recommend its use to his ruler, but Alik needed finding.
“Where shall I bring it to?”
“The goddamn graveyard,” Teighlar snapped and strode out of the Hall.
TEIGHLAR HUNKERED BEFORE Allisin’s final resting place and could not for the life of him recall her face to mind.
Alik would not like that he could no longer remember her mother’s features, but he would never tell her. He did remember the warmth Allisin had gifted him, bless her. And she had gifted him something else, of extraordinary value - his beautiful daughter. He no longer felt either dispossessed or lonely within the confines of Grinwallin’s stones because of that extraordinary woman.
Dechend stood behind him.
“Put it down and return to its place, my friend. To await its reappearance, to know it worked.” Teighlar squinted up in the morning sunlight. “I promise, once this Timekeeper is dealt with, we shall destroy it.”
The Elder nodded, placed the nondescript wooden box at the Emperor’s feet, and retreated as silently as he had come.
Teighlar stared at it, wishing it had not again become necessary for him to use it.
He knew he would.
Gathering it up, he sat on the cold stone of his daughter’s mother’s grave. He thought maybe Allisin would appreciate the irony. Dead, portals and all that; he grinned mirthlessly. Perhaps he was getting into his dotage at long last.
He lifted the lid and vacated the space on the grave’s low parapet.
Chapter 10
Beware symbols, for what was once created in benevolence has a way of becoming something vile when in the possession of others not as discerning. Symbology is a means to read history, but it cannot always tell the truth.
~ Scroll of Wisdom ~
Balconaru
ALIK’S HORSE NEARLY TRAMPLED Teighlar.
She shouted, he cursed, the horse shied, and Lowen leaned in and pulled at the reins. Order returned.
“Well,” Lowen said, “you are a surprise, my Lord Emperor.”
He scowled at her and focused on Alik. “Are you all right?”
“It was Tannil; he drew us into here. I am fine, thanks, if petrified.”
Teighlar glanced around and saw the city, the smoke rising lazily into the air. They were at the foot of an incline and the city lay directly ahead. “Where is this? It smells of death.”
“It was Balconaru, according to Tannil.”
Two indentations erupted onto Teighlar’s smooth brow. “Way on the edge of the Ganimidian Galaxy? Why? And is Tannil still here?”
“He’s gone,” Lowen said. “How did you find us?”
“The box. Focused on Alik. Why did he bring you here?”
“To show us what he can do, to taunt, and to tell us what he now possesses.” Lowen stared at him. “And there is massive nuance in that city, Teighlar.”
“Oh?”
He wandered over to Alik and her mount, motioned for her to scoot forward and vaulted into the saddle behind her. Taking the reins from her numbed fingers, he nudged the animal over to draw abreast with the Xenian.
“What do you know of this place?”
“An ancient settlement dating back to beginning times, apparently settled late in Dancing Suns. According to records - of which there is not a whole scroll, I put it together from pieces - a few folk crashed here. We must assume it was a ship, but then it was also further back than technology …”
“Lowen.”
“I am merely telling you I don’t know exactly how they got here; it’s mixed up.”
“Fine. Where is the nuance?”
“Who they were. I found only one mention and it has huge resonance.”
“Fine,” he said again. “Who?”
“Danaan.”
He sawed at the horse’s mouth. “What?”
Lowen stared at him and nodded with expression. “So you do know. That is why Alik is here also - to inform you after.”
Alik grabbed the reins from her father and leaned in to pacify the skittish animal, whispering in her ear until she had quietened.
“The Valleur exterminated the Danaan,” Teighlar said.
“A handful clearly survived to escape that region of space, and came here. They did not call themselves Danaan, though; that heritage I got from a source other than histories of this world. They called themselves Gani, probably based on the galaxy name, or the galaxy was named after them, who knows? This is a small world and, although benign, few live here. There are only two cities; this one, and another on a more southern continent. That one is a human settlement.”
“Danaan were human,” Teighlar said.
“They were not.”
He stared at her.
Lowen grinned. “Me and my memory, sorry. I sometimes find I know things without recalling where I found … anyway. Sabian, as our Master Historian, told me of the Danaan. They look human, speak human, live and love human, but DNA has proven they are more than human. They have the ability to withstand space, the vacuum, and they have the insulation in their cells to withstand every extreme temperature. No human can do that. And, Teighlar, despite what you may or may not think of loops returning and all that, humankind came only later, long after the Valleur began expanding into greater space. The Danaan then and the Gani murdered here were not human.”
Teighlar was silent a long time, and then, in a quiet tone, he said, “It explains how time was my friend and how I managed to survive on virtually nothing.”
Lowen simply nodded, but Alik craned around to look at him. “Dad?”
He smiled down at her. “How I love it when you say that.”
She dug an elbow into his ribs. “Answer.”
Teighlar shrugged. “The genesis of our race. Me, Alexander Diluvan, abandoned on an empty world.”
Her eyes were round.
“I shall tell you all of it when we get back home, I promise.” Teighlar moved his attention to Lowen. “Something Tannil now possesses, you said?”
“The Maghdim Medaillon.”
He frowned immediately. “Tannil has it? That is unlikely.”
“We saw it.”
He shook his head. “It cannot be real. Torrullin would bloody turn the universe on its head if Tannil stole it from him, and there have been no such disturbances.”
Lowen sighed and in there was marked relief. “Then Tannil is using a replica in much the same way as Tymall once used a duplicate of the Dragon Taliesman.”
“I would say so, yes.”
“I am very relieved to hear it.”
“A replica can cause all kinds of shit,” Teighlar muttered.
“Less, however, than the real device in wrong hands.”
“True. Right, how do we get from this place?”
Alik gestured ahead. “We go through. The exit is on the other side.”
Teighlar glanced at Lowen for confirmation, who nodded back at him. Teighlar swore under his breath, staring into the smoke rising into the air. “It will not be pleasant.”
Neither woma
n replied.
Avaelyn
ELIANAS WENT TO AVAELYN.
Kneeling in mud before the debris of his home, he understood a piece of his soul had been destroyed also. Unmoving, he simply looked. And remembered.
Walking across the bridge for the first time as a storm threatened, his father Tingast at his side. Lord Sorcerer Torrullin tempting the fates. Magic and companionship. Love and battles. His attempt to preserve Avaelyn through the millennia while he and Torrullin were apart, releasing a part of himself to keep the dwelling whole through time. His name, Elianas Danae, upon the deed. A place of healing, most recently for Torrullin as Rayne.
Scrolls gone. Books gone. Familiar objects and spaces, gone.
Only memory remained.
Memory was insufficient.
His face set as if into stone. It was time to do something about it.
“I know you are there,” he said.
A squelching tread through mud sounded behind him, to come to a halt beside him. “Grandfather.”
“Tannil.” Elianas did not look up.
“Say my true name and free us both of that particular connection.”
“Not yet. What I intend next requires our connection.”
Tannil abruptly kneeled in the sludge, reached out, and gripped Elianas’ chin, forcing that expressionless face towards him. “What do you intend?”
Shadows of uncertainty moved in the tawny gaze he stared into. Elianas carefully did not react to it. “That is my home, Tannil. I want it back.”
A smile blossomed. All was well in Tannil’s world again. He released his hold and said, “You can try, of course.”
“I suggest you leave.”
Tannil swore, loud and long, before saying, “When you two, whether together or apart, become this certain and focused I am truly anxious. What do you intend?” The uncertainty was back behind golden lashes.
“Death.”
Tannil stared at him. “Alhazen’s death?”
Elianas simply stared at him.
“You cannot! It screws with everything!”
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 195