“Tristan.”
Torrullin stilled. At first he wanted to yell at the man for daring to suggest blood of his would be bowed by such crushing responsibility, and then his thought processes kicked in. It certainly made sense, given where Tristan was headed.
He scratched at his head. “Shit.”
Elianas nodded. “I know. Belun gave me the idea, but I said nothing, because this is a terrible state to contemplate.”
Torrullin sat at the table and leaned on his elbows. “If it comes to pass, what does it mean for Tristan? Thus far, every Timekeeper legend has linked two together. Is there someone out there he has yet to meet?”
Elianas pushed from the counter and came to sit as well. “Thus you mean it will not be Caballa.”
“Caballa would disavow the notion from the outset. Who then? Do we wait for it to happen, allowing a space between? Or do we step in, one at a time, until he is ready … until his Eternal Companion is ready?”
“You are not thinking. There is always a space between Timekeepers, but someone ever fills the void while the new pair is born or prepared.”
Torrullin blinked. “Tarlinn.”
“The Dani mentioned him and Neolone as dual Timekeepers, but it is not quite accurate, is it? The symbiosis gave the appearance of responsibility and both have earned a place on that podium, but they filled the void only. Tarlinn, however, did so before Neolone, and will do it when Tannil is done with. This current Timekeeper cannot be a real one. He is alone and he will remain alone …” Elianas stopped there. An expression of horror overcame him.
Torrullin’s heart thudded. “What have you realised?”
“He may not be alone. Think!”
Torrullin did just that, and soon his hands smacked onto the table. “Teroux.”
“Exactly.”
“Teroux is in suspension and the state takes the attention from him.” Torrullin shook his head. “Major manipulation right there.”
“Indeed.”
“And thus we must end Tannil’s reign before Teroux is activated.” Torrullin rose decisively. “We have one city still to check.”
Together they headed towards the sitting area in search of sunshine.
The final city Tannil destroyed before Tarlinn took him was, when Elianas said the name, one that caused cold dread to erupt anew in Torrullin’s gut. He halted near the ledge and paled.
“You know this Netura?” Elianas questioned on seeing his expression. His knowledge of present-day universal cities and worlds remained on a need-to-know basis. When he needed to know, he went there.
“It is a new city - more a town today - built upon an old one on Sanctuary.” Torrullin drew in breath. “Gods, this is Teighlar’s ancient turf, a city inundated multiple times when it was still known as Orb.”
“Hell, then this will not be pleasant. Layers will be present, in rock and time.”
“Exactly.”
“Perhaps we should have Teighlar with us for this,” Elianas suggested. “He too grapples with new knowledge.”
After a moment, Torrullin agreed. “Of course, that means we may meet bloody Alexander Diluvan today.”
Elianas stared at him. “Same man, surely?”
“I do not think so,” Torrullin stated. “Alexander was more powerful. Teighlar has suppressed much in order to cope with longevity.”
“Well, this will be most interesting then.”
Torrullin laughed. “And we like interesting?”
The dark man shrugged. “Why not? Challenge is the stuff of life.”
“Let us hope you do not eat those words after this is done,” Torrullin muttered, and sent a call through the spaces to the Senlu Emperor.
“Are we going to check in on Teroux and Rose?”
“Not yet.” Torrullin lifted a shoulder when Elianas lifted an eyebrow. “It will be hard to see him different. Not yet.”
“He might not be so different.”
“And then I will want to strangle him.”
Elianas inclined his head and was about to say more when Teighlar appeared outside. He beckoned the man in.
“You have need of me?” Teighlar grinned. He held a wrapped package out to Elianas. “Just delivered to me. I have not opened it yet.”
The promised sword.
Elianas grinned from ear to ear and headed to the round low table in the sitting area. On his knees, he set the package down.
“What are we up to?” Teighlar nudged Torrullin, both of them watching the dark man.
“Netura.”
The Senlu lost all colour. “What? Say again, Netura?”
Elianas left off slowly unwrapping the blade waiting for him, and swivelled. “That does not sound good.”
Teighlar collapsed into an armchair. “Tell me I do not have to see Netura.”
After glancing at Elianas, Torrullin approached to take the adjacent seat. “I do not know, Emperor. Do you have to?”
The man jerked forward to cover his face with hands propped elbows on knees. “I have avoided even thinking about Netura in dreams for ever so long.” His fingers widened to enable him to peer at them. “This is a city Tannil destroyed?”
Nods from both men.
“Dechend knew not to tell me,” Teighlar muttered. He dropped his hands. “Seems I now have to see it, lay a ghost to rest.”
“I am assuming this is the first city you raised,” Torrullin murmured.
“Not merely the first city. In there is also my original palace.”
Elianas drew a measured breath.
Torrullin touched the Senlu’s arm briefly. “Not much remains of what was, Teighlar. And after Tannil, even less.”
Teighlar stared at him. “Yet you felt the need to summon me.”
“I know the history and we thought, at the end of it, you should be there.”
“Perhaps you are right.” Teighlar’s head swung to Elianas. “Go on; open it.”
The dark man knelt again after a beat and continued unwrapping the sword. Soon a polished length of silver steel lay glittering on the low table.
Elianas stared at it.
Torrullin gave a low whistle.
Teighlar clapped. “Now that is a sword!”
The dark man touched it. “It is beautiful,” he whispered.
The centre of the blade was indented and in the smooth groove, the fuller, there were engraved words and symbols. The guard was of entwined gold and silver strands, smoothed into ropes and knots, each knot inset with a cherry amber stone. The handgrip was tawny, stitched leather, and the pommel was silver with a flashing amber gem set into it.
“A blade to signify time,” Torrullin murmured, studying the gems. A frown twitched briefly upon his brow, as if he sifted through troubling memories.
“There you have it,” Teighlar smiled.
Elianas reverently lifted it and bent to the words and symbols. He straightened, moving to stare at the Emperor. “You dared write this word inside Grinwallin?”
“We took precautions,’ Teighlar grinned. “It occurred to me, to mitigate the destructive powers, you need to wear who and what you are in plain sight.”
Torrullin ambled closer and leaned over the blade in Elianas’ hands.
Danae. A string of symbols etched into the groove to either side spoke of sorcery’s antiquity. He reached out and gingerly flipped it over. Alhazen.
Elianas gazed upon that word also, eyes flicking along the arcane symbols for energy that matched the concept. He then lifted his gaze to Torrullin.
“It is a great sword,” Torrullin said, meeting those eyes. “It needs a name.”
Crinkles of pleasure appeared in the corners of the dark man’s eyes. “Thank you.”
Torrullin smiled. “You though I would be … what?”
A shrug. “Displeased? Jealous, maybe?”
“Yes, well, I admit, I am a bit envious,” Torrullin laughed.
Grinning, Elianas gripped the hilt to swing the blade on high. He stepped away and proceeded to swipe a
t the air. It whistled and sang. When he lowered it, he said, “I want to name it Lo …”
“No,” Torrullin snapped out.
“It sings.” Elianas lifted an eyebrow.
Teighlar approached. “My blacksmith gave it a name as he worked on it, said it helped him create a masterpiece.”
Both men swung to him.
Teighlar came to a halt, eyeing them. “It is a fitting name, I believe, for both sword … and man.”
Torrullin remained wordless, but Elianas said, “Oh? Do tell.”
As Torrullin closed his eyes, the Emperor said, “Eurue.”
Breath exploded as a gust of astonishment from Torrullin’s throat. Elianas instantly shifted his entire body to face the fair man. He held the sword two-handed, resting its polished length upon one shoulder. The point glittered upward.
“I have the distinct feeling you know about Elianas and his sword known as Eurue,” he stated. “This has already happened, not so?”
Torrullin snapped his fingers and an ornate silver belt and scabbard settled about Elianas’ waist, also inlaid with amber stones. Ornate as it was in its workmanship, the whole was understated, although arresting. It immediately summoned attention and proclaimed to the viewer do not dare challenge me.
“And that is its home,” he said.
Teighlar whistled.
Elianas gazed down. “Very old.”
“Indeed,” Torrullin said.
The dark man’s eyes narrowed, but he turned to Teighlar. “My Lord Emperor, I thank you for the gift of this blade, as I shall personally thank the master craftsman who created it.” He bowed low.
Teighlar smiled. “The pleasure is mine.” He glanced at Torrullin, blinked. “Perhaps I need to discover how to make coffee, hmm? Through there?” He pointed at the doorway, knowing full well how to get to the kitchen, knowing Elianas would understand it served as a distraction.
“That way, yes,” Elianas murmured. “Do not break the machine!” he called out as Teighlar vanished.
Laughter floated back.
ELIANAS SLAMMED THE SWORD into its home and braced before Torrullin. “Talk to me.”
Torrullin curled his fingers around the quivering hilt. The action took him into Elianas’ personal space.
“As I have rediscovered Trezond time after time through the ages and after reincarnation, thus have you hefted the sword legends name as Eurue.” He lifted his gaze to dark eyes and waited, still gripping the hilt.
Elianas wrapped his hand around those fingers and stepped closer. “I do not recall this.”
“It stumped me, yes, until recently.”
A dark eyebrow lifted. “Oh?”
“Hunarial,” Torrullin stated.
Lids lowered over dark eyes.
“I suspect she gave this scabbard to you,” Torrullin said, lifting his free hand to finger the belt at Elianas’ left hip. “I never suspected the sword was made in Grinwallin.”
“Yet you knew where to access the scabbard from,” Elianas retorted, eyes wide and blazing. He stepped even closer, the action threatening to shove Torrullin to the floor.
“As I knew where to find Trezond every time also, indeed.”
“Where, Torrullin?”
“Here, Elianas, under the emerald pyramid.”
“Thus you knew the sword would come to me soon, because the scabbard lay waiting.” Blink. “Fuck, what if I had not the power to bring our home back? What would have happened to it?”
“There are parallels. I would have summoned it from there.”
Elianas stepped back, ripping himself from both clasps. “Eurue on a stone I discovered inside Danaan and now Eurue upon a blade. The first you were unaware of, the second was known to you, and yet, not once did you flinch when you heard the term. Will you ever cease keeping secrets?”
“I flinched; you did not notice and, truth is, I am unaware of most secrets until something jogs me into recall.” Torrullin remained unmoving after shoving his hands into pockets.
The dark man heaved, and bent hands to knees. “Yes, it happens to me as well. We are not meant to remember everything at all times.”
Torrullin let him have that.
Elianas straightened. “Trezond was originally forged in Akhavar’s mountains, am I right? Yet you found it on Valaris in your first cycle. Who carried it through the Lorin time we now know about?”
“I do not know.”
“How come a sword I only find out about now has a legend surrounding it? When it was forged these past days? It is new, yet it is ancient?”
“For fuck’s sake, Elianas, I do not know!”
Elianas stepped in really close and gripped Torrullin’s hair. “Do those answers lie with the mysterious emerald pyramid?”
“There is an emerald pyramid here?” Teighlar demanded as he entered with mugs of coffee on a tray. “Grinwallin has one too.”
“As has the Keep … and Kalgaia,’ Torrullin murmured, and did not break the hurtful grip.
Elianas sighed and released. “Your signature. Now I understand.”
“You do not, but that is for another day,” Torrullin snapped out and moved to Teighlar and his coffee. He took up a mug, sipped … and spit it out. “What is this shit?”
Teighlar shrugged sheepishly and Elianas started laughing.
Chapter 18
Stairs go up, do they not? They lead to heights, to new vistas. Stairs also go down. they lead to depths, to familiarity. One can capture this sensation of change only once, upon the first ascent and subsequent descent. Thereafter nothing is new.
~ Emil
Engineer with a poet’s aspect ~
Sanctuary
Netura
BETWEEN LAKE ALTAR AND the Harken Mountains on Sanctuary, Netura nestled.
The Netu River ran through the town and north of it a great bridge spanned the lake to Mariner Island. Many of the asylum seekers arriving on Sanctuary, after being vetted at the island’s facility, sought haven in Netura. The stone and thatch town usually bustled with craftsmen and women, from weavers and dyers to blacksmiths and paper makers. Alyssan to the north was similarly employed, but concentrated more on fresh produce and game brought in from the hinterland.
Torrullin brought them to the small stone bridge that jumped the Netu. A winding paved road went both north and south, while a well-walked gravel path meandered into the town. It was a pretty setting. Majestic mountains to the west, the brilliance of Lake Altar to the east, with green fertility all around complimented by massive trees.
It was a pretty setting.
Great fissures now lay beyond the bridge; destruction had created a system of canyons. Any hint of a town was entirely missing. Black scars seared across the landscape. An expansive conflagration had swept through and it appeared as if a massive earthquake had felled the town, to swallow it into the earth itself.
Netura was no more.
There were no dead anywhere. Perhaps they had already been removed. Perhaps they disintegrated as the very ground had.
Cheeks twitching with tension, Elianas stepped off the bridge. How utterly astonishing that it had remained. Then, it had not been a ‘normal’ quake, had it? The dark man strode towards the first fissure.
Frowning, Torrullin followed. Why this?
Teighlar clutched at his arm as he moved forward. “I do not want to go in there. See?” He pointed at the new canyons. “Layers, Torrullin. What has now been exposed?”
Ah. Therefore this. Tannil went deep to bring out what lay below.
“Teighlar is right,” Elianas called over his shoulder. “There are unusual shadows in these depths, possibly manmade.” He stood on the edge of the nearest canyon.
Torrullin gripped Teighlar and pulled the reluctant man forward. “Stay in the present, my friend. What was can no longer affect this time.”
The man snorted. “The bloody past always plagues the likes of us.”
“Unfortunately,” Elianas muttered as they came to a halt beside him.
/> All three peered down and, indeed, there were strange shapes in the canyon walls. It reminded of Akhavar’s mountain city, as if halls and chambers nestled underground here as well.
This was not rock, however; it was packed earth, millennia old. Whatever had now been exposed would not last too long. Once the earth started drying, it would cave in. Downpours from the heavens would achieve the same.
Teighlar inhaled as if he sought to summon all spaces to him, causing both men to gaze at him searchingly. The Emperor then pointed further inland, nearer the foothills.
“There. What you may not see here will be the kind of shelters raised that could be moved when the river rose. There,” and he wagged his finger, “the first palace on Orb was built. High enough to escape the river in flood, while close enough for a fresh water supply. Rock and stability there, instead of soil and clay.”
Teighlar dropped his arm and swung to the two men.
“If we are after the truth of that time, then do not waste effort in sifting through this here. It has been about something pertinent, has it not? Every destroyed city you have visited? I guess then that is where we shall find the something pertinent.”
“Pertinent to whom, I begin to wonder,” Torrullin muttered.
Teighlar’s eyes glittered. “Likewise.”
Hand on hilt, Elianas moved forward, finding the path through the maze of fissures.
Overhead an eagle cried out and Torrullin shuddered. The sign for royalty. The sound of ancient sacrifice.
Teighlar glanced at him as they followed the dark man. “This could get bad.”
“Is it not better to walk away from this?” Torrullin asked.
“It is already too late for that.” The Emperor’s blue eyes were cold.
Ahead, Elianas glanced over his shoulder to meet Torrullin’s gaze. He was aware a great friendship lay in the balance this day.
They came then upon a great hole in the earth. This was not an excavation filled with strange shadows. This space contained, in its entirety, as complete and new as if it was yesterday, Alexander Diluvan’s Palace.
It sat in splendour at the bottom upon a perfect landscape. Up here time was now; down there it was many ages ago. Time had been perfectly preserved in only memory and now it was exposed anew.
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 203