The Echolone Mine (54 page)

With a cheery
wave she left them there.

“Was that why I
had no power in the Shades?” Torrullin demanded as he watched Lowen
talk to Teighlar.

Elianas’ tone
was matter-of-fact. “You stayed your hand recently, as you
admitted. Being Elixir hurts, not being there for everyone all the
time hurts. You healed how many thousands these last months, and
before that you sought redress only to bring back the status quo,
the lesser danger, and thereafter willingly entered the unknown to
restore what actually amounts to true and lasting balance. You gave
unselfishly, and these acts are facets of lumin kindred. Gods,
Torrullin, what would be the result, do you think?”

“You have not
answered my question.”

“You had no
power because the Shades is the greater power.”

Torrullin
watched Lowen speak with Tristan in private. “By inference, you
retained your unique talent because you are in deeper than before,
therefore able to hold your own within the greater power.”

“Am I sinking
into darak, is that what you ask?” Elianas no longer watched Lowen,
and his tone dropped into something different.

Torrullin
watched her leave, saw her turn, pause and look at him. He placed
his hand on his heart, and she smiled and did the same, and was
gone.

He swung
around to Elianas. “That is what I ask, my brother. Great
wings?”

“They are not
as large as yours were. Did you consider yourself evil at the
time?”

“Yes.”

The simple
answer threw Elianas.

“You were
hoping I would say no?” Torrullin said. “For pity’s sake, you saw
what I did to Kalgaia, and there were other terrible deeds. That is
darak, not shadows.”

Elianas
retreated. “Tell me, brother, if I were to become darak fallen,
what would you do?”

“I would
spread my own wings wide and hope to catch you.”

Elianas drew
breath. “What wings do you have to spread?”

Torrullin took
a step and it brought him close. “You see improperly. I do not
trail shattered patterns. You see, as Lowen did, only what I want
you to see.”

Elianas
stilled. “Do you see mine?”

“I do not need
to, do I?” He reached behind the dark man, moved his hand in the
air at the man’s back and then brought his hand back. He raised it
palm outward. It was covered in fine lines, like a spider web. “I
know what follows you; I feel it.”

“Then why ask
about wings and evil?” The words were torn from Elianas and his
gaze fixed on that palm.

Torrullin
flexed his fingers and the tracings vanished. “Because Lowen forced
you into an admission, and I wonder if you know yourself.”

Elianas closed
his eyes and drew breath. When he reopened them Torrullin was
walking away to rejoin the group. He stared hard at that retreating
back, trying to see what was really there, but even the small shows
had now vanished.

It proved, of
course, what Torrullin claimed about him seeing only what he wanted
him to see.

“All right?”
Teighlar questioned as Torrullin joined them.

“Yes.” He
glanced at Quilla.
Do not apologise to him, Quilla. I am afraid
it will spark a confrontation.

With me?

With me. He
battles enough demons.

Quilla’s face
was expressionless.
Very well; I shall follow your lead.

Thank you.

Teighlar,
meanwhile, was speaking. “… a new mission, is that it?”

Torrullin
concentrated. “My birdman friend here believes Elianas and I should
listen to all sides before entering Reaume.”

Teighlar
glared. “Are you mad? You
are
losing your pebbles.”

“You were
warned to stay away,” Tristan said.

“Which could
also be a plea for help,” Elianas said, coming to rest beside
Torrullin. “I have been in and out of realms countless times, and I
tell you one must not think lateral when discussing Reaume. The
Syllvan requested that Elixir stay out … but not the
Enchanter.”

Quilla’s mouth
dropped open.

Elianas
continued, “When one tries too hard to be everything, one loses
efficacy, but when one concentrates on that which defines us, one
finds greater result. Torrullin is able to subvert Elixir for long
periods, which means the Enchanter would be strong if called upon.
That strength would be telling in Reaume.”

Quilla closed
his mouth and then reopened it to speak. “Sweet Mother, that makes
perfect sense.”

A quirk of
Elianas’ lips. “I hope I prove I am not too dumb.”

“And you,
Elianas?” Torrullin questioned with unreadable eyes. “What defines
you for Reaume?”

Elianas
flourished a bow. “I am your apprentice, Lord Sorcerer.”

“You would …?”
He bit the words off. He spoke to Caballa instead. “Lowen mentioned
a package Krikian left at the Academia. Do you know of it?”

“No. He died,
what, nineteen years ago? Would it still be there and how is it
relevant?”

“Lowen makes
it relevant.”

“Who was this
Krikian?” Elianas asked.

Caballa
smiled. “A real sweetheart of a man. Krikian was a dream
interpreter, and good at it. He underwent the Ritual to remain at
Lowen’s side until Torrullin returned from the Plane, and
subsequently reversed longevity at the Lifesource Temple. He was a
friend to every Valleur.” She glanced at Torrullin. “He revered
you. Wherever he is, he still regards you as the only Vallorin the
Valleur deserve.”

“I know, bless
him. He was an innocent; not a shadow anywhere.”

Teighlar
nodded. “The man had a gift for making disparate souls fit together
snugly.”

“Indeed,”
Torrullin murmured, and forced himself not to glance at
Elianas.

Tristan said,
“I think I must brush up on the Oracles again, particularly the
eleventh. I forgot about Krikian.”

“I should read
all the Oracles.” Elianas muttered. “Seeing the history from the
outside is not the same as knowing it from the inside.”

Teighlar
grinned. “Well, you have the father of all historians right next to
you. I think he would give even Sabian a run for his money.”

Elianas
inclined his head. “Unfortunately this historian tends to play the
mute when the hard questions are asked.”

“You do want
to taunt, don’t you?” Teighlar said.

“Need to step
from the shadows, Emperor.”

Caballa,
seeing Torrullin about to explode, said, “Who will retrieve this
package from the Academia?”

“We should
look at it before a decision is made on Reaume,” Quilla added.

Elianas
laughed inaudibly.

Torrullin
moved his head as if to control his temper. “Elianas and I will
fetch it.”

“Right behind
you,,” Elianas said, “but make it before the Academia, for you need
to answer a fucking question before we go much further.”

Torrullin
jerked a nod, and was gone.

Elianas
dematerialised a moment after.

Tristan burst
out, “I feel as if I must watch every word that comes out of my
mouth!”

A letter from
the past is a missive is life-changing.

Arc

Luvanor

Academia of
Truth

T
he forest surrounding the Academia was thick, more so
than Torrullin recalled, but then he had not been in the vicinity
for a long time.

Amongst the
shadows of tall trees, standing ankle deep in snow, he waited for
Elianas, and conjured a cloak for warmth.

Elianas came,
shivered, and did the same, wrapping it about himself.

“Your
question.”

Elianas
shivered again. “Did I betray you, or did I see what you wanted me
to see?”

Torrullin
nodded. “Good question. You are almost ready if you are able to ask
that now.”

“Torrullin.
Answer.”

“Both,
Elianas.”

“Tell me.”

Torrullin
peered into his eyes and then shook his head. “Not yet.”

Elianas sucked
at his teeth. “Is there a line?”

Torrullin’s
eyes flickered.
Clever, my brother, very clever.
“There is a
line.”

Elianas’ eyes
narrowed. “They are huge, are they not? Your wings?”

Torrullin
walked through the trees towards the bridge that spanned the river
and led to the Academia. “It is unreal, you know that. Neither of
us really has wings.”

“And you never
had an aura,” Elianas muttered, “yet it is documented folk saw it
surrounding you.”

“I thought you
did not know the Oracles.”

“I heard. You
prove my point, by the way.”

“Documenting a
few incidents does not make it gospel.”

“And Lowen
seeing shadows makes her a liar.”

Torrullin
halted as they were about to leave the trees. “It is too bloody
cold to argue the finer points, but I am not denying the shadows
seen. All I am saying is you must not regard them as tangible.”

“I am not an
idiot.”

Torrullin
walked on.

“You gave much
away earlier,” Elianas reasoned, and laughed. “Dear gods, that is
it. You did not mean for me to know you have been playing a game
ages old and I thought I was the one stringing you along.” He
laughed again. “More fool I!”

Torrullin
stopped. “Stringing me along?”

Elianas paced
forward. “On Avaelyn it is nearing night and we would be winding
down the day, and yet here we are tramping through snow. Just
yesterday we carved through a wall, and today we trample that by
pushing each other. What happened? How does it change so fast?”

Torrullin
gazed up at the snow-laden branches. “We need the pace to discover
each other. Either we
are
going in opposite directions or we
walk so close we
think
we are opposite.”

“And the ages
of knowing? We should know by now.”

“This future
is still dark to us, the road ahead so stretched it is close to
linear. Perhaps we are different because of that, and thus a
discovery process is underway.”

“Save the
esoteric bullshit, Torrullin, and speak plain.”

“Sorry,
brother, esoteric is all I have.”

“I do not
believe that.”

“You are not
the only one battling demons.”

Torrullin
walked over the bridge.

His and
Elianas’ footsteps were the only marks in the pristine white on the
bridge, the only set of tracks as they walked up to the great
gates, and they would have been forgiven for thinking themselves
alone in the universe, until the smell of wood smoke came to them,
and a distant bell called the hour.

The gate was
open and unmanned, or so they thought until they noted guards
huddling around a fire in the curve of the inner wall. It was
peacetime; there was no need to call them to duty.

The long
fishpond was covered against the cold of winter, the fountain
silent. The sundial reflected no shadow on this clouded day. The
balconies and stairs were deserted up to the third floor, and the
battlements were unmanned. The wall creepers were leafless and
dripped snow, and trees were in winter slumber, the gardens covered
in white powder.

It was eerily
silent.

The bell
sounded again, and a door on the first floor burst open to release
a crowd of boys, and they ran shouting and laughing in every
direction clutching books under arms. Lessons were over for the
day. Their master followed them out more slowly, a look of
long-suffering relief on his weathered face, and came to lean over
the balcony, no doubt to ensure his charges did not leave through
the gates. The guards were no doubt alert to that danger also.

His roaming
gaze found the two visitors and he straightened and then pranced
down the nearest set of stairs. He was quite sprightly, given his
obvious years. A moment later he kneeled in the snow.

“My Lord
Torrullin.”

“Rise.”

The man did so
and when Torrullin extended his arm, gripped it like it was a holy
relic, his face ecstatic.

“Your name,
master?” Torrullin prompted.

“Wixell, my
Lord.”

Torrullin gave
Elianas’ name, who was similarly clasped. “Master Wixell, who is
presently in charge of the archives?”

“That would be
Brother Tas, my Lord.” He gestured to the left. “Shall I call
him?”

“If you would
have him meet us in the archive chamber. And, Wixell, we prefer
anonymity, we are not staying.”

The master
nodded and headed off to the left.

Torrullin led
Elianas to the right.

“You always
prefer anonymity.”

Torrullin did
not reply. They came to ornate double doors set below ground level,
reached by two descending broad steps. The doors were closed due to
maintenance of climactic conditions for the old scrolls, but not
locked. He drew one side open and they entered a gently lit space,
closing the door behind them.

Inside it was
a cool. A comfortable chamber was filled with desks and easy
chairs. All was in silence. The study area, a place to read in
peace. Beyond laid shadowy shelves filled with scrolls and books.
Luvanor’s long history, stemming from the time of the Nine and the
Taliesman, lay documented in there somewhere. The far older history
of the Luvans lay documented only in Teighlar of Grinwallin’s
head.

The door
opened behind them and Master Wixell preceded an older Brother in.
Brother Tas was a Valleur in every sense of the description, but
had reached the concluding century of his long life, for he finally
showed his age in the lines upon his face. Valleur aged markedly
into old age only in the last hundred years.

“My Lord.”
Brother Tas bowed.

“Well met,
Brother. This is Elianas.”

The Brother
studied the dark man frankly and then, “Well met, Elianas. You are
Valleur, if I am not mistaken.”