The Echolone Mine (87 page)

Torrullin
gripped him by his tunic and transported away with him.

Aislinn
shuddered.

He did not take
them far - the Graveyard - and there directed Tianoman roughly to
the crypt that contained the mortal remains of Taranis and
Millanu.

“I know what
it is like to lose a father. Anger is first, then denial and only
later does grief set in. You cannot talk about it, cannot explain
yourself to others, and you do not want anyone to talk to you. You
want to be left alone. And you also want to blame someone.”

“I know who to
blame,” Tianoman growled.

“Blame me. I
am responsible for what Tymall became, and it led to his
death.”

“I do not want
to talk to you.”

“Then listen.
Imagine it was Aislinn being raped.”

“He wouldn’t
do that!”

“If there was
reason, he would have, and without compunction. He has done so many
times in the past, and family and loyalty and control counted for
little. You care about your wife, and had someone attempted rape,
you would come close to murder in the aftermath. Imagine that
person does not stop, and her honour, her pride, her self-worth is
at stake - what would you do? I care about Elianas, and it does not
matter how, and I wanted to kill Tymall because of intent and deed,
and Elianas stopped me. The man understood what it would do to me
to kill my son. And then there was no choice. He had to decide. His
honour, pride and self-worth or degradation. No man or woman would
choose the latter, no matter who it harms afterward. As you now
blame him, no doubt I will soon enough, once the horror of what
happened in Digilan fades and all I remember is that my son is
dead. But it is not this day. And I hope time will do the opposite
for you, and you might forgive.”

Tianoman
stared at him.

“Now, however,
you need put aside personal emotions, for the Valleur as a nation
face the gravest crisis yet.”

Tianoman
blinked.

“I assume
everyone made themselves scarce when your mood became apparent, or
you would know what has been stolen from under your nose.”

“Stolen? You
mean my father’s life.”

“Something
worse. Your Throne.”

Tianoman
paled. “What?”

“Check. I am
behind you.”

Tianoman
jerked away, and transported back to the Keep. Torrullin was an
instant behind. There they discovered together that the Throne’s
space was empty.

“Who did this?
My father?”

“Nemisin.”

Shocked
silence, and then, “How?”

“He is first
Vallorin. It harks to him.”

“What will he
do?”

“Tristan no
doubt told you Nemisin wants to take my place, and he is using the
Throne as defence. As long as he sits on it, I cannot touch him. It
protects him.”

“The Valleur
will regard me as weak. I cannot remain Vallorin if another
controls the seat of power.”

“Exactly.”

Tianoman sank
into a nearby chair and sat with his head hanging. “What do I
do?”

“At moonrise
this night on Echolone there is a challenge we need face. You, me
and Nemisin. One of us will walk away as victor.”

Tianoman
lifted his head, his gaze stark. “I cannot compete in that kind of
arena.”

“Yet you
must.”

“What form
does this challenge take?”

“Nemisin will
sunder worlds to get what he wants, using Cassy’s network and more,
and thus I accepted a bloodless game of brinkmanship. He claims the
Throne as his, I as mine, and yet it belongs to you. We shall each
have three opportunities to call it. Whoever it settles with …”

Tianoman was
white. “It hasn’t been with me long enough.”

“It is aware
of Valleur prosperity and the greater future. It cannot choose
Nemisin unless it is sentimental, which I doubt, and it cannot
choose me, because it knows I am Elixir. My duty is elsewhere. That
leaves you, the Vallorin to take the Valleur into a bright future
without burdens and issues.”

“And if
Nemisin wins?”

“Then there is
a huge problem.”

“And if you
win?”

“Same. You
have to want it, you have to convince it and, Tian, you must mean
it with all you are and hope for.”

The young man
rose to pace again like a madman, this time without the anger. “And
Nemisin will step aside gracefully?”

“On the
contrary, and that is why I chose Echolone, and have put Erin on
creating an unseen path Sabian may …”

“To the Avior
door. The Path? Will that work?”

“I bloody hope
so.”

A reluctant
smile. “And Sabian?”

“That choice
is his.”

“What have you
promised to do if you lose?”

“I shall fade
into obscurity on Avaelyn with Elianas, leaving enough of Elixir
out there to prevent future voids.”

Tianoman
lifted a brow. “How long can that last?”

“Long enough
to lull Nemisin should he walk from the challenge the victor. If
you win, both of us vanish.”

“And how long
will
that
last?”

“Nemisin
probably will not escape the Path of Shades, and I shall be
otherwise occupied for some while before sticking my nose in where
it does not belong.”

“I need to
think.”

“Yes, and
prepare. Look at your wife and son and see what is at stake. If we
pull this off, there need not be a drawn out war and, Tian, Elianas
will be there. Prepare for that as well.”

Tianoman gazed
at him.

“In the
aftermath there is one loose end you need deal with - Cassy. She
will not be easy. She is in this up to her ancient Valleur neck,
but her fate I leave in your hands.”

“Gods,”
Tianoman muttered, and started pacing again.

Torrullin
vanished.

A summons
answered isn’t necessarily duty.

Anonymous

Echolone

T
undra Green Wind.

That was what
this place was called, and followed the established tradition of
three words that described. As night curtained the sky from the
land, the last vestiges of the great green plain darkened into
charcoal before becoming as black as the night enveloping them. The
wind rose in a whistle with terrible strength, buffeting cloaks and
hair, tugging at anything loose. Swords rattled. Cloth snapped
loudly.

Great events
needed no summons, and this was no exception. Tristan aided that
premise in the short time available to him. Shamans from many
Echolone tribes were in attendance, moving among villagers who
flocked in to witness the outcome of an epic challenge. Only
recently admitted to the ranks of the universal body that was
worlds in communication, they nonetheless grasped the result held
ramifications even for them. They worked closely now with the
Kaval, Beacon and the Vallorin of Valaris; they needed the status
quo.

There were
others on the field also. Beaconites resident on Echolone for the
duration of the mining operation, the entire Kaval, Elders from
Luvanor, Akhavar and Valaris, as well as Teighlar, Dechend and a
fair number of Senlu. Quilla had spoken the words in the Emperor’s
ear that brought him onto the wind-ridden tundra in the dark of
night.

All of those
were in minority when compared to the real host. Valleur in their
thousands came. Some sensed a call, some was due to Tristan’s
machinations, and others followed Elders. All understood the
importance of the event.

Fire torches
dotted the landscape, sparks swirling into the air upon the
contrary wind. The smell of smoke and expectation surrounded the
gathering. A low murmur was the amalgam of many voices in low
conversation.

In the centre
of it, surrounded by a ring of low torches to mark out the
perimeter, the Throne hunkered, gold flashing in the flickering
firelight.

Tristan stood
nearby, waiting. He removed his cloak despite the cold, for the
flapping cloth would hamper him if the challenge descended into
physical battle. His right hand was hooked in the loop beside the
hilt of his sword. He expected it would go wrong.

He prayed
Valleur numbers would aid his cousin Tianoman, Vallorin. He
believed they supported their Vallorin in every thought. He hoped
they did, or he had miscalculated. If Torrullin won, Tianoman would
lose more than the Throne. If they backed Nemisin, First Father of
the Valleur, the nation as a whole would never be the same.

Too much
depended on three voices calling three times to the squatting seat.
He hated that thing for having so much influence. As Quilla earlier
murmured to him, no object should contain magic, magic should be in
the mind only, and for once he wholeheartedly agreed. He stared
balefully at it, and prayed in silence.

In the east
there was an arc of light. Echolone’s moon was rising.

Within minutes
of it being marked, silence descended on the host.

Tianoman
arrived first.

He blinked
when he noted the gathering, and then bowed in their direction. A
mighty roar went up, and he smiled. Tristan sighed. Perhaps it
would work.

Tianoman
approached and came to a halt before him. “I think you are
responsible for the gathered Valleur.”

“One voice,
cousin. There is strength in that.”

“Agreed. And
you are worried I will not carry the night.”

“I am worried
Nemisin gets his way. As a nation we will be in great tribulation
after. This could lead to civil war.”

“You don’t
mention Torrullin.”

“Torrullin
won’t last the night, Tian, whether he wins or loses.”

A blink. “Why
do you say that?”

“Concentrate
on what lies ahead, cousin; we can deal with that problem
after.”

Tianoman was
about to remonstrate, and then saw the wisdom. Yes, focus. Absolute
focus. But, “Is that why Elianas comes?”

Tristan
nodded.

Tianoman
stared at him a moment longer and then moved to stand before the
Throne. Gradually he blotted everything out and discovered the kind
of focus that enabled huge feats. It occurred to him as a final
contrary thought, he would never again be this absolute in a single
task.

A stir in the
gathered indicated new arrivals.

Nemisin,
resplendent in the royal blue and gold of the Valleur, alighted and
bowed to the host. The silence of uncertainty greeted him. He
smiled and straightened to prowl his way to Tianoman’s side.
Cassiopin alighted, similarly garbed, ignoring everyone, and then
Sabian with a wry twist on his face.

Sabian
approached Tristan. “He said this night he is king again, therefore
the ostentation.” Clearly Sabian desired to divest Nemisin of his
royal threads.

Tristan lifted
a shoulder. “Let him be the showman. Maybe it will distract
him.”

Sabian swirled
his tongue over his teeth. “You have a point.”

He smiled like
a predator, and Tristan shivered, wondering if Sabian would hark to
the deal. He had a feeling Sabian would remove Nemisin from the
field no matter what the outcome, and was not too concerned. It
occurred to him the Valleur would definitely enter a period of
strife without a Vallorin at the helm, especially when the Throne
was in contention. He said nothing, for that would be easier to
deal with than Nemisin controlling every thought and deed.

Nemisin came
to rest beside Tianoman. “Tianoman Valla.”

“Nemisin.”

“Are you ready
for this, boy?”

Tianoman did
not move. “I have more to lose. I have never been more ready.”

A breezy laugh
beside him. “Excellent. I enjoy a genuine challenge.”

Tianoman said,
“You are revered as our First Father, the maker of the Valleur, and
that would never have changed. Why do you now seek this?”

“Power is
addictive. Ask your Lord Sorcerer.”

“Torrullin was
never that addicted.”

“I beg to
differ. Is he not the One?”

“He is the
greatest healer ever known. Unselfishly. That is nobility, not
addiction.”

A voluble
sigh. “Rose-tinted, I see. Boy, he is more than a healer; he is a
warmonger. The universe will not be safe until he is locked
away.”

Tianoman
smiled tightly. “Sabian did not tell you everything, I see. I hope
you can cope with the fallout if Elixir is ‘locked away’.”

Nemisin smile
became fixed. “And you can?”

“I would not
deny him. There would be no issue.”

Tianoman paced
away and went to stand beside his cousin and Sabian. Nemisin
remained before the Throne, while Cassy stalked the perimeter as a
fire cat. She was in high dudgeon and only super control prevented
her screaming out.

Then Torrullin
arrived.

The Valleur
went wild.

Tristan
shivered, and Tianoman held tight to his sense of focus.

Torrullin
studied the situation and faced the gathered beyond the perimeter
of fire. He lifted his voice and called out, “Valleur!”

More wild
acclaim.

“Gods,”
Tristan said under his breath, and began praying again.

“Valleur, we
are here to settle the issue of the Throne, and I shall state my
preference.”

Dead
silence.

“I am supposed
to be impartial or at least partial to myself, if you push me for a
choice.” Torrullin stalked the ring, frowning Cassy out of his way
at one point. She glared at him, but moved.

“I am not
impartial! I have had my turn as Vallorin and Nemisin has had his!
Tianoman is Vallorin and shall continue being Vallorin. He is your
ruler, he is your future and his son is heir. Nemisin cannot offer
you the longevity of a new future in a new heir and I cannot do
that either. I demand you gift him your every thought, that you
grant him all the support you can muster, and look ahead to every
tomorrow!” He paused, and then smiled. “Valleur, he is my grandson
and I love him, and I want him on the Throne - don’t you?”