The Nemesis Blade (11 page)

The Kaval,
twenty-five years back, were tasked with finding and erecting a
sanctuary. A place where the dispossessed, the sick, the sick at
heart, the desperate, the lonely and the suicidal could come to
find rest, peace and a new home. Fugitives from justice came too
and were well vetted before permitted entry, as were asylum
seekers.

Chaim told of
this world, a world average in size, population and wealth, with
one massive advantage for the Kaval. It possessed large unchartered
territories. Elixir at first demurred, saying territory was not
enough, and then Chaim explained other advantages.

A world of
average wealth slowly succumbed to lack of resource; growth had
stagnated and people gradually sank back into prehistoric mire,
still centuries away, but retrogression had begun. They could well
use the offworld traffic resulting from a sanctuary; new talent,
new genetic material, imported resources, tourism and mechanical
and technological advances, among others. They could not only use
these things, but welcomed it. A world and its people desperately
needed and desired change.

And they had
large unchartered territories.

Elixir was
negotiator and secured Lake Altar, Lake Averis and the surrounds,
which included part of the coast of Axiom Sea, flatland for the
spaceport, and Mariner Island. In return the indigenous people
received employment, training, implements, new farming techniques
and more viable and sustaining crops, and coin - coin in the form
of landing fees, tourism and a growing import-export trade.

The world was
called Orb, akin to saying Planet, Circle, Roundland, and when
Torrullin suggested renaming it Sanctuary, the suggestion was
accepted without qualm.

Chaim’s
proposal proved worthy. Now, to Ignatius, it proved formidable
challenge.

Orb, now
Sanctuary, had little in the way of written record, and what they
did have went back no further than ten thousand years. It was as if
a new civilisation sprung up out of nothing, knowing certain
survival techniques that pulled them from a grunting, fireless
existence far quicker than would be expected in a short time. It
was a civilisation that sprang from the ashes of an apocalyptic
disaster, but there was no record of the event, and no memories or
tales were passed down of a previous time.

Ignatius
stepped off the concourse and headed for the bridge. How to delve
far back successfully, for history to fit theory, prophesy … and
threat?

A challenge
indeed and one he relished, but a week was not near enough
time.

Xen III

Daisy returned
eventually, and presented to the three Vallas a young woman by the
name of Rose.

Tianoman was
instantly smitten and gawped like a schoolboy.

Rose was
gorgeous. She was tall and lithe, with huge blue eyes and hair the
colour of straw bleached in the sun, her cheeks rosy - partly
responsible for her name, no doubt - and a smattering of freckles
adorned a pert nose. She dimpled at them.

Teroux cleared
his throat and took her hand, bending over it. “Rose, my name is
Teroux.”

She laughed.
“You are like sunshine, Teroux, gold in all ways.”

Teroux cleared
his throat again and, “This is Tian.”

Tianoman shook
her hand gauchely.

“Tian, you are
like summer,” Rose smiled.

He blushed and
looked away.

Tristan lifted
his brows at Daisy, who shrugged as if to say ‘she has this effect
on everyone’, and formally extended his hand. “Rose, we are pleased
to meet you and pray you will help us. Forgive my cousins for being
obvious.”

She took his
hand and held on. Rose, clearly, was well aware of her power. “And
you are?”

Tristan,
older, wiser, was not fooled. “I am Tristan, and we have work to
do.”

She watched
him with a thoughtful expression and then, “At the enclave we place
our trust in natural, beautiful things, for we require calm to
function. This is why I am Rose and he is Daisy. All are named for
flowers, understand? Visitors are placed into categories to aid the
flowering of a talent, see? Therefore he is like sunshine and he is
like summer, but you? Tristan, is it? Tristan, where do you fit
in?”

He found he
was taken aback. Rose was not merely a pretty face. “Does it
matter?” He withdrew his hand from hers.

“It could.
Daisy says you need help to contact Caballa and if I am to deal
with your cousins, I shall have summer and sunshine supporting me.
If, however, I am to deal with you … what do I have?”

“Spring?”

“You are not
spring. You are not a season. What does your name mean?”

Sensitive
issue. Reluctantly he replied, “Holy One.”

A smile spread
across her face, one that entirely lost him his breath. “Ah, of the
spirit and spiritual. Between Aaru and earth. You will be the air
in which all things flourish. Yes.”

Gods. She had
him, just like that. Tristan glanced at his cousins and noted the
same mesmerised state. He found his breath. “Will you help us?”

“Of course.
Summer, sunshine and air for the rose to open its petals.”

Tianoman
groaned.

Daisy gave an
evil chuckle, knowing the reason behind it.

Teroux smacked
a paralysed Tristan on the arm. “Tris, let’s get to it, for Aaru’s
sake.”

Tristan shook
himself. Rose spelled trouble. “Indeed. Rose?”

She dimpled
again. “Come with me. I think we would break the concentration of
the circle if we attempt to join with them. If you are willing, we
can reach out to Caballa in a more private place?”

Without
awaiting an answer she veered away from where they would find the
circle of farspeakers. Teroux shrugged and set off after her,
gripping Tianoman as he passed by, and Tristan turned to Daisy.

“Watch
yourselves,” Daisy murmured. “Rose is a true professional, trust
that, but she plays games with men.”

Tristan stared
at him. “Why did you then bring her to us?”

“Because she’s
the best. My Lord,” and it was the first time Daisy deigned to use
a title, “she is no whore, our Rose. She’s an attractive but
innocent child who, unluckily, saw the power she had over men at a
too early age. Watch yourselves, but watch her also, for it’s a
game to her, a child playing with living dolls. I’m afraid she will
get hurt one day. Please.”

Tristan’s
estimation of the insolent Daisy went up a great deal. He found he
was in sympathy with the strange man. “I shall contain my cousins,
have no fear, and we will complete the task as speedily as possible
and leave young Rose to herself.”

“Thank you.”
Daisy bowed.

Tristan
inclined his head and set off after the others.

“My Lord!”
Daisy called out.

Tristan
halted.

“She is young,
yes, but has longevity, for she isn’t Xenian.”

“Interesting,
but why tell me this?”

“It’s not your
cousins you should watch, Tristan Skyler Valla, but yourself. You
are much like Torrullin, he who is also Elixir.”

As Tristan
drew a sharp breath, Daisy gave an enigmatic smile and vanished
through the door behind him.

Tristan stared
at that closed door for long moments and all he could think was he
had trodden on the devil’s tail and when the goddamned devil turned
on him, he would probably bloody grin at the thing, and that, he
understood, put him close in nature to his contrary
grandfather.

Gods, they had
to get out of the enclave before he ensnared himself.

…
it’s a
shoot of grass … how extraordinary …

~ Tattle

O
f the ancient races four remained.

Oldest was
Quilla of the Q’lin’la, singular, but his race came through a rift
from another universe and was therefore not endemic. Oldest of this
universe were the Valleur. Once close to extinction, once beyond
this reality for survival, they were again many and regarded
universally as the most powerful people. Then there were the Senlu
of Luvanor - Grinwallin in particular - and they endured ninety
million years of abeyance to arise anew to a new time, a second
chance at life. Declan of the Siric, singular, was between the
Valleur and Senlu, but his span of years put him second only to
Quilla. His race was not the oldest in the universe, but he was
second in age.

There was
another who held the status of an Ancient and he was likely older
than the Siric, but he was not of one race; he was a mixture of
messes. His name was Agnimus, part human, part darkling, part
Drinic and part Valleur, and Declan was commanded to find this
strange and dangerous individual.

Agnimus was
the instrument of destruction on Valaris twenty-five years ago. It
forced Torrullin to do something so terrible in defence he turned
his back on his homeworld.

In the
aftermath Agnimus escaped to places unknown, knowing too much about
his past, and the latter made him more dangerous still. That
knowledge alone could bite at the Valleur, Valaris, Luvanor, and
Torrullin specifically. However, Agnimus made no move or sound in
the intervening years and no trace of his presence was found, and
yet, if a name was put to the source of rumour mongering it had to
be Agnimus.

If he was not
the source, he would know who was.

Nemisin’s
World

Declan alighted
on the ridge once the site of Nemisin’s mountain palace, he who was
First Father to the Valleur, first Vallorin and first
Enchanter.

This world had
long been dead, a world avoided for its killing deserts and extreme
heat, and was now made new, a promise Saska, wife to Torrullin and
the previous Lady of Life, made to herself.

It was a
promise she kept, for herself, for Torrullin, and because she
thought it imperative to the manner in which the Valleur were
viewed universally. She prevailed upon her successor, the Lady
Lily, to bring her renewal talents to bear on a sterile world, and
Lily, challenged, achieved a wondrous miracle. Xenian scientists
helped, as well as biologists from other worlds, and Nemisin’s
world today shone as a green jewel in space.

Declan ambled
to the edge of the ridge and peered down.

Once rock,
sand and nothingness shimmered in the heat below; now he stared in
awe over a vast green plain, grasses waving in benign temperature,
and in the distance the tell-tale glint of a broad watercourse.
Massive trees dotted the landscape and there were wild animals
grazing where before there was no life, not even a microscopic bug.
It would never be jungle, this world, not even a forest, but it was
so green it hurt, and the wild expanses of glorious silence
beckoned a visitor to peace. Huge mountain ranges were purpled by
distance and were no longer hot rocks of sterility; they hosted
lakes and waterfall, great birds and scrub a-flower all year. As
was the mountain he stood upon. As far as the eye could see there
were flowers, low grass and trickles of fresh, clean water. The
cries of eagles, falcons, hawks, owls, ospreys and many others
sounded far off and filled the silence with music.

He stared
up.

The sky was
sapphire blue, the sun a bright disc overhead. It seemed unlikely
it could rain here - and had not for thousands of years - yet water
there was on the fertile plains and gathered in the embrace of the
mountains. He knew, for Saska told him, this world had two seasons,
both generally hot; one was dry, the other wet. He now spied
roiling thunderclouds on the horizon and realised it heralded a
thunderstorm, but perhaps it would not travel this far before
releasing its load. It was not yet the wet season.

The cool
mountain abodes were reopened, shored up, excavated where
necessary; the entrance lay before Declan.

According to
Saska, and that was ten years ago, the palace in the mountains
required years of labour to restore to former glory, but the
attempt was in progress and she chose to live on the site of the
renovations. Five years ago she sent Lily away to her other duties,
for the planet achieved a state of self-sustenance, and proceeded
to concentrate her energy on the world inside the mountain.
Caballa, he heard, joined her.

Perhaps there
were others now.

He crossed the
ridge and entered the blessed cool and was astonished. He expected
darkness and found mural walls, a tinkling fountain, and plants
healthy in lovely urns. Pebbles shone through the water of the
fountain akin to jewels.

Beyond were
more chambers - one could not call them caverns - and each was as
welcoming and attractive. Bridges spanned canals filled with cold
mountain water and the tinkle of liquid bliss was everywhere.
Lifelike, painted renditions of creepers vied for space with the
real thing and in every hue of green one could imagine. Dainty
roses tumbled from beautiful urns, and daffodils and cornflowers
spilled from verges alongside the canals.

As Declan
walked open-mouthed into the palace that was older than he was, he
discovered sunny courtyards, cool squares, green lawns, bright
ponds, more bridges, realised the canals teemed with tiny, bright
fishes, saw more flowers than he had seen in years of visits to
other worlds, and was utterly astounded.

He came to a
halt in a large chamber and stared up.

Sunlight
poured through open domes in the rock, but was filtered by
crisscrossing vines and creepers, and tiny birds flitted in and out
of the foliage. The stone underfoot was polished to mirror sheen
and the walls rendered in lifelike landscapes. He wanted to lie in
its embrace forever. A tear slid over his pale cheek and his wings
quivered with emotion. It was true haven.

Torrullin
would find peace here. This was a Throne-room for a god.