The Nemesis Blade (42 page)

Saska stepped
into the space … and sagged in relief.

Nothing. No
echoes, no presence, merely her imagination. In her mind the Throne
and Torrullin were linked; Torrullin, due soon. Uncertainty hounded
her.

Right?

Wary of her perceptions, she stepped
from
the space.

An echo of
laughter bounced around the huge cavern.

Breaking out
in a cold sweat, she called out, “Who is there?”

She did not
expect an answer; she understood over-wrought emotions tricked,
anxiety created monsters in the mind.

“
I
am
here.”

Saska gasped
and retreated further. Again, she was the hunted one.

More laughter
echoed.

Then she was
angry, as she was in the dream. Furious, actually. It lent her
courage. “You cannot intimidate me!”

“I do not seek
to intimidate you, Saska.”

She was still
dreaming, that was it. Bloody hell, wake up!

“You are
awake.”

Her hands
shook; she shook all over. “Who are you?”

“How they
forget.” There was a sense of coalescing, as if frayed ends
gathered together, but it was tattered bits of nothing … or morsels
of shadow forming dark. Now there was no aura of light.

Saska held
onto her own frayed ends as she witnessed a gathering of presence.
“This isn’t real.”

A quicksilver
chuckle, and it sounded so much like Torrullin she almost called
out his name, instinct preventing her in time.

Then there was
the shape of a man standing in the once sacred space of the nomadic
Throne. It was only a shape, akin to a silhouette without light
behind it, and there were no features.

“Real it is,”
the form murmured, “but only a sorceress such as yourself would
feel and see.”

“What do you
want?” she demanded, her heart beating an entirely alien
rhythm.

“You would not
understand my answer.”

The form
sounded like Torrullin in his contrariness. Abruptly it irritated
her. Why did everyone treat her as if she was stupid. She tapped a
foot on the stone floor. “Try me.”

“I think
not.”

“Who are
you?”

“I am certain
you have a few thoughts.”

She was beyond
anger, beyond fear. Curiosity had finally arrived. This was a
Valleur world, a Valla Throne-room. Somewhere near the mighty first
father lay in death’s embrace. Perhaps reality was different
here.

While she had
not experienced it before, maybe dreams and visions here led to
visitations from across time and space.

“Nemisin?” she
asked.

A boom of
laugher echoed. “Guess again.”

Gods, she had
been sure. “Agnimus?”

“Not even
close, dear Saska. If I were Agnimus, this would merely be the
remains of an altered concept of sentience. Agnimus is no longer
Agnimus, but you know that already.”

Goddess. She
knew now who it was and knew beyond doubt. “Are you - no, it must
be impossible.”

“Why?” the
form whispered and seemed to lean forward. “Realms are real, the
Great Curve is real, the Animated Spirit is real. Why not this? All
those things should be particularly impossible, yet are not;
therefore, nothing is impossible.”

She was
wordless.

“Saska,
beautiful Saska, once Lady of Life, once Valleur queen, Immortal
Sylmer, wife to the Animated Spirit, tell me who I am, tell me
now.”

She finally
understood the meaning of paralysing fear.

“Afraid?” the
form taunted.

She managed a
nod.

“Do not be
afraid; I mean you no harm. Tell me who I am.”

Her hands
trembled and she stilled them against her stomach. “Do you mean him
harm?”

“Elixir?”

“Yes.”

A soft laugh.
“No, not him. Never him.”

“Who,
then?”

“I have
mentioned you would not understand. Now, Saska, will you say who I
am or must I declare myself? I wish to know whether you guess
accurately.”

Saska
swallowed. “You are the Throne.”

There was deep
silence and then a deeper sigh. It sounded elated, as if she was
right, and disappointed, as if she was also wrong.

“Yes.” The
form began to roughen around the edges; it was dissipating.

“Why here?”
she asked. “Torrke is open again and Valleur are in the Keep. Why
here, when they will know you there?”

“This is where
it began. This is a mark in time and space. He will know.”

“He?” But she
knew who he meant.

“Call him,
Saska. Call him. The time is at hand to begin anew, to make choices
once more. Call my Lord Torrullin before the sun shines again on
Akhavar.”

Then it was
gone.

She ran
fleeing from there.

She shook
Prima hard to wake him, shouting, “Prima! Wake up!”

Prima sat up
and then prudishly crossed his arms over his chest. “My Lady?”

“Prima,
listen, you must hear,” she gabbled, “and give me advice …” and she
rushed through the event in the Throne’s cavern.

“Slow down, my
Lady, you are not making sense.”

Saska
swallowed her words and sat on Prima’s bed, which nearly gave the
poor man a heart attack.

Slowly she
went through the dream, her awakening, her visit to the sacred
space upon the dream’s prompting and then explained what
happened.

When she was
done, Prima forgot about the ethics of being in a bedchamber with
his master’s wife.

“My Lady,
forgive me, but are you sure this happened?”

“As opposed to
a dream? More than a vision? Yes, I am sure.”

Prima nodded.
“What do you want me to do?”

“Tell me if
this is possible.”

He swung off
the bed and found a robe to put over his nightshirt. “Take me to
the place.”

They did that,
but there was nothing. No echo, no laughter, certainly no presence.
In fact, it felt emptier than before.

“Well?” Saska
demanded. “You are Kaval, you do things out of the ordinary. Tell
me if I imagined this.”

“Do you think
you did?”

“No! But the
alternative is … scary.”

“Absolutely,”
Prima muttered. “Maybe we should call him.”

She did not
want to do so. Saska stared at the abandoned space. “You know,
Prima, there was something in the way the presence said that bit
about the sun shining on Akhavar again.”

“Meaning?”

There was
anxiety on her face. “The sun will not shine here again unless
Torrullin comes.”

“Is that what
it said?”

“That is how
it feels. Almost as if …”

“… proof of
presence?”

She nodded. “I
think so.” Her fingers clenched together. Dear Aaru, how many times
had she not heard Torrullin claim the sentiency of the Throne? What
did the damn thing want so badly, it took on form?

“And you want
to test it, before calling to my Lord Elixir?” Prima frowned.

Saska gave an
uncertain gesture. “I would hate to call unnecessarily.” Coward,
she berated herself, but it would gift a few hours more to prepare
for Torrullin.

“Agreed,”
Prima nodded. “And if the sun does shine in the morning?”

“Then we pull
it apart, maybe enlist Caballa’s aid.”

Prima inclined
his head. “There is no way I am able to get back to sleep now.”

She laughed,
liking the man. His presence served to soothe some of her rampant
fear. “Same. Shall we rustle up coffee and await the dawn?”

Prima followed
her out, dread snaking in his gut. He wondered what lay in store
for Elixir in this new twist.

He also
wondered who pulled the strings.

Chapter 32

Rock and stone
and flint and sliver, the tangible aspects of time.

~ A
geologist’s belief

Grinwallin

Q
uilla paced away, Torrullin’s
demand echoing in his ears.

He halted
before the painting of Torrke, the magical valley belonging to
Torrullin. He pointed at it.

“Teighlar,
this is Torrullin’s home. Did you know this?”

“He mentioned
it.”

“Do you think
it beautiful?”

Torrullin
swore, but Teighlar said, “He no doubt seeks to make a point. Yes,
Quilla, it is beautiful.”

“Just
beautiful?” Quilla asked, gazing at the painting.

Teighlar
glanced at Torrullin and wandered closer. He stood alongside the
birdman and gave it attention. “It has an untamed feeling,
unpredictable in nature.”

“Yes, that is
it exactly,” Quilla murmured. “My point is, these works have
captured emotions also. Amazing, considering no Luvan ever visited
Valaris.”

Torrullin
growled out, “Gods, will you get to the stones?”

Quilla gazed
at him. “I am doing so. Come, let us study this painting …” and he
veered left, walking swiftly away. He stopped eventually and
pointedly waited on the two men.

“He has good
recall,” Teighlar murmured. “Already he knows the position of each
painting.”

“Huh,” was all
Torrullin said.

They stood
behind the tiny form and gazed on the painting in question. It was
of rocks.

“What do you
see?” Quilla asked.

“Grinwallin
grey,” Teighlar said.

Torrullin
sighed. “Torrke’s boulders.”

Quilla smiled.
“Akhavar’s purple mountain stone. Sanctuary’s river rocks.”

They stared at
each other.

“Are you
suggesting another link?” This from Teighlar.

“No, I am
saying stone is generic. A stone is a stone anywhere.”

“Geologists
would disagree,” Torrullin frowned.

“Indeed, but
we are not geologists. We see stone as stone and we hear stone as
stone.”

“Your point?”
Teighlar said.

Torrullin
laughed. “If we listen well, any stone will give us the tale.”

Quilla gave a
beatific smile. “Yes. You see, my friend Teighlar, my Lord Elixir
here tasked this birdman with finding out about singing stones. I
returned to the Lifesource Temple to open myself to the songs -
Q’lin’la are well versed in Song, as you know. Well, I heard many
songs, many tales, and then was forced to narrow the input to what
we seek. Imagine my surprise when I realised any rock would tell
us, anywhere, anytime, and then I was further amazed to discover
once I knew that I no longer required the conduit they are.”

“There are no
singing stones?” Teighlar appeared upset by the thought.

“No, no, there are. We can bypass them, that is what I am
saying. We do not need to find
the
stone,
the
song and we do not require the blood. Listen, and
we hear.”

“What do we
hear?” Torrullin asked.

“We hear the
echoes, my friend. They are inside us.”

Teighlar shook
his head. “Grinwallin was built because stones sang.”

“Grinwallin
was built because she already existed, Emperor. Look again at this
painting. It is stone and it could be any stone. There is no
emotion in this work; it merely is. Grinwallin is like that.”

Torrullin and
Teighlar watched Quilla intently.

“Perhaps you
doubt what I say, which is understandable. Grinwallin has given
every indication of a beating heart; she proved her wakefulness to
us earlier, did she not? How dare I claim she is of emotionless,
generic stone, stones the Luvan royals heard, hearing her speak of
her building. Yes?”

Both men
nodded, both feeling like children before a lecturing parent.

“Who heard
first, Teighlar?”

“Khunrath, the
secret royal.”

“Khunrath
heard the stones because he had a tradition of hearing inside him,
but what he heard was the echoes of a previous time. He heard and
envisioned a city already built and chose to make it real. Do you
see now?”

Torrullin
swirled his tongue in his mouth, saying nothing, but Teighlar
frowned, saying, “No, I do not see.”

“In previous
time this fair city was architecturally conceived, and creating in
the imagination is as good as creating, period. Grinwallin had been
conceived; Khunrath simply built it.”

“That begs the
question, who was the architect?”

Quilla glanced
at Torrullin, who said, “Nemisin.”

Teighlar
spluttered and then was silent. Long minutes passed and then, “Or
you?”

Torrullin bent
over, hands on knees, taking deep breaths. “All I know is, now I
know exactly where the Luvan records are.” His breathing was
unsteady.

Quilla chose
to hold his pose in the ensuing silence, bright eyes flicking from
one to the other.

Torrullin
found his equilibrium and rose to face the Senlu Emperor.

“The records
are in a chasm,” Teighlar said at last. “Unreachable.”

“I know. The
Final Abyss. Grinwallin’s other name.”

Teighlar’s
eyelids flickered, but otherwise he did not react, saying only,
“And you know about abysses.”

“I do,
yes.”

“Therefore you
can reach.”

“I believe
so.”

Teighlar’s
face took on a pinched look. “Are you also the architect of an
ancient crime, Torrullin? Did you strike at the Diluvans for daring
to come to this world where you conceived of the Eternal City?”

Torrullin then
assumed the still stance Quilla knew well, the one that bespoke his
defences rising to isolate him. His heart bled for the man.

“Surely I
would have struck the Luvans also, for daring to come here?”

“I follow your
reasoning, but someone had to build Grinwallin.”

“Teighlar, how
can I know any of this?”

The Emperor
pointed a finger. “By going back for Lowen. She knows. And, you
know what else? I think you took her away, as you must find
her.”