The Nemesis Blade (55 page)

It will be
done. My Lord, thank you. I was worried.

Trust a
grandfather to be sensitive, Vanar. Till the morrow.

Till the morrow.
There was a smile
in Vanar’s sending.

“Come.”
Torrullin herded them out. “I am enveloping you into my signature
and will transport you.”

Again, only
nods.

Torrullin took
them away.

Akhavar

He took them
first to the great plains of emerald grasses, where the silence
held birdsong and snuffles, where the breeze sang a song and
soothed.

Tristan
grinned first. He sauntered away and then threw his arms up, crying
to the heavens and releasing tension to the wide spaces.

Teroux laughed
and ran through the grass.

Tianoman
stared at them and took in huge breaths. He gazed around him as if
awakening from a nightmare. He breathed more and then lay on his
back to stare at the blueness of a free sky. A tear slid from the
corner of one eye, but calm came, and acceptance.

Torrullin
wandered away and lifted his gaze to the west where the mighty
rocks held the oldest surviving Valleur habitat. He could discern
the ledge, a faint smudge against the ancient stone. Where Elianas
returned. Where Saska worked a miracle. Where Lowen vanished?

Lowen, where
are you?

She also gazed
on that smudge. Somewhere she called to him as time took her.

He felt her
presence as he had not felt it in a long while.

Tianoman was
at his side. “You got suddenly weird.”

“I am
fine.”

“This was a
good idea, coming here.”

“Feeling
better?” Torrullin smiled.

“Better than
at the Keep, I think.”

“Spend time
with your cousins - tell them about Digilan.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to,
or it will fester. They are closest to you, they will listen and
understand. They have lost fathers.”

“I guess. You
want to be alone,” Tianoman understood. “I am here for you as you
were for me.”

“Thank you.”
If only it were that simple. Not only had thoughts of Lowen
intruded, which he was not about to share, but also the reality of
the approaching journey.

He walked,
putting distance in place. Smells were poignant, sights precious.
How long would it be this time? At least he did not have Margus as
a factor and he would not be alone. Absence might be easier to bear
under those conditions. He had factored Maple in; a mistake in the
long term, maybe, and yet it went a long way in negating
ignorance.

Torrullin
shivered. How would Elianas regard the Tracloc?

He tried not
to think about Elianas.

Torrullin
checked on the cousins and saw them together. Tianoman was talking,
and Tristan and Teroux listened. That was the best cure. It would
take the edge of Tianoman’s heartache, for the other two would
share the burden. He at least did that right. Tasking Samuel with
their upbringing was his most brilliant achievement.

He walked on
without apparent purpose. His thoughts went round and around as he
attempted to find the pattern in the puzzle that spoke of a Three
and a Four. Seven in all …

Half of
fourteen.

Torrullin
swung back to stare at Nemisin’s mountain. Fourteen. There had to
be fourteen in the party or it would fail from the outset. A tunnel
through the spaces between worlds, bridging time, required every
inherent magical concept to meander it safely. Fourteen was
intrinsic. Fourteen started Infinity’s game, because the magic was
needed to unleash Vannis from entombment. As Lowen was now
entombed, in a manner of speaking.

He swore as
certainty built block upon block, causing a flat puzzle to take on
dimensions, shape, form … sound.

Yes, Nemisin’s
rock whispered of three, four and seven.

Gods, surely not? The Four Ancients, the Three of a
singular
kingdom. Not
three kingdoms; three of a kingdom. Bound together, because the
Throne would not choose between them?

Three, Four
and Seven companions.

Elianas,
companion to Elixir. Declan, companion to Quilla. Maple, companion
to Sabian, which made twisted sense. The Tracloc would watch Sabian
closely.

If fate ruled
the three heirs exit this realm, who were their companions? Caballa
… for Tristan? Given she had a vision regarding him - yes. Saska …
for Tianoman? Her mothering instincts, a chance to overturn past
transgression, an opportunity to lay the ghost of Tymall to rest
through his son - any one, any combination or all three were valid.
Saska for Tianoman.

Where did this
lead? He heard the stones sing in cadence to his thoughts, as if
confirming everything.

That left Teroux and Teighlar. Teighlar had no doubt chosen a
Senlu to accompany him, as witness to a historic event - probably
Dechend, an excellent choice. Teroux? An Elder? No, it did not fit.
A flower? What
flower
? A rose - Rose. The farspeaker who confused. A woman-child
with a womaniser. Even that made sense.

However, what
to do about the Valleur? With a coronation due? With the entire
universe camping out on Valaris?

Bloody Akhavar. He should have taken them somewhere
else.
Yes,
said
his inner voice,
and then? Fail before you
begin?

All this for
Lowen?

No,
the stones replied.
All this because ancient wrongs require redress,
in another time, a parallel where new answers to old crimes cannot
affect this reality.

Gods.

It made
sense.

At last it
made terrible sense.

He said
nothing.

Torrullin
allowed matters to take their course. For once he possessed
foreknowledge, and did nothing with it.

The fourteen
new Elders of Akhavar welcomed the Vallas and they met the other
residents, all of whom had only good things to share about Saska.
Some of the women, Torrullin noted, looked at him as if he were a
bug that deserved squashing - the judgement of universal
sisterhood. They took a tour of the mountain city, with Tianoman
now chatting incessantly, until Torrullin nearly shouted at him to
shut up.

Then,
mercifully, the evening meal was behind them and it was time for
bed. The sleeping quarters were rudimentary, but a bed was a bed
when one was exhausted. Tianoman was asleep so swiftly it smacked
of his state of mind. He sought oblivion and found it the natural
way.

Torrullin,
alone in a room, discovered sleep elusive.

After two
fruitless hours he took himself to the Syllvan, there to negotiate
temporal passage for Maple with the Gatekeepers of Reaume. They
granted reluctant blessing on condition they retained power of
judgement, which eminently suited him. He desired every safeguard
at his disposal. He then informed the tree-like creatures of his
discovery and had his suspicions confirmed.

Yes, they
concurred, there was a way to ask for and receive atonement beyond
the confines of time, and, no, it would not impact on accepted
reality. Did he need a complement of fourteen, he asked, and was
informed if he desired optimum outcome, yes.

The Syllvan
operated on a questions and answer system. Ask a question and an
answer would be given. Ask nothing and nothing would be given, and
thus he asked something more.

Would the
Throne choose a Vallorin?

It depended on
Elianas.

What did that
mean?

Only Elianas
could answer.

Nearly tearing
his hair out in frustration, Torrullin asked, had he judged
correctly in aiding Elianas to autonomy?

No, said one,
and, yes, said another, and, maybe, yet another. It was not an
answer and Torrullin left the Gatekeepers to their cryptic
ways.

Returning to
Akhavar he found sleep further out of reach.

He wandered
the darkened halls like a ghost and prayed for morning to come.

They had a
leisurely breakfast, for morning on Akhavar was night on
Valaris.

They spoke of
nothing stressful. Even Tianoman was calm. Torrullin’s obvious
withdrawal went unremarked.

After the meal
they separated to their own thoughts and mental preparations. A
valet delivered the formal attire, and not long after the process
of dressing commenced.

On Valaris
thousands gathered in expectation.

From Akhavar
the Elders transported to their places in the proceedings,
murmuring good wishes as they left.

Tianoman was
formally clothed in grey and blue - his father’s colour s- with a
dark blue cloak pinned from his shoulders.

Teroux wore a subdued gold and red -
his
father’s colours - and a red
cloak.

Tristan donned
dark green - not Samuel’s colours, they were personal - and his
cloak was blue also.

All three wore
their swords; this was one ceremony where ceremonial blades were
out of place. Newly crafted scabbards of the finest silver were
gifted to each to mark the occasion. They had their hair trimmed
and no plaits were in evidence. They were Valleur men, and wore
their hair loose.

Torrullin
found them on the ledge, quiet and sombre and as formal as their
attire. He did not remark on it; the time for formality had arrived
for them.

He wore black
and the cloth was richly embroidered and hugged his frame. He had
the royal cloak on and Trezond nestled at his hip. A simple golden
half-crown sat on his brow, and the heirs stared at it.

“In the past,”
he said, “the Throne would indicate a successor and then the
passing of the Dragon would commence.” He touched his chest where
once that Dragon resided. He missed it still. “A new way has come
for a new era. Today only the Throne chooses and once its choice is
clear, this crown and this cloak will be passed on. Wear them well
and may all that is good give flight to your future.”

Three heirs
bowed, and then it was time to leave.

Chapter 41

When a choice
lies before you, be as objective as possible. And be firm in your
decision.

~ Awl

Valaris

W
aves of sound resounded and
rebounded about Torrke.

The Valleur
sang traditional songs and chanted from their hearts. Deafening
applause and cheering greeted every song’s ending.

The four
Vallas arrived on the battlements and were seen. Loud cheering
marked their arrival.

Torrullin was
cold. This was a lie in this game he played. He adored his people
and hated lying to them, especially on this day. Yet, for
certainty’s sake, he would play. In order to convince his
grandsons, he would say nothing. They would discover the future and
then accept it was the way of it.

They strode
through the throng and a path opened. Down the northern stairwell
onto the crowded balcony where Vanar and Yiddin waited. There were
no greetings. Vanar and Yiddin simply led the way down to the
courtyard. There they halted, for it was not yet time.

Tianoman
fidgeted with his new scabbard. Teroux gazed on the crowds in awe.
Tristan was expressionless. Torrullin thought he would burn. Cold,
hot.

Saska was next
to him. “Something is amiss.”

He did not
answer.

“Torrullin?”

“Find your
place, Saska; we are about to begin.”

She frowned
and moved away.

He murmured to
Yiddin, “Clear a path to the doors.”

The Elder
bowed and they followed him to the point at the Dragon doors where
the blue carpet began. Nobody stood on it, but they crowded thick
on both sides.

Vanar and
Yiddin took up position first, then the three claimants to the
Throne; Torrullin was next, with forty Elders now of three worlds
arrayed behind him. A trumpet sounded, a cheer raised the sky, and
Vanar and Yiddin paced forward.

The rest of
the entourage followed, no one looking right or left.

By the time
they entered the chamber, the witnessing Valleur were hysterical in
their joy. When the last Elder entered the space of the Throne’s
reappearance, dead silence fell and breathless waiting took on
form.

They fanned
out to take up position in a semi-circle, and the three claimants
stopped. Vanar and Yiddin flanked them.

Torrullin
walked on in the empty space. He stared wordlessly at his grandsons
and then, “It is time.”

Utter
silence.

The ground
shivered, the Keep rattled and a wail rent the air.

The Throne was
coming.

Torrullin had
no need to speak the words of uncloaking; it knew he was there and
waiting and thus it came.

Light erupted
in the empty space, spreading out into the chamber and then beyond.
The Valleur went wild with elation.

Torrullin
smiled for the first time. It was twenty-five years since he last
sat on his Throne and in the intervening years it had not ceased
calling. Now there was Elianas … and this very powerful addiction.
He had forgotten how the seat could lure. He had forgotten how he
enjoyed it.

He raised his
right hand. Sound died. The light subsided to a gentle throb to
highlight the overcast day. He sat and as he did so the Throne rose
to meet him.

Torrullin shut
them out, closing his eyes, and sent his senses to embrace the
Valla seat. He welcomed it, as it welcomed him. Yet, and it did not
surprise him, it was different. Oh, the addiction was there, the
power, the knowing, but it was less personal.

Elianas became
the personality of the Throne; the sentient part of an ancient
symbol. What remained was instinct. It was not less or more; it was
what it once was, and it was new.