The Nemesis Blade (60 page)

“It does not
frighten you?”

Elianas’ face
stilled, and then, “The only thing that frightens me is that I am
unable to put you together again.”

Torrullin
shivered. He looked away.

Elianas’
shoulder nudged briefly. “I shall have it figured out by then, if
it even gets that far. There are no rules.”

“Torrullin!
Elianas! Time to go!” Teighlar called out.

Looking
searchingly at each other first, they then rejoined the others.

The raft was
already loaded, with Sabian holding the loosened mooring rope on
the shelf. He looked them over and gave a secretive smile. He
tossed the rope and jumped aboard.

Elianas
climbed on sedately, with Torrullin calm behind him. Neither made
eye contact with another, simply retrieving oars and putting them
to work.

Quilla glanced
at Declan. Tristan looked at Caballa, who would not meet his
eyes.

“Paddle to the
centre and then we go on,” Teighlar murmured.

They went
on.

The water
remained tranquil for the length of the cavern, lulling, with
paddle strokes akin to music in the echoing silence.

It took over
half an hour to traverse the calm expanse, but when crossed the
temperament of the water altered again.

It was not as
violent as before, for no tunnel bottlenecked the racing currents.
Speed intensified and there was a mighty pull and suck at the oars,
yet oars could be safely employed through grotto after grotto,
large caves that were small in comparison to the mighty cavern.
Each grotto was illuminated, sometimes from below - a property of
the water - and sometimes from above. The latter was decidedly odd,
for there were no holes in the mountain dome to the outside sky,
and yet glows accompanied them.

“It is not
science,” Teighlar murmured.

“It is the
rock,” Quilla suggested.

They travelled
in silence, awed by the sights, and used skill and muscle to
navigate their way through. It was a winding route as the ancient
watercourse made its long remembered bid for freedom through rock
and stone and air older than itself, finding the outlets that eased
the way, a route not always as easy on the travellers.

Grunts
accompanied some strokes, curses marked others, and they went ever
onward.

Dechend, at
one point, remarked there was no turning back; the only escape lay
in finishing.

Teighlar was
ever more pensive, his face shuttering more and more as they
struggled to maintain direction on contrary currents, until
Torrullin said, his voice made hoarse by effort, “Do you hear
them?”

Everyone
looked at him, not sure whom he spoke to, but Teighlar was the one
who answered.

“I hear
them.”

“Many songs,”
Elianas whispered.

“Many deaths,”
Quilla said sadly. A moment later he frowned. This Elianas heard?
When only Ancients could hear?

“What?” Teroux
questioned.

“Singing
stone,” Tianoman said.

Tristan lifted
a brow. “You seem to know much suddenly.”

Tianoman
shrugged.

“The stones
talk? I wish I could hear that,” Teroux sighed. “Always the
ignorance.”

Torrullin
waited a beat and then, “You must want to hear, Teroux.”

“I do, and
hear nothing.”

“Then fear
holds you back,” Teighlar remarked. “Release fear and you open the
way.”

Dechend
cleared his throat. “According to legend only the Luvan royals
could hear the stones.” His tone held a thread of uncertainty.

“Not true,”
Quilla murmured. He glanced at Elianas.

“The Luvan
royals could communicate with the stones,” Torrullin said, “a
talent that escaped the rest of us.”

Teighlar
glanced at him. “Talk back?”

Torrullin did
not look at him. “Yes, talk back, or shed blood when asked to.”

Elianas
sighed.

Teighlar
closed his mouth into a thin line before he could say more. Dechend
did not know his Emperor was Luvan … and he was one also.

Dechend was
the one who took it up. “Blood? Khunrath shed blood for
Grinwallin.”

“Indeed,”
Torrullin murmured. “You know Luvan history.”

Dechend stared
at him. “Obviously you do as well, my Lord. How is that?”

“Titania,”
Declan supplied.

“I am sorry?”
The Elder appeared confused.

“The library
of Titania contains most tales, even Luvan.”

Dechend gaped
at him. “How? Luvanor was isolated then, as it is now.”

“The stones
sing to each other,” Quilla murmured. “Those who heard, wrote it
down.”

“Gods,” the
Elder muttered and lapsed into silence.

Declan
shrugged in Torrullin’s direction as if to say it was of no use yet
to reveal how much they knew, and how.

Sabian laughed
to himself.

Quilla glared
at the man, and so did Maple.

Ahead a jagged
opening loomed and silence returned as they steered through.
Another grotto greeted them, then another. They were wet, cold and
hungry, and their biological clocks revealed the time for sleep had
come and gone, and nowhere did a likely place to halt present.

They went on
with grunts and sighs, and added now to the impetus of the journey
was the search for such a place.

Not long
after, the current strengthened and the raft started to buck on the
water.

“Must be a
tunnel,” Teighlar said.

“Lift oars,”
Torrullin said and five oars pulled from the water.

Rose whimpered
and Caballa comforted her.

A moment later
the raft was grabbed by an invisible force and sent hurtling
forward. Sound became thunderous.

There was no
tunnel.

What there
was, was a mighty drop and they plummeted more than a hundred feet
and submerged into incredible depths, twisted without recourse to
control. This time the sheer pressure of the water from above held
them under, the airtight containers too puny to hurtle back to
surface and air.

Torrullin
severed his rope first and in the froth of violence found
Saska.

She untied
herself, her legs transforming into a Sylmer tail, her lungs
converting to cope with underwater breathing. She saw him, waved
him off, and then headed for Caballa and Rose, the two women
frantic in the depths.

Torrullin drew
breath, watery breath. He possessed the added biology of the
Valleur, the kind that could transform for alien environs, and
always found he was unable to breathe water, until now. Cold water
flooded his lungs; he choked, and then was able to function.

He kicked away
strongly, saw Quilla sinking past him with staring eyes and grabbed
at him, thrusting for the surface.

Declan was
alongside, his wings shrunk to nubs, and had a hold of Sabian and
Maple. Maple was unconscious and Sabian kicked desperately upward
in time with the Siric.

They broke
surface together. Sabian spluttered and then struck out for calmer
waters alone, with Declan pulling Maple along. Torrullin held
Quilla clear and searched for Saska, finding her propelling Rose
and Caballa away from the waterfall’s violence. He noted Teighlar
swimming strongly away, aiding Tianoman.

Then Tristan
popped up beside him and he handed Quilla over, pointing in the
direction the others were headed.

Torrullin
dived.

In the froth
he saw a shadow. Dechend. He gripped the man and pushed him up. The
Elder had sufficient reserve to find the surface.

Where was
Teroux? And where was Elianas?

The raft was
an ominous square of sharp death below, twisting around with
malevolence. Teroux was still tied to it, struggling for freedom.
Nearby Elianas attempted to dart in to help.

He kicked
towards them. Elianas struggled for air, not yet aware of
limitations to his new form, or his horizons. Torrullin collared
him, pointed up, and then realised the man’s robes hampered
movement. He held him, tore the clothes free and pushed him up with
a mighty shove. The last he saw before he concentrated on Teroux
was Elianas as a shadow vanishing into light.

Teroux had
surrendered. He moved according to the whim of the raft and the
pounding from above. Torrullin dived in.

The raft
bashed against him, battered his arms and legs, but he ignored the
onset of pain and grabbed at Teroux. Missing, he tried again, to
snag a foot.

It was
enough.

He hauled
himself upward along Teroux’s leg, found the rope, severed it and
gripped. Praying, he struck for the surface.

They broke
through. Elianas was there, waiting, and he helped drag Teroux to
calmer water.

It was another
cavern, although not as large as the first one, the water not as
still. However, there was a similar shelf off to the right and they
headed that way, as had the others.

Tristan and
Tianoman took hold of Teroux, pulling him out, and then Teighlar
helped Elianas. Torrullin clambered out and stood a moment to
check.

Teroux, Quilla
and Rose needed immediate attention and in that order.

He glanced at
the shivering, almost naked Elianas. “Are you all right?”

“I will be.
Help them.” Teeth chattered on a weak smile.

Torrullin bent
to Teroux and laid hands on him. A moment later his grandson
coughed up water, and Tristan took over. Next was Quilla, and then
Rose. Quilla recovered well, but Rose started retching so much she
required added healing. A moment after that she sobbed against his
chest, and then Caballa took her.

“You need
help?” he asked of her, but she shook her head, cradling Rose.

Saska sat
nearby, also almost naked. Reverting to her Sylmer biology - an
automatic response to immersion - she usually lost most of her
clothes also. She wore a torn tunic and cupped her groin as she
watched her legs reappear.

He knelt
beside her, his heart crazy. Dear god, this strange mixture of
vulnerability and strength was why he loved her … and wanted her.
He cleared his throat and she looked at him, seeing his thoughts in
his eyes.

“Let me bring
clothes at least.”

She nodded,
her gaze locked to his.

He tore his
away and touched her legs. A replica of the dark breeches she wore
earlier covered her. He cleared his throat again and made to move
away. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Thank
you.”

He gently
squeeze her hand, smiled and moved on.

Rose’s big
blue eyes followed him, and inwardly Caballa sighed.

Torrullin
knelt beside Quilla, who shook his head. “I was not quick enough.
Thank you, my friend.” Torrullin squeezed his shoulder and went to
check on Teroux. His grandson did not use words; he embraced
Torrullin.

“Hell of a
drop,” Teighlar muttered.

“We can get
the raft out.”

“I will do it;
you have used up your reserves today.” Teighlar grinned at Teroux,
winked at Torrullin, and stood on the edge of the shelf with one
hand raised horizontally. He made a fist, jerked his hand to him,
and at the foot of the waterfall a dark square erupted, shot up and
smashed back down, and trawled nearer.

Teroux
clapped. It was the first time they saw Teighlar employ magic.

As the raft
bumped against the shelf and was moored, packs hauled off,
Torrullin went to Elianas. “Robes?” he asked, his gaze amused.

“It is a
vanity I can ill afford now. Nearly drowned there. Dress me like to
you.”

“Black?”

“Why not?”

Torrullin
grinned. “I may find you irresistible.”

Elianas was
serious and gazed deep into his eyes. “You already do.”

His heart
flipped over for an instant. “True.” It was, although he suspected
they said different things. Torrullin ran his hands over Elianas’
goose bump arms, bringing forth black tunic and breeches the same
as his own. He looked him over. “Suits you.”

“It is my more
usual wear, truthfully,” Elianas muttered. “The robes were about
freedom, not identity.” He lifted a warm finger to Torrullin’s
cheek. “Feel the heat? You did more than dress me, I think.”

Torrullin’s
eyes hooded. “You are being obvious.”

The finger
dropped away. “Generally I am more circumspect, but now I am
obvious, yes, because they must question my motives.”

Torrullin
frowned. “Why?”

“For them to eventually understand you are the
only
reason I am here,
and I would protect you against every one of them.”

Torrullin’s
gaze was directed from lowered lids and then he closed them.
“Gods.” He opened them and forced himself to move away, leaving
Elianas gazing after him with an enigmatic expression.

A number of
the team abruptly pretended to look elsewhere, among them Caballa
and Teighlar. Saska, however, stared at her husband with a
frown.

He ignored
them.

“We should
rest here a few hours,” Dechend suggested.

“Yes,”
Teighlar agreed. “Let us get a fire going.”

Chapter 45

Water is cold,
sun is hot and rock is hard. Be merry! Water is life, sun is energy
and rock is foundation.

~ Awl

Grinwallin

A
n hour later they were dry, had
eaten and prepared for sleep.

Wet clothes
lay spread over the shelf, gear was staked out to dry also and the
raft was safely moored. The fire was sorcerous, hot and bright, a
comfort in a strange environment.

Rose was
asleep first, with Caballa and Saska curled in beside her.

Tristan,
Teroux and Tianoman sat on their pallets murmuring together. Not
long after they surrendered to the need for rest. Dechend snored
first. Declan sat at the fire nursing his nubs back into glorious
wings. Quilla lay in a tiny ball beside him, his feathers fluffier
than usual. He bemoaned it earlier, saying no one took a fluffy
bird seriously. Rose giggled long over that.