The Sleeper Sword (71 page)

Dawn found
them spooned under the old tree.

Healing came
in the night, from unburdening secrets too heavy to bear alone.

When Saska
yawned and opened her eyes it was to find her husband smiling down
at her. They were ready for each other again, and she reached up
and drew his mouth to hers.

Two thousand
years she waited, while for him it had been mere months since the
final parting. A lifetime for both.

This day the
Enchanter returned to Valaris.

Chapter
62

“…
dreams
are often far more than mere symbology …”

~ A recognized
truth

“Kismet?”
Torrullin asked as he and Saska entered the courtyard later that
morning, both ravenous for food, but sated in other ways.

The Elder
waited beside the mosaic pool, his gaze on the doors.

Kismet
approached. “I apologise for interrupting this time together, my
Lord.” He smiled and took Saska’s hand to raise to his lips.
“Welcome home, my Lady.”

“Thank you,
Kismet. Yes, this is home at last. I’ll leave you two to it, shall
I?” and Saska excused herself.

“This had
better be serious, Elder. My wife and I need more time.”

“It’s
Tristan,” Kismet said, lowering his voice. “I haven’t said anything
to Samuel or my Lord Vallorin yet.”

“Is he
hurt?”

“No, no. He’s
dreaming and Vania says he’ll speak to no one but you about it. She
says he’s making himself ill and is afraid to sleep.”

“Did you see
him?”

Kismet shook
his head. “Teighlar took the boy under his wing, I think to prevent
Curin from hysteria; she’s protective of her son, overly so.”

Torrullin
glanced up at Saska’s form on the balcony. “Perhaps it is as well I
am needed on Luvanor; it will be safer for her there.”

Kismet did not
reply. It was not his place to make those judgements.

Torrullin
continued, “Perhaps all Vallas should go. I’ll have word with
Samuel and Tannil. Meet us here in half hour.”

Samuel was no
problem, but Tannil balked. “We can’t leave Valaris
unattended.”

I don’t want
to leave my Throne.

“Our people
are quite capable, Tannil.”

The Throne
can look after itself
.

“Admittedly,
but if something goes wrong in our absence, we’d be seen as
cowardly, particularly to Tymall.”

“I don’t care
what he thinks, only that you are safe also, grandson.”

“I thank you,
but I know we’re not safe anywhere, not even within our own
ranks.”

There was no
denying it. “Come see your son, Tannil. We won’t stay long.”

Tannil sighed.
“Yes, perhaps that is good. Teroux will remind me what this is
about.”

Saska was keen
to see Teighlar, Luvanor and the boys, and needed no
convincing.

At the agreed
time they met up with Kismet and together left for Luvanor.

They appeared
in Grinwallin’s Great Hall, and had barely taken two steps when a
loud cry cut through the air,

“Enchanter!”

Torrullin
grinned. “Phet!”

The little
blue birdman charged willy-nilly through the midday throng in the
hall. As in previous times, he made no bones as to where his
loyalties and his love lay. He launched himself into his
Enchanter’s arms.

“You are a
sight for sore eyes, old buddy,” Torrullin chuckled when Phet stood
on his own two feet again.

“Good,” Phet
said, colouring slightly, if that was possible. His cheeks were
already so rosy they appeared edible. “I’m going with you.” He
planted his little feet apart and raised his chin.

“Into the
mouth of danger?”

“Nothing we
can’t handle together.”

“From previous
experience …” and Phet grinned. The Enchanter had given in.
Torrullin shook his head. “Quilla will be horrified.”

Phet giggled.
“Good - he needs to be shaken a bit - far too staid these days.” He
turned and bowed low to Saska. “My Lady, we have missed you.”

“I missed you,
Phet.” They stared at each other tearfully and Saska said, “A hug
would be nice …” Phet needed no encouragement.

Tannil and
Samuel looked on bemusedly.

Enchanter,
the boy needs you now.
Teighlar approached with a smile,
revealing in his expression nothing of the tension in his sending.
Have you informed his father?

No. Say
nothing.
Smiling as well, Torrullin turned to greet the
Emperor. The two clasped hands and then Tannil and Samuel were
greeted before Teighlar went down onto his knees, head bowed before
Saska.

“My Lady, I
would ask for your blessing.”

“Teighlar, I
am no longer Lady of Life. I have no blessings to bestow.”

“To me you
will ever be the Lady,” Teighlar said, raising his head.

She placed it
upon the Emperor’s silky head. “The blessing is from me, my friend,
because you have a special place in my heart.” She removed her
hand, murmuring, “Now get up and …”

Before she
could voice her thought, Teighlar rose smoothly and took her into
an embrace. Winking at Torrullin, he said, “I ask a boon …”

“To kiss my
wife?” Torrullin snorted. “Forget it.”

Laughing,
Teighlar kissed her on the cheek. “Saska, we’re glad you’re safe,
and it is beyond good to have you with us once more.”

“Thank you.
Grinwallin is more glorious than ever.”

“Ah, now you
are speaking to my heart of hearts! She thrives and grows ever more
beautiful!”

Saska giggled.
“You need a woman, Emperor - you are in love with walls!”

“Ah, but they
don’t fight back!” Still smiling, he took her arm and led her to
the sitting area. “I need to borrow your husband for a while.”

Leaving her
there, he beckoned to Torrullin and the two vanished up the massive
stairway on the far side, those that led up to the Emperor’s
private chambers. Phet fell in behind them and when Teighlar
glanced over his shoulder Torrullin murmured it was all right.

“Well, Samuel,
I think we are third wheels,” Tannil said. “Shall we go visit with
our better halves?”

Samuel’s face
lit and the two exited the Hall for the city outside.

“Tristan
expressed a wish to investigate Grinwallin’s treasures, quite the
little archaeologist. His presence in the royal apartments is
explained in that way. Teroux wanted to come, but fortunately Vania
deems him too young. A dare-devil that one.”

“You like the
boys.”

“Good
kids.”

“I’m glad
they’re here.”

“They’re
welcome. By the way, we’ve reopened the crucible chamber.” Teighlar
paused on the landing and turned to indicate Phet. “Phet assisted
admirably in instilling confidence, as has Belun and Declan.
Personally I think they want to discover the Senlu mysteries.”

Phet
shrugged.

The royal
apartments were a surprise. Natural light flooded in despite being
in the mountain. Shafts, cleverly concealed both within and
without, drew and reflected light onto mirrors angled to catch it,
in turn reflecting onto others. Creepers and climbers thrived,
adorning the stone faces in emerald and dark green hues.

A stone bridge
spanned a gurgling stream that emanated from the eastern face to
run in lazy loops through the abode into a deep still pool. On the
far side the river reformed to trickle back into the mountain. Tiny
birds flitted, their yellow and red plumage adding colour to the
mountain setting, the coolness of highlands. It was cleverly done
and instantly soothing.

Teighlar
preceded Torrullin and Phet over the bridge. Parting a fine curtain
of trailing vines, he led them into a circular garden chamber. Moss
covered the floor and potted shrubs flourished in ornate brass.
Large sofas to sleep soundly upon rested comfortably on a warmed
rock dais, also rounded. A table groaned under books, fruit and
drinks, and a single lamp hung from the faraway ceiling to bathe
the circle in yellow tones.

Torrullin
whistled. “You’ve been holding out on me. You could be a rich man
if you brought this to others.”

Teighlar
smiled. “I am a mountain man. This is where I find peace.”

“Inspiring,”
Torrullin murmured, looking around as they headed for the comfort
of those beckoning couches. “Is there more?”

“Much more,”
Teighlar grinned, “but we’ll leave that for another time. Sit.
Tristan is trying to rest …”

“You have the
dream reasoning, surely?”

“He won’t tell
me anything.”

“Ah.
Phet?”

“He has
confided in no one.”

“I had better
see him now.” Torrullin stood.

Teighlar
pointed to a veil of vines to Torrullin’s left. “Through
there.”

Torrullin
pushed the vines aside to enter a smaller chamber, this one lit by
candles.

Tristan lay on
his side atop an untidy, tossed bed, his fingers curled into his
palms. His eyes were wide; he fought sleep.

Torrullin sat
on the bed.

The boy’s arms
drew together. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“Sit, Tristan.
Give me your hands.” When Tristan placed his hands in Torrullin’s
strong ones, he said, “Now I’m going to do a gentle healing, an
easing of your spirit and energy to your body, nothing more.”

Tristan
nodded, trusting that.

Torrullin
moved his thumbs across the back of the boy’s hands, causing slight
friction, smiled and let go. “How does that feel?”

Tristan
returned the smile. “Much better.”

“Now you won’t
fall asleep without warning. Will you tell me?”

The boy drew a
breath; the ragged sound of a hounded soul. Torrullin’s inner being
moved in sympathy, but he was careful to remain both calm and
neutral.

“It began a
week ago and every time I nap it’s there again. I’m running across
a dry dead plain, like the Gosa Desert back home, only it’s flat
and there are hard stones - sometimes I trip as I run. I’m holding
something and I know it’s very precious, I mustn’t drop it ever or
I’ll be lost, and not only me, but everyone I care about.” He drew
another breath. “I look up and I see a hill, or a mountain, maybe a
heap of … something … like bones. It’s the only different thing and
I must go to it … mist comes …”

Torrullin went
cold, but did not interrupt.

“There are
horsemen behind me, I think, I don’t see them, but I feel them and
they’re getting closer and they want the bundle I carry, they’ll
kill for it. I’m so scared, I know I can’t allow them to take
it.”

“Hush, draw
breath,” Torrullin murmured, reaching out to clasp Tristan’s hands.
Tremors of fear. He knew the feeling. This was his dream also.

“The mist gets
really scary, like white blindness …” The boy continued as if
Torrullin had not spoken. “I can’t see or hear … only wetness on my
skin, in my lungs … and then I’m on this path on the hill and it
goes up and I’m thinking I’ll be safe, they can’t see or hear
either, but I’m still scared. I have to get to the top, give it to
… I don’t know who, but I must give the precious bundle to save
myself, it’s my … like the thing that makes you better …”

“Redemption?”

“Yes,
redemption. I get to the top, but I hear them on the path.” Tristan
covered his face. “I can’t give it up.”

“What’s in the
bundle?”

Tristan
dropped his hands and his grey eyes were wide. “A baby and she’s
innocent and beautiful.”

Dear god. “Is
there more?”

“I wake up
before I have to make the choice - you know, between me and the
baby - but there’s a building in the mist, a place for …”

“Sacrifices?”

“Yes,” and the
word was torn from the young throat. “It’s so real and I feel so
much I dare not fall asleep, I don’t want to choose.”

Torrullin
lifted Tristan onto his lap. Holding the young head against his
chest, he said, “Listen now. The dream has meaning, although it
escapes me at the moment - it has always escaped me.” He looked
down as Tristan looked up. “I have that dream also, yes.” Tristan
slumped against him and began to cry. “I can’t say why it comes to
you, but I promise to decipher it as quickly as it can be done, and
then, hopefully, it will leave both of us in peace. All right?”

Tristan nodded
against his chest and cried harder. “I-I-I kn-knew you w-would know
… I f-feel better al-already.”

Torrullin held
him close. Dear god, six thousand years of running from that
nightmare to have closure forced on him for love of a boy.

Tristan drew
himself together and retreated after a time. Sitting with new hope
and confidence, he asked, “What now?”

Torrullin
wiped at the wet face with his hands and smiled. “Now you sleep -
hush, Tristan. I shall take it from you for a time. Sleep will be
dreamless, I promise.”

“What about
you?”

“I’ll stay
until I find answers. I won’t let it bother you without help.”

Tristan lay
back already closing his eyes, body and soul aching. With the
promise came an overwhelming desire to surrender to what he
craved.

“I’ll weave a
protection, and when you awake come down to your house. Your father
is there.”

Tristan
smiled.

And slept.

Torrullin
rejoined Teighlar and Phet. “He sleeps.”

Teighlar
nodded. “He told you?”

“Yes.”
Torrullin did not elaborate.

“Well?” Phet
demanded.

“It is between
us.”

Phet threw his
hands into the air and muttered inaudibly.

Teighlar
weaved his fingers together behind his head. His eyes were
thoughtful. “He sleeps dreamless?”

“Yes, of
course.”

“’Of course’,”
Teighlar mimicked. “Like what you impose upon yourself?”