The Echolone Mine (33 page)

“Tristan, how
did this happen? I mean, all of it,” Belun asked at the
console.

Tristan,
watching as the others got down to serious work, said, “It was for
Torrullin, the whole thing. He deliberately set out to forget who
and what he is, over a betrayal. At least, that’s the reason that
makes sense to me at this point. Lowen fell into the Time realm
because Torrullin set it up a long time ago. Not for Lowen
specifically, but himself. It was meant to return him his memory,
and the journey certainly brought it about.”

“How did he …
you know?”

“Gods, Belun,
he was immediately different. He was strong. That is the only word
to describe him. Strong. We were weak, like nothing, compared to
what lay in those eyes. It was frightening; actually. I was afraid
of him then, really afraid. Not of my grandfather, but the power he
stood for.”

“And Lowen,
Orb, all that?” Belun moved on.

“Lowen was the
catalyst to recall, but she was never in danger other than having
to relive ages already passed. The Orb scenario was seeking of
redress, until we realised it would change everything. Looking on
it now, I begin to see it was a ploy to get Torrullin to a place
where he could easily accept memory’s return. Not a deliberate
ploy, perhaps, but an intrinsic manipulation where memory could
return where and when it was lost.”

“Ah,” Belun
sighed.

“Yes, easier to deal with. Elianas may have had a hand in it.
This whole realm travel thing was for Torrullin …
and
Elianas. They needed
to return, but to what eventual purpose, I cannot say. This
unbalance trap was unforeseen, an accident even they did not know
about.”

“Maybe Elianas
did.”

“I doubt
it.”

“He was in the
Throne? Torrullin always claimed it was sentient.”

Tristan
smiled. “Now we know why.”

“How did he
exit?”

“Torrullin
used the Lumin Sword on Akhavar, the site of Nemisin’s
rulership.”

“Before or
after memory?” Belun frowned.

“Before.
Torrullin thought Elianas was the Throne’s sentience given form.
The rest came later.”

“Rest?”

“That is a
whole other tale. When you meet Elianas, by god, you will know what
I mean. To ill or joy, Torrullin and Elianas are now a team.”

“Has Elianas
power besides this energy thing?”

“They are equal, Belun, in
every
way.”

The Centuar
stared at him. “Dear god, then they are at war.”

“You
understood that faster than I did.”

“Do you trust
Elianas?”

“Not entirely,
but I like him. He is … interesting.”

“I didn’t know
there were dark Valleur.”

“Not dark as
in outside the Light; dark as in colouring. Hair, eyes, amber
rather than gold skin. The fact they are extinct is due to the
betrayal I spoke of, but let us not go there. The Valleur have been
vilified enough through the ages.” Tristan glanced again at the
busyness before the row of computers. “What do you know about
energy?”

Belun moved
from the console and headed to the Dragon ogive. Bemused, Tristan
followed him.

“I can’t enter
this space, Tristan.” Belun pointed to the one beside it, which
happened to be Quilla’s. “Nor that one. You can’t use mine. Why?
Because each has been set to read a signature, and signature, my
friend, is pure energy. The parameters that determine these ogives
are based on our unique energy readings - our output, if you will.
The Dome as a whole works the same, as does every feat of sorcery.
Sorcery is energy manipulated. Now, let us say you and I desire to
deploy an enchantment that would work better when two labour at it,
how do we do so? We join, either by touch or will, and thus we
combine our energy to achieve a greater result. We create a
bridge.”

Belun paced
backward to stare up at the vaulted arches.

“They are so
lovely,” he whispered. “I barely look at them anymore.” He
shrugged, turning to Tristan. “Each of these arches is unique, yet
the whole is the bridging mechanism, which is the Dome. What Fuma
intends to do, understand this, could destroy this sacred space,
for this energy will automatically reach out to a greater source.
Presently the Dome is the greater source.”

Tristan
nodded, anxiety curling in his gut.

Belun smiled
at him. “Have no fear. Torrullin once destroyed the Dome and then
brought it back. Bring him out whole and the Kaval would soon be
back in business. Now to answer your underlying question.” He
leaned against the space between two ogives and folded arms across
a mighty chest. “Two can create a bridge, at least two. One can
manipulate, but it requires two to build something more.
Torrullin’s power manipulates energy, but so swiftly now he never
leaves a signature. He doesn’t create bridges; he doesn’t need to.
He is faster in his manipulation as a singular entity - a joining
slows him. Periodically he uses another’s energy, but that is a
factor of loneliness. He may not admit it, but that is how he makes
contact with others without revealing himself.”

Tristan
threaded a hand through his hair. “I see.”

“If Elianas is
able create bridges alone, I would be worried. Personally, I don’t
know much about the state, yet I would assume the will required
must be a mighty one. To use an example, imagine an electric light
standing on that slab. It isn’t plugged into a source of power, yet
you could switch it on, cause it to light, merely by manipulating
energy. You could then look away and it would go on … for a while.
When you leave this space, the source of its power goes with
you.

“It would be
the same for me and it would be also for Torrullin. He, of course,
would employ enchanter magic to create a globe and not use the lamp
at all, its endurance being too limited, but were he to light the
lamp, the rules would be the same for him. Elianas, on the other
hand, would light it and it would continue burning until he turned
it off. It would throw its glows long after he left this space, and
it would do so even if the globe bursts, the slab disintegrates and
this space vanishes. He is not the manipulator, but the source, the
flow, the director …”

Tristan
frowned. “Belun, that sounds much like the great cavern inside
Cèlaver. Torrullin created it magically two thousand years ago and
then forgot about it. It goes on and he hasn’t again interfered or
added to its upkeep.”

“The principle
is close, but understand this. Torrullin walked away, he separated
the enchantment from himself - he set it adrift. It is now
autonomous and it has grown and thrived in its way until it is now
unique to itself. It is no longer Torrullin’s.”

“Ah, I get
where you are headed.”

“I’ll say it
anyway. If my understanding of someone conversant in energy is
correct, Elianas retains control always. He holds the power of
destruction or fertility over that same cavern, or would if he were
the creator. He is not merely the bridge builder, he is the
bridge.” Belun shrugged as he pushed away from his leaning post.
“That is how I see it, but I’m not an expert, none of us are. Only
this Elianas can tell you the real truth.”

“Energy
requires fuel, Belun. Where would Elianas find the fuel for
bridging? Torrullin wasn’t always with him, and I don’t think it as
simple as using Elixir’s power. Retaining eternal control would
soon leave him empty.”

The Centuar
rubbed his nose. “Good question.”

“A good
solution may well aid us in the future,” Tristan murmured.

Belun stared
at him, and then, “I see your point.”

“I hope it
never comes to that, for Torrullin would be …” Tristan lifted a
shoulder as he looked away. “… hurt.”

Belun ruminated on that. “You say they are close? Then it is
entirely possible Torrullin
is
Elianas’ fuel. Apart or together.”

Tristan stared
at the ogives. “You may be right.” He drew breath and let it go.
“Rose said they share an aura, even apart.” He met the Centuar’s
thoughtful gaze. “To negate Elianas as threat, if Torrullin is his
fuel, would require an unassailable barrier.”

Belun pursed
his lips.

“Or the line
would have to be crossed,” Tristan said.

Belun frowned,
“Line?”

“The line that
separates sorcerers of their calibre.”

Belun frowned
harder, watching him. “You’re digging now; you don’t know what that
line is.”

A rueful
laugh. “Do you?”

Belun shook
his head. “I didn’t even know there was a line.”

“Right. Then
we work on a barrier,” Tristan said. “But at this point we
concentrate on getting them out. Let’s hear how Jonas sees this
energy field happening …”

The Path of
Shades

Elianas slowed
markedly.

Torrullin said
to Declan, “Can you stand alone for a while?” The Siric nodded and
took his hand from Elianas’ neck. Torrullin squeezed past the
Siric.

“I need to
recharge,” Elianas said when Torrullin was behind him. “I am
inexperienced in the lengthy nature of this fucking bridge.” He
spat.

“Rest comes,”
Torrullin said. “There is a smudge on the horizon.”

Elianas
sagged. “Thank the gods, but I dare not even look now.”

“Here, let me
take your weight for a minute.”

Elianas sighed
and slumped. Torrullin held him up. Neither could draw strength,
for energy was depleted, but it was an acknowledgement of support
both could take heart from.

Torrullin
rested his chin on Elianas’ shoulder and stared down at the space
before their feet. Elianas had the bridge a mere foot from his
boots. He had lost the strength to build in anticipation. He looked
up at the faint smudge on the horizon. It was small, but there. It
had to be the island, had to be, or they were literally dead as
they stood upon an ocean of changeless water in an ethereal
creation that could vanish at any moment.

His arms
tightened around Elianas and he stared at those long fingered hands
resting on them. “An hour, no more. Can you do it?”

Fingers
twitched and then slid over Torrullin’s one hand. Fingers laced and
held on. “I can do it.”

“For yourself,
Elianas.”

Warm breath on
Torrullin’s cheek. “Stupid man. For you.” Elianas straightened,
undid his fingers and broke from the hold. He stretched and started
walking.

Torrullin
closed his eyes a moment and glanced at Declan.

The Siric
said, “I am all right. Let us keep going.”

He held his
hand out to Saska and they set out after Elianas.

Half an hour
later Elianas weaved from side to side.

Torrullin bit
out at Declan, “Do not lose yourselves now, I must help him.”

Declan
whispered, “We see the island, we will get there, we will keep
up.”

Torrullin
focused on Elianas. He gripped the man’s upper arms, forcing him to
a stop.

“Torrullin,
don’t. I may not walk again.”

“Then I will
carry you.”

A weary laugh.
“We would both fall.”

“I am coming
past. Hang on and look over my shoulder.” He braced on the tiny
sliver of bridge.

Elianas put
both arms in a loop across Torrullin’s shoulder and they inched
forward. He stopped. “It is too slow, too cumbersome.”

Torrullin bit
out an oath and said, “Waist.” Elianas’ hands snaked around to fold
across his stomach, and he swore again. That would not do it. He
shifted his tunic up, took those hands and pressed them to his
skin. Behind, Elianas drew a ragged breath. He pressed his hands
over Elianas’ and felt a surge of adrenaline pump into the man.
Adrenaline begat adrenaline.

Smiling grimly, he thought,
This
energy cannot be depleted.

They walked
on, synchronising their steps. Torrullin said and did nothing when
one of Elianas’ hands moved to wedge under his breeches, there to
be still, to feel the motion of his hip as he walked on.

He fought to
control his body’s reaction, however, thereby releasing energy
Elianas drew mercilessly from.

It was another
hour before the island met them.

Torrullin
stumbled off with Elianas attached and they fell to the beach. Both
twisted to check on the other two, seeing with relief Declan assist
Saska to solid ground. The Siric fell to his knees and toppled over
to lay like that, and Saska hung her head.

With
reluctance, Torrullin and Elianas untangled.

“Declan isn’t
breathing,” Saska gasped.

The two men
crawled to the Siric.

Torrullin
turned him over, nearly screaming at the unfairness. A moment later
he had his hands over Declan’s heart and Elianas lowered to begin
breathing for him.

Declan finally
took a shuddering breath, rolled over into a foetal position.

“Get up,”
Torrullin said, rising himself. He forcibly lifted the Siric to his
feet.

“There was a
portal, Torrullin, flowers and fields …” Declan gasped out. “Let me
go, I want to go …”

“This isn’t
your time.”

“Might be,
life has been too long …”

Elianas, grim,
pushed against the Siric from behind, thereby shoving him against
Torrullin. “I know we have little in reserve, but we have something
else to give. Share that energy now, or we lose him.”

Torrullin
reached around Declan to draw Elianas closer. His fingers bit into
the man and it was partly anger over what this action would do to
affect the perception of a friend.

Declan gasped
out, “You are squashing …” Then he was silent. He felt the energy
and tension he stood within, a surge of it. It took only a moment
for death’s portal to recede, for it was replaced with life, vital,
swiftly coursing life.