The Echolone Mine (81 page)

He pushed
Tymall down and used the leverage to stand.

Tymall snarled
and rolled up into a crouch and sprang. He tore into Elianas,
jerking him by the hair, tearing his tattered tunic off, and pushed
him towards the rock face.

Torrullin
yanked him back.

Sabian and
Tristan sat as if frozen.

“Is he right,
Ty? Your intention right now seems pretty clear.”

“Do not
interfere, Torrullin,” Elianas snapped.

“You goaded
him.”

Tymall pulled
from his father’s grasp and closed in on Elianas again.

The dark man
crooked a finger. “Come on,
Ty
, let us see what you are made
of.” He laughed when Tymall shoved him against the rock and started
tearing at his breeches.

Tymall punched
him in the gut, holding him up with one hand when he doubled over.
The other scrabbled frantically to undo the clasp that would permit
him access, and then Elianas shoved him back and lifted a knee to
his groin. Tymall sank to his knees.

“You cannot
get it up any more, remember? Your years of sexual torture are
over,” Elianas said into his ear.

“I can take it
from you,” Tymall garbled.

“As Margus did
yours? Spare me.”

Torrullin
stepped in and hauled Elianas off and into the darkness at the back
of the cave. There he threw the half-naked man away from him. “You
proved his mind, for fuck’s sake. Now let it go. He cannot hurt
you.”

“Wrong.”

“Elianas, for
pity’s sake, stop it. I will curb him, I will muzzle him, but
please stop this. You put me right in the middle.”

Elianas
reached out and drew Torrullin in, leaning against the wall. “I am
sick of standing aside. I am weary of accusations. It occurs to me
to do what I am accused of.” He jerked Torrullin against him, held
him there. “Naked under your hands, brother, and I do not care who
sees or hears.”

His skin was
smooth. Yes. Torrullin drew a breath. “Why not?”

The sound
Elianas made then overrode everything. He was like liquid fire,
sinuous, a silken thread wrapping around every nerve and sense, and
this time Tristan ended it.

“I am the
voice of reason, remember?” he said as he inserted his hands
between them and almost lovingly parted them. “If ever this is to
happen between you, it cannot be like this. Avaelyn calls you home,
and it is at home where this act will follow, if it is so written.
Do you hear me?”

Torrullin
walked away.

Elianas stared
after him. “Gods, the music is loud now. He reaches a point where
it must soar … or fail. I cannot take much more of this. I cannot
push and still retain objectivity.”

“Leave Tymall
to him.”

Elianas’ gaze
was troubled. “I cannot do that either. He will risk Valaris again
in the hope Tymall can be redeemed. For him this appearance in a
realm where Tymall cannot do harm is a gift he cannot now
relinquish. He trusts it will last.”

“Then you must
force him to choose.”

“Exactly. And
he will never forgive me.”

“I will do
it.”

Elianas sighed
and straightened. “No. I can cope with his fury. I doubt you will
survive it.”

“What will you
do?”

A small laugh.
“Build a bridge Tymall dare not walk on.”

“Energy?”

“No, more
mundane than that.

Elianas
clasped Tristan’s shoulder and moved on past.

The pilings
are undermined. Whoever built this structure intended failure.

Links,
engineer

Nowhere

T
hey started walking an hour later and Elianas put his
plan into action.

It began
innocuously enough. He asked whether strata were the same in planes
that were of a place, and Sabian replied in affirmative. It was how
he recognised the path, after all.

They fell into
a discussion, and even Tymall took part.

It lulled the
senses.

Soon after
they discussed Lethe, although no one said much about what happened
there. It was more about it being a barrier realm, and then it
moved onto myth and legend.

The path sped
by underfoot.

Elianas,
apparently curious, wondered aloud whether Digilan was technically
part of Reaume, considering the overlaps Tymall mentioned. Tymall
fell into the trap.

Tymall enjoyed
showmanship and he particularly enjoyed sharing knowledge he
believed he alone possessed.

“The Mor Feru
tell of a diagonal axis spearing through time and space, much like
a spike through a random collection of paper notes on a desk. They
claim Digilan is the spike and it grounds in the biggest cull zone,
which, I believe, is Reaume, where Valaris is, and on the way it
pierces others, this Ariann and Lethe you speak of being part of
that. The grounding must surely determine location.”

“You claim
therefore Digilan is of Reaume first before any other.”

“Yes, Danae.
You have a problem with that?”

“Just talking,
Warlock. How else can one learn?”

“Experience is
one way. Time. Word of mouth. Books. Dreams. Insight.”

“What of
torture?”

Tymall glared
at him. “That, too.”

“It sounds as
if Digilan is one place, the kind that supersedes planes.”

Tymall
shrugged. “That would suggest the Digilan I left from is the same
Digilan I rule. It did not feel the same.”

“And here I
thought Digilan might be unique.”

Tymall came to
a halt. “It is.”

Elianas walked
on as if unaware. On either side the rock was claustrophobic.
“Uniqueness lies in a singular state.”

Silence.

Torrullin came
to a halt also, his gaze swinging back and forth.

Apparently
Elianas, up ahead, sensed he was moving away, and turned.
Surprised, he asked, “What did I say?”

Tristan
shivered and came to a stop, gesturing that Sabian do the same.

“Digilan is
unique, Danae. It is the birthplace of truer evil. Black souls
arrive and discover they know nothing of the darak path, not until
Digilan teaches them. Digilan is
one
place.”

“And yet you
left from an alternate.”

“My mind was
elsewhere. It
felt
like it.”

“Your mind was
on your penis, yes. Maybe that is why you make moon eyes at
me.”

Tymall hissed
and then drew back. His father had read him the riot act about
reacting to every dig from the dark man.

“So, your
thoughts being on your nether region, you left Digilan into a plane
where you expected to find someone waiting. Neat. Nemisin tricked
you, did he?”

Elianas paced
back, but stopped before he was too close.

“I say Nemisin
whispered in your ear where your father would be, what your father
was ostensibly doing and who he was doing it with, because Nemisin,
after all, did not need to travel a path through planes and realms
to get back home. He needed to use one that straddles all of them -
the spike that is Digilan. And how usable the Warlock son of Lord
Sorcerer was, a bonus to really mess with his mind. Sabian was most
succinct in relating history, wasn’t he? Tell the son how the
father is sleeping with men now, when the son cannot get it up for
all the riches in the universe. Did that stir you, Ty? And there
you stand and your poor father is caught in the middle of his son
and his lover.”

Tymall moved …
and Torrullin snatched him back. “Answer him.”

Taking a deep
breath, Tymall pulled free. “I told you the truth. I was led to
portal and offered a chance at freedom that would not affect
Valaris. I took it.”

Torrullin
studied him. “You never saw Nemisin.”

“I never saw
Nemisin.” But his eyes shifted an infinitesimal degree that
indicated a lie.

Torrullin
stepped around him, facing him and blocking Elianas from his son’s
view. “But you heard him. He told you where to find me. He told you
lies about me. He said he would prove it - just follow his
prompt.”

Tymall said
nothing.

“Tymall, the
truth, please.”

“You no longer
know truth from lie, father. You say one thing and do another …
with him.”

“I have never
lied to you.”

“You are not
sleeping with him, is that it? When I have seen how you look at
him?”

“Looking does
not make a sin.”

“But imagining
makes real, doesn’t it?”

A shrug. “It
remains intangible, though.”

Elianas had
closed in and moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Torrullin.
“What did Nemisin say, Warlock?”

Tymall moved
his glance between them. “That you ruin my father.”

Tristan
understood Elianas’ bridge. The bridge between truth and lie. The
Syllvan had prompted exactly this.

“What do you
intend doing about it?” Torrullin asked.

“Kill
him.”

A nod.
“How?”

“A sword can
do the job. Immortals
can
die.”

“True
Immortals cannot.”

Tymall
shuddered. “Eternal Companion. I see.”

Elianas said
nothing more. He gave Torrullin a significant glance and moved away
towards Tristan. Clearly, the decision was now in Torrullin’s
hands.

“What now, Ty?
Here you are hell-bent on saving my dubious honour and a reputation
we both know cannot hold water long. It is not accident you are
here, and you know I cannot allow you back. Digilan will be
breathing down our necks before long. I am asking - what next?”

“I shall
return to Digilan without a word of protest if you set him
aside.”

“I will not do
so.”

“You would
choose him over me?”

“Yes.”

Alongside
Tristan Elianas sighed.

“Then it is my
duty as a son to do something about it.”

“What can you
possibly do?”

“Bring Digilan
to bear, as you suggested, simply by my continuing absence.”

“You would
revisit the torture of the past on Valaris again?”

“Not Valaris.
Avaelyn.”

Elianas moved,
and Tristan held him back. Sabian hung to one side, a look of
intense interest of his face.

“Avaelyn is
protected,” Torrullin said.

“It will not
withstand the might of Digilan, and you know it. Digilan, as your
clever
companion
ferreted out, does straddle realms. It
is
a spike.”

“In other
words you could return right now.”

Tymall hissed
through his teeth. A blunder, especially when it was Elixir he
faced. Reluctantly he admitted, “Yes and no. I can return from
here, but I need the portal to do so.”

“And where is
the portal?”

Tymall
shrugged.

Torrullin
leaned closer. “Fine, Tymall, we leave it there, for now. Elianas,
build the bridge.”

The dark man
eyed him for a few moments and then nodded. He beckoned Sabian
closer. “Exit point, Master Historian.”

“Are you sure
about this? I was there the last time Digilan was agitated,
remember?” Sabian blurted.

“Trust
Torrullin.”

Sabian swirled
his tongue in his mouth, and bent his head to Elianas. A whispered
conversation ensued, at the end of which Elianas straightened and
exhaled sharply.

“Torrullin, it
is a mighty bridge.”

“Can you do
it?”

“I need
privacy.”

“You will get
it. Sabian, how long before we are out from under this rock?”

“Hard to
say.”

“Then we walk
until we have more space. Elianas, walk with me.” Torrullin turned
his back on Tymall and headed on, and Elianas fell in beside him.
“You knew he was lying.”

“His story was
too convenient.”

“And I was
blinkered.”

“He is your
son. No one would fault you for it.”

“Can he kill
you?”

“No, but he
can take me back to Digilan.” He glanced sideways. “I think you
might not find me then.”

Silence.

“I hate
putting you in a position where you must choose like this.”

“I chose a
long time ago, Elianas. Tymall belongs in Digilan.”

“Where do I
belong?”

“That is for
you to answer.”

Elianas
nodded. “On we dance. What is your plan?”

“Build that
bridge first.”

“You do not
trust me?”

“I do not
trust your volatility. You are playing a game of brinkmanship with
him too.”

Elianas
inclined his head. “True.”

Many hours
later there was light at the end of the tunnel.

They left the
confines of rock and entered a forest glade. No one was around.
Birdsong filled the silence.

It did not
matter where they were.

Tristan and
Sabian, by unspoken consensus formed a guard over Tymall, and he
could not move now without one of them shadowing him. If he was
aware of it, he gave no indication. His attention seemed centred on
his father. He particularly ignored Elianas.

Torrullin
glanced at Elianas. “Rest and eat?”

“I want
out.”

“Agreed. I
will hold them here.”

Elianas nodded
and chose a direction at random and vanished through the trees.

Beyond the
trees he discovered another glade.

This one
contained a statue in lichen glory. It did not interest him at
first, and then he realised he needed time to find his bearings.
Elianas ambled closer and walked around it. Caste of bronze, it was
pitted and discoloured under the lichen - old, then.

There was no
plaque and the figure did not make the kind of sense to impact his
perceptions. It was a bird, either mythical or of a species unknown
to him, and beautiful in isolation.

He moved
on.

The exit, or
point of home as Sabian called it, was far removed from what they
knew here. It was not a matter of distance, however. The issue was
timing.