The Sleeper Sword (59 page)

Fay spurred
Lenteli on.

Ahead, the
path curved, then curved again as it descended the slope. By the
time she reached level ground the other two were racing like the
four winds across the great plateau, nearly neck to neck. Faint
screams of pure delight and exhilaration floated back to her.

She galloped
past the great stairway and saw a massive crowd watching. The sun
was a low amber globe to the west, reaching long orange fingers
across the plateau, bathing Grinwallin in gold. It was hot, but
bearably so.

The world held
its breath.

She slowed her
horse to a trot to appreciate the beauty of Senlu territory.
Besides Grinwallin and its mountain, there was this massive plateau
set high above the surrounding countryside.

Grinwallin was
a natural fortress by virtue of nature and design. The land below
was also Senlu - farmland and plain, hill and dale - it stretched
at least ninety sals west from the far northern mountains, the ice
fields beyond that, to the southern ocean of Tunin.

All land east
was Senlu, but virtually impassable due to the mountains. It was a
small portion of Tunin, and the rest was Valleur. The two races
respected and learned from each other and, in fact, loved each
other. The rest of Luvanor was Valleur and the Senlu did not
intrude.

It was
spectacular, she saw, seeing it with new eyes after the afternoon’s
vision, and much like Valaris’s mainland. Now, in summer, it was
awash in gold, ambers and coppers, and the setting sun, Tennet,
intensified the rich tones. She saw why Torrullin wanted to
stay.

It was Valaris
without the problems.

She looked up
when pounding hooves closed in and saw the men engaged in a
flat-out race, coming directly towards her. Rather than attempt to
get out of the way, a move that could cause havoc for the
approaching riders, she stilled her mount, held her on a tight
rein.

A moment later
they galloped past her, one on each side, both expressions grim
determination, and then they pulled up. If it had been a race,
neither had won.

Laughing, they
came closer, walking the horses.

“Who won?”
Teighlar called out.

“Neither!” she
shouted.

“I told you!”
Torrullin crowed.

Still
laughing, they fell in beside her and, as the sun vanished into the
horizon, the three turned back.

Fay said
nothing on that comfortable amble back to the stables, preferring
to listen to the two tease each other, taunt, make jokes, some
blushingly ribald - for which neither apologised - and chat about
nothing in particular.

Torrullin’s
eyes sparkled, and she caught a glimpse of the man few were
privileged to see or meet. She did not remark on it, preferring to
observe the brief transformation. A man without cares, comfortable
in his skin. Almost happy.

Back at the
stables, lamps lit against the dark, Torrullin handed Tressir over
to her handler. The mare was subdued and she snuffled Torrullin’s
hand with affection before allowing the man to lead her away. The
groom nearly tripped, he was that surprised.

“She’s merely
tired,” Torrullin called out, “not broken. I’m sure her fiery
nature will be back by morning.”

The groom
rolled his eyes, grinning, and vanished into the tack room with
her.

Teighlar
patted Lassitan with evident love, whispered in his ear and
released him. Last to go was Fay’s chestnut. Tired and sweaty, the
three set off on the long walk back up the mountain, treading the
stairs level after level in silence.

The Senlu were
out in the cooler streets. Laughter erupted from lit balconies,
open arches, and the smell of dinners wafted over them as they
trudged.

Fay’s stomach
growled and a second later, Teighlar’s. Both burst out laughing.
Torrullin did not join in; his mask was back.

Men, women and
children stopped to greet them, the children wanting to shake the
Enchanter’s hand; others called greetings from second and third
storey balconies.

They heard
music, a pounding rhythm that entered the blood, and Fay soon
looked out for the source. Teighlar noticed, and turned off the
main route up the mountain to lead them to a large open square.

Four
semi-naked men pounded great drums in the centre of the square,
with two women plucking at strange stringed instruments with nimble
fingers. About the musicians a crowd of dancers of all ages,
clapping and laughing as they swayed to the insidious rhythm. A man
grabbed Fay about the waist and twirled her into the fray.
Laughing, she lifted her hands above her head to clap accompaniment
and gave herself over to the music.

Teighlar
watched with amusement and then glanced at his companion. Torrullin
was not charmed.

“Lighten up,
my friend,” the Emperor murmured. “A bit of levity will do you
good.” He glanced back at Fay vanishing into the crowd dancing with
abandon. “She’s having fun; seems she too has lost sight of what
it’s all about.”

Torrullin
looked away from the dancers. “She has not had it easy.”

“There’s much
enmity between you two, yet there is a bond.”

Torrullin
looked at him. “It’s nothing sexual.”

Teighlar
raised his brows. “Did I say anything about sex?”

Torrullin bit
back an instinctive reply and said instead, “She’s attracted to
Tymall.”

“God help her.
Yet she’s with you. Do you trust her?”

“No.”

“Just what are
you up to, then?”

“I cannot tell
you, but neither of us will come out of it the same. She will have
to find what she truly believes in before long, or her fate will
swallow her.”

“Sounds like
someone else I know,” Teighlar said.

“And now you
understand the bond, Emperor.”

Teighlar said
nothing and turned to study the carefree woman amidst the dancers.
Beautiful, yet obviously tainted with the duality of the
Vallas.

What a great
pity.

Later, after
an excellent dinner in the Emperor’s private chambers above the
great hall, Torrullin said, “Fay, I intend to pay a visit to Samuel
before we go to the crucible. Do you want to accompany me?”

“Thanks, but
I’m rather content to be away from Valleur right now.”

He nodded.
“Fine. Teighlar?”

“I’m not going
anywhere. Go, go, we’ll keep each other company.”

Chapter
54

I dreamed of
joy I know not in life. What a blessing a dream is.

~ Anonymous

Samuel came to
Luvanor soon after the Valleur return to Valaris mainland, wanting,
needing, to be with his wife and son.

Torrullin
understood and sent him with Caltian. Since then he was too
distracted to give Samuel much thought.

He arrived at
the Valla stronghold, a huge old castle perched on a hill
overlooking a massive freshwater lake in the southern reaches of
Atrin. Here the equatorial forests were jungle, kept at bay by the
presence of the lake. The castle barely rose above the giant canopy
that surrounded the hill. This far west it was early afternoon, and
the sun beat down mercilessly, stirring the jungle into a humid
steam bath.

The castle was
falling into slow disrepair. It was not a Valla home, more a
hunting lodge, but was well camouflaged and remote. Anyone who
neared it was challenged as foe until proven otherwise. In current
climes. Under normal circumstances visitors were made welcome. It
was unlikely Tymall or a minion or two would be capable of breaking
through the enchantment surrounding Luvanor as a whole, but no one
took anything for granted.

Torrullin
arrived on the shore opposite the moss and lichen covered edifice
and actually needed to study the rise opposite thoroughly before
the entrance was revealed. He nodded approval, not there to check
on defences, but also not taking anything for granted.

Next he
scanned the perimeter of the lake and after a time observed
patrolling guards. They were silent and masked and if he had not
suspected their presence he would have overlooked them.

Time to make
his
presence known. There were two boys inside living in a tense
and restricted atmosphere; to appear without warning would have
consequences that could frighten them.

He whistled.
Simple, but effective.

Moments later
he was pounced on by no less than four. Laughing, he allowed them
to tackle him to the wet and springy jungle floor, and then laughed
harder when he was released.

“My Lord!”

“Enchanter, we
weren’t expecting you!”

The two who
spoke leaned forward to assist him up. The other two were
horrified. Others could be heard crashing through the
undergrowth.

“Please, don’t
apologise for doing your duty.”

Smiles greeted
the response and one asked, “Are we being tested, my Lord?”

Torrullin
shook his head and bent to brush forest debris off. “I merely
wanted to spare the young ones.”

“Hmm, yes,
young Teroux is chafing, he’s also afraid.”

“An adventure
is only an adventure when you’re allowed to get yourself into
scrapes?”

The guards
grinned and glanced at each other. “Er, he’s had a few of those -
sneaks out and has to be brought back.”

“I’ll have a
word with that young man, shall I?”

They grinned
and accompanied him around the edge of the lake, walking in full
view of all watchers, and brought him to the once imposing entrance
to the castle. Now the wood was ridden with beetles and the stone
was losing cohesion. But still strong, he saw. They rapped on the
door and handed the Enchanter over to the guards inside, and then,
smiling and bowing, withdrew to return to their positions.

Inside, the
interior guards grinned from ear to ear.

“Welcome, my
Lord,” one said and bowed.

“Thank
you.”

“It’s good to
see you again,” another said.

Torrullin
inclined his head. “I wish I had time to speak with each of you and
the situation was normal enough for celebrations and the like, but
every word of welcome is a celebration, know that.” He paused and
then, “I give you my word, the day we count ourselves safe, is the
day Luvanor and Valaris will hold a celebration to reverberate
through the entire universe.” He said it with a smile and meant it
literally. “Everyone will know us then, Valleur - that is my
promise to you.”

Silence
replied and then the guards bowed. “We await the day, Lord
Enchanter.” One spoke for all.

Torrullin
touched his forehead and heart and made his way up the stairs to
where he could sense Samuel. Behind, the Valleur guards looked at
each other.

“We’ll no
longer need to hide,” one whispered.

“Or apologise
for our past,” said another.

“It will be a
great day,” yet another murmured.

“Freedom,” the
first said in a clear voice and they smiled, and glanced reverently
up the stairs.

He paused in
the doorway to observe.

The boys
played chess flat on their stomachs facing each other, the board
between them. It was not much of a game - both were novices.

Two women
spoke nearby, clearly on the road to friendship, and at the high
narrow window there was Samuel with his back to the others.

Somewhere a
dog barked.

The boys were
firm friends, and he was glad. They would need each other. The
women had formed a bond, and that was good also. Likely they would
need each other more, for the young could bend and straighten
easier.

Samuel, he
discerned, was frustrated, torn between love and duty. He was more
Valleur now than human. His Valla blood had passed that point to
tip the scales and he was therefore more aware of duty, fighting
his other side, the one that needed to protect wife and son
personally, and Torrullin sympathised. He knew how it pulled.

“Samuel.”

The man
turned. “Torrullin!”

He crossed the
room as the others ceased their activities to stare, and put his
hand out. Torrullin smiled and gripped it in ritual greeting, then
briefly pulled Samuel into an embrace. Occasionally his touching
rule was not an issue.

Releasing him
he murmured, “Decide one way or the other, Samuel, then live with
the result, stop fighting it.”

“It isn’t
easy.”

“I know, but
hurt is easier when one’s mind is undivided. Do it soon.”

Samuel tipped
his head and turned to face the room. The others were on their
feet, and Teroux stepped forward before Samuel could say
anything.

“My Lord
Enchanter,” the boy said, “welcome to our home.”

Torrullin’s
lips twitched, but he inclined his head. “I thank you, Teroux. Your
father has told me much about you.”

The golden
curls bobbed with excitement. “Can we go home now?”

Torrullin
studied the boy. Home. For this boy home had lost real meaning, for
he used the term loosely. But he was strong inside and that was
good. “You need to take care of your family here a while longer. I
can trust you to do that, can I?”

Teroux
straightened. “Of course, my Lord.”

Torrullin
smiled. “Excellent. Now, may I greet the little boy who is my also
my great-grandson?” He kneeled and put his hand out.

Teroux grinned
and came forward without reservation to take it and then he
launched into Torrullin’s arms, who rose with him clinging. His
eyes misted over and he closed them.

Holding Teroux
brought back memories of the twins’ childhood. And then, as he held
the precocious and vital form, he saw something about the lad’s
future. He shivered.

A time
approached when Teroux would hate him and love him equally.

Vania
advanced, drawing Curin with her. She took Teroux from him.
“Mother, it’s Torrullin.”