The Sleeper Sword (86 page)

She leaned
back and closed her eyes.

Where was
Torrullin and whom had he gone to find? Why did it feel as if this
was the catalyst that would bring their marriage to ruin, this time
permanently? Maybe it was better to have remained in Tymall’s
clutches …

Her head
lolled sideways as she entered dreamland.

She jerked as
spittle flew at her face, but could not avoid it.

Through the
bars her tormentors were faceless, their weapons words and spit,
insults and sputum, taunts and phlegm, accusations and mucus. And
grit tossed up from the harsh desert surrounds every time the wind
blew even a little. And lack of water.

She would die
here.

“
Tell the
truth, Lady of Life! You allowed them to die!”

“
You knew,
and you said nothing! Murder by default!”

“
She tried
to tell you and you ignored it!”

“
You killed
the future!”

“
You
changed the future, killer! You took away compassion!”

“
You had
the power to save them!”

She stared
around her wild-eyed. Everything they said was true. How could she
avoid that? If she told them, if she admitted it, would they let
her go? She opened her mouth to finally tell the truth …

…
and
closed it again.

Her tormentors
were no longer faceless.

Everyone had a
face, and every face was the same.

Torrullin’s
face.

If she told
him, it would change everything. She would lose him. This time she
would really lose him.

Tears squeezed
out from under her lids, tears that burned her parched skin as they
slid away.

“
What
happened, Saska?”

“
Nothing. I
did the best I could.”

She sat up
with a cry.

Wind gusted
through the open window. Cold wind. With the promise of winter.

The cage and
bars were akin to Torrullin’s torment. He was out there trying to
find the means to put an end to it, while she already knew the
means to stop hers. Tell the truth.

And a dream
would end. This dream, this life.

Saska rose and
pulled the window closed, securing it. She re-lit the candle.

She would keep
her secret.

She had no
choice.

Torrullin
alighted on the barren wastelands of Cèlaver and gazed towards a
rocky outcrop.

He knew a nation lived below.

It was time to
confront her.

His
nemesis.

Epilogue

Tial and Lazar
ambled to the conservatory.

For Tial, the
final meal with Torrullin would now never happen, but Lazar was
good company and it was time to build bridges.

The last
sunlight of the day suffused the tech-corridors in amber
planes.

Lazar
stumbled.

Tial put a
hand out to halt a potential fall, and then drew it back sharply
when Lazar straightened as if pulled up on a puppet string.

The man backed
up against the wall, his eyes wide, fingers pressed to his chest,
the region over his heart. Amber angles of light highlighted his
pallor.

“Lazar,
what?”

Silence.

Lazar’s
fingers rubbed at his chest, and then he seemed to collapse, as if
folding away on the inside.

“Gods, man,
you’re scaring me,” Tial muttered.

The Numer
released a long breath and a moment after pushed away from the
wall.

“Beware the
Pathfinder,” he said, staring at Tial. “Something of massive
influence just came to pass in the universe we left behind.”

“Torrullin?”

“I doubt
anyone else could achieve a manipulation felt even here.” Lazar
laughed, but there was no amusement. “I’ll bet all magic users on
the Plane felt it.”

“What did he
do?”

A shrug, and
Lazar started walking again. “Can’t say. Have no idea.”

Tial kept
pace. A sidelong glance revealed Lazar was in deep thought. “You
wish now you didn’t return.”

Lazar blinked.
“What? No, my place is here. I’m wondering about this pathfinder
business. The term infers someone who goes before, finds the way,
clears
the way for others to follow … but that doesn’t
describe Torrullin, does it?”

“He is the
way. I doubt he cares if others follow.”

“Exactly.”

“Must be
lonely,” Tial sighed.

Lazar halted
and stared at the Deorc leader.

“What now?”
Tial halted also.

“You know how
we each have soul mates. Sometimes we find our match, often we
don’t, and yet, apparently, there is a connection for each of us.”
Lazar shrugged. “Never found mine, but it doesn’t mean …”

“Lazar.”

“Torrullin has
an Eternal Companion, Tial.”

“He told me
about his wife.”

A swift shake
of the man’s head. “I doubt it. You see, an Eternal Companion is
equal in every way …” And then Lazar laughed. “Forget it.
Supposition. Whispered myths.”

“You’re saying
Torrullin’s soul mate is this companion, one he hasn’t met, and
there are tales about it coming to pass - prophecies?”

“I’m saying
there are whispers. No one really knows.” Lazar prodded Tial’s arm
with an extended finger to punctuate his next words. “An
equal
, Tial. Another enchanter? One as terribly immortal as
he is?” Prod. “A man.” Prod. “Beware the pathfinder.”

Tial moved
away from the next prod.

Lazar’s arm
dropped.

“You’re saying
he’s blazing the trail for this Eternal Companion.”

“Yes. It
wasn’t Margus. The dark man who arises in the future is the real
danger.” Lazar gripped Tial’s arm and pulled him forward. “But
that’s not our problem, is it?”

Tial said
nothing, but was thoughtful as he walked alongside the Numer.

They entered
the conservatory and sat at the stone table.

Time ticked
by, moments and minutes, and elsewhere years would speed by.

They would not
again speak of the Eternal Companion, although both would mention
Torrullin as the clock wound around and around …

~The End ~

Lore of Reaume
continues in
The Dreamer Stones

Other Books by
Elaina J Davidson

Lore of
Arcana

The Infinity
Mantle

The Kinfire
Tree

The Drowned
Throne

The Dragon
Circle

Secret
Remedies

Lore of
Reaume

The Kallanon
Scales

The Nemisin
Star

The Sleeper
Sword

The Dreamer
Stones

The Tinsal
Deck

Short Stories
and Novellas

Latticework

Our Friend
Thomas Henson

FingerNale
Tales

Ancient
Illumination

A Tear in the
Clouds

About the
Author

Elaina is a
galactic and universal traveller and dreamer. When writing she puts
into words her travels and dreams, because she believes there is
inspiration in even the most outrageous tale.

Elaina was
born in South Africa and grew up in the magical city and surrounds
of Cape Town. After studying Purchasing Management and working in
the formal sector as a buyer, she chose to raise and home-school
her children.

She started
writing novels around 2002, moving from children’s stories, poetry
and short stories to concentrate on larger works. She lived with
her family for some time in Ireland and subsequently in New
Zealand. Returned to South Africa, she realises the vibrancy of
Africa has much to do with the inspirational side of her work.

Something
happens daily, something to shock, something to uplift, and the
colours and diversity of nature itself fires the imagination.