The Nemesis Blade

By Elaina J Davidson

His name is Elianas

Torrullin’s sanctuary is invaded by a desperate call through the spaces. Someone has stolen the Xenian seer Lowen Dalrish, and he suspects Agnimus, the draithen who nearly annihilated his world and then vanished without a trace.

It is time for the Animated Spirit to stand forth.

Meanwhile three Valla heirs await the rising of the Valleur Throne; only one will be chosen as Vallorin. When a prophecy is uncovered about Three Kingdoms and rumours of an army secretly building to prevent it, Torrullin realises the three heirs to the Throne are in danger, for the warmongers believe he will carve out three kingdoms, one for each heir.

It is time to deploy Nemesis, the mighty blade forged of two, of both darak and lumin.

As activity becomes frenetic in the spaces, the dark man of Torrullin’s visions and dreams stirs and becomes aware of the newness in the ether. He now seeks release from his long incarceration. He knows how to find the missing seer; more than that, he is the catalyst to releasing long-suppressed memory.

It is time for Torrullin’s Nemesis to stand forth. His name is Elianas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elaina J Davidson
• Release date: Sep 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310877360

Elaina J Davidson

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.Born in South Africa, she 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. After returning to South Africa, loving the vibrancy of Africa, she upended her life again and moved back to Ireland, her soul-home.Come and get lost with her!

Book preview

PROLOGUE

A long time ago

Elsewhere

AIR FLOWED THROUGH the dungeon block and the straw underfoot was fresh. Flickering from the lantern at the guard station gave enough light also. Torrullin shrugged in the gloom, thinking about conditions. These cells were more about safety than punishment; it was not so terrible waiting it out in the small space. Someone would come soon enough to alter the dynamics, probably Elianas …

Ah, there, the sounds of approach.

He clambered to his feet as two guards dragged an inert form closer. They pitched a man into the cell opposite his, slammed and locked the iron door, and went away whistling.

Groaning, the captive crawled to the bars.

Torrullin hunkered. That man’s father had him, Torrullin, thrown below, and now the son was imprisoned? Clearly loyalties switched swiftly in the halls above.

Prince, what happens? he called.

A bruised and bloodied face lifted his way. Your friend the baron killed my father and had me beaten.

The unmistakable sounds of fighting then penetrated the silence. Whatever happened up there was now moving into the lower passages also. A shadow of a man wavered into view, backlit by the lantern at the end of the block. Metal scraped on stone. Torrullin and the prince stood and moved away from the bars. Both were wary.

Time to leave here, Torrullin, the shadow rasped, halting to lean on his bloodied sword.

Relief overcame him, and Torrullin grinned at the dark-haired man braced in the corridor. It appeared Elianas had altered the dynamics again.

The baron was not fit to rule either, Elianas murmured, and thus I made a choice.

After slamming his blade into its scabbard, he extended his arms to either side. Turning his head to the right to sight along his outstretched arm, he then flipped his fingers up as an eagle’s wingtips would. He mirrored the gesture to his left. Shadows gathered behind Elianas to imitate mighty wings, and Torrullin shivered. It was time to leave indeed. Elianas was on the edge.

Between us, we have done our worst. I aided this man’s enemy, and Torrullin glanced at the young man opposite, while you chose a side in opposition to me. They will not trust us now.

Elianas lowered his arms I agree. We leave this mess to the prince. He may prove better than his father. He studied the young man as the shadow wings vanished. He cannot restore calm in his condition, however.

I shall heal him, and then we leave. It did not work as we hoped, this going elsewhere to make different choices. Again we leave only blood in our wake, Elianas. This cannot go on.

The dark-haired man gripped Torrullin’s cell bars convulsively. We cannot change what happens unless we change ourselves. You are right. It is time to forget. It is time to hibernate.

Torrullin clasped those hands raw from fighting. Until time is for us entirely new?

Until then, Elianas whispered.

The present

Somewhere

OBLIVION WAS A less than satisfactory state. While periods of blackout aided in reducing the long wait, it did little to stave off boredom, frustration and sometimes approaching madness. One could only wait so long before insanity became more than a spectre.

Elianas knew this, and therefore understood how to keep it at bay. Frustration was another matter entirely, as was impatience.

Here he was, waiting. Here he was, aware and awake. How much longer, he cried out to the heavens. I cannot remain patient and stay sane.

Perhaps oblivion was not so bad.

Green blades of long grass undulated around him in a gentle breeze. He wandered aimlessly, gaze drawn to distance. This plain was vast; he could roam without a care for his safety. He would see predators with time to spare; not that anything could touch him … as he could not touch anything. He extended slender fingers to trail over emerald spikes and furry seed ears, desiring to feel the freshness of nature, to know the cool of living grass … and felt nothing.

Elianas halted. How much longer, by Aaru? I cannot do this anymore. I am a spectre; I am as nothing.

About to kneel in surrender upon the untouchable rich earth, a shiver of recognition passed through him, holding him upright. The shiver transformed into a current of awareness, as if live nodes attached to his skin everywhere. Unexpectedly his ethereal form was able to feel, taste, smell … know. He did fall to his knees then, fingers clawing at soil and sward. He felt it, every drop of moisture and coarse facet.

Hyperventilating at the onset of senses and emotions, he forced renewed calm. Listen, idiot, or you will not know the timing of your freedom. Listen.

Elianas hurtled to his feet to stand unmoving. He listened.

Torrullin, help me! A woman in trouble shouted out her need into the spaces between worlds. He knew her, as he knew the one she called to. Would Torrullin respond or had he sunk into depression so far, he could no longer hear?

A long time passed, but Elianas did not move. Then, watching night descend over his ethereal realm, he finally smiled. Torrullin was awake once more. As he, Elianas, was alert. Both of them were now aware in exactly the same period. How new. How utterly challenging. It was time at last to bring Torrullin to the place of reconciliation.

Elianas swivelled on the balls of his feet to stare at the mighty mountains beyond the plain. There, he thought, where it all began. In the hallowed stone of antiquity, where once a golden seat created destiny. There he would greet his brother, and finally Torrullin would have his answers.

Listen now, Torrullin, and you will hear me.

Part I

SANCTUARY

Chapter 1

Listen not only with ears, friend. Listen also with your skin.

~ Arun, Druid

Sanctuary

ROCK STRATA SURROUNDING him revealed he was deep within the layering of ancient rock. Shades of colour gave evidence of depth. There was disconcertingly little else to see. It was akin to being far back in time.

"Help me!"

Her desperate scream assaulted him anew and he swung swiftly, seeking, ever seeking. That terrified plea was behind him, as it was behind a moment ago, and the moment before, and yet he found nothing every time he moved, and found nothing now … only the sad echoes of opportunities forever lost.

Then the uncaring rock moved to close in and he was the one screaming.

TORRULLIN SAT UP, sweat-drenched and chilled. The sheets were twisted, pillows on the floor and there were scuffling sounds in the night. He took a breath, another and another to still his pounding blood, and swiped damp hair from his face. Ordinary sounds filled the dark - crickets, a far nightjar, perhaps a mouse in the closet - nothing alien, nothing frightening. A dream, and he was in his bed and there was no danger.

Shivering, he rose and found his robe by touch, pulled it on and wrapped his arms about his chest for warmth. Swallowing, he headed to the bathroom for a drink of water, and did not bother with lights.

On his way back to bed, he halted in the centre of the large and darkened space.

"Help me!"

Torrullin swore under his breath and closed his eyes to listen to the echoes, really listened, but there was no more. He stood a long time waiting for the cry to repeat and, when it was not forthcoming, knew with certainty he would not hear it again. It had now gone beyond his ability to perceive, and it meant one of three possibilities.

One, it had been a dream and his waking mind toyed with him. Two, she was already dead, and that should not be possible. Three, god help her, she was in real danger, had sent a call, and was now masked from him.

Fingers tightened on the fabric of the robe. A disturbing, repeated dream he could swallow, for it no doubt spoke of his turmoil over this woman. Death he did not see as likely, for she was like to him. But the latter did not sit well.

He was in motion. The robe flew across the chamber, he dressed feverishly, returned to the bathroom to splash water on his face, brushed his teeth with hurried movements, and then vanished from there. There was one person able to understand. Even if he said not a word, his presence aided clarity.

Luvanor

Grinwallin

TEIGHLAR, SENLU EMPEROR and lord of Grinwallin, looked up in surprise from his midday meal. The sun-dappled portico threw geometric shadows over his pale face, darkening his blue eyes to the colour of deep water.

Torrullin?

Gods, it’s day here … thank Aaru, for I need a stiff drink. Torrullin flopped into a seat opposite the Emperor, shifting his sword out of the way when it bit into his thigh.

Hello to you, too, Teighlar muttered. There is only wine on the table, but help yourself.

Torrullin was already pouring. Forgive me, my friend. Am I intruding? He barely tasted the first glass, slugging it back without appreciation.

Besides ruining my taste buds with your rudeness? No. Is something wrong? Teighlar pushed his meal aside. You are armed, as ever, but I see you give the blade little attention. So what is it?

The second glass went down more slowly. Dreams.

Ah. Bad?

Yes. This is excellent wine.

Thank you. It is Senlu red, about five years old, and thank the gods you have reverted to more civilised behaviour. My winemakers would shudder to see your treatment of their finest. I assume it is night back on your sanctuary world, you just dreamed, and now hasten to me and daylight?

I did not realise it was day.

You were to pull me from my bed, then? Teighlar grinned.

Torrullin responded in like fashion. If necessary. The grin vanished and he set his goblet down. Fourth night in a row, damn it. Exactly the same.

Why come to me? I am no expert.

You are a friend.

You want a sounding board.

Maybe. Torrullin lifted a shoulder.

That bad.

I fool myself into seeing a dream as a mere dream, but tonight I heard her after I awakened.

Heard who?

Torrullin pulled a face. Lowen.

Ah. Erotic dreams?

I do not have erotic dreams, Emperor.

Teighlar snorted. Then you are unique as a man.

Dreams do not do justice to reality.

Lucky, too, as a man, Teighlar muttered, finding himself currently between mistresses.

Lowen is in danger and cries for help. I hear her only in a dream.

Teighlar sobered. A premonition?

Torrullin frowned. I do not know. I hope so.

"You hope so?"

I can do something, idiot, if it is premonition.

Of course. Have you tried to find her?

No.

Teighlar swirled his tongue inside his mouth, throwing his friend a thoughtful look. The subject of Lowen, he was well aware, was a sensitive issue, and largely taboo.

Perhaps you should find her, then, and check on the veracity of your dream.

Torrullin stared at him, but was not really looking.

Torrullin?

A slow focus. The rock encloses me. Why is that?

I am afraid you have lost me.

In the dream I turn again and again to find her and there is nothing, only rock, layers, strata. The rock moves to envelop me and I am the one screaming - it does not make sense. I have no fear of enclosed space and I would simply transport away from that kind of situation in reality. Why am I afraid?

Teighlar poured more wine and lifted his glass to stare into the ruby depths. Sounds like Grinwallin rock.

Torrullin’s gaze sharpened. Why do you say that?

Teighlar took a long pull of the wine and swallowed. He gestured with the vessel at the arches nearby; Grinwallin, the inner city’s entry into the mountain.

I often feel as if the stones in that mighty mound are alive, sometimes watching, sometimes slumbering, and I have often speculated, were a disaster to befall the actual building blocks of Grinwallin, it would arise. The Emperor shrugged. It would be in control. No escape.

A long silence ensued, and then, Has Lowen been here?

Another long silence, for they knew each other’s minds well. A week ago.

Torrullin nodded. What did she discover inside the mountain?

Teighlar released a breath. She would not say, and these factors may not be linked.

Torrullin lifted an eyebrow.

A finger pointed. "You should talk to her, sort this impasse out one way or the other. No, listen to me. She is like the walking dead, and you have shut yourself away from everything. It is unhealthy and that may be the danger in your dream. Talk to her, soon."

A brief silence answered this time. I hear you, but that is not it. There is real threat.

The more reason to find her.

Torrullin grimaced. Where is she?

I do not know.

Or will not say?

Why would I hold out when I am the one advocating you talk? I do not know, for she did not say. She barely spoke to me.

Torrullin nodded. How is Grinwallin?

As demanding as ever, Teighlar grinned. Then he was serious. Samuel was here.

How is he?

Hurting.

A veiled look went to the Emperor. Why?

Curin passed away.

A deep breath followed. Damn, I did not know.

Teighlar tossed him a significant look. "You have separated from too much, Torrullin. Oh, I know why, you think you know why, and your family trust they understand, but there are limits. Teighlar paused there. Saska was at the funeral."

Uninterrupted silence arrived in answer.

The Senlu gave a snort. "Elixir is the walking dead. You are a fool! Wake up before the perils - which are many-facetted - in your dreams overwhelm you and you find you are helpless …"

Teighlar …

… no, pal! The rock encloses because it is a warning. Wake up to the issues before only regret finds you.

Torrullin rose and bowed. As my Lord Emperor commands.

Please, Emperor of what? You are the real master of Grinwallin. I am no fool.

Torrullin, in the act of leaving, paused. Grinwallin is yours, Teighlar.

Teighlar threw his napkin on the table and rose as well. Have you heard the stones sing to you in the mountain?

Torrullin blanched.

Ah. I heard it once, but no more, not since you came. What does that tell you? She heard it when she was here, I suspect, for she is not the idle type. A mystery required solving and Lowen cannot leave stones unturned … stones! Stone and rock - that is Grinwallin. Gods, you have so much, including freedom - just go, before I damage a friendship I hold dearest in my heart.

Teighlar scowled into the amazing view over the continent Tunin. Grinwallin possessed a mighty vantage point. A brief, self-debating silence ensued, and then Torrullin was gone.

Sanctuary

BACK IN HIS DARK bedchamber Torrullin was dissatisfied, restless and angry. Moreover, there was foreboding. In one brief visit with Teighlar the spectres of Lowen, Saska, Samuel and the mystery that was Grinwallin had risen from the ashes of a deliberately damped fire, and he could not ignore them.

He paced, hand straying often to the hilt of his sword. His nemesis at his hip. Would he need it? Was it time for its namesake to put in an appearance?

A beam of light pierced the eastern window and he regarded it in astonishment. Dawn, sunrise, a new day. The Valleur would regard that as an omen. Into the dark of his heart had now come light, chivvying action from inaction, stirring emotions from behind defences.

Torrullin gave a mirthless smile. Fine. It was time to confront Lowen.

Chapter 2

Shudder and shave! There’s the blade!

Sharpen it!

~ Tattle’s Blunt Adventures

Valaris

Western Isles

Valla Island

TRISTAN RECENTLY CELEBRATED his thirty-fifth birthday, and it was the last he shared with his mother, for Curin passed away a week later, without warning. He remembered her smile, her joy for life, her love, but already her features failed in memory, and he hated that memory proved ephemeral, when it should not, not for a Valleur.

Valleur and Valla. He grimaced as he wandered down to the beach. To discover he was Valleur had proven an astonishing challenge, but knowing he was Valla also proved as difficult. And it helped not a whit in recalling his mother’s face.

The sand was waterlogged. The tide was in and it rained continuously. Booted feet sank to ankle depth in the swirling mini currents, but as he was already wet it did not matter.

He stared over the darkening ocean. A storm approached from the south, which was unusual, and when it made landfall, it would be an event seldom seen this far north. Ice lay in the strengthening wind.

His father had locked himself away on their farm near Linmoor. Samuel, bless him, took Curin’s death hard, and this son understood. They would talk about her soon, once Samuel was prepared to face the world again. He missed his father, however, and needed to ask if Samuel could bring his mother’s face to mind …

Tristan swore. Futile thoughts. Of course he would recall; he was, after all, Valleur. Valla. This current failing spoke of grief.

A blast of frigid air slapped at him, and he headed back to the Palace. The storm was forecast two days back; every preparation to endure its fury was in place. His staff now waited on him in order to secure the final entrance into the building. Gods, he would rather be out here amid fury and elemental temperament than sit in the manufactured warmth of a Palace he could not regard his own. Damn it, he wished his father was with him.

Tristan trudged up to the great entrance and noted all but a small space rolled down and secured, and noticed too the relief in his retainers when they saw him approach. Ah, well. If he stayed outside all kinds of alarms would sound and he would face the irate council of Elders over it. Sometimes pandering to duty and expectation was the simpler of choices.

He entered, heard the door close behind him, the bolts slide home, and headed up to his suite. He trailed water across the tiled floor and up the stairs as he walked, but did not care.

If he could not have privacy outside, he would command it inside. He told his valet he needed no help as he entered, and watched the man leave.

The storm unleashed. Lightning forked against black sky and thunder pealed out in rolling waves. Rain drummed loud on the roof. Tristan dragged sodden clothes off, drew on a warm robe and stood before the uncovered windows. It was vicious, worse than forecast. It would also be short-lived. A southern storm could not long maintain intent in the north.

Tristan gazed upon the flattening palm trees in the garden. They would survive, but the shrubbery in general would require restoration. As he watched, a rose bush uprooted and went cartwheeling north.

His domain, he thought. The Western Isles were the testing of Tristan Skyler Valla, oldest heir to the Throne.

He clambered into bed, snuggling into the warmth and comfort there, hopefully to forget for a time how uncertain his future was.

Valaris Mainland

Menllik

TEROUX LORDED IT over a gathering of his closest friends at the Valla home in the city of Menllik. He was twenty-nine years old and enjoyed life to the full. Every moment of every day had to be filled with laughter. It did not mean he neglected his duties as second oldest Valla heir, but he preferred the company of friends to the formalities of the council of Elders.

Five years ago the Elders decided to give each heir a region to control under their auspices. When the time for formal ascension of a new Vallorin arrived, the choice before the Throne would be made simpler.

Tristan took on the Western Isles, Teroux received the city of Menllik, and Tianoman, youngest heir, the Vall Peninsula in the north.

By right of ascension, the male line, Teroux was heir-apparent. His father Tannil was Vallorin before the current state of limbo. However, the Throne would decide, for it was more than a golden chair, and its choice would be based on factors other than the unbroken line. Teroux generally forgot about the issue of ascension. He was raised in awareness of it, but also understood from an early age it might not be his fate to rule the Valleur. Both Tristan and Tianoman were as qualified. Of course, it might transpire he would be Vallorin, but he preferred to deal with it when the time came.

Sitting now amid his cronies before a blazing fire as the storm raged outside, he sensed Tristan’s grief. It was more than telepathy, for the storm leeched that power; it was closeness akin to brotherhood. Tristan was Teroux’s idol, a man he loved like a brother, respected as a Valla, and a childhood friend. The two boys grew up together under Samuel’s tutelage, close, and that did not change when Tianoman was old enough to form a threesome of Valla heirs. Tianoman was not exactly an outsider, but they were wary of him.

Teroux listened to his friend Cormarin explain the wonders of a woman’s breasts, grinning like to the others, but his thoughts were on Tristan. Tristan lost his mother and then Samuel sequestered himself. Tears pricked at Teroux’s lids, for he would miss Curin and so would Tianoman. She was special to all three. She was mother to all of them. He wondered how Tianoman coped.

His thoughts turned to Tianoman’s Coming-of-Age. The youngest heir would be twenty-five in less than a month, and Teroux swallowed hard, realizing how close change was. Once Tianoman came of age it would be time to choose a new Vallorin. Who would it be? Himself, by virtue of his father, or Tianoman, by virtue of the legacies left by his father, or Tristan, Samuel’s son? Tristan, who was less trueblood, yet would be the better Vallorin?

Sipping from his drink, he hid behind the mask of sociability. The future was uncertain and he liked it not. He did not want to be Vallorin; being Vallorin killed his father.

Northern Valaris

Vall Peninsula

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ago, before Tianoman was born, the Vall Peninsula experienced major upheaval. First there was the crash of a Beacon ship, which killed thousands and razed part of the city, and then came ice sheets to decimate the survivors. In the aftermath the Vall was declared a disaster zone. Few remained, and little infrastructure. The spaceport was shut for five years, and it seemed the northern region would revert to a cold wasteland.

It would have happened had it not been for two factors. One, the sacred Valleur site and, two, it was once Valleur land. As dual rulership of Valleur and Valarian took over in the void left by the Enchanter and his son Tymall, and was seen to work, a compromise was reached.

The Vall became Valleur territory once more and they were charged with rebuilding and renewal. It would become one of three Valleur territories on Valaris, but Valarians now lived there also and thus it became a dual Valleur-Valarian settlement.

It worked. The Valleur sacred site spread benign influence, aiding the rebuild; the Valleur were pleased to do justice to historical land; and the humans who fled from disaster were satisfied it was safe to return. In the present it was a mixture of Valleur and human and offworlders.

It was also challenging to govern, and Tianoman, at age twenty, acquitted himself well. Now, almost twenty-five, he was respected as a leader. Perhaps the council of Elders felt it necessary to test him most.

He was, after all, Tymall’s son.

TIANOMAN PACED THE audience chamber. The storm severed communication. It had not trekked this far north, but it broke the link to Menllik and Valla Island. He needed to confer with Tristan and Teroux without delay.

He asked his advisor, Elder Sirlasin, How long before the storm passes?

An hour, two at most.

Will the Beaconite hold his tongue that long?

Sirlasin grinned. We shall make him, have no fear.

Tianoman nodded. Fine, then we must wait.

Will we take him to Menllik or Valla Island, my lord?

My cousins will come here, Elder.

Sirlasin bowed. A blunder. Of course. I merely thought it might contain the man more efficiently to remove him from his friends.

Tianoman frowned and looked away. You may be right. After I have spoken to my cousins, I will know what to do. In the meantime, keep him under surveillance.

Sirlasin bowed and left the audience chamber.

Tianoman paced to the massive arched windows and looked onto the square outside. It was paved in red stone and was usually attractive to visitors, but now sported winter’s mantle. The trees were bare, the fountain shut off and it was deserted. Snow would return a measure of prettiness, but it was so cold on the Vall, almost always, not even snow descended to the ground here. Ice did. Gods, he could do with a warmer climate for a while.

Tianoman watched Sirlasin scurry across the empty expanse, the man pulling his overcoat tight, and hoped warmer climes would come soon. Perhaps after the Throne made its choice.

He could not now think on it, not yet. Right now, he had to decide what to do about the Beaconite and his rumour spreading tongue. Samuel would know, but Samuel had shut himself away over Curin.

Tianoman swallowed. He missed Curin.

Chapter 3

Rumour begets secrets, often off the mark.

~ Awl

Valla Island

INSISTENT TAPPING AT his mind awakened Tristan. He sat up, having slept longer and deeper than intended. Night approached, and the storm had either passed on or petered out.

Tristan!

Ah. Tian. Tianoman had awakened him and sounded urgent. What is it?

Are you sleeping your life away, damn it?

Tristan grimaced. Caught in the act, he was. And what if I am?

Never mind. Tristan, I have stumbled into a problem and need your counsel.

I am in bed. Come here, we will talk.

There was silence on the other end, and then, On my way, but I am not coming alone. I suggest you get dressed and meet us in the library. I am asking Teroux to join us also.

Sounds serious.

It may be.

Fine, I am getting dressed now. Tristan severed the link. He stumbled from his bed, found clothes and boots, washed his face, and headed down.

In the large space that was the audience chamber, ballroom, banquet hall - depending on the occasion - and was once Throne-room - he found Tianoman engaged in a shouting match with a human. Sirlasin paced around the two.

Teroux arrived with shiny cheeks and eyes, and Tristan hastened down the stairs - Teroux had been at the drink, obviously. Lucky sod.

… political nightmare for you! the human shouted.

Try it! Tianoman yelled. Beacon will be on the losing end!

Beacon? A Beaconite? What was Tianoman thinking? Tristan hurried over. Teroux, he noted, came to rest beside Sirlasin and viewed proceedings with amusement. His cousins acted like children sometimes; challenging Beacon was no light matter.

Tristan came to a stop. Excuse me, may I say something?

Sirlasin was relieved. The level-headed Valla.

Tianoman turned. Cousin, good of you to join us. His brown eyes flicked the other way. And you, Teroux.

Shut it, Tian, you’re causing a scene, Teroux said.

Tristan held a hand aloft before an outburst could follow. Shall we move to the library? I am certain our guest could use a drink and the warmth of a fire.

He gave the Beaconite a considering look, and the man bowed, evidently deciding to put his case in the more even atmosphere on offer.

The four men preceded Tristan into the library adjoining the audience chamber.

Shall I add something to eat, my lord? a retainer asked.

Tristan grinned. Do that, Exem. He wiped the grin off, entered with a serious face and closed the door. Tian, will you present your guest?

"Guest? He is … oh, fine. This is Kris Westlake, recently arrived on the ship Circular. Tianoman held his temper with difficulty. He was outmanoeuvred and liked it not. My cousins Tristan and Teroux."

Kris Westlake sketched another bow at Tristan and then one for Teroux. My lords, it is an honour.

Beacon is ever welcome, Teroux said, digging at Tianoman’s behaviour.

Please take a seat, Mr Westlake, Tristan said, sitting himself.

Sirlasin retreated, taking a perch removed from the gathering. He was advisor only, not decision-maker, for the Vallas were permitted to make their mistakes unimpeded; if trouble arose the council would step in.

Tris, we have a problem, Tianoman said, but sat.

Teroux, grinning, balanced near him, obviously intending to temper his hot-headed cousin’s outbursts.

Tristan gazed at his youngest cousin. Tianoman was hot-headed, yes, but they were all that way once. Something was definitely wrong for him to lose his cool before an outsider.

I hear you, he said.

Tianoman subsided, hearing in that tone trust in his judgement.

Shall we allow Mr Westlake to speak first? Tristan prompted.

Yes, Teroux said. Mr Westlake, please.

The Beaconite was a tall man with unruly brown hair and laughing brown eyes. A good-looking man, and never had anyone seemed less dangerous.

My lords, thank you, and please call me Kris. The Mr Westlake thing makes me feel old and staid and married, and I’m not close to any one of those.

Teroux laughed, Tristan smiled and Tianoman scowled.

Ignoring Tianoman, Kris continued, speaking largely to Tristan.

My partners and I are of Beacon Farm, and we secured the privilege to trade ideas about a genetically engineered grain with Valaris’ Farmer’s Union.

Beacon Farm was the agricultural world annexed by Beacon.

Our papers are in order, if you would like to see them? Tristan made a gesture with his hands. "I thank you for your trust, my lord. We landed two days ago, having travelled with the trade ship Circular and took up lodging in the big hostel near the spaceport on Vall. He shrugged. There isn’t much to add, except to say we are meeting your union tomorrow and we have been, er, partying until now."

He shrugged again and glanced significantly at Tianoman.

Tristan’s grey eyes followed him there. Tian?

I acknowledge the man’s credentials, his intentions, and agree he has enjoyed Vall’s entertainments since arrival. Nothing wrong there, but he has a loose tongue. Sirlasin can confirm.

Now wait a minute! Kris burst out.

Mr Westlake, you had a few too many too often, Tianoman snapped. You may or may not be aware of the trouble you caused; I see that now.

The Beaconite opened his mouth, closed it. Then, Yes, well, I do have gaps in my memory.

Teroux spluttered into laughter.

Tianoman glared his way and spoke to Tristan. It may be innocent, but this man said things, and it was heard by others who like nothing better than to feed the rumour mill.

What did he say? Tristan murmured.

He expounded on the idea the Kaval is a Valleur tool. He implied we, the Vallas, seek to rule the universe, our grandfather uses the Dome to prepare our places. The three of us will each receive a kingdom in the future and Elixir will ensure we hold them.

There was silence and then Kris spluttered, I didn’t say that!

Teroux spoke, You do not remember saying it, but these thoughts are not new to you, are they?

I … well, no. But many think that; I am not alone in it. Are you aware how many worlds have entered into truce with the Dome to avoid future invasion?

Invasion? Tristan whispered. You suspect Elixir will invade worlds?

I am repeating what I heard.

Invade with what? Teroux said. Are you insane? The Dome has no army.

We hear tell of a world called Sanctuary, and folk say an army is being prepared there, Kris said, eyes going from one to the other.

He finally understood why it was he had been nabbed by Sirlasin and brought before Tianoman.

Both Tianoman and Teroux were about to shout and even Sirlasin in the background rose in fury when Tristan held his hand aloft. As he was about to speak, there was a knock on the door. Exem entered bearing a tray of drinks and behind him a woman bearing all manner of finger foods. The trays were placed on the low table before the men and the two left. Nobody moved.

Tristan said, Sanctuary is exactly that, a sanctuary. The Dome is what it has always been, and the Kaval are the new Guardians. There is no army, and our grandfather has no intention of carving out kingdoms for us. This is the truth and those are the facts. However, rumour has life, and fuelling it does not make it right or alter hearsay into truth.

Kris nodded. I will speak of this to all who open their mouths to utter these rumours.

Tristan sighed. No, say nothing. It will add fuel to the fire. Kris, we judge you misled, but innocent of wrongdoing. Please, enjoy the hospitality of Valla Palace this night as a token of our apology and feel free to meet the Farmer’s Union tomorrow without ill will. All we ask is that you say nothing of this … situation. Agreed?

Kris Westlake gazed around him. A night in Valla Palace? He would have a tale to tell, for sure - with a few embellishments - and the Vallas would come out smelling like nectar.

He grinned. Agreed.

Tristan smiled. Thank you. Please, have a drink, eat something. I will have someone come for you in a while. My cousins and I need to confer now, if you will excuse us? Tristan rose decisively, as did Tianoman and Teroux. Sirlasin, will you join us?

Of course, my lord, the Elder murmured, and followed the three Valla men out, leaving a bemused Kris Westlake staring at the array of drinks and edibles before him. He looked up at the books on the shelves and gaped at the titles. Hell, never would he read even a portion of those.

"IS THERE A RUMOUR circulating to this effect? Tristan demanded as the door to his suite closed on them. Sirlasin?"

There must be.

It could affect trust in the Kaval, Teroux muttered.

And relations with Valaris, Tianoman pointed out. We do not want to rule by fear or be seen as future aggressors.

I wonder if Elixir knows, Sirlasin murmured.

What worries me, Tristan said, is others may be readying an army to offset this mythical force on Sanctuary. An army prepared eventually requires a war to affirm necessity.

Teroux and Tianoman were horrified, but Sirlasin said, Elixir would see such an army preparing.

Would he? By all accounts he has withdrawn to his villa on Sanctuary and has little to do with the Dome and his Kaval. And what if it’s readied in innocuous pockets of resistance? Not enough to bring Kaval attention, yet sufficient to herald other, similar units.

Sirlasin pursed his lips. That smacks of organisation. Is someone powerful enough to keep the secret? We do not know any of this.

No, Teroux agreed, yet we shouldn’t be complacent. A rumour about potential kingdoms is fuel to resistance.

Someone should contact the Dome, Tianoman suggested.

One of us should speak to Elixir, Tristan said.

Because someone may be creating these rumours to build an army, Teroux murmured.

It was Sirlasin’s turn to be horrified. We must tell him immediately.

Tianoman said, Who will go?

Sirlasin looked away. Perhaps one of the Elders known to him?

No, we won’t spread this thing, Teroux said. You should go, Sirlasin.

No, not me. He needs to hear it from - one of you must do this.

Teroux said, He came for my and Tris’ Coming-of-Age, and he’s bound to come for yours, Tian. That’s less than a month away; we could speak to him then.

Tianoman nodded immediately.

Are we afraid of our grandfather? Tristan said. This is the man who comforted you when your father died, Teroux, and was there at your birth and naming, Tian. He was there for me during those Abyss dreams, and he has come over the years when we needed him to be our grandfather. He came when we achieved adulthood, as he will for you. He is Elixir, yes, but he’s still Torrullin, a man who loves his family.

Tianoman spoke next. Your father should be the one, Tristan. Let Samuel go … or we wait until my Coming-of-Age.

Tristan gave a mirthless smile. We are afraid of him. I won’t add to my father’s troubles right now and I don’t think we should wait almost a month to tell him something he needs to know immediately.

Maybe he knows, Teroux suggested.

And maybe he doesn’t.

What do you suggest? Tianoman asked.

All three of us go.

Sirlasin nodded.

Teroux gave a heartfelt sigh. When?

Tristan said, Well, let us not set alarms ringing for the Beaconite downstairs. After the man leaves in the morning, we go.

Tianoman huffed. Fine. Sirlasin, let us get back to Vall to organise. The Elder agreed and the two left.

Teroux glanced at Tristan. Why are we afraid of Torrullin?

He can see through us into our hidden thoughts, I guess.

So?

Ah, Teroux, maybe you have nothing to hide, but Tian certainly does, and I think I may have, too.

Like what? Teroux whispered.

That bloody Throne, my brother. It plays with us now.

Teroux looked away. Yes.

Chapter 4

A place to lay my head, Samaritan, please. All gods bless you.

~ Beggar to passer-by

Sanctuary

TORRULLIN AGREED ON this world as sanctuary not only because it offered the kind of benign natural order to aid restoration of the soul, body and mind, but over its timing in seasons and day-night cycles. Sanctuary closely matched Valaris in both. When it was morning on Valaris, it was morning on Sanctuary, and when it was winter here, it was winter there.

He swore to stay away from Valaris to spare his homeworld - for trouble invariably accompanied him - and had stayed away, other than the two Coming-of-Age ceremonies. Every day was a battle to ignore his world. Thus Sanctuary. In living the same cycles, he could be there in mind. It was how he coped.

The weather was bleak and cold this mid-morning. Winter set her tentacles onto the land and would soon burrow in. Already there was ice on Lake Averis in the mornings and soon Lake Altar would sport icy patches also. Fortunately, neither froze completely, or shipping would be a trial during winter months.

He stood on the jetty jutting into Lake Averis staring at the swirling mists rising from the small island two and a half sals from where he was. The island was uninhabited and unnamed, a strange little place he tended to shy from.

His thoughts were on Lowen, although not with her, for Lowen had vanished so completely it was as if she never existed. Teighlar, it appeared, was the last to see her. Grinwallin was the final place she visited before disappearing. No trace, no word, no clue and not even Elixir’s sight could find her. And no more dreams.

Where was she? What happened to her? Why had she sent a call through the spaces? It had been a call, he now realised, and something befell the Xenian seer; it was not premonition, and it was not a dream. He used the sight to delve the universe, known realms, and even resorted to Wiccan scrying to find her … and nothing.

It was time to set his Kaval to investigating her absence, the project she was working on and her movements over the last year - more, if it proved necessary. Lowen was Kaval; they would not question the task.

Three forms materialised on the grassy bank, and seemed unsure. Their backs were to him, facing his home, but he knew them, far better than they suspected and definitely more than they knew him.

Tristan, Teroux and Tianoman. His three grandsons.

Why had they come? This was the first time they had been to Sanctuary, and it was also the first time he sensed a shared mission. Something was wrong.

Lowen, and now this? Was there a link? There was no such concept as coincidence, a lesson hard taught a long time ago. Was he ready to interact with these three? They were already too close to his heart.

He drew in breath and called. All three, he noted, were afraid of him. Ah, yes, the influence of the Throne began to tell now. All three, he realised, glanced at the famous sword that went with him everywhere. Elianas, nemesis, also known as the Lumin Sword. He went towards them, gesturing they remain where they were.

Tristan stood in the centre of the trio and was directly before him. Tristan was his image, with the same grey eyes he once had and with the same fair hue of hair. Tristan was exactly his height, but had his father Samuel’s more diffident posture.

My Lord, Tristan said. It is good to see you.

Torrullin smiled. This man, who now seemed a brother in age, was dear to him, as was Samuel. Tristan, welcome. He held his arms wide.

Relief flooded into Tristan’s face, and he stepped into the embrace without reservation.

Then there was Teroux. Teroux was true Golden. Hair, eyes, skin and manner. Tannil’s son, a man who did his father proud.

Grandfather, Teroux grinned.

Torrullin laughed and gripped the man in a hug. Welcome, Teroux.

Tianoman watched proceedings with hooded eyes. He was the youngest, therefore third in the greeting exchange, yet he sensed his age had little to do with it. Torrullin placed him last in his heart because he was Tymall’s son.

When his grandfather came to him, he spoke with greater wariness than the others. My Lord Elixir, we have come with disturbing news.

Torrullin stood before the youngest Valla. Tianoman had it wrong. He loved this son of his son with all his heart, but chose to distance himself to allow him to grow up unfettered by expectation. Perhaps it was time to give something back or he would lose this one. His hand reached up and rested on a tense cheek.

Tian, you are no more, or any less, welcome than your cousins. In my heart you are equal.

His fingers curled around Tianoman’s neck, and he pulled him into his arms, holding on longer than he had for the other two. When he let go, he was rewarded with a sincere smile.

Thank you, grandfather.

Torrullin nodded, raked all three with his silvery eyes, but did not attempt to read them.

You have disturbing news, you say? Something you could not entrust to an Elder? We will talk inside. Bad news is better assimilated on a satisfied stomach, and I haven’t yet eaten today. Come.

He stepped through them and headed up the bank. His villa was a sal distant along the lakeshore and he used the walk to speak of other matters. How is Valaris?

No problems, Teroux said. We opened a new theatre in Menllik last month and already Ceta and Xen have booked in their travelling troupe, one a light-show with dance and the other an old-fashioned satire.

Torrullin smiled. Which do you prefer?

Satire, Teroux laughed.

Are you coping with the city?

All is smooth, Teroux replied, pleased his grandfather asked.

Excellent. And the Vall, Tian?

Generally good, thank you. But, gods, it gets cold there.

Torrullin laughed aloud. Warmer climes?

As soon as I can take a break, yes, Tianoman grinned.

Torrullin glanced at Tristan, who walked abreast beyond Tianoman. The west must be quiet, particularly now in winter.

Tourism has dropped, yes … thank Aaru.

Too many demands?

Like the Palace is on display most of the time.

And you, of course.

Tristan loosed a long-suffering sigh. Yes. All smiles, all the time. But, that’s a personal gripe, for all is well. The winter angling competition is due soon and we have entries from the mainland and the isles, and as far a-field as Fortani.

Remarkable. So, this news hasn’t anything to do with trouble back home? Good. No, later. Tristan, I heard about your mother. I am sorry.

Tristan swallowed. Thank you.

She was mother to all three of us, Teroux said.

We miss her, Tianoman added.

Yes, Curin was a special lady, Torrullin murmured. How is Samuel taking it?

Badly, Tristan said.

A break in Torrullin’s stride. I didn’t know, Tris, not until after.

The Elders should’ve told you, Teroux muttered.

Tristan shook his head. Father asked them to say nothing.

His cousins craned forward to look at him. He did? Teroux asked. Why?

Something about the lure of Valaris.

Torrullin came to a halt and the others did, too.

My Lord? Tianoman enquired.

Your father knows me well, Tris. I fight the lure of Valaris every day. Had I returned to pay my respects to a woman I thought the world of, grief would have held me there longer than necessary, and seeing you would bind me further. Seeing Saska could undo my resolve. Your father is a selfless man, bless him.

It wouldn’t be bad to have you back, Teroux whispered.

Thank you for that, but we know different. Even Saska would agree with Samuel. Torrullin began walking again. Did you speak to her?

Just condolences, Tianoman murmured.

Teroux shook his head.

Tristan cleared his throat and said, Not to me.

A brief silence ensued before Torrullin asked, What did you overhear?

She was talking to my father, and she mentioned Caballa and asked about … Lowen.

A humourless grunt. And how did Samuel reply?

There’s no sign of Caballa and he heard Lowen left you, Tristan muttered.

Because he drove Lowen away, and now he paid for it. Anything else?

Not that I heard.

Did Lowen leave you? Tianoman asked with the impetuosity of youth.

His cousins gaped at him.

Lowen left me, yes, about ten years ago.

Heads jerked to Torrullin. Ten years? Teroux said.

A grim smile. We were apart most of the time anyway. A lie was uncovered, and that is as much as I will say.

Crikey, Teroux muttered.

Why did you not … well, never mind. Tianoman managed to shut his mouth before he put his foot in it.

Saska? Torrullin chose to answer the unfinished question. Why did I not let her know? Why did I not repair the rift in my marriage? There is no easy answer, except to say the rift between us stretches beyond the presence of Lowen.

The villa lay ahead, set atop a rise. There was no garden other than what nature gifted the region between mountains and lake. Spruce, elder, oak and fir forests surrounded the house, with the deciduous trees leafless now in winter, and lichens and mosses adorned the rocks along the way. A patchy lawn gave evidence to what summer green would be and was the only addition to nature set before the wide expanse of the villa. The house was beautiful, a combination of wood and stone, more windows than walls and at least ten chimneys protruded from the steep roof. It was also massive, far larger than the Keep on Valaris, and the view was breathtaking.

Fantastic, Teroux said as they levelled off before the house, turning round and around.

I have my vanities, Torrullin smiled, pleased.

Did you build it? Tianoman asked. It’s wonderful.

I built it with Lowen. She spent perhaps a full month in it if you add together small increments.

Tristan paced towards the lake. The view is incredible. Is that huge lake in the distance the one that holds First Sanctuary?

Yes. Mariner Island is First Sanctuary. You cannot see it from here, but there are bridges from the island to the mainland to Second Sanctuary.

Valleur built, we hear.

Indeed. The Valleur put in effort here, Torrullin said.

Tristan nodded. That would aid the rumours, he said to Teroux.

Absolutely, Teroux muttered.

Sanctuary herself could be a target, Tianoman added.

Tristan sighed. Why we couldn’t wait for your Coming-of-Age.

I see now, Tianoman nodded.

Torrullin’s mouth tightened. Let us eat, boys, then we talk. He grinned a moment later. Boys? You aren’t boys anymore, and you, Tristan, are now almost a year older than I am physiologically. How … strange.

Rather, Tristan muttered as they followed him indoors.

TORRULLIN COOKED A light meal to much banter, and they ate from their laps before the fireplace in one of the sitting rooms. The day grew colder and gloomier. Wind howled around the corners of the villa.

Are you coming to me with fact or rumour? Torrullin prompted eventually.

Rumour, Teroux said.

Then I don’t need to hear where you got it from. Just give me the tale.

Teroux and Tianoman both looked at Tristan, a gesture not lost on Torrullin.

Well, it concerns Sanctuary. People say you are preparing an army here.

Torrullin lifted his brows. Let them sniff around, then, and go away appeased.

Yes, but they say you are using the Kaval and this mythical army to make the universe yours.

A far-fetched notion, don’t you think?

You want to make the Valleur as before, rulers over all, and in particular there is to be three kingdoms, Tristan added.

Ah. One for each of you?

Teroux nodded.

Untrue.

Rumour may be believed, Tianoman murmured.

Torrullin poured three glasses of wine, handed them over and then poured himself one thoughtfully. And if rumour is to be believed, you think someone may conceive of another force, a foil for mine. I see your reasoning, but it would …

He stilled. Then his glass smashed upon the stone floor. Red wine sought the furrows between the stone paving.

Why the rock, layers of texture and colour, like time built on time, if not to point the way … but backwards. Backwards, by god.

The three Valla cousins stared at him.

He ignored them. An ancient threat or one long foretold … and she found it. Go back to the source. Sanctuary is built on ancient foundations, on singing stones. He rose and paced away. An army to meet an army, the stones foretold.

He stared at the three without seeing them. Three kingdoms inundated on this world. Who would know that? Lowen, after unravelling the mystery, and one who sees as she does … or is an Ancient.

Torrullin sat and stared intently at Tristan. Tell me everything you know, even who you heard it from.

Chapter 5

The man knelt before the altar, looking at the stones his knees rested on. I ask you, friend, how can anyone know what is in this man’s mind? Penitence? Or is his a liar’s action?

~ Arc, poet

The Dome

THE DRAGON OGIVE chimed. The Kaval straightened. Elixir had been long absent from the Dome.

He strode in. Belun!

Yes, my Lord?

Seal the ogives immediately.

Gods, the Centuar muttered to himself and did as bid. He moved away from the dais as Torrullin headed to it.

Is everyone here? Elixir demanded, and passed his hands over the blinking lights of the dais. It sought recognition from Elixir as others once sought recognition from it.

All currently present, Fuma, the Deorc Immortal, murmured.

Why is that? Torrullin frowned at Jonas, in charge of assignments.

We have an interlude in effect, m-my Lord, Jonas stammered in reply.

Ah, and I do not believe in coincidence. Very well, take seats. I have new assignments for each of you.

Seats were found at the semi-circular conference slab.

I have unsettling news. Lowen has vanished without a trace, but before she did, she managed to send a clue as to her whereabouts. This is not personal, Kaval, understand that. He stared at them and, satisfied, continued. Further to her disappearance, unpalatable rumours have come to my attention. I believe the two are linked. He gave an account of the rumours and briefly related what he knew of Lowen.

His Kaval did not see a connection.

A mirthless smile followed. They are linked, trust me. This is what I need you to do, and we shall confer again in one week. Jonas, hit the computers and whomever you deem worthy of information for facts on rock strata. Geologically. How much time does it involve to lay down sediment, and how does it happen? Fuma, you and Amunti are to backtrack the rumour. We need the source or take us as far back as you can. Declan, you have to find Agnimus …

Excuse me? You think that creature has something to do with this? the Siric asked.

He is an Ancient. I want to hear what he knows.

It will not be easy, Declan warned.

Do what you must. You have one week. Quilla, you are charged with singing stones.

A light went off in the Q’lin’la’s mind. Ah, I begin to discern the connection.

Good, Torrullin responded. Ignatius, we need the full history of Sanctuary. Prima, uncover unfulfilled prophecies regarding the meeting of two like armies.

Prima paled. My Lord, there are thousands of those.

"Select those referring to three kingdoms and stones. Shenendo, I need anything, anything, you can find on the Luvans of Grinwallin. Galarth, information on worlds inundated in ancient times. Erin, religious theory on time-shifts - not portals between realities, but time travel. Chaim, sniff around for resistance cells. We are trying to ferret out the possibility of an army building in secret, and it may at this time be limited to small units, and may also be widespread."

It will be done, the old man murmured.

Torrullin drew breath and looked at Belun, Dome leader. Belun, take the Dome to Sanctuary and float her on Lake Averis.

"What?"