The Nowhere Sphere

By Elaina J Davidson

In a nowhere place, everything is possible.

At the time of Tianoman Valla’s Naming, a blue sphere hovers in the scrying bowl, along with a silver cathron in an ebony floor. The time for that future is due, for beyond realms and the known universe, a mighty manipulation commences, and it assumes the form of blue spherical space.

This is a Nowhere Sphere.

Tianoman is kidnapped by an enemy believed dead, and taken to the place where a silver cathron knocker lurks in the darkness of a polished surface, where also a crucible swirls in vapour, creating within an entity that cannot be permitted life.

An entire planet is vaporised, and souls scream for release in the aftermath. As Torrullin Valla’s memory returns after the event on Echolone, his ability to forgive is buried in the layers time has laid down, and now he needs to care, to feel again, to forgive. He must travel the void created by anti-matter to find not only Tianoman and the other Vallas, but also Elianas Danae, for he will suffer most.

In Nowhere, everything that moves in hearts, minds and souls will become the answers Torrullin requires to again known himself. It will also unmask the Danae.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elaina J Davidson
• Release date: May 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310042539

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

HEXAGONAL SQUARES of luminosity. Hexagonal squares, for perception was ever subjective in a dreamscape. What the eye perceived was not necessarily what belonged. Some concepts, objects and emotions would never fit. Any kind of belonging was as relative as perception.

He, as witness, as participant also, drew a breath, testing the vapours surrounding him, and smiled when the casual action dragged a gust of cold air through the space to audibly rustle leaves in the vicinity.

Breath was sound also.

When he released it, the silence deafened.

He smiled again.

It appeared, in this scape of the imagination, all was in sequence, and he was prepared at last. If breath was movement and sound, and perception could be anything, here, it would translate as master manipulation elsewhere.

Instruction in the ways had been … lengthy. Every nuance was hard won. Seeing beyond the corners in curves almost led to insanity. No more. Now there were hexagonal squares of luminosity, and he understood why.

He was a timedancer, as Ixion had once been, and Ixion’s companion, Adagin. As Tarlinn still was, and Neolone, Kallanon Dragon, aspired to. They were all dead, of course, except Tarlinn, but Tarlinn had been curtailed in a golden seat of power and possessed little influence. There was thus little to fear.

It was time to begin. It was time to stand before the current age’s timedancer aspirants, to disavow their powers. The time had arrived to assume the mantle of the master manipulator.

They would call him the Timekeeper. Torrullin would name his thus, he who was also Elixir, and Elianas, he who was also Alhazen. Timekeeper was merely a title, and yet they would speak it as if it conferred personality. It was easier, after all. Would they dare to recognise his true name, to utter it aloud in the spaces? One’s true name gifted absolute freedom.

The ancient dance of Time itself was about to commence.

Finally.

Part I

AWAKENING

Chapter 1

Purple cups pointed skyward, filled with morning dew. Already the early risers buzzed, waiting for the moisture to lift. It would be a spectacular day in the natural world. It would be a day of reckoning in the supernatural.

~ Universal Prophet ~

Avaelyn

HIS EYES WERE SHUT. His mouth was dry. His heart beat erratically. These were the signs of fear.

Rayne, however, was entirely unaware that fear existed. He knew not the concept, the emotion or the reality of it. It had never factored and, therefore, went unrecognized. Yet he comprehended something was different, otherwise, alien … new. He could not give it a name, but he understood, once he grasped this difference, change would follow in its wake. He wondered, only briefly, if change was welcome or something to be shunned. He had no premise upon which to base judgement.

Why was that?

For the first time since the accident that removed from his mind all memory of his past, he wondered why it felt as if he was two-dimensional. In fact, he wondered why he never asked questions of any kind. Had he been living in a vacuum? Or was that vacuum the sum total of life and its experiences? Surely not?

Rayne forced his eyelids open. For a moment he was disorientated, his surroundings strange, and then sunlight picked at his pupils and, a moment after, daylight flooded over him.

A dream?

He drew breath, then another and another until his heartbeat evened out and his clammy skin normalised. He licked his lips and found that the dryness was only in his imagination, in the moment between oblivious sleep and near-wakefulness. All was well in his world.

Breathing out a last forceful breath, he gave a rueful groan and pushed up. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he clawed his way to the new day, and rose slowly. A stretch came next and a luxurious yawn. He rolled his neck and headed for the bathroom.

Halfway there, he came to a halt.

Dream? He did not dream. Night after night he slept the sleep of the dead because day after day everything was the same. Only experience encouraged images in the dark, the prompts of a mind reworking what it saw, felt or heard in wakefulness.

Only experience encourages … his heart thumped. Where does that thought come from? What is wrong with me?

How did he now understand the concept dreaming? Rayne swivelled indecisively upon the balls of his feet. Again, his heart played its new game. He turned his head to the left, to the almighty view of nature untamed and the potent vista of an ocean so blue it defied description. He frowned. He knew he preferred the majesty of the sea in storm and darkness, an untamed state that spoke to his deeper places. Moving his head to the right, he glanced into the chamber leading from his.

It was empty. His brother was already up, no doubt preparing the morning meal as he did daily. His brother thrived in the routine of a day, always claiming it eased the mind to know the timing of events. Elianas would have answers or would do his best to find them. His brother was there with him when he awakened to a life without a past and recovered from the accident. He would understand what these new and strange feelings and insights meant.

He, Rayne, could trust in that.

Impatient, he headed to the bathroom.

A few minutes later he entered the dressing room and his hands hovered over loose-fitting pants and a bright blue shirt, a comfort and a style he was familiar with. The loose clothes were perfect for wandering in the garden and along well-tended paths … and he hated them. He wore them daily and never questioned the choice, and now he hated them. He despised well-tended paths also. He did not much enjoy routine either.

Biting back an oath, he allowed instinct to guide him and chose clothes he thought more suited. Slowly he dressed, his thoughts skittering from one angle to another, never finding a hold that led to illumination.

Change was the only certainty.

EGGS WERE BEATEN and ready for the pan, the toast was done, and coffee brewed. Breakfast would be a minute or two to serving once Rayne decided to come to table. A smile flitted across Elianas’ face. Rayne could be relied upon to be unreliable. If Rayne did not show soon, he would have to wake the man.

His brother could be trying sometimes. He fought eating, walking and sleeping at set times, but it was best for him at this stage of his recovery to function within a daily schedule.

Elianas straightened cutlery, placed the butter, salt and pepper in the centre of the table, and wiped his hands on a cloth. The eggs would spoil if …

Ah. A tread in the passage beyond. Rayne was awake. He returned to the stove to place the pan upon the heat, but halted movement upon seeing the manner of Rayne’s arrival. Elianas swallowed and the ice of premonition washed him cold.

Dark eyes searched the grey of the fair man entering. Rayne? he managed, and silently thanked the gods it came out steady. I have not seen you wear black before. I have not seen you wear black since you surrendered memory.

Rayne shrugged. This morning I realise how much I hate fancy colours. I have much black in there, yet never wear any, thought I would try it.

Goddamn it, I should have removed his black clothes. There had not been time to do so and, after, taking anything away would have raised questions he could not satisfactorily have answered.

Dark eyes dropped away. Elianas moved to the stove. It suits you.

Rayne smiled. I thought so.

Did you sleep well? A steady hand placed the pan where it had to go, and a firm wrist whisked the eggs a final time before pouring the mixture. Everything was automatic, for his thoughts were in disarray and food was the last matter he considered.

What has changed?

A sigh erupted from Rayne. I believe I was dreaming.

Elianas twitched. Fright. Ice. All gods. Dreaming?

I think so. I awoke feeling peculiar and it occurred to me I was dreaming. I never dream, brother.

There was confusion in Rayne’s voice. With his back to the man, a brother could close his eyes and offer up a prayer to all gods and goddesses. Please, leave him in peace. He is not yet ready. I am not yet ready.

Aloud Elianas said, People dream, Rayne. You simply do not remember in the morning.

Had he looked, he would have seen grey eyes narrow. Peripherally, he noted a hand reach up to brush fair hair away from eyes. In the silence eggs scrambled.

Elianas. Look at me.

Rayne’s tone was not as accepting as it had been in the months of recovery. Elianas hauled the pan off the heat and faced the enigma of this new day, hoping his face revealed only serenity. Rayne, dressed in tight-fitting black breeches and a woven black tunic, feet encased in black boots, studied him, a small frown marring his forehead. Then he took a single step forward. Elianas take a small step backward. Rayne’s eyes narrowed and this time Elianas saw it, and understood there was intent present.

Why are you different? Rayne asked.

Elianas shook his head. "You are different, Rayne."

A moment elapsed, and a nod followed. Granted, but you seem afraid. Another eternal moment passed. Elianas, I have no concept of fear.

The man with dark eyes and hair almost gnashed his teeth. Of course you do. You have merely forgotten how it feels, for there is nothing to fear here.

An eyebrow arched. Truly? And what else have you withheld … brother?

I am not sure I know what it is you infer.

Rayne stepped forward another pace and this time Elianas stayed in place. Rayne took another step, another and another until he was close.

Grey eyes impaled him. I am not sure I know either, but today I know something is different in me, and in you. I further understand your difference is because of mine. I would like to know why that is.

Elianas smiled. You are tired …

I sleep too much as it is. I am not tired. You side-step.

Elianas swore, moved from the stove and strode from the kitchen. He needed space to think.

Rayne watched him go - he felt those eyes - and called out, Where is your black, brother? Are we not a pair?

Seconds of silence ensued and then Elianas stood in the doorway. His dark eyes were unreadable, his posture stiff with inner tension. Advice, brother, from one who loves you and has taken care of you these past months, Leave this new angle alone and allow time to heal all wounds first. The moment comes when you will be strong enough to cope.

Thus you are hiding something from me.

I am protecting you.

From what?

Yourself.

Rayne strode nearer. I like that not.

No, you would not, but I am not saying more.

Gripping Elianas by the collar, Rayne slammed him against the wall, and then swore and released him immediately. Suddenly, dreams, the understanding of something called fear, and now capacity for violence. I feel as if another seeks freedom, and he lives in this skin. Who am I, Elianas?

The hairs in his neck spiked in dread, but Elianas remained calm. You are Rayne.

What am I?

A man recovering from a terrible accident.

Rayne scowled. Why do I think that is a mistruth?

Elianas sighed and told the truth, as far as it could go. You know you lost recall, and it may now be returning. This will be a confusing time for you, but I will help you understand. Just give it time.

Time, Rayne echoed.

Elianas swallowed. He dared say no more.

Rayne glanced into the kitchen. I seem to have little appetite this morning. I am going for a walk.

Elianas nodded. Perhaps activity would distract him.

But not on well-tended paths. They have their place, I know, but this day I aim to seek out the wild places. Rayne gave a tight smile.

Elianas’ fingers curled into unseen claws.

Rayne walked away. Elianas noticed the hunter stalk had returned to how he moved. Until yesterday Rayne’s movements were more casual. Returning memory would also restore inherent bearing. The dark man slumped against the wall. All gods, he was not ready.

Elianas, do you think it will storm soon?

He jerked his head to the left to see Rayne standing in cat-like silence and patience nearby. He shivered within. Stealth was back as well. I have no idea.

Pity. I hanker after a storm.

Perhaps it will soon enough. Autumn approaches.

Rayne inclined his head and continued down the passage. He spoke over his shoulder, I shall discover my true self in the insanity of a storm, I think. Pray it is soon.

He vanished from sight.

Long, terrible minutes passed before Elianas could move.

That is what I fear most, my brother. I do fear you may discover your true self in the insanity of a storm. I have prayed for benign weather daily and then I have prayed I have succeeded in blocking your memories sufficiently, in the event the weather does as it does without harking to prayer. That insanity has ever driven us to extremes, and you may never forgive me for removing the other insanity, the one that binds us. All gods, I pray you never remember. A new tomorrow may drive us apart.

Chapter 2

"When all certainty lies in change, I tell you, friend, brother, love is everything. Hold onto it, treasure it, renew it and always respect it. When change is upon you, love is the only factor that withstands every onslaught."

~ Le Matt Dalrish, Xenian Sorcerer ~

Sanctuary

Lake Altar

HIS LUNGS COULD TAKE no more. Teroux had nothing left to fight off the grasping desperation around him, but he wanted to live! He thrashed and managed to dislodge fingers clutching at his throat. He kicked hard against a tumbling, inert form, using it as leverage, and fought his way through the press of bodies, some so intertwined in the dance of death he would lose his way if he did not go around them. He had but seconds before he swayed in an eternal current of oblivion. His lungs were a-fire, his eyes extended in the effort to hold, to save, to have that final breath of life. Teroux kicked against debris, felt his fingers stiffen.

Is it true one stiffens before the nerveless state of death?

In blind panic, he surged up with everything he had left.

And pierced the inky surface of a silent, calm lake.

Gasping, spluttering, he drew in precious air. It burned worse than a lack of had, but was also the most glorious sensation in the entire universe. He drew more in, held, released, again and again. Life was precious, so very special.

Debris from the ship bobbed silently, accusingly, upon still water. Amid the destruction, lifeless remains of crew and passengers floated. It was calm and quiet, when half an hour ago everything was chaos and all was insanity. Teroux swam to a broken spar, wrapped arms around it, rested his head against the swaying wood, and surrendered consciousness.

He had given all.

Mariner Island

HE OPENED HIS EYES. Rose, beloved Rose, smiled at him, her blue gaze tearing. Teroux. One word, his name, and in it all the love she bore him.

Rose.

They stared at each other and then awareness returned. He gasped, struggled to sit, and she forced him back.

Teroux, calm yourself. You are still weak. You suffered a few scrapes and bumps. Stay down.

He stared at her.

She understood what that mute gaze meant. Four others survived. We found wreckage on the eastern shore yesterday morning and sent out search parties. She swallowed, fighting back tears. I thought I lost you.

Teroux blinked and a tear ran over one cheek.

Rose sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand. The storm was swift and vicious. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it, not even you.

We should have had warning.

It’s spring, my love. These weather patterns are not unknown, but everyone understands how hard it is to predict this. Let it go.

His gaze slid away.

You are feeling guilty that you survived, but, Teroux, I am beyond relieved you were one of those we pulled from the water alive.

He looked up at her again. You came?

Rose smiled, and swallowed hard. My husband was out there, was he not?

He managed to smile as well and squeezed her hand.

Sleep now. I will be back later with proper food. She leaned in to kiss his forehead, and rose.

By the time she reached the door, he was fast asleep. She nodded. Yes, better that way. She left quietly.

SANCTUARY AS A WORLD was exactly that, a sanctuary.

The dispossessed, the desperate, the sick and the lonely came from all over a populated universe seeking aid, succour, healing and companionship, and most stayed to help others, finding new purpose in a new way of life upon a different world. Sanctuary was neutral, non-political, and had the space to absorb the varied races that knocked at her door.

The local people had chosen to open their hearts and minds to others in a bid to stem slow extinction due to a stagnated existence, and it paid off magnificently. New kinds meant new skills and knowledge, and it led to a renewal of confidence in themselves and their future.

Teroux and Rose came to Sanctuary twenty years after its inception as a haven, taking over the management of an important and special service to those in need of renewal.

They worked well with the locals, and both were cosmopolitan enough to deal with offworlders and visitors of means, while being as grounded in reality, a personality trait necessary to manage compassionately those who came from places less advanced.

With only the friends made in their new life as witnesses, they wed there in a quiet ceremony. Family had not featured. Family had planned elaborate nuptials, but family brought problems. Or thus they made it known when asked.

Truth was, Rose had no living family, and Teroux was in continued rift with his, and that rift was on his mind when he returned home, having been released by the healers on Mariner Island.

The Villa

TORRULLIN BUILT THE VILLA. Teroux halted in the blooming spring garden and stared at the yellowed walls, the façade of glass and stone, the chimneys, and the welcome of a home. His grandfather built well. Not only was it functional in design, but also pleasing to the eye.

Happy as he was in this place with Rose, he could not forget it was built with and for a mistress, a woman who had not stayed long. His grandfather had lived in an adulterous relationship, one that did not bring anyone happiness. It was not what brought about the rift between himself and his family, however. Another prejudice achieved it, and now Teroux could not forget he parted from his grandfather uneasily a few months back over a different relationship, and today lived in a house that reminded him of their rift daily.

Teroux? Rose prompted.

We have a lovely home, do we not?

She smiled. We do, yes.

We have made it our own, have we?

She knew then what was on his mind. Always Teroux said he did not care what his family thought, and ever he worried over it. He loved his family, but unfortunately the issues keeping him from loved ones had their source in his beliefs, not theirs. It meant he had no idea how to repair the separation.

It is ours, my love, in thought and deed, and it is lived in now as it never was when Torrullin owned it. We have transformed walls of stone into spaces with heart.

He glanced at her and saw only truth in her eyes. He smiled and shrugged. I guess he is on my mind. His smile slid away. I thought of you down in the deep, but it was Torrullin’s face I saw when I surfaced. It was as if he accused me for lack of action. I could have saved them, Rose. Did something … called to …

She was firm. No, you could not. There was no time. And you know well he would never accuse you like that. Stop it and come inside; the mornings are chilly, and you are not well. She took his arm and steered him indoors.

Teroux allowed her to do so and, once inside with the familiarity of their life together, he relaxed. As always, she was right. He would be lost without her. And yet … yet … I think he is in trouble.

Rose headed for the kitchen. Torrullin? What makes you think so?

He followed. He is too quiet.

She did not turn to look at him. You wanted it so.

I know. His response contained only helplessness.

She did turn then. What did you see in the water?

Teroux passed her and entered into the warmth of the kitchen. Rose was making soup and the smell was mouth-watering. Sitting at the high counter, he rested his head in his hands. I heard this peculiar silence and then I saw his eyes. They were vacant, as if he is dying.

Not possible. She put water to the boil. He cannot die.

I am aware, he muttered, but there are many ways of dying, Rose, besides the physical.

She understood he had included himself in that statement. True.

He looked at her. Maybe you should contact him.

Rose blinked at her husband. This was more serious than she thought initially. It was more than survivor’s guilt. I cannot, and you know Elianas has too many shields in the way. Not even Quilla can get through.

Teroux sucked his cheeks inward upon hearing Elianas’ name. Then someone should go to him.

Rose stood on the other side of the counter, staring at him, concerned. You? You would go to Avaelyn?

A long silence ensued. No. I am not the one with the right words.

If you are worried …

That bastard will not let me near Torrullin anyway. And I would want to kill him.

It was Elianas he spoke of. Teroux would never be comfortable with Elianas. She had tried to explain to him, not only that he misread their relationship, but also that Elianas healed Torrullin in the least stressful manner possible, but Teroux was stubborn about the dark man.

He thumped the countertop. Who does he think he is? He is killing what was a great man!

She knew from experience that to answer was to fuel those fires. In silence she went about preparing tea, a soothing herbal blend.

Quilla must go in!

Rose closed her eyes. She was a farspeaker and could communicate across distances, as could her husband, but he was more than that. He was a Valla and, if he reasoned as a Valla now, it meant he saw something in those vacant eyes to frighten him. A vision of sorts, and it would bother him until he acted to release its hold; Teroux was not generally given to visions.

Quilla refuses to interfere, she murmured.

His fists thumped down again. Someone must interfere.

Speak to Tristan, then.

No, he said immediately.

The rift went deeper than merely his grandfather; it extended to his cousins also. She would certainly not propose Tianoman if he refused outright to speak with Tristan.

What do you suggest? she prompted.

Belun or … yes, by god, Teighlar! Teroux rose and started to pace. The Emperor has always had Torrullin’s ear.

Elianas will particularly balk at Teighlar.

Perfect! They will be at loggerheads immediately and Teighlar will not give up. Teighlar will get through.

She poured the tea and called him closer. "Teighlar will need a very good reason."

He cupped his hands around the mug and sat again. He muttered to himself and drank slowly, giving the matter further thought. Rose did not interrupt his silence.

I will speak to Quilla and convince him, and Quilla can go to Luvanor to speak to Teighlar.

Rose nodded. It made sense, in fact, and doing something would calm Teroux. Perhaps Quilla would restore his peace of mind better than she was able to. A good strategy.

Teroux smiled. I know what is going on in your head.

She returned the smile. Then you must know how much I love you.

He reached out and brought her face closer. And you must know that I love you too. He kissed her and let go.

She blew him a kiss as he wandered off with his tea, and leaned against the counter. She was not an empath, but even she understood something was off-kilter, and Elianas and his prisoner were part of it. Quilla would bring reason to the table, but she hoped Teroux decided to stay out of it, Valla or not.

Let others deal with that volatile situation.

Chapter 3

"When a pigeon flies into smoke, there is sorcery in the woods this day …"

~ Unknown ~

Valaris

Month of Festwun (Spring)

Lifesource Temple

THERE HAD BEEN A recent upsurge in visitors to the Lifesource Temple. Situated between two mighty mountain ranges, the Arrows and Assents, it was inspiring and spectacular, but the natural surroundings were not the reason folk visited. The temple suspended over a void in which the Eastern Ocean swirled a far way down, but it was not the sense of danger that brought people to the lightbridge spanning it.

The Lifesource was renowned throughout the universe for two factors, both dramatic in what they offered, and it brought two varied schools to the lightbridge. The most famous value offered by the Temple lay in its ability to confer mortality upon immortals, to restore the choice of death to those weary of longevity. Mortals did not easily grasp this - who wanted to die, after all - and to the majority of immortals the option of death was abhorrent, and yet there were those who came to have longevity reversed. They sometimes came in groups, as the Sagorin once did, and they came as individuals, the latter more frequent. Of course, that brought gawkers.

The second factor, however, had instigated an upsurge in visitors. The Lifesource Temple was a place of healing. Of the soul, the spirit, the mind.

Within its ethereal chambers lay the journeys of enlightenment, peace, acceptance, understanding of self and the means to a soul’s freedom. Not death; life. Thus, they came and they came daily. There were no guides, for guides were not required. Every step inside the Temple had purpose, even aimless wandering. The visitor simply needed to amble, shuffle or walk in a manner he or she felt comfortable with, and his or her soul would follow an inner prompt; everyone who came left altered.

Healed.

TIANOMAN, VALLORIN of the Valleur, cousin to Tristan and Teroux, grandson of Torrullin, husband to Aislinn and father of Lunik, stood alone at the edge of the landbridge joining two ranges, and watched the line of visitors as it wandered over the lightbridge joining Temple to land.

There was a pass through the Assents, recently upgraded, for the purpose of bringing pilgrims to this point, and it was not dangerous except in winter, but it was arduous and long, and yet they came as if driven.

He was in awe of their resolve, but also concerned so many required this type of healing. It did not say much for the state of souls out in the great yonder. Tianoman was concerned the Temple would lose something intrinsic in this influx. He wondered if the multitudes would negate the magic.

Quilla knew the answer. He had asked that the Q’lin’la meet with him to discuss the issue. Although the Lifesource was infused with Q’lin’la magic, it remained a sacred Valleur site. As Vallorin it was his duty to determine cause and effect.

Deep in thought, Lord Vallorin?

Tianoman lowered his gaze to meet the birdman’s. Quilla was a tiny feathered being - wise, but tiny. Quilla, we have missed you recently.

Quilla bobbed his head and shifted to view the line of pilgrims. He studied the phenomenon for a time in silence. When did this begin?

Tianoman pulled a face. Around the time Elianas interfered.

Ah. Did Elianas interfere? Never mind. Quilla swung back. You are concerned what this will do to the Lifesource.

I am. This is unusual.

Chambers within chambers, my young friend. She will cope into eternity.

Tianoman’s shoulders lifted and lowered in a sigh. I am glad to hear it.

On the other hand, we should be concerned so many folk need healing, Quilla muttered, watching the pilgrims with a frown etched into his brow.

Agreed.

It is time we do something. Elianas must be made to see the error of his ways. What started out with every good intention is now untenable, Quilla murmured.

You are saying Elianas has something to do with this influx before us.

I am saying Torrullin’s lack of memory is doing this.

Ah. Maybe. Tianoman drew a breath and then released it. I am loath to do anything there, Quilla.

Why is that, young man?

Noble purpose, Quilla. Remember? Elianas and Torrullin have a destiny we can only guess at and if we interfere, we may hinder that.

Thus you are suggesting Elianas may in fact be correct in his choices.

I am suggesting only one person knows the real Torrullin and therefore Elianas does exactly what destiny requires of him.

Quilla closed his eyes. Unfortunately, I think I agree with you. You are wise, Tianoman of the Valleur.

A short laugh erupted. I am not!

Young years do not mean you have no wisdom, Tian.

Ha, well my wife would argue that point.

Quilla smiled, knowing how much this young man loved Aislinn. It is a wife’s duty to keep a husband in line.

Ha!

Quilla’s smile widened into a grin, and then it was gone.

Tianoman’s eyes narrowed. Quilla?

Teroux calls to me from Sanctuary, the birdman murmured.

Tianoman made a frustrated sound in his throat. What has bitten his arse now? That cousin tries my patience.

Teroux knows we all feel somewhat similar about him in the present. He would not call unless he has reason, not so? Perhaps I should hear his words.

Tianoman lifted a shoulder, aware Teroux’s prejudice served to frustrate his usual sense of judgement. Do that, yes, and come tell me, will you? In the event someone - family - had to step in and curb the kind of crazy scheme only Teroux could conjure up.

Quilla nodded. He was about to dematerialise, when he halted the process to gaze quizzically up at the young golden-haired man. Tian, Elianas would talk to you.

Tianoman was silent a long time. He might, yes.

The birdman waited.

Not yet, Quilla. I do not think Torrullin is ready for me. And I am not ready for Elianas, the man who killed my father.

Again, the tiny being waited.

Tianoman glared at him. What? You want me to explain that? Torrullin needs to shake his Rayne persona off before he can again hear his blood speak. That is why I wait.

And if Rayne continues to hold sway? We may be at the point where the universe demands his recall of self.

Have faith, Q’li’qa’mz. Rayne is the weaker of the two. The time comes.

Quilla’s eyes narrowed again and then he released a soft expletive. Teroux is insistent, sounds urgent. We shall speak of this later.

He vanished upon his magical transport to Sanctuary, leaving Tianoman to stare at the pilgrims entering the Lifesource Temple one by one. It occurred to him, if he went to Avaelyn, he would be the pilgrim. A penitent.

THOUGHTS OF THE confrontation on Echolone, which led to Torrullin’s loss of self, months ago, soon had Tianoman staring at the serenity seekers present on Valaris without seeing them.

The Valleur Throne felled Torrullin that day and employed Elianas to achieve the destruction of Destroyer, the dark entity inside Torrullin. It was a symbiosis - perhaps perceived and conceived spontaneously in the tension of those moments - to rid Torrullin of an unnecessary evil, but it served also to shatter the remaining sanity of Torrullin Valla. Elianas might have been cognisant of the potential result before the fact, but perhaps it was one the Throne had not foreseen … or chose to embrace. Maybe the real Torrullin knew the truth of it.

Only Elianas understood how to put him together again. According to Quilla, Elianas chose to employ the milder persona that was Rayne, Torrullin’s final incarnation. No one knew if it had worked, or how long it would be before the regression delivered the desired result.

Tianoman’s thoughts moved back to the Valleur Throne. He admitted in the aftermath to Aislinn he was afraid of the power in that seat. It meant he rarely sat on it. More than a few remarked upon his reluctance. Sighing, he prepared for a transport back to the Keep. Seeing Aislinn and Lunik always put him in a better frame of mind. He sent a last glance at the line snaking over the lightbridge, and moved …

… unseen fingers gripped his mind …

… and stole his body also.

Chapter 4

"We hear of the men who brave all for the good of others, but we are not such as they. We say we love our mates, but love is not sufficient impetus to stand up in the face of a gathering storm. Live and let live, we say, and if that is a compromise … well, so be it."

~ Glory Mahone, President of Beacon, the Year of Democracy ~

Somewhere

TIANOMAN GAZED OUT of the window over a watery vista, his mind in turmoil. The transferral had been instant. From the Lifesource to this chamber in an eye blink. Thereafter nothing. Not a word, a stray thought, no sight of anything resembling a kidnapper. Darkness took him then; someone or something switched his consciousness off.

Water was everywhere. Slate grey and restless. He wondered where in all gods’ names he was. He had the clearest feeling the view before him was meant to obscure what was actually there, to hide from him his location. What he now beheld was not reality of place. This was a state of ignorance.

He had put his mind and hands to every manner of escape already, but the window and door allowed no egress whether by magic or physical force, and sorcery aided no other method of release. Hours had passed, but he had no idea how long he lay in the darkness before awakening to this. How long had he been away already? Aislinn had to be worried. The Throne did not respond to his calls either; it meant this place was thoroughly shielded from every kind of communication.

The watery vista, in fact, could be the presence of that shield.

Whoever took him possessed unholy power.

Biting back an oath, Tianoman admonished himself to think with logic and reason, rather than frustration and anger.

This was a gilded prison. The chamber at his back was comfortable, warm, and his every need was met. Whoever took him, had not sought his death. Someone known to him, perhaps? It was also a cell. He did not yet know who his gaoler was, but let the man, woman or creature just show face.

Where was this? Why? Why? Why? Tianoman smacked a hand on the sill and did swear aloud in frustration.

Thereafter he was maudlin. Aislinn would worry herself sick. By god, he missed her. He should be safe and warm with his beloved at the Keep, cuddling sweet and smiling Lunik, being a decent father and a proper husband. He could cope with anything as long as she was at his side. She was his anchor. Aislinn made his world whole.

Valaris

The Keep

AISLINN WAS WORRIED, but not yet unduly so. Tianoman frequently spent time away, usually conferring with others in varied places about diverse matters. Last she heard, he was at the Temple to see the pilgrims for himself and intended to have words with Quilla about it.

She smiled up at Sirlasin as the Elder approached her and Lunik at the breakfast table next to the mosaic pool. Any news from Tian?

The Elder was clearly troubled, more so than her. Not yet, my Lady. You wanted to see me?

I need to go into Menllik. A delegation from Fortani has recently arrived, I hear, requesting audience.

The Elders in general hoped the Vallorin’s wife would take a greater interest in state affairs, but Sirlasin was reluctant. It is better if they come here, my Lady.

Aislinn frowned up at him. Why are you opposed now? After all your prodding? Tian is busy and I can do this. An academic delegation, Sirlasin? At the Keep? We may as well prop the Dragon doors wide to every visitor then. No, I shall go into Menllik and meet with them at the manor. Set it up, please.

Sirlasin bowed over his hands, but he was made of sterner stuff and was not about to surrender. Having taught Tianoman, an impulsive and often crazy young boy and later man, for years, he felt able to deal with one pretty young woman.

My Lady, it is not safe.

She possessed a backbone also. Why is it not safe? What has you worried?

A feeling, my Lady.

Aislinn nodded. Valleur dealt in feelings and omens and the like. I hear you, but I will not hide behind these walls based on a feeling. It is time the Vallorin’s wife becomes more visible, don’t you think? My husband cannot always do everything. Lunik can stay here with his nurse; he is old enough now not to need me every minute of every day. Set it up, Sirlasin. Two hours. I am going to get dressed.

She rose, collected Lunik, and made her way to the stairs, and Sirlasin had no choice but to follow her command.

Menllik

THE MANOR IN THE city was bigger than the Keep in the valley, a huge place where Samuel and Curin raised the three cousins Tristan, Teroux and Tianoman as brothers.

Samuel and Curin had passed on and their ‘children’ were now grown men with adult responsibilities. Tristan was leader of the Kaval in the Dome, Teroux was responsible for Sanctuary and Tianoman was Vallorin. They would be so proud, those two.

Tianoman frequently used the manor for entertainment of offworlders, and thus was the huge space well cared for. Retainers lived on site and, when Aislinn arrived, everything was prepared. The ground floor audience chamber was well lit, a fire blazed in the ornate fireplace and an informal repast was laid out on the expensive walnut cabinet in the nook beside the arched windows.

Sirlasin insisted on accompanying her, and she was secretly glad. Until now Tianoman and Lunik had taken her time and attention, and she needed to catch up on the nuances of being queen of the Valleur, which was why she chose an innocuous delegation from Fortani. Dealing with academics, when those academics did not expect her to understand everything they had to say, was easier than fielding the intricacies of politics and economics at this point.

She smiled her appreciation at the housekeeper and asked her to show their guests in when they arrived. Taking a seat in the arrangement of armchairs near the opposite arches, she said to Sirlasin, Exactly what are they asking?

He shrugged and gave a wry smile. I am not an academic, my Lady. Something about archive protection.

Studying him, she asked, Why are you so anxious? Clearly, he could not shake his feeling of impending doom.

Sirlasin was not given opportunity to reply. The great brass knocker sounded in that moment. Their visitors had arrived. Aislinn inhaled a calming breath, flicked imaginary fluff from her cuffs, and straightened in her seat in preparation. She could not believe how nervous she was.

It was not the Fortani delegation that entered, however. A young man wearing red pants and an oversized tunic decked out in blue, green and yellow diamonds, a high red hat with feathers cockily stuck on one side, and bearing an equally colourful, oversized cloth bag, entered, remonstrating with the housekeeper tugging at him from behind.

Aislinn and Sirlasin glanced at each other and barely prevented a bout of laughter. The colourful individual dragged the housekeeper with him until he knelt before Aislinn, and there she released to stand with her lips pressed, exuding disapproval.

My Lady, please, this sorry creature desires to speak with you, the man murmured, and looked up at her with twinkling grey eyes, a smile of mischief on his face.

She could not help it. She smiled back at him. It is all right, Meredith, I will talk to him. But you have two minutes only, young sir. I am expecting guests any moment now.

The housekeeper bowed stiffly and left the chamber.

Obviously the man was an itinerant and probably sought royal patronage. Aislinn would listen, but she would not be fooled into something silly. There were too many tales in the Oracles that spoke of masks.

Sirlasin, will you fetch our guest a drink? She spoke to the young man as the Elder half-heartedly moved to the cabinet in the opposite nook. And what is it you want to say to me?

Still smiling, he glanced over his shoulder and then rose. Only this. I need you to come with me.

Her smile vanished. Excuse me?

His hand clamped to her wrist. Now. An instant later, before Sirlasin had even reached the cabinet, they were gone.

Moments after, the Elder raised the cry. The queen of the Valleur had been kidnapped.

Elsewhere

THERE WERE SOUNDS AT the door, and Tianoman prepared to attack whoever entered, holding a lamp stand aloft. The door opened and a woman stumbled through, pushed from behind.

He froze and ice entered his veins. As the door slammed shut, he hurtled across the space, dropping his weapon. Aislinn!

Terrified eyes focused on him. Tian?

All gods, what is going on? he said in a rush and then had her in his arms. Lunik! Is Lunik safe?

Aislinn clutched at him, tears in her eyes. I don’t know! I left him at the Keep … I was in Menllik …

Hush. He kissed her forehead and soothed her. Hush, my love. She shivered. Calmly now. What happened?

In halting speech, she told him of the colourful young man who lulled her and Sirlasin with eye-catching clothes and a ready smile, only to take her away the instant the Elder turned his back.

He pulled her close again as she finished. A disguise. And he could not enter Torrke, thus waited until you left. Lunik is fine. Aislinn, hush, Lunik is fine. She sobbed on his shoulder.

Tianoman continued soothing until she was in control. All the while his blood boiled. Fire and ice now; someone would pay for this affront. It occurred to him he had wished for Aislinn and here she was. The someone who would pay could read his every thought. It did not sit well.

Valaris

The Keep

THE VALLEUR ELDERS of Valaris, Luvanor and Akhavar gathered at the Keep, an impromptu and imperative conclave. It was now known Tianoman was missing also.

The first decision, made swiftly, was to protect foremost, without delay, Lunik, heir to the Throne. To that end, four swathed the toddler in sorcery and vanished with him.

The second decision, made after careful deliberation, was to inform Tristan Skyler Valla of the situation. It meant, literally, the Kaval of the Dome would be mobilised to find the Vallorin and his queen. It meant Tristan would become a demon of purpose much like his legendary grandfather Torrullin was in the past. The Elders counted on it.

Caballa had been summoned to conclave. Not only was she once a celebrated Elder herself, but she was close to Tristan Valla and would know best how to share the appalling news with him. She faced the gathered Elders in the courtyard, noting how there was no food or drink present. This was not about gathering; it was about decisions. Everyone milled, some in robes, others in breeches and cloaks; there was no seating either.

How did this happen? How can anyone possibly get to the Vallorin?

We suspect he was snatched in transport, Vanar said, rubbing her face convulsively.

The Throne should prevent that!

Silence ensued, and then Yiddin murmured, Our Vallorin has been edgy with the seat after the power it displayed on Echolone. We think there might be a separation in place.

Caballa’s jaw dropped. "You cannot believe that. Worse has come to pass between Vallorins and that chair, and never has it separated from the ruling house."

The Elders glanced at each other, listening well, and Yiddin swore under his breath. Beckoning to Vanar and Caballa, he headed from the busy courtyard into the Throne’s presence. Some matters should not be discussed publicly. He and Vanar were charged with oversight; it meant they were privy to the greater secrets, and also possessed the right to determine who knew about what.

It was telling, Caballa mused as she trailed behind Vanar, that the space the Throne resided in remained unoccupied even during conclave. Not only the Vallorin was wary of the seat of power. The intimate space, once a sitting room, appeared overwhelmed by the golden chair, and it also possessed an air of abandonment.

Separation is a way to explain it, Caballa, for the nation to balance heartache and uncertainty against the need for answers. Yiddin stepped closer and murmured, The real suspicion is too terrible a thing to share.

Caballa frowned, her heart thumping. And that would be?

The Throne grapples with its conscience, and is thus less than attentive.

Caballa glanced at Vanar and saw in the woman’s tight yellow gaze the same belief. She was about to deny it when she paused to think. Strange as it was, there was logic in there. Yiddin could be right. By all gods. You believe the Throne feels guilty over what it did to Torrullin. And because it attempts to come to terms, it was not watching Tian closely enough. He, after all, was on Valaris, and considered safe.

Nods from both Vanar and Yiddin followed. Yes, there was logic there. Caballa stared for a moment at the golden chair on its ebony dais, and headed back to the exit for the courtyard. Tristan will have heads rolling for this, you do understand that? And I shall help him achieve it.

She called to Sirlasin from the opening and, when he joined them, drew him inside and asked him to describe exactly what happened to Aislinn. Before the hapless Elder could formulate a reply, a golden glow erupted around the Keep, from nothing to reality in an instant.

Sirlasin, facing the dais, understood first. The Throne blazed from within and projected the light outward. It appeared almost alien. It felt otherworldly.

It has taken on presence, Yiddin whispered. It is Vallorin right now.

Sirlasin slammed to his knees. Tarlinn.

Nemisin, at the site of confrontation on Echolone, called to the Throne, naming it Tarlinn. It was the first indication the seat possessed an identity separate from Valleur infusion. It meant, many ages ago, Nemisin had harked to something within the creation of this magical device’s longevity, and named it. A true name set one free, after all.

Gods, Vanar said, and slowly sank to her knees.

In naming it that night, had Nemisin set the presence within free? Caballa glared at the Throne in a fury. Now it chose a show of strength? After its goddamned inattention lost the Valleur their Vallorin and then his wife? She did not care what it was named; it was to blame for this situation.

When the Lorinin returns, bring him to me.

All three there heard the words, and those words had only one source. The Throne, for the first time in the long history of the Valleur, had actually communicated directly with someone other than a Vallorin. Caballa wanted to kick it, she was that furious.

Caballa, bring Torrullin to me.

Only she heard that communication. She noticed the others were staring at each other trying to decipher the first message. Goddess, had the entire universe gone mad? And how would she manage that, for pity’s sake? Torrullin no longer knew who Torrullin was, never mind her getting past Elianas.

He is Lorinin, Caballa. Tell him to bring Elianas; tell him I am able to heal the deeper scars.

How is this possible?

I am not inattentive. My attention is centred where it belongs. A sliver of the Lorinin resides inside me, Caballa. Bring him to me.

She drew a slow breath. It meant, all gods, Torrullin was about to stand forth. The universe would have to deal with a vengeful Tristan and Torrullin. All gods help the one who saw fit to interfere in Valla affairs.

She kneeled. My Lord.

You begin to understand.

And Tarlinn - for it was Tarlinn, not Throne - withdrew.

Chapter 5

Prepare for change, friend. Know you will not emerge unscathed.

~