The Nemesis Blade (36 page)

Alexander, son
of Alessandro, on his deathbed, struck down by the disease,
accepted the ceasing of hostilities on the condition the Senlu were
never to claim Luvan ancestry.

Galen agreed
and passed the legacy to his son before falling onto his sword.

Thus it was
the Senlu became slaves to the Luvans and the true royal lineage
again went into hiding as in the time of the Brotherhood.

Fortunately
Alessandro had not revealed that part of the conversation with
Trismosin on the hillside; the true High King was safe. For a
time.

Thousands of
years ago Luvans became enamoured of the process of rebirth.

It was a
mystery and it was a subject for philosophers, priests and
magicians, a metaphysical study of ifs and maybes; the how and why
were beyond grasp. At first.

Concerted
study and extraordinary effort reaped reward. First failures were
learning incidences and skewed successes were curves of experience.
Reincarnation evolved from metaphysical questions into concrete
science and science evolved into religion.

Luvans
mastered the process of rebirth.

It was also an
art. The art lay in choosing the time of death to coincide with a
new birth, in such a way as to inhabit a new vessel before a
roaming soul could fill it. That was a creative process, a risk,
never a science. It meant the success rate in returns were limited,
for biology was instinct and did not often coincide with choice. At
first.

Art gave way
to exact science. Death and birth were simultaneously induced after
a time to facilitate the required empty vessel. Life, as in newborn
miracles, became as nothing. There was no longer respect, no
marvelling; life was a means to an end … or a new beginning.
Longevity by default, scientific default.

How could a
civilisation countenance barbarism? Luvans were civilised, yet the
complete disrespect of a natural order could be called nothing
short of barbarism. This insult to the deities of nature could only
bring ill … and thus it was.

The harbingers
of downfall came to Tunin first, in the form of stillborn
babies.

Stillborn by
the hundred in the first year, in the thousand by the second, and
from Tunin it spread to Kantar, Atrin and Limir. Those few priests
who loudly declaimed reincarnation arose to new fiery rhetoric,
pointing accusing fingers at the doers of evil, but were
ignored.

A period of
great unrest followed as Luvans committed suicide in groups, hoping
to grab a surviving babe to return for another cycle. Later
newborns were kept artificially alive and later still were removed
from the womb before due time. A civilised nation reverted to true
barbarism and it was intensified by murder and, the greatest
horror, baby factories.

In this the
Senlu took no part. As slaves they were not initiated into the
rebirth religion and as a people they saw evil befalling a once
proud nation. By degree the Senlu began to take control of Luvan
society - this Trismosin saw also - and before long years passed
they ran the governing and social systems, everything from the
armies to dispersal of sewerage.

The days came
when a mere few thousand adult Luvans remained alive and healthy,
most of those on Tunin, and of those most were in Grinwallin. Limir
was abandoned. Kantar’s deserts encroached into once lively centres
and buried them, and the equatorial jungles strangled all signs of
civilisation. Atrin’s grazing plains were left untamed and the
cattle there reverted to the herds of ancient times.

Another day
came and this one saw Dante, King of the Senlu, walk into
Grinwallin unchallenged. He hurt no one and accused none of evil. A
proud man with a generous heart, he walked into the Great Hall of
Grinwallin with a thousand armed Senlu at his back and proclaimed
himself High King of Luvanor.

It was the
year 24 242 and Grinwallin had a new ruler, the first emperor of a
new nation.

The Senlu had
come home.

It was an
auspicious year.

In augury, in
prophecy, in dreams and in the mathematics of number. In the sum of
the numbers lay the magical property of fourteen.

Signs, omens
and sorcery underscored the rightness of a new order, and thus it
was.

Emperor Dante
absorbed the remaining Luvans into Senlu society, barring two
families. The last usurper king, his wife and two sons, and his
brother, wife and four daughters, were put to death, thereby
expunging a future threat to the Senlu. It was mercifully done and
nobody raised voice in accusation. Dante was the reincarnate of the
High King of Orb and in him lay the long history of a see-saw
civilisation.

Dante went on
to rule with a benign hand, issuing only two decrees … nay, three.
One, the Brotherhood was forever disbanded, and they were so few
then, protest was minimal and soon forgotten; two, the outlawing of
magical study - this was seen as a wise decision, for Dante did not
trample on dreamers or omen-seekers. Magic was unnecessary, but
images were as needed by the Senlu as they were by the earlier
Luvans, and to outlaw that would lead to civil strife. Dante was
not a stupid man. And three, there would be no reincarnations. The
natural order would be the ruling focus of Senlu society. On these
three things he was adamant, but in all else he was a generous
ruler and soon revered.

At the time of
Dante’s death Tunin was again the paradise she was for Tunian,
first king, and at the time of his grandson’s death Kantar and
Atrin were resettled.

Year 63 400

Emperor
Teighlar stood heaving before the arches of the Great hall,
watching his sons kill indiscriminately.

Behind him
were the last four thousand Senlu and extinction of the goodness in
men’s souls lay at hand.

Filled with
horror, he witnessed the terror behind him and knew he could not
allow it.

Resolve grew
in him.

When his sons
and their murdering comrades burst through the sealed arches he was
ready. He would kill his own also, but the royal line of kings
would end this day with the evil that were his sons.

His lips
flattened and he issued the song that was sibilant death and did
not cease until all life in Grinwallin ceased also.

Only he lived.
Only he paid.

Outside the
gates of Grinwallin the Senlu tribes continued to war. But,
eventually, the good in men’s souls he sacrificed to before the
arches of Grinwallin rose to the fore. Luvanor was cursed, they
said, eternally cursed. It was time to leave. Leave they did, in a
handful of spacecraft, and Luvanor, world of promise, lay
abandoned.

In the ruins
of Grinwallin one walked still; the ghostly entity that was
Teighlar, and he would wait ninety million years to see his
glorious Senlu reborn.

In that time
he witnessed Luvanor renew after thousands of years of decimating
wars - he saw a world become again plentiful and beautiful. He saw
the coming of the Siric and watched them leave again. He saw the
coming of the Nine and the Taliesman of the Dragon. He saw them
hide from the golden race foreseen by many kings and priests before
him, the golden who murdered the last of the Diluvans … and he saw
they were good, and wondered over that past crime. He saw them
leave, ever the nomads, and witnessed the Nine and their
descendants come out of hiding, protecting the Taliesman. He saw
the coming of the humans, but they did not linger, long enough only
to inject new blood into the new race of Golden, they of the
Nine.

He saw them
grow in strength and then saw their enemies come also. The Mysor,
race of arachnids, and after them Murs Siric, evil personified. He
saw war enjoined, skirmish after skirmish, and revelled in the
prowess of the Golden. A good people; they did not deserve the
reputation one foul deed bestowed upon them. No nation could claim
an unblemished record. He wondered anew if Luvanor was indeed
cursed. War seemed to follow her through time.

Teighlar saw
other things also. Visions, dreams, prophesy. He found some of what
Grinwallin hid and knew also there was much he would never
discover. He saw the past; he saw the future and repressed much
before madness could take him. He saw visitors enter ruined
Grinwallin and stand amazed, and felt their confusion. Who built
this?

Some he
haunted away, sensing evil intent; others he left to peaceably
wander.

By the time
Torrullin came to Grinwallin, the long years of solitary wandering
had taken their toll. He looked into the Enchanter’s grey eyes and
saw a kindred spirit, but knew not how true that was, for he had
forgotten much and repressed more. All he knew, with certainty, was
the time had come for his Senlu to arise again, for Torrullin
heralded the beautiful man of pure heart and soul who was the
Warrior Priest, the one who would read the runes on a grey-blue
wall and set them free.

Tristamil,
Torrullin’s beloved son. Tristamil set them free and Torrullin,
bless him, prevented another terrible war.

Grinwallin
arose anew, as fair as ever, and it was good.

Chapter 26

Borderland imagery
; the state of
semi-awareness between waking and sleeping

Lucid dreams
; dreams within
dreams

Oracle
; person or persons claiming
to possess the means to see the future

~ Titania
Dictionary

E
verlasting, ever-burning lamps were
carried by the Ancients.

Ah, yes, but
the lamps were the fires of knowledge, not real flame. Knowledge
shed light, truth brought enlightenment. Thus it was and is and
must be. That is the truth of truth, and woe to the one seeking to
deny it.

Grinwallin,
City of Eternity, city of light and truth, city of mystery, city of
contrasts and city of strife, death and pestilence. Every time
someone sought to deny the fires of truth, Grinwallin brought ruin,
balancing the souls of men, striving to instil the lessons of the
Ancients.

For in
Grinwallin lay the hopes of those gone and in her lay the ability
to punish. She was a city built of living, singing stone, and thus
she was of Time and possessed a soul - a secretive soul. She would
give of herself to those whom she believed deserving.

She was of the
building blocks of time; she was an Ancient. She was also alone in
her uniqueness and therefore her judgments were original. They were
neither right nor wrong; they simply were - much like Time, much
like all universes and realms.

Grinwallin
judged the Brotherhood before even the first stone was delved and
found them wanting. She judged Khunrath worthy of hearing her song
and revered his efforts on her behalf, and would eternally. She
judged Gabriel, first resident king, as a man worthy of the good
life could bring and gave unselfishly.

She judged
Challis, murdering queen, and felled her line. She judged Dante, he
who was returned to the throne by the Brotherhood, as a man of dual
nature and left him be, allowing time to judge on her behalf.

Alessandro she
judged as weak and brought war to his gates, and she judged
Trismosin and brought disease to all.

Dante, first
proclaimed Emperor of the Senlu, was gifted long life. His sons and
grandsons were judged worthy and each lived full, wonderful
lives.

Many
successive emperors thereafter were found wanting and thus she gave
them strife until they could not distinguish the good from the
bad.

In Teighlar
she discovered an extraordinary man, but his deed required the
depths of punishment. She took from him everything, yet knew his
soul was worthy and gifted him a second chance.

She judged the
Nine as fools and ignored them. She judged the Siric as transitory
and did not offer her wisdom. She judged the humans as fickle and
gave them nothing, not even hope. She judged the Golden, old and
new, as powerful and in them discovered a glimmer of her own
duality. The verdict on the Valleur was still out.

Grinwallin hid
many things, those made by hands and those she created herself, and
judged their release on the quality of the seeker.

In Tristamil
she found pureness and gave him joy, but the joy was tempered by
suffering, for pureness required testing. He proved more worthy
than most.

In Torrullin
she found only questions. Him she could not judge, not yet, but she
gave of herself to him. She gifted him Rixile, the alter ego of
Elixir, so that all things in his terrible duality would be
balanced.

Whether she
would judge him depended on whether he would judge her, for in him
were the frayed connections of Time … and she was of Time.

The mystery
that was Grinwallin was therefore vulnerable. Who would judge
whom?

Grinwallin.
City of Eternity.

Grinwallin.
The Final Abyss.