The Nemesis Blade (45 page)

She stalked
out.

He pinched the
bridge of his nose.

Outside the
cavern, Saska ran into Caballa, but the Valleur woman’s presence
barely registered, and she continued walking, blinded by tears.

Caballa
watched her go and mentally rounded on Torrullin, and then slipped
into the Throne-room.

“I know you
are there.”

“You made a
hash of this first meeting.”

“We both did.”
He gestured her closer. “Did you think it would go smoothly?”

“No.”

“You should be
on Valaris.”

“Relax, they
are with Fuma and Amunti, and all Elders are in super vigilant mode
now. They have a Vallorin to choose. Torrullin, what?”

“We have found
the doorway to Lowen.”

“Oh?”

“A universe of
wisdom in that ‘oh’,” Torrullin responded in amusement. “Yes, it is
there, but time may be an issue. We are uncertain how long it will
be before exit.” And, gods, right now he did not give a shit.

He needed to deal with
this
.

“Thus, to
safeguard your people, you ensure the right of succession. I
understand. Having said that, it occurs to me your Throne may have
a different agenda.” Caballa waved at the space.

A wry smile.
“Perhaps.” Definitely.

“It’s realm
travel?”

“Yes.”

“What are you
going to do?” Again she gestured at the space Torrullin kept moving
his gaze to.

“Strike a
deal?”

“For which
grandson?”

He turned his
back on the space, and felt the expectancy behind him like a weight
of unresolved emotion.

“You have been
with them, without my presence influencing behaviour. Who do you
think, in your heart, would make the best Vallorin?”

“No, I am not
answering.”

He studied
her. “Are you attracted to Tristan, Caballa?”

She did not
look away. “Of course I am. He is like you.”

He blinked,
but did not break the connection. “Do not do that to him.”

“I am not
doing anything to him.”

“Ah, he isn’t
immune. A good Vallorin he would be, but are you the woman he may
choose as mate? A dilemma.”

“Tristan would
be a great Vallorin.”

“As Vallorin,
you lose him.”

She looked
away. “I am not sure that is how I feel.”

Torrullin
smiled. “You are wise and beautiful; you would do what is right for
the Valleur.”

“I wouldn’t
confuse him.”

“I know. What
of Teroux and Tian?”

“Teroux is a
good man; he would be a kind Vallorin, stirring no waters.”

Torrullin was
thoughtful. “That isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

“Agreed.”

“Tian?” he
questioned.

“Young,
impulsive, maybe uncontrollable with power, and perhaps an
outstanding ruler, one with fire in his veins.”

“A huge risk,
would you say?”

“Decidedly.”

He turned from
her. To expectancy. “I must take Tian to Digilan before the
coronation. I made a promise and it may serve to temper his
wilfulness.”

“Or not.”

A chuckle. “Or
not.”

“Will you be
there for his Coming-of-Age?”

“Yes, and then
I aim to take him to his father.”

“And this? How
is this situation to affect the Vallorinship?” Caballa stared into
the space, seeing and feeling nothing there, but feeling his need
to continue with what awaited in silence for him to act.

“I have no
idea.” Impatience now threaded into his tone.

Caballa
smiled. “Liar. The Throne is with you always; you are Vallorin. You
know it better than anyone.”

“I cannot discuss this with you.”
It
knows me.

Caballa pulled
a face. Valla secretiveness. “Right. Just watch yourself.”

“I told Saska
I want no witnesses to what must come next, but meant she is not to
see this.”

She drew
breath. “Are you asking me to stand as witness?”

“Validation,
in the event something goes wrong.”

Saska would
not like it. “Very well.”

“My brave
Caballa.”

“Sometimes.
Why do you feel courage is involved? Have you not always said the
Throne is sentient? It knows you and you know it.”

“Not ‘it’. He.
Him. Male.”

“Does he have
a name?”

A nod.

“Do you know
him?”

“I knew him once, I think. I am not sure now.”
I have been dreaming him and I have seen him in
visions. I have heard him speak. I have waited long to see him in
reality. And Saska told me his name, but I already knew it. I have
always known it.
He stared at the space.
“Before courage fails me.”

“I am
here.”

“Thank
you.”

He separated
Caballa - and Saska - from his thoughts then to concentrate.
Moments elapsed in silence, moments in which he prepared for an
onslaught of emotion.

“Are you
there?”

A laugh
echoed.

The hairs on
Torrullin’s skin rose up. He knew that laugh. He knew it well. It
was indeed time. All wishful thinking and every vision and dream
led to this particular and profound point. And, yes, life as he
knew it changed from this moment. There would be no turning back of
any clock. He stepped boldly into the space.

He wanted
this. “Come.”

Caballa
stifled a gasp as a shadowy presence materialised beside Torrullin
and stood facing him. Neither was aware of her and nobody realised
Saska returned to stand in the shadows.

She heard the
conversation from the point where Torrullin asked after the
grandson best as Vallorin. She would be witness, after all.

“My Lord
Torrullin.”

“Eternal
Companion.”

Another laugh.
“I have a name.”

“Ah. Will you
tell me?”

“I do not need
to.”

Deep pits of
silence … and Torrullin touched his sword.

Saska groaned
as understanding flooded through her. Dear god, no, not this.

Caballa heard
her, but did not take her gaze off the scene.

A sigh erupted
from the shadowy form. “Yes, I am already with you, at your side
even in sleep.”

Torrullin
closed his eyes. “Lumin Sword, Golden Seat of Light … the
same?”

“Part of each
other.”

Torrullin
removed his sword, the legendary Lumin Sword, and handed it hilt
first to the shadow form.

“You are
Elianas.”

Yes, he named
the Sword Elianas in a moment of fury. Elianas, nemesis. And knew
then the two were linked. How not?

Saska
shivered.

They were in
the White Palace on Valaris, in the cold waiting for the storm to
pass to rescue Lycea from Margus’ clutches, and she told him he
often called a name out in his sleep. Who was this woman, she
asked, tell the truth, and he replied, a man’s name, there was no
woman in his dreams. Elianas.

Caballa
recalled something Saska once said about someone called Elianas.
The one who held Torrullin’s heart. Someone Torrullin dreamed
about. Someone who would supersede all when he eventually arrived
in their midst.

Both women
shivered with foreboding.

“I am
Elianas.”

A shadow hand
gripped the hilt, lifted the blade and swirled it above his head.
The blade danced in the air with grace and mastery, and then the
point was lowered to the floor. As it struck, the stone rang.

“Do you hear
the stones sing, Enchanter?”

Torrullin
blinked. “I do.”

“Is this gift
freely given?”

“It is.”

“What is your
price?”

“Price?”
Torrullin whispered. “How can there be a price on eternal
communion? You and I have been together always.”

Saska closed
her eyes. No.

Caballa
inhaled and held her breath.

“I am able to
bring the shadows.”

“I know. You
are Elianas.”

Silence, and
then the form lifted the sword and held it vertically. “You know
what to do.”

“I cannot
remain Vallorin.”

“Agreed. Not
long term. And I cannot remain an inanimate seat.”

Torrullin’s
lips quirked. “Inanimate? Really?”

Delighted
laughter. “You are cleverer than Nemisin.”

“Someone
recently suggested I was Nemisin.”

Caballa put a
hand to her chest. Impossible … surely?

The shadow man
laughed anew. “You - Nemisin? Ah, no, Enchanter, you were never
Nemisin. No, no, you were another, not that clown.”

Well. Few
described Nemisin as a clown. “Who was I?”

“It is not my
place to reveal. Your coming journey holds many truths, maybe that
one also.”

The sword
remained vertical, unmoving.

Torrullin
stared at it and then reached out and clasped his hand over the
shadow’s. “What happens to the Throne?”

“Enough
remains. It will do its duty as tradition demands and it will be as
indestructible as ever.”

“It will
choose a Vallorin objectively?”

“Yes.”

“Then let us
do this,” Torrullin said.

“One
thing.”

“Yes?”

“I shall
accompany you on your journey.”

“Why?”

“I am still
Eternal Companion.”

“You are bound
to me?”

“We are to
each other, much like the entity you accepted into yourself in
Grinwallin. Hmm, Eternal Companion, Eternal City?”

“Nemesis and
Final Abyss.”

“The
convoluted Path of Shades, Animated Spirit.”

“And you are
able to bring the shadows.”

“I am pleased
you have a working, intricate mind.”

Torrullin gave
a wry laugh. “It gets me into trouble.”

“It gets both
of us into trouble.”

“I dreamed
you. I had visions. I saw you, felt you, spoke to you. I have
waited with impatience the last twenty-five years.”

“You heard,
yes. Your eyes changed twenty-five years ago, for the last time.
Some of our interactions went against the rules.”

“Who made the
rules?”

A breath of a laugh. “Touché.” And then, “I wonder how soon
you can properly answer that. Who
did
make the rules?”

A message
there. “Elianas, is this the time I have been waiting for? And have
you been waiting also?”

“Yes, and yes.
You already knew that. Are you delaying? Are you not ready?” the
shadow presence murmured.

“I am
ready.”

“Then it is
time.”

Hands
tightened together on the Lumin Sword.

Caballa
stumbled backwards as absolute darkness enveloped Akhavar.

Saska groaned
and clamped her hands over her mouth.

Into the
stifling lightlessness came great and monstrous shadows, dancing
gleefully all over the world of an ancient time, and then great
patches shattered into tiny pieces.

It was
terrifying, it was warm and cold simultaneously, it was sharp and
soft, wet and dry, slithery and coarse.

“Behold the
Shadows, Elixir!”

“My every step
is in them, Elianas.”

The voices
were disembodied, for form there was no longer in the shattered
darkness.

A grinding
sound, a rushing echo, and the shadows gathered to reform the dark
of no light. Then it shattered again, into a billion points of
light, sharp, bright and blinding.

There was only
light, light all over the world, and all life cowered in its
glare.

A
reverberation of runaway buffalo, lion, zebra, panther, wolf, hosts
of hooves and paws shook the world, and then the light shattered,
and everything was as it was before.

And nothing
was as it was before.

Saska,
kneeling on the ground, lost her foundations.

Caballa
discovered the meaning of fear.

In the sacred
space there stood two men.

One was
Torrullin; the other was Elianas in form and feature.

He was as tall
as Torrullin, as lean, but there the similarity ended. His hair was
flowing and dark, his skin held the amber quality of ancient time,
and his eyes were a piercing brown, close to black.

The Sword had
vanished.

“Light and
dark,” Elianas grinned, slapping his hands on Torrullin’s
chest.

Torrullin
inhaled deeply, and it was unsteady. Finally.

He opted for
something mundane to restore balance. “We need to get you clothed.
What is your pleasure?”

A beat of
silence. “I believe the robes of the nomads. I have had my fill of
restriction.”

Torrullin
managed a smile and passed his hands over Elianas’ naked arms. A
moment later the dark man was clothed in the flowing robes of the
desert people.

“Welcome,”
Torrullin said.

“You are
pleased?”

“I am.”

Elianas
smiled, his planed cheeks expressive. “Good.”

He opened his
arms and the two men embraced and slapped backs, and let go.

“Gods,”
Torrullin said, “how do I explain you?”

“A
brother?”

A smile. “You
are that.”

Elianas
stilled. “Thank you.”

Torrullin
found Caballa … and then lifted his gaze to Saska.

She fled.

“Saska!” he
called, ran, stopped. He stared back at Elianas, could read noting
there.

“Go,” Elianas
murmured. “We have time to come.”

“Caballa,
please help him …” Torrullin ran after Saska.

Elianas’ eyes
were unreadable as he witnessed that flight.

Caballa stared
at the robed figure. “I think you are dangerous.”

Elianas bowed.
“There is only danger on the Path of Shades.”

“How can you
be the Throne?”

“I was part of
the Throne, seer, not the seat itself. And, know this, that seat is
no saint, nor ever was. It has its own identity.”

She looked
away. “I begin to understand that.”

Elianas
smiled. “It is not all bad.”