The Nemesis Blade (68 page)

A hooded
glance. “Neither am I.”

They stared
out in different directions. The ocean was akin to a lake in its
quiet rippling. Impatience would soon arise.

“Elianas.”

A slow head
turn.

“How did I
forget?”

“Deliberately.”

Torrullin
nodded. “Did you agree?”

A look of pain
crossed the dark features. “No, not at first.”

“I hurt
you.”

“No, the hurt
was mine. I did not understand then you were fragmenting, and
forgetting was a way to restore wholeness. When you arose from the
ashes of the person you were and I saw you were again one, I found
the patience I would need.”

“I am
fragmenting now.”

“I know,”
Elianas whispered and there was a look of terror on his face.

“It follows I
am to forget again.”

Elianas
slumped forward. “Why do you have to be so clever?”

“Or I must
rise above it.”

Elianas looked
up.

Torrullin
stated, “I do not want to forget. I want to remember everything,
always.”

Hope was born in those dark eyes. “You
are
different.”

The day wore
on, unchanging.

As the heat
intensified Torrullin created a canopy for shade and they rested in
the bottom of the rudimentary vessel, both soon rocked to
sleep.

Awakened as
the sun began to dip below the horizon, they were thirsty and
sweaty. Elianas dipped over the side first and then Torrullin took
a turn.

As night came,
so did cold, but their clothes dried before and they rocked on more
comfortably under a starry sky. The heavens were strange with
unknown constellations and no focal point to denote sense of place.
They ate and slept more. A squall in the early hours brought rude
awareness and they huddled for warmth. At no time were they
concerned for their safety. The squall barely moved the boat.

Morning came
and with it change.

On the horizon
a mighty cliff land loomed, hazy and dark in the distance.

Yet, yet … it
was a place known to Torrullin and Elianas.

In the deepest
recesses, in dreams, in wishes, this place was home.

Chapter 50

And then there
was civilisation …

~ Awl

Time Realm

P
arched earth reverted to
wildflowers as the majority of the team headed west, and green
fields followed, followed in turn by a land of rolling hills and
meandering streams.

There was no
sign of habitation.

Rose remarked
on this and Quilla gave the reply, “We are walking in a time before
sentient life spread far. We may see no one until the end of this
journey.”

“Who?”

“Valleur.
Nemisin.”

“I’m not sure
I like it,” Tristan murmured.

“Good, then
you will be cautious,” Teighlar said. “None of us know exactly what
lies ahead.”

The heat left
with the changing landscape and they walked on with greater ease.
Rest, eat, walk, sleep. As night came they made camp on the banks
of a wide river and Maple caught a fish. They slept well.
Exhaustion played a part in it, but also a sense of security. Other
than a distant threat from the heavens, there seemed to be no
danger anywhere.

Morning was
fresh and breezy and smelled of spring. After the first minutes
they were warm enough to enjoy the scenery. They halted at midday
under a gigantic tree and jested a bit. It was as if Torrullin’s
absence freed them. They went on and the path began to steepen. By
evening a series of ridges lay ahead, although none appeared
insurmountable.

Teighlar
called a halt before they strained to see in the dark.

That night,
beside a roaring fire, Teighlar was voluble. “This is my first
excursion. I was born in Grinwallin Mountain, I grew up in the city
and I hiked the plateau and mountains to the east. I was crowned on
the great plateau and I wed and sired my children in the royal
apartments. Besides a brief foray into Tunin hinterland, I have
been exactly nowhere.”

Even Sabian
said nothing.

Teighlar
laughed. “Hard to believe, not so? True, though. I organised the
bringing together of clans and tribes from Grinwallin and I made my
city a haven without ever leaving. I fought wars on her streets and
I unleashed evil upon her from the Great Hall. And then I wandered
her alone for a long time. Funny, isn’t it? When I had freedom I
stayed, and when I lost freedom I needed to stay. Now I am still
bound and yet the notion of a journey has not overly eaten away at
me.”

“This journey
has not taken you away,” Quilla murmured.

“A
contradiction, if ever there was one. This is the mother of all
journeys and yet Grinwallin knows I have not left.”

“Surely as an
Ancient you travelled?” Tianoman said.

“No doubt I
did, but I do not recall.”

“My Lord?”
Dechend said.

“Torrullin is
not the only one who cannot remember, Dechend. I know I am High
King of Orb because he told me so, and, yes, I feel it. I feel also
the vibrations within Grinwallin and I heard the singing stones,
but I do not actually remember. At this point my mind is the
Teighlar born, raised, died and reborn to Grinwallin.” He looked at
Quilla. “The portrait of Tunian is the closest I have come to
feeling something beyond known recall.”

“Yet you know
of the Diluvan massacre.”

“The stones.
And they ceased when Torrullin came.”

“It makes a
kind of sense, I suppose,” Maple murmured.

Teighlar eyed
him. “How so?”

“You and
Torrullin, each the figurehead of the two races involved in this
redress. Had you both known everything, you would not be friends
and would not now seek a peaceful solution.”

“A point well
made,” Quilla said.

Teighlar
nodded. “I see that, yes.”

“Does
Torrullin?” Saska murmured.

“If he does
not, he will,” Quilla said. “One cannot accuse the Enchanter of
stupidity.”

Tianoman
leaned forward. “Why do you do that? Call him Enchanter?”

“He is.”

“He is more
now.”

“I know, but
to me he is the Enchanter,” Quilla said.

“To me he has
become Dragon,” Teighlar muttered. “Wherever I go the bloody dragon
symbol assails me.”

“Elixir,”
Declan said. “And friend.”

“Errant
husband,” Saska muttered.

An
uncomfortable silence followed, and then, “I wonder what will
happen when we remember?” Teighlar gazed at the faces surrounding
the fire as if seeking an answer there. “Will that sunder
friendship?”

“It is an
ancient crime. Why should it?” Maple suggested.

“But I was
there and he was there and we were on opposite sides. I
wonder.”

“The awareness
of danger is sufficient to stem an impulsive act, my friend,”
Quilla murmured.

“I hope so,
Quilla. Torrullin admitted he might have to let the crime stand -
not to change the future, he said.”

“That is not
the idea I got,” Teroux blurted.

“That would be
true if this was a parallel or our reality’s past,” Sabian said.
“We are in neither and thus tweaking will not affect the future.
Both of you can walk away from this contented with the
solution.”

“It will
affect the future,” Tristan murmured, “or this whole thing is
moot.”

“Resonance,
young Valla,” Sabian remarked, “is not quite the same as complete
change. This is the safest place to do what we are here for.”

“How did Lowen
figure it out, I wonder?” Teroux mused. He received a look from
Saska.

“Lowen is a
seer,” Caballa said.

“She went to
Titania also. Somehow she put vision and academics together,”
Dechend added. “And being a true Immortal like Torrullin she …”

“What did you
say?” Saska hissed.

Dead silence,
which only Declan dared breech. “I thought you knew.”

“Gods, now I
finally get it,” she muttered, and clamped her mouth shut.

She said
nothing further and was still wordless the next morning.

They ascended
and descended four ridges the next day, and by nightfall were
exhausted.

Sleep was
fitful.

During the day
premonition of change steadily increased and they understood
morning would bring something different.

Indeed, it was
different.

Upon ascending
the next ridge it smashed down upon them. Change, in full colour
and glory.

“Sweet gods,”
Tianoman breathed.

Sabian
whispered, “Not in a million years did I expect this.”

Before them
lay a city, a city of white and silver, with towers and spires
reaching up to the heavens, a city beautiful, graceful, inspiring
and fantastical.

An impossible
city.

A vision.

“Who built
this?” Teroux murmured in awe.

Teighlar
inhaled erratically. “Only one way to find out.” He started
downhill.

The others
followed, struck dumb.

The city
appeared close from the ridge, but that was a feature of its size.
It was a metropolis of gigantic proportions and laid many sals
removed. Green farmland surrounded it interlaced with fresh streams
and a fair number of lakes. Trees were old and majestic, and
everything was still.

“It is
deserted,” Quilla breathed.

“Waiting,”
Declan remarked.

They closed
in, slowing as they neared.

There were no
walls, no gates, no guard posts and no battlements. It was a city
that had not required that kind of protection. Farmland lanes
became roads, flat, straight and stone, and all roads led into one
broad thoroughfare that passed between small, pretty cottages and
even prettier gardens on the outskirts, to bigger edifices that had
the feeling of hostelry and stables, and then led into the heart of
a mighty centre.

Here the
buildings were impossibly high and beautiful beyond all measure.
Set amid park-like landscapes, they were a testament to
imagination, talent and superb creation. Glass, silvery metal and
white stone shone in the ambient light a city of skyscrapers
brought upon itself.

“This is a
city of an empire,” Tristan breathed. “My god, it’s fantastic.”

“Everything
appears new and fresh. How can there be no one here?” Tianoman
whispered.

Teighlar
wandered over to a nearby building and craned his head up. Far away
the blue of sky was visible. He looked down, touched the wall, felt
warmth and vibration. “The stone moves,” he said, as awed as the
others.

Sabian
wandered over to touch. “Either technology or sorcery. That is why
it is whole. This is an ancient city, ancient even for the Dancing
Suns.”

Quilla turned
round and around, searching for clues. There were none. “I believe
we need tarry here awhile.”

Teighlar
agreed. “I shall wonder eternally if we do not.”

Maple pointed.
“That door is ajar. Do you think it welcomes us?”

The door had
been closed, and now it was open.

“Now that
scares me,” Rose murmured.

“Yes,” Saska
murmured.

Teighlar
headed over and drew the door wide - it was of glass and metal -
and entered. A moment later he was out again.

“Food, water, facilities. I think we
are
being welcomed.”

He went back
in and the others followed.

White walls,
grey floor, blue ceiling. Corners were round and lights were
square. An entrance hall led to a dining area where food and drink
was on display. Beyond, a sign denoted ablution facilities.

“Smacks of a
trap,” Rose said.

Quilla studied
everything with sharp eyes. “No, this place is automated. This is
high-technology.”

Maple
murmured, “Such technology requires a power source. That could be
the source of the vibration in the walls.”

Caballa
approached the food. Everything was perfect down to small, folded
napkins. “Some technology. This is magic.”

Saska peeked
into the bathroom. “Lordy, Caballa, look at this …” She vanished
within.

Caballa
followed and a moment after that Rose disappeared also. Women and
bathrooms, never long parted.

Teighlar faced
the men. “What do you think?”

“Snoop,”
Tianoman said.

Sabian
laughed. “Right on! Let us do it.” He grabbed a plate, filled it
with one of everything - vegetables through meat, fish and all
between - and set off up a short set of stairs, eating as he
went.

Tianoman
pulled a face and followed suit.

Quilla was
more sedate and cautious. To the left of the dining area he
discovered an empty chamber, which did not surprise him. What
caught his attention was a dulled silver square set into the wall
opposite the glass front. In the square was a recessed handprint,
five fingers spread wide. He called Declan over.

The Siric
warily put his own hand over it, but the fit was awkward.
Nevertheless, he pressed down.

“I saw
something similar on Beacon. There are sensors behind the plate to
read the unique print of a hand, like a signature, and the door, or
whatever, opens.” He pulled his hand away. “Not for me,
obviously.”

Teighlar was
intrigued. He put his hand into the depression; nothing happened.
“I wonder what it is like on the other side.”

Tianoman and
Sabian returned. “We can’t go beyond the stairs,” Tianoman said,
and pointed at the hand device. “There are quite a few of those in
the walls.”

“Keys and
locks,” Quilla murmured.

“That’s what
we figured. Oh, there’s a dormitory type bedroom leading off from
the stairs, with beds and all.”

“Does someone
want us to stay?” Tristan mused.