The Sleeper Sword (76 page)

Torrullin
touched his chest, where that device nestled. Not even Saska saw
him take it from under Tymall’s nose. He put it on for the first
time this morning and was not about to feel guilty about it. And he
was not going to give it to Tannil. He certainly would not mention
it now.

“Torrullin,
note the light,” Teighlar prompted.

On previous
visits, first with Neolone, then with Fay, the chamber lit with
rosy tints, a blue glow highlighting the crucible. The light now
was green, akin to Quilla’s healing vapours; he thought it a result
of the simultaneous activation of the circles.

“Indeed a
result of activation,” Teighlar murmured, catching the thought,
“and a warning. The circles show signs of distress.”

“There’s much
sorcery rampant here,” Lucan muttered. “I don’t think I could go
in.”

“I can’t
either,” Declan declared, relieved the boy said it first. “They
must be negated.”

“It requires
touch,” Teighlar said with a fleeting smile.

Both Declan
and Lucan glanced at him.

Sombrely, “No,
I dare not. In this new age I find myself wary of magic.”

“The duty is
mine,” Torrullin said. “My blood is over there.”

“It isn’t as
simple as touch,” Teighlar said. “Sequence is imperative.”

Suddenly
Tannil jerked, a high wail sounding from his mouth.

“Stay here,”
Torrullin snapped and stepped into the chamber.

“Wait!”
Teighlar and Declan cried as one, but it was too late. The three
men could only witness in silence what came next.

Every circle
released a beam, colours from the purest white through the entire
spectrum of primaries and tones to deep ebony, and those beams
sought out the intruder, and hit hard.

Torrullin lit
from within like a freak laser show. Colours rippled across him,
crisscrossing, splashing against each other, sparkling, shattering.
Did it hurt, did it diminish him? It was difficult to judge, for he
continued walking, seemingly unhindered.

He lifted his
hands high, giving the beams a wider profile for contact, and it
was evident he drew the colours to him, exerting his will over them
and not the other way round. He reached the crucible, with Tannil
wailing like a banshee on an ancient moonless night, and,
disconcertingly, the beams swirled around Tannil, never touching,
not his person or other beams.

It was an
incredible act of will. Torrullin halted and bent to the metal cone
- instantly the beams diverted from him, lured by the metal or
prompted by the Enchanter, and entered the precious metal, which
acted as a diffuser, sending each beam back to its source.

One after the
other colours winked out, circles became quiescent and
lifeless.

It took time,
there were many beams, and Torrullin grew impatient, ears filled
with the sound of a soul in mortal danger, Valla blood screaming at
him in death throes. Somehow he managed to curb terrible
impatience, knowing one mistake, one beam not returned, could
result in Tannil’s annihilation.

It was done.
The blue glow reappeared over the cone and rosy light flooded the
chamber. The most eloquent proof of stability. Steady hands flipped
the cage out of the way and a black-clad form knelt at the edge of
the depression.

Teighlar
hastened in and behind him Declan and Lucan.

A moment later
Torrullin retreated from the lip. There was consternation on his
face, and something approaching horror.

Teighlar
kneeled beside him. “That was a fool thing you did! I thought I had
claim on madness, but - it could’ve gone the other way!”

A glare. “Do
not insult me.”

“You arrogant
…!”

“Quiet!”
Declan hissed. “Later! What of Tannil?”

The fair head
swung back. “He seems in another place and yet can’t be far away,
for he held sway over the circles. Tannil, where are you?”

“Meditation
tends to separate body and mind,” Lucan murmured. “Call softly
until your voice penetrates.”

Teighlar
frowned, but said nothing.

Declan sat and
studied Tannil’s deadened features. “If he weren’t keening, I’d
agree with Lucan, but this is more than meditation. And it isn’t
searching sorcery either.” He angled his head and called, “Tannil,
can you hear me?”

There was no
response.

Torrullin
whispered, “His blood is sluggish.”

“Deep delving
does that,” Lucan suggested.

“The singing
diminishes.”

Declan, well
versed in Valleur lore, understood. “He’s dying?”

Torrullin did
not bother answering. He swung to Teighlar. “I cannot go in without
again activating a series of circles, but you can.”

Teighlar’s
face was tight with tension and reluctance. “You don’t know what
you’re asking.”

“I’m asking
you to save my grandson.”

Teighlar
stared at Tannil. “We don’t even know where he is; this is only the
body. I can’t go grasping after a mind in the wrong place!”

“This is a
portal, is it?”

“What?” Lucan
exclaimed.

“Yes.” The
single word was torn from the Emperor.

Declan
clambered onto his haunches, his wings interfering with a lower
stance. “The Senlu, it seems, hold a secret or two also.”

“Luvan,”
Teighlar muttered. “And I know not enough of the Elder race’s magic
to go flailing about.”

“But you can
go in there?” Declan pointed at the depression.

“Yes.”

“Where the
Enchanter dare not go?”

Torrullin
glanced his way. “Declan, let go.”

“A Walker may
…” Lucan began.

“I cannot
simply enter without purpose and while saving Tannil
is
purpose, the uncertainty factor is too high. I would lose him and I
would very likely lose myself, possibly in time. Besides, having
repulsed the circles, this thing will repulse me right now.”

Teighlar bit
back an oath. “I am the only one who may enter.”

Torrullin
bowed his head. “Thank you, my friend.”

“Don’t thank
me yet. Guesswork is very dangerous here.”

“I think I
know where he went,” Declan said, “but I’d hate to be wrong.”

Torrullin
glanced at the keening form in the black hole. “He cannot hold out
much longer. He vacillates between this realm and another, which is
highly stressful and unless he chooses soon, he won’t have choice
left. The body dies, the soul remains wherever he visits.” He
looked up at Declan. “I shall not fault you if you guess wrong, I
swear to you. We must risk you being right.” He glanced at
Teighlar. “Can you take Declan in with you?”

“No.”

A silence and
then, “Declan.”

The Siric
rose. “Last night Vania gave him an ultimatum concerning their
marriage, one long overdue, and it forced Tannil to unlock painful
memories, that of Clarissa, his first wife. I sensed her in his
thoughts when he brushed past me in the corridors above. Tannil
believes he will betray her memory in daring to love another, yet
Vania’s stance forced him to acknowledge he may not be so
uninterested in his wife as he thought, and thus he is in a
difficult place, such as only the heart can create. I believe he
came here to contact Clarissa, perhaps to explain, to receive her
blessing, or perhaps to have certainty in knowing turning from
Vania would be the right thing. He searches for a definitive answer
and believes Clarissa has it. He loved her and won’t hurt her even
now.”

Torrullin
pinched the bridge of his nose. He had not known Tannil was married
before. He had not understood how passionate his grandson was, or
how hard he could guard his heart … and secrets.

How had the
man known this was a portal? That did not matter now.

“Which realm?
Did you know her enough to determine that?”

“Yes, but I
may be wrong about Tannil’s state of mind. Maybe he was after
something else entirely.”

“Granted. I
take responsibility.”

“Clarissa was
a pure soul.”

Teighlar
groaned and covered his face with his hands.

Torrullin was
unmoving.

“Aaru?” Lucan
asked. “One can access Aaru from here?”

Teighlar
groaned again.

“Tannil is in
Aaru? Gods, why would he
want
to come back?” Lucan
whispered. He paled and thought about his mother and father.

Teighlar’s
countenance was grim. “I cannot enter that realm.”

“Neither can
I,” Declan muttered.

Torrullin
spoke. “Then I must brave the crucible and do this myself.”

Horror from
Teighlar. “Not now, not ever. Not for you. You cannot, you will
not, you may not, attempt that divide. Not ever. You know the
rules!”

“I’m not going
to let him die.”

“Maybe he
wants to.”

“I refuse to
accept that.”

“Don’t be
selfish!” Teighlar shouted.

“He is the one
being selfish! He has a son and wife who need him!”

“You
cannot
go in!”

“If you’re
going to help me, then help me now, my friend, so I may get away
from this terrible temptation. I beg you.”

Teighlar
stared at Torrullin and nodded. “Very well. I have no intention of
contacting another. I may get away with swift entry and exit.”

“Thank
you.”

“He is just
inside the doorway. This is why we read his uncertainty, and it
means I need not see too much.” It sounded like a speech, the kind
one made to convince oneself, and Teighlar groaned after it, and
then sidled forward.

“Please. I
need to know why this is bad. Please.” Lucan was pale, but there
was strange determination in him.

Teighlar
paused on the rim, hearing the same need in the young Xenian’s tone
as he heard in the Enchanter’s. “Do you know that old saying
‘
The road to Hell is paved with good intentions’
? Yes? Well,
there it is, Lucan Dalrish. If you commit one act of evil, even be
it in the cause of the Light, eternal bliss is beyond you …
always.”

“Which
excludes us three … always,” Declan muttered.

“You have a
pure soul,” Torrullin whispered back at him.

The Siric
swallowed hard and retreated from the crucible. “I won’t be so pure
after Tymall, my Lord.” He walked backward. “I … gods, I’ve never
been so tempted by anything in my entire life.” He stared with
fascination at Tannil. The man was in Aaru, where there was only
peace.

“The only
wrong Tannil ever did was in ignoring his wife, a redeemable sin,”
Torrullin said. “Taranis could be redeemed also. My father killed,
yes, but always in pity and forgiveness. He could be angry, could
threaten with murder, yet at the last moment he was given blessing
from the Light, a Guardian of the Light, even over that foulness
that was Drasso. Taranis is … he is in there.”

With a snarled
oath, Torrullin rose and, like Declan, removed himself from the
overwhelming desire to fling Teighlar aside, to brave the
crucible’s influence, for that one chance at Aaru. For Taranis.

For
Tristamil
.

Teighlar
rolled into the depression.

Chapter
67

Blood and
water, the main ingredients of choice. Blood is thicker than water,
or some such inanity …

~ Tattle

In a private
dining chamber off the Great Hall, Marcus frowned at Belun.

The Centuar
was not paying attention.

“Is something
wrong?”

Belun did not
hear him; one of the Senlu Elders answered. “We hear the Vallorin
is in some kind of trouble, Electan.”

His name was
Willas, an older man charged with matters administrative. He also
acted as liaison between the Senlu and Luvanor’s Valleur. Willas
and three of his colleagues were co-opted to entertain Marcus,
along with Belun and Declan, but the latter was called away.

“What kind of
trouble?” Marcus enquired, lifting his glass to take a decorous
sip.

“We haven’t
been informed,” Willas replied, and appeared unruffled.

“We dare not
look either, the Emperor will have our hides,” Roddevic, one of the
others, said with a grin.

That was not
going anywhere, and thus Marcus changed the subject to ask a
question he had been unable to voice due to Teighlar’s proximity.
“Is your Emperor a good man?”

The response
was unequivocal. “The best.” It came from all four Senlu.

Marcus
wondered if his own people would react as positively if asked about
him. “Is he married?”

Belun returned
to the company. “Is who married?”

“Emperor
Teighlar.”

Willas was
about to answer when the Centuar raised a cautionary finger in the
air. “Forgive me, Electan, for speaking bluntly now, but you need
brush up on history. The history of the Valleur, and the people who
support them. Teighlar was married a long time ago, but his wife
and sons are gone now, and you should know, and know why. He is
Immortal and there’s no one in his life, other than Grinwallin, who
is a consuming mistress.”

“Luvanor
wasn’t known to me until recently.”

“Then I
suggest you ask questions,” Belun said, and rose. “Please excuse
me.”

“Are you going
down?” Willas asked.

“Yes. I can’t
sit and wait like this, it’s driving me crazy,” Belun muttered and
left.

“Lucky man.
The Enchanter is more accommodating,” Leximas, the third Senlu,
murmured.

“Maybe, but
I’d rather cross Teighlar than Torrullin,” Roddevic stated.

“Indeed,” the
fourth member of the party agreed. He was a young man, but his high
intelligence elevated him to Elder status.

His name was
Dechend and his particular speciality was food production and
distribution, which he achieved with brilliance. He was one of only
a handful of Senlu to have left the territory that included
Grinwallin, to go to the aid of the Valleur during the drought. As
the Valleur stayed out of Grinwallin, thus the Senlu left the rest
of the planet to its majority race.