The Echolone Mine

PROLOGUE

MAGUS VANDER SMACKED a new report before the Warlock, his little eyes shining with malevolence. Another, he said.

Tymall ignored him and the written document, and eventually the spiteful creature took his leave. His ire over being ignored was evident in his mincing footsteps. When all was silent once more, Tymall dragged the pages closer.

Minutes later his fist crashed onto his desk and rage blossomed upon his face. Another indeed. A new report about his father, the mighty Elixir, and the dark man from another realm known as Elianas.

Reading between the lines, it seemed the two of them were too close for his comfort. He, Tymall, would rather have his father lose himself with his hated stepmother, Saska, than this.

Leaning back in his seat, he grew ever more thoughtful. It would reverberate across realms, he understood, but perhaps it was time to break his word to his father and find a way to absent himself from Digilan.

A certain dark man, bearing the name Nemesis, required a lesson. Elianas would discover the true meaning of an archenemy.

Part I

WISH AND WILL

Chapter 1

"Ten years of study (sorcery) has taught me this truth, Do not assume what you see is the only reality. Everything can be manipulated, even time … and particularly the perception of tangibles."

~ From Le Matt Dalrish’s diary

Somewhere

THE AMBER-SKINNED man with his flowing dark hair and the golden-toned one with fair tresses attracted no attention on the beach. They certainly were something to draw the eye in appreciation. Stripped down to a loincloth each, they wandered in the surf soaking up the sun. For them it had been cold too long, and sunshine was the gift of the present. They did not speak much, and often wandered far apart.

Fact was, there was no other on the beach to see or hear them, and that was how they preferred it.

There remained unoccupied worlds where paradise was a siren song, and this was one of those. Numbered perhaps XT 492 on parallel 365W 684S, it was a world removed from most, a number somewhere in a logbook - maybe.

The two men had been in paradise for ten days - the almighty ten of other surpassingly strange journeys - and ate off the land, slept under the stars and soaked up the heat during the day. They said little, for words were not required; recharging minds suffered under the weight of words.

The time arrived, however, to move on. The time for words was again at hand. An interlude was just that - a period between other events - and time did not stand still, and people - others - did not wait forever.

ELIANAS HAD WANDERED far, lost to view and his thoughts, but when he returned with seaweed and coconuts in hand, he found Torrullin inserting long legs into black breeches. He dropped his bounty, and Torrullin looked up.

It is time to go, Torrullin said.

I see that. Did something set you off?

An amused smile blossomed on the fair man’s tanned face. No. I just think if we do not leave, sunshine will do for me what storms do for you.

Elianas drew a breath. It was the first real admission in ages. Yet the hidden parts of him recognised it could be wishful thinking. Torrullin often spoke impulsively. He would not easily sunder brotherhood by taking a step closer to a truth unacknowledged. He strolled to the fallen log where they discarded clothes ten days ago. That had been fraught with tension, until the rhythm of paradise soothed wounded feelings.

Now getting dressed was the stranger act. Elianas turned his back, removed his loincloth to shake the sand out, and reluctantly drew the confining breeches on. He did not bother arguing for staying; in his heart he knew also it was time to move on.

A moment later he virtually left his skin when Torrullin’s arm brushed against his back as he moved to retrieve his tunic. He glanced over his shoulder to see Torrullin, grinning, emerge from the garment. Irritated, he snatched up his own and dragged it over his head.

Relax, Elianas. We cannot be self -conscious now.

Bugger off, will you?

It’s not as if I haven’t seen you naked … Torrullin laughed when he landed on his back. Oh, come on!

You are playing with me.

I am making light of an uncomfortable situation. Torrullin found a perch on the log to put his boots on.

Elianas joined him to do the same, muttering, Who the hell invented clothes? This is too constricting. He pulled the neck of his tunic wide, craning his chin forward.

It was made to cover men far too beautiful for their own good, Torrullin murmured.

Elianas grinned, taking the compliment in his stride. Not women?

We are by far the prettier species, Torrullin laughed.

Elianas gave him a taunting once over. I guess you could call yourself pretty, yes.

He earned a cuff to the back of the head, and then Torrullin stood to buckle on his sword belt. As the scabbard bounced against his thigh, he said, We must acquire you a blade.

My thoughts also. First a decent bath to wash the sand and sun from my hair.

And they say women are vain.

Yours needs the whole treatment, Elianas grinned.

Yltri’s hot springs? That way we remain removed from people.

Good. You lead, I follow.

Broken coconut shells lay in a pile under the largest palm tree and Elianas’ bounty was discarded on the beach, but other than footprints, there was nothing to show they had been there. With regret, they left.

Fortani

AFTER A SWIM and hair scrubbing in the springs of Yltri, they headed to Fortani, where Torrullin knew a master blacksmith, a man with a flair for the perfect blade, who knew how to match sword and man together. They spent three hot hours in the forge as blade after blade was presented, examined, tested and discarded.

Finally successful, they headed towards the nearest lake, this time cold water, to dive the sweat away. After, they sat on the bank redoing bootlaces for the third time that day.

When have you last wielded a sword? Torrullin asked.

Literally ages, Elianas replied.

He hefted the new blade and rose to take practice swings. Then he squared off towards Torrullin, jiggling his eyebrows. Smirking, Torrullin withdrew Trezond, and they commenced the ancient dance of swordsmen.

Metal clashed upon metal and grunts and gasps kept pace. Torrullin eventually disarmed Elianas, standing heaving with his blade at the man’s neck.

Not bad, my brother. A good workout.

Elianas pushed the blade aside. Now I need another swim.

Boots and all they jumped in and employed magic after to dry themselves again.

STILL ON FORTANI, they discovered an out of the way inn and stopped there for a proper meal. Four old men sat at a table in a far corner and thus they had space to talk. Over duck, vegetables and wine they discussed where to go next.

I have been thinking, Elianas began. We have had time aplenty between us, and yet we always focused on the main events. We missed the by-play.

Torrullin lifted an eyebrow, prepared to be amused.

I am not joking. Always it is this evil or that task. It was family scandal, future concerns, past mistakes and so forth. We never stood still long enough to see around us. Take Beacon, for example. I know you have been there, and I know I have been there, although not at the same time, and what were we doing? I was following a clue, swiftly in, swifter out. You were probably about some diplomacy, and what did we see?

A giant city-world?

Right. First impression, only impression.

Your point?

Once Beacon was empty, and then settlers came. Who were they, how long ago did they arrive and what made them so special they took to the skies? What did they revere? What magic of those early years remains? Beacon may be a bad example, but there are other civilisations on other worlds, each with something unique, some ancient spark, and that is magic. We have walked by unseeing. We may have learned something new or strange or entirely profound, funny, insane, and we did not. Books do not tell us everything. Elianas pointed a finger. You wanted to go travelling when you came to say goodbye on Mariner Island, Torrullin.

Instead, we landed up in paradise together.

Elianas’ eyelids flickered, but he said nothing.

Torrullin was thoughtful. World to world, travelling archaeologists? I like it.

Elianas leaned forward. "We have a new future and our past is now adrift. We live at the same time in the same space. This is our time and place now. We should know the past of the present as others know it. We are no longer about redemption and bloodlines."

You suspect if we research the past not influenced by the Valleur, we may find our personal future is not clouded.

I hate not seeing what is coming. Yes, I hope research is more than interest.

Why, Elianas? Gods, for once we do not have to look over our shoulders every minute, or stress about what comes next.

Elianas placed a hand flat on the table. You think eating and buying a sword roots us? You think touching this old piece of wood here makes us real? We are swerving spaces, Torrullin, and we have no purpose. What will we do? Skirt around this hefty question and intent between us until we drive each other mad?

Ten tension free days meant nothing?

"It meant everything, but now we must move on or it will mean nothing soon. And it wasn’t tension free."

A smile acknowledged that. I guess not.

Why not start with Beacon?

Torrullin pulled a face. I hate Beacon.

More reason. If we find something there, where is the limit? We may even discover new respect for Beaconites.

I doubt it, but I get your point.

Fine. You lead, I follow.

Torrullin wondered what the real purpose was, but he owed Elianas far more than the man owed him. He thumped the table. Innkeeper, how many coins are due?

Chapter 2

Magic in the most unlikely places has the power to astonish.

~ Book of Sages

Beacon

IT WAS SPRING on the giant city-world, but there was little sign of the renewal season. Here and there a tree blossomed and boasted emerald leaves, but trees were a minority. Buildings great and tall assumed majority space. Even the ocean was built over. There were people everywhere.

Gods, maybe this was a bad idea, Elianas muttered as they walked along a busy road between skyscrapers.

It was an excellent idea. We should start at the nearest library.

These people rely on computers, not books.

Which the library will let us use, Torrullin said, and steered Elianas towards a city map glazed against one wall of a mighty building. Stay clear of uniforms; we do not want questions.

We have nothing to hide.

Beacon requires a special passport; without it we will be in jail. Bloody Beacon: serve them right if we vanish from under their noses.

Elianas grinned. They must know who you are.

Then the entire universe will hear of it.

Ah. Incognito.

You like it.

I might enjoy the cloak and dagger, yes.

Read the bloody map, Torrullin grinned.

THE LIBRARY, WHEN they eventually found it, was an imposing building of at least thirty storeys. The circled L on the city map had not promised quite this. The entrance could admit an army and the stairs leading up were almost as many as Grinwallin’s great stairway counted. Teighlar of Grinwallin would be horrified to realise concrete could mirror the great task of building with stone. Then, having now finally travelled, Teighlar probably knew, and was horrified. The Emperor was sure to expound on it sometime.

Once inside the hallowed halls of knowledge, quiet reigned. Banks of flickering monitors detracted from what should have been an academic atmosphere. Torrullin suffered another bout of misplaced amusement; he and Elianas were the staid ones. What did they expect? That the universe would remain trapped in their kind of past? The look of pained astonishment on the dark man’s face eloquently revealed he would prefer those old ways.

A uniformed guard/guide asked if they needed help, and Elianas, after a moment of inner debate whether to run or not, explained about research into early history. They were led to the twentieth floor using an elevator at least two hundred years old. It was in good order, fortunately.

Early history is only partly computerised, the guide explained. It seems some scholars prefer working with books - an outdated notion, but, then, they have grants.

Torrullin nearly laughed aloud as he let them off, pointing out a workstation before going back down. The two men sat before the monitor and looked at it as if it would attack them. What now?

A young woman giggled, rose from her seat before a similar contraption and ambled closer. I’m guessing you’re not from Beacon.

She was pretty, and kind, for she showed them how to access the necessary files, explaining the numbers beside each work denoted whether computerised or in bound format. Books, she said, were across the hall beside the elevator. They thanked her, began pushing buttons, and were soon lost.

Elianas sent her a desperate look, and she giggled again and came back. Shooing them away, she punched buttons to return to the system. I’m working on my thesis, political boo-ha, so I could use the distraction. What are you looking for?

Settlement sites, Elianas said.

Sorry?

Sites from the time Beacon was settled.

No such thing. All available land is used commercially or residentially.

Artefacts?

There are some in the museum in the southern hemisphere, but, really, it’s nothing special.

Torrullin said, What about tales of early settlement? History, legend, myth, that sort of thing?

Let us see … She punched and looked, punched and looked, and then gave a sigh of satisfaction. There. Aisle 6. Bound format.

Thank god, Torrullin said. Books I can handle.

They thanked her and headed towards the hall. Elianas paused. If you are doing a political thesis, why are you up here in Early History?

The young woman smiled. The Bridge of Dreams.

That sounded interesting. And what is that?

It’s the bridge built around settlement time. A huge economic disaster that led to major political upheaval. I’m trying to prove we should hark with hindsight to the future.

Maybe not so interesting, but one never knew. Very astute, Torrullin murmured. Where is this bridge?

She gave directions and they thanked her again, and headed out. Left of the elevator an arch led into the bound format section. Books, to the simple-minded. They spent hours paging through a variety, but did not learn anything significant. By the time the guard called closing time, both wanted nothing more than to leave Beacon.

Outside it was dusk, but the city-world barely registered coming night. People hastened everywhere and with seeming purpose.

We may as well have a look at that Bridge of Dreams. Torrullin yawned.

Elianas shrugged, disheartened by the fruitless day.

Come. An hour more and we can leave.

Elianas followed.

IT TOOK MORE than an hour to get to the bridge, for they were soon thoroughly lost. Directions were spuriously given by passers-by, proving anew most Beaconites were rude, some obnoxious. Having spent the time, however, despite frustration, they did not want to leave without seeing the mythical bridge.

Then the edifice was upon them, and jaws dropped.

It was beautiful.

Of pale pink stone, it was an arch bridge. It had a span of two hundred feet and the semi-circular arches were perfectly cut forms united by ornate iron clamps. It had the look of benevolent antiquity and was probably one of the few spaces where buildings had not encroached to hide something striking. The stone glowed in the city lights, appearing surreal. It reposed in splendid isolation. Once it spanned a river; now it arced gently over a green field. The faint smell of flowers rose from below.

They closed in. This, at least, was worth the effort.

I wouldn’t do that, a rough voice murmured. A drunk lolled against a light pole for support. They say it’s cursed.

A Bridge of Dreams is cursed? Elianas asked.

So they say. Nobody dares cross. They say the last time someone did the river dried up.

Who are ‘they’? Torrullin asked, finally intrigued.

The Brothers of the Bridge, strange lot, very cliquey.

Really. Smacked of a tale. And a curse should be harked to until proven false. Where do we find them?

The drunk pointed wildly and then eyed them. Why you want the Brothers?

We are archaeologists. We want to talk to them, Elianas offered.

The drunk cackled. With swords? Then my mama’s a lady!

Torrullin gave the man money and they walked on, hoping the wildly pointing arm would prove a useful lead. They came to a narrow four-storey house overlooking the green field. The bridge was twenty feet away. Lights were on inside and they headed for the front door. It pulled wide before they reached it and a young man stood framed in light, holding a shotgun in steady hands. The light haloed his fair hair. An avenging angel.

What do you want? he called out. The weapon moved slightly - right on target. One of them could sport a massive hole in the chest before long.

We would like a word with the Brothers of the Bridge, Torrullin called as they came to a stop. We hear they live here.

Why do you seek them? The shotgun remained steady.

Historical interest in the Bridge of Dreams, Elianas answered. Softly he said to Torrullin, Is this frustration worth it?

I get the shotgun - Beacon’s a dangerous place - but did you hear his tone change when we mentioned the Brothers? Let’s give it a while longer, Torrullin whispered back.

Why? the man called out.

Because research has shown nothing old exists on Beacon, except this bridge. We are curious, Elianas called back.

The shotgun lowered, fractionally. "Do you know what they say about curiosity?

Elianas laughed. Different things on different worlds. Largely to do with cats.

Where are you from?

Sanctuary, Torrullin replied.

Long moments of silence ensued and then the barrel lowered to point downward, and the man stood aside. Come in.

I think if we were Beaconites, he would pull the trigger, Elianas muttered from the side of his mouth as they approached the rectangle of light.

"YOU’RE RIGHT IN saying nothing of beginning times remain, the young man said over coffee a while later. His name was Weth, the current and only Brother of the Bridge. You must know Beacon’s reputation - exploit, exploit, and exploit. It was no different on home soil back then. The bridge remains only due to the curse."

Curse? Elianas echoed.

Any who misuse it, die. This is a fact.

Surely not? Torrullin murmured, his gaze drawn to several paintings of the bridge on the wall opposite. Different angles, different light. They were good.

Some fall off, others die later of other causes, but it’s true. Misuse - die. Weth sounded satisfied.

The Brothers have nothing to do with these later causes, I take it?

Weth smiled.

Who did those? Torrullin pointed his mug at the wall.

Most by my great-grandfather, but others come from further back.

They are excellent, Elianas said.

They were in the formal drawing room and Weth inched forward on an old, stiff armchair, pushing untidy fair hair off his face.

So tell me why two men from Sanctuary would be interested in Beacon’s early past. He looked at Torrullin. Particularly when one of them is the Lord Elixir. He was a young man, yes, but something in his eyes belied genuine youth.

A wry smile came from Torrullin. I hope you won’t repeat you have seen me.

I stay away from the authorities, believe me. Hypocrites, all of them.

Good, then we can talk. Elianas and I attempt to discover the past of those less connected to the Valleur. We chose Beacon as a starting point.

Weth nodded. It’s about time someone with the years, ability and will investigates the greater view of history.

Elianas set his mug down. That is how we reason it.

I think you might have a few of those necessary years, Torrullin murmured.

Weth blinked in an awkward silence, before saying, But I have a duty here.

Torrullin waited. Elianas’ eyes narrowed. There was an odd glint in Weth’s eyes and for a young man he was self -possessed.

There’s a tale surrounding the Bridge of Dreams and it speaks loudly of our early past, kind of the mirror of Beacon, if you know what I mean, and the Brothers’ were tasked with remembering. You won’t find this tale in a book. He shrugged. I am now the last; so it is as well I’m able to share it before it’s lost. Will you listen?

Yes, Torrullin said.

Elianas nodded, fascinated.

Weth leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Beacon was settled around thirty-five thousand years ago. We were spacefarers already, thus the building of a new world presented little problem. If Beacon did not have the required material, we found it on a neighbour world. Fuel was soon an issue, but geologists and engineers swiftly discovered reserves in the sea. Of course, we knew what happened when one tampered with continental plates’ lubrication, so we were careful, and found other reserves on other worlds as soon as we were able to.

Beacon’s exploitative nature began in the beginning. Clear oceans, wide rivers, flora and fauna, everything a new world had to offer, and now this. We spread out, settling all continents simultaneously - with travel and communication it made sense - and trade flourished. This region had something special, however, and it led to strife.

He leaned forward. We came to grief over diamonds, when we should’ve learned our lesson on other worlds. He leaned back again. "They were alluvial, and the river nearby held those riches, enough for anyone to dip a pan into, but ownership of the water became a debated topic. The settlers on one side claimed it belonged to them, while those opposite claimed likewise. Villages up and down the river were of similar belief. A new world, and within a year we were at war. Other continents, towns and regions weighed in and took sides, and the war spread. On a particularly hellish day the river ran red, and it finally brought the settlers back to their senses.

"They began to talk again, and it was decided a bridge of stone would be built across the river, one that would stand the test of time, and upon this bridge would be a diamond house. All stones would be brought there, sorted and valued, and every prospector allocated hereditary land as payment. The diamonds were for trade with other worlds and goods would be equally shared between regions. The diamonds therefore belonged to all and the water was for crops and drink, not for pollution with human lives.

There were problems, such as who would run the facility, and the design of the bridge almost sparked another war, but it was built. It virtually crippled a fledgling civilisation, for manpower was taken from other survival pursuits, and folk concentrated more on finding the stones to claim land for perpetuity than on growing food and building homes. An economic disaster, a political lesson. All said and done, it worked - for five years.

Weth paused and then laughed. The diamonds dried up. He cleared his throat and went on. The building on the bridge was demolished and the materials used for other purposes. Some wanted to dismantle the bridge itself, but that was stupidity. A bridge, after all, is a safe way across a river. The Bridge of Foolish Dreams - idiots. That is the known tale, on record in the economic section of any library. Its erection gets brief mention in the history books.

There is another tale, Elianas murmured.

The reason for the Brothers of the Bridge. Weth pointed a finger at Torrullin. You seek the past of others, those less connected to the Valleur. I’m sorry to disappoint you, for that is a Valleur bridge.

Of course it was. Torrullin sighed. How?

Weth smiled, looking from one to the other, and then he was markedly intent. "I told you the design nearly sparked another war, and it was so. They had drawings of beam bridges, truss, cantilever, even suspension, and all were lovely. Most were impractical and meant too much resource. The beam bridge was sound, but how long would it last? The river could flood and did. A two-hundred-foot span is not that great, so why suspend and cantilever? The practical solution was an arch bridge with foundations of rock and stone; done properly, no flood would damage it, and it could also be raised above potential flood level. Thus it was decided.

"Quarrying for suitable rock commenced, pink stone the choice. Then they ran into a snare. Spacefarers had no idea how to tool rock into precise shape. Beacon was not yet at the point of concrete and steel. Much stone was destroyed in attempting to learn ancient lessons fast, and the project almost came to a halt. Folk began looking at discarded designs again. Then two strangers came - stone masons.

They apparently heard of the dilemma and decided to offer their services. They were feted and feasted, believe me, such was the relief, but nobody thought to ask exactly where they came from or why a pilot and a team of engineers would bother to relate the tale of a simple bridge abroad. They tooled, instructed, laboured and created, and finally the bridge was finished and it was lovely. The two stayed on to affect repairs should it be necessary and later were asked to maintain the bridge.

Torrullin shifted forward. This part of the tale should be transparent also.

Weth leaned closer. One would think so. Beacon forgot their contribution.

Elianas said, They were made to forget.

Weth smiled. Yes.

Torrullin pinched the bridge of his nose. They stayed to protect the bridge and their descendants became the Brothers, right down to you.

Weth leaned back. I am part Valleur, yes.

And that explained that.

Elianas muttered, My god, always with the influence.

Torrullin glanced at him. It is a sacred site. The Lifesource of Beacon.

Weth sighed. Someone knows at last. A moment later he smiled. "Someone knows at last."

And the curse? Elianas demanded. A sacred site cannot function under a curse.

A ploy. One we had to, um, fatally apply on occasion.

Destroy a sacred site, Torrullin murmured, and you destroy much along with it.

Weth nodded. A few fatalities prevent a greater catastrophe.

Give me your hand.

I am not kin, my Lord. I am of a long line of stone masons - master builders. A smile erupted, for ‘master builders’ would ever describe the Valleur, in part. Nevertheless, Weth extended his hand.

There was no kinfire. The handgrip transformed into ritual arm clasp and then both men sat back.

Weth steepled fingers once more. There are others like me out there. Valleur who separated from their society to protect ancient sacred sites, or build them where they were missing. I don’t know who they are or where exactly, yet I feel the pull of a universal net. Without the net greed could not be contained, evil would flourish, and warmongers would be parking their battleships in every sky. Evil is, greed is, war is, I know, yet it would be worse were it not for the sacred sites and their keepers.

This was new. And old.

Elianas paced thoughtfully. Why is it we do not feel it?

Weth looked up at him. ’We’? His amber eyes travelled over Elianas. You are Valleur?

Yes. Why do we not feel it?

Weth glanced at Torrullin and found there confirmation of Elianas’ claim. The nobles looked up and out; we looked down and back. The two ideals didn’t touch. He sized Elianas up again. You must be a noble.

Elianas swore.

Torrullin interrupted. Weth, my friend, I am about down and back, and so is Elianas, and we have not felt it.

Weth inclined his head. I’m aware of your powers, my Lord, but these are worlds connecting, not people. Unless you seek the net, it isn’t there.

Does the physical actually exist - I see.

Weth smiled. You do, yes.

Who started this, and when? Elianas asked.

We aren’t meant to reveal it.

Torrullin shivered. Nemisin?

Weth shook his head.

Lord Sorcerer? Elianas whispered.

Weth threaded his hands through his fair hair. He glanced swiftly at Torrullin and then looked away. Ah, no.

Weth.

The young man could not deny the pull. My Lord?

Talk, Torrullin commanded.

Elianas came to sit on the armrest next to Torrullin, and both watched the younger man. Weth was in quandary.

He is infused with mental denial to this question, Elianas said. Added protection for this net. Probably why we do not feel it. No source, no vibrations in the spaces.

Torrullin nodded, and was now utterly intrigued. They could not walk away from this without the complete tale. He reached over to touch Weth.

The young man jerked, before slumping. A moment later he began to speak. You are the Lord Sorcerer, my Lord Elixir, are you not?

I was. That time has passed.

Weth nodded. But you will know whom I speak of when I say Nemisin’s daughter Cassiopin instituted the sacred world connection.

Elianas froze. Colour drained from him.

Oh, fuck. Why? Torrullin asked.

She said to keep the links open wide, to maintain the connections that are past, present and future, to protect the Valleur heritage through all time, to mute the greed of the races that come after.

Noble of her, but what was the real reason? Torrullin ached to lay a hold of the paralysed man beside him.

To ensnare her husband.

Torrullin put a hand on Elianas’ thigh, not caring what Weth thought. His fingers sank in and held on. Why? he asked again.

Weth swallowed. She had a terrible husband. One of their daughters was fixated in scandal over him and another was destroyed by irrational anger against her father. Cassiopin herself committed suicide not long after the net started its growth, and Nemisin protected her reputation by throwing a screen around the truth, but we know how it was; it is part of the continuing connection.

Torrullin inhaled, breathed out. Everything inside him shivered with dread. I thank you for this truth, my friend. He reached over and touched the young man without releasing Elianas. You will now forget you told me. He sat back, his expression carefully neutral. Weth, my friend is unwell.

Weth was all concern. You are welcome to use the bedrooms …

Ah, no, but thank you. I must take him from the city. I believe it influences him negatively. Torrullin forced a smile. You have been most helpful, and we hope you continue your work here. We shall return soon.

Weth nodded and was clearly confused by the sudden end to sharing. Torrullin rose and, without breaking contact with Elianas, helped him stand. A moment after they were gone.

Chapter 3

Do you ever escape your past? Can you?

~ Tattle, in a philosophical moment

Elsewhere

BITCH! ELIANAS SPAT out. Fucking bitch! He flung himself away.

Torrullin said, Had you betrayed her with another woman, she would have moved on, but you betrayed her for a man, Elianas. No woman forgives that easily. He closed in and took his shoulder roughly, swinging him around to face him. Nemisin carries the blame here, not you. He knew how you felt and still insisted the marriage go ahead. He didn’t care about his daughter or you, only his power.

Elianas glared at him. I should have refused.

You were so young, Torrullin murmured.

But you were not!

Torrullin nodded. I must take part of the blame, yes.

Elianas pulled free. I hate him, I hate her … and I hate you.

Torrullin remained wordless.

Elianas pushed him. I hate you! Had I never laid eyes on you, I would have wed without burden, watched my daughters grow into women I could be proud of, and I would never have chosen immortality! Nemisin would have ignored me and … He stopped there, breathing hard.

Torrullin said, Had I never laid eyes on you I would have wed without burden, watched my sons grow up without the influences of my past, and I may never have chosen immortality. Nemisin would not have feared me, and I would now be nothing.

Elianas bent, hands on knees. He took in deep breaths. What does she want of me now, after all this time?

A woman’s revenge. You have to know what you did to her, for she could not tell you in life. Yet, Elianas, she did a good deed also. Weth was right in saying evil, greed and war has been contained. Have we not wondered why worlds do not annihilate each other with frequency of battle? Why do most stand together to fight the darak kind instead?

Elianas nodded, still bent over.

Of course, this means the past is no longer adrift, Torrullin added. The future, however, seems darker than ever.

Bitch, Elianas muttered.

She was a good person.

Elianas straightened. I fucking know that!

Torrullin reached out …

… Elianas flinched away. Don’t touch me.

Torrullin did not move again.

Elianas did. He closed in and moved his gaze over the face before him. "God help me, now I desire you." He moved away and, giving the finger over his shoulder, continued walking.

Ymir

TORRULLIN TRACKED ELIANAS to Ymir and knew exactly what the man came to do. He climbed a set of stairs in a dank stairwell and kicked a scarred door open. The fair-haired man Elianas had bent over a couch squawked, but Elianas simply looked up, dark eyes unreadable. He had not yet undone his breeches. The aroma of cat piss filled the air, almost but not quite masking the scent of spent semen.

Torrullin strode across, flung the naked man aside and gripped Elianas by his hair. Do not be stupid. God knows what you will pick up here. Twisting his hand further in, he walked towards the gaping door, pulling Elianas along without a care for how he hurt him.

Elianas, wordless, went along. The naked man screamed obscenity.

Outside in the dark quiet of the city Torrullin slapped Elianas. What are you thinking? This isn’t you.

Elianas stared at him, swung about on his heels and walked on. Torrullin caught up and said no more.

On the outskirts of the city, before the high walls, Elianas halted. I suggest you get Lowen to do this with us.

Why? Torrullin snapped. His gut wrenched. Lowen could do that to him, anywhere, even absent.

So she stands between us.

No. That’s unfair. She doesn’t deserve it.

"Yes. Either you get her or I will do it, or I am going to force you over the line."

I will fight you.

Elianas closed his eyes. Do not tempt me, for god’s sake.

You’re driving me mad; I cannot read you. Torrullin fought for control. Fine. I will fetch Lowen. Go to the cottage. We shall meet you there.

Elianas jerked a nod.

Elianas. Directly to the cottage.

An unreadable stare nearly flayed his skin from his bones.

Swear.

No. Elianas left.

Chapter 4

And now we dance … and smile until our jaws ache.

~ The feeling of being forced

The Dome

THE DRAGON OGIVE chimed, and silence fell. Kaval stared at it and then at Tristan, who immediately ceased speaking at the console. All eyes returned to the ogive. Torrullin strode in, for the Dragon ogive would always admit him. He headed to Tristan, and the console went mad.

Hush, he said, waving a hand over it. It stilled. Forgive the interruption, Tris. How are you faring?

Tristan smiled. It’s going well. We have …

I am not here to check on you. I have need of Lowen; can you spare her?

Of course, Tristan murmured.

Torrullin faced the marble table. Greetings all. He found Lowen. Will you come?

She rose and headed around the table. Let’s go. She headed to her ogive. Where?

Cottage, Torrullin called, and strode to his and Tristan’s ogive.

Seconds later, two chimed in unison and they were gone. Tristan and the Kaval stared at each other.

Sanctuary

Mariner Island

LOWEN AND TORRULLIN arrived simultaneously.

Elianas paced before the cottage and had not bothered to unlock. He came to a stop when he saw them. We are not staying here.

Ceta, I think, Torrullin murmured after a moment, and glanced at Lowen. Keep up until I tell you what is going on.

She nodded, studying both frankly. Something was clearly wrong.

Elianas snapped, Lead, Torrullin.

Torrullin led, and they were gone.

Ceta

HE TOOK THEM into the heartland where people were few and nature was benign. In a paddock the size of a small country, he faced Elianas. Happy?

Happy? Elianas echoed. Oh, blissful.

All right, what? Lowen demanded. You two vanish for ten days and that’s fine - you did warn everyone, after all. But, honestly, I expected it to be quite a while longer before we saw you again, and here you are, peeved. Spill it.

Brothers, lovers or enemies, Torrullin muttered.

Lowen drew breath. That had been the mighty question when Torrullin left ten days ago. How would they emerge, she thought at the time. She quirked an eyebrow.

At this point we are virtually enemies, and lovers are but heartbeats away.

Elianas growled.

Lowen sucked at her teeth. Who asked that I stand in the middle?

I did, Elianas said. Keep him in line.

What happened?

They ignored her. Elianas said, You should have left me to it; at least I would not be so pissed off now.

Goddamn it, I am not the one who messed up her life!

You messed with mine!

Quivering with anger, they glared at each other.

Lowen took a breath. Tell you what. Why don’t we make it a threesome and then all of us can get some satisfaction. The two men snapped to her. She closed in, gripped Elianas by his tunic, Torrullin by his, and pulled them close to her, one on each side. If you prefer Torrullin in the middle, Elianas, I’m happy to oblige.

Elianas stared at her and then put his hand over hers. Taking it to his lips, he planted a kiss there. I am sorry. Thank you for coming. He let go and stepped away.

Torrullin was still contrary. Would you really do so?

Before she could answer with a snide comment, Elianas pulled him aside. He pushed him back, back, and left him only long enough to draw his sword. Come, brother, let us draw some blood this hour.

No, damn it! Lowen shouted.

Torrullin had Trezond to hand, eyes glittering.

They engaged untidily, fury driving them. It was a stupendous battle, for neither gave quarter. In the silence of Ceta it was incredibly loud. Soon both suffered cuts, and hair was wet with perspiration. In a flurry of blows, Elianas shredded Torrullin’s tunic and, snarling, he countered with a similar dance.

With cloth and hair fluttering, hampering, they fought on. Lowen could only watch in fascination. They were astonishingly good, both fast and strong. Dressed alike in black, long, lean legs dancing, they were also extraordinarily sexy. Her heart hammered as she began to understand they made each other by the strength of their personalities. Then came an almighty swerve and parry, and both blades went flying beyond reach.

A moment of utter silence ensued, and then a kiss that reverberated through the spaces.

Lowen fell to her knees as two bodies virtually climbed into each other, and hands dug into hair and shoulders.

Torrullin broke away and sank to his knees as well, hands clawed into the ground, head hanging. Get away from me.

Heaving, Elianas stood over him like a vengeful god. Blood dripped from a host of cuts upon his chest and arms.

Lowen swallowed and did not move.

Elianas lowered to his knees before Torrullin. He forcibly took up the man’s hands and placed them upon his chest, holding them there. Look at me.

Torrullin lifted his head and they locked gazes.

A heartbeat away from lovers, Elianas whispered. I did not realise you were telling no lie. However, we are not enemies and I prefer my brother to this … tension. Heal me, please, and we move on.

Take your hands away.

Elianas dropped his hands from Torrullin’s wrists. Stoically he endured the ensuing healing caresses on his chest, arms, neck and cheek, and one on his thigh. Torrullin’s hands on him; now he knew what they felt like. The healing was complete. Those hands were removed.

Thank you.

Torrullin stared at him and then commenced his own healing.

Elianas knocked his hands aside. I shall do it.

With hooded eyes, Torrullin watched the self-control Elianas imposed upon himself as he healed. Nemesis, he murmured.

A slow smile curved Elianas’ lips. By the time he was done both had locked away intensity and the familiar taunting was in place. They remembered Lowen. Both turned heads to find her.

She picked herself up. Now I see why you needed me. Lowen sauntered over and kneeled alongside them. She leaned in to claim Torrullin’s lips gently, touching his face, and then drew back with a smile, and leaned in to kiss Elianas as well. Both men responded. She drew back. There, now I have joined the conspiracy. Shall we go on from here?

Elianas grinned. Torrullin managed a rueful laugh, and stood. Extending a hand each to Lowen and Elianas, he drew them up.

Lowen dusted at her knees and eyed them critically. You look like you’ve been in a fight. You can’t go wandering around like that.

They snapped fingers simultaneously, and both were dressed.

Ah, yes, she thought, two enchanters also.

Elianas held his power in reserve during the journey through Time, until Torrullin remembered his past. Then, a thought - neither needed the other for healing. They came close this day, too close.

KNOWING A NETWORK of sites existed meant it could be felt. There were now faint tugs at the subconscious, although without definition and direction; on Ceta also, a world chosen from a proverbial hat for a showdown, and thus they transported to a statue of an angel in a forest.

Cetans were more comfortable with religious figures, Elianas said.

He frowned at the angel, not liking it. He always felt statues of angels and cherubs were no more than a soothing device. Akin to a lie.

Likely, Torrullin said, and moved away. There is nothing to learn here. He did not like the angel either.

Has our focus changed? We intended to track history of others; are we now tracking the net? Elianas demanded.

Gods, how can we not?

Lowen now knew of the ancient connection between worlds. It seems to me early history will have a Valleur connection - any world.

Elianas muttered, It feels like more of the same.

It isn’t, Torrullin said. Cassiopin isn’t written into history that made it through time. Whatever we uncover now is different.

What has Nemisin’s daughter to do with this? Lowen questioned. I thought we’re tracking some universal net.

Elianas flicked her a glance, but focused on Torrullin rather than answering her. Purpose, Torrullin?

You were the one mouthing off about purpose. Well, here it is at our fingertips.

Elianas studied him. Difference can lead to a whole lot of crap this time.

It always does.

True. Elianas pointed at the statue. If we are tracking the net, and this is a point on it, then we owe this due consideration.

You do not like angels.

A quick grin lightened his sombre expression. Neither do you. Still, why was an angel placed here in the woods, and not a fountain? This suggests a Lifesource site is not automatic to connect the grid.

Torrullin murmured, We ask someone.

"You can’t ask, for Aaru’s sake, Lowen said. You’ll scare Ceta’s leaders. And they won’t know anyway. She stood arms akimbo. You can be so dumb. Did you not say this net thing maintains past, present and future, a heritage through time?"

Yes. So?

Torrullin, the past is with us here. Examine it.

We prefer words. We have had our fill examining the past, Elianas said.

Lowen arched an eyebrow. Please, you do it every time you look at each other. And memory, tales and legends aren’t always true. If you want to know what happened, do it my way.

Elianas folded his arms.

Torrullin approached the fountain to lay his hands upon the angel and closed his eyes. He frowned when he opened them. This is six thousand years old. It was built after the Valleur used the Rift to Ardosia.

The net grows independent of Valleur rulership, Lowen suggested.

Which begs the question; where are these site masons coming from? Elianas muttered.

Ceta underwent upheaval six thousand years ago, Torrullin went on. Drought, malnutrition, starvation, and the angel was erected to beg of their god an end to the suffering. A sculptor was engaged.

Valleur, I assume, Lowen said.

This site is more like the Round Temple on Valaris, Torrullin murmured.

Purity of heart, I see, Elianas murmured. How long before Ceta turned around?

Within a year it rained, crops were harvested and people on the road to recovery.

Elianas placed his hand over the spot where the angel should theoretically have a heart. Not just a net of worlds, but reaching out to people in time of need.

Something Cassiopin would have insisted upon, Torrullin said. Ensnare, yes, remind, yes, but know she also forgave.

Elianas leaned his forehead on the angel. I hope so.

Lowen also knew how to read the nuances. Oh. Elianas, I am sorry.

He shrugged.

Torrullin shook his head at her, and she took the hint. Torrullin sat at the base of the statue. When have we last slept? He slid down further, pillowed his head on his arms and promptly fell asleep.

Elianas smiled over him and glanced at Lowen.

It was evening on Sanctuary when I left. Sun or no sun, I could sleep. She lay on the cushioning pine needles and closed her eyes.

Elianas moved to a point where temptation could be still.

Sleep was elusive.

SHOUTS AND SCREAMS assaulted them, tore through the spaces, the tug and shove of uncaring hands. It was night, but Ceta was never dark due to its multiple moons. There was, however, nothing to be seen.

Elianas crawled to Torrullin. Restless spirits, he whispered.

Lowen came from the other side. They’re not real, just sound. A hazy form leaned over her, and she screamed.

Torrullin pulled her closer. They cannot hurt you.

The form hovered again, and cackled, Heart of Darkness!

She clutched at Torrullin and buried her face in his chest.

The form moved to Torrullin, inclined its head this way and then that. Heart of Darkness! Then it was at Elianas’ feet. It did a rough pirouette and shouted, Heart of Darkness! A floating arm swept the air. Hearts of Darkness! What have you done to the future? You have meddled!

An instant later all was silent and undisturbed, except for three hammering hearts.

Torrullin clambered unsteadily to his feet. He put his hands on the statue, and snatched them away. Gods, that was not there before.

Elianas touched warily, and hissed, It’s alive.

It has a beating black heart. What does it mean?

Curse, Elianas said.

I think we should leave, Lowen said.

Not without destroying that, Elianas said.

Torrullin considered. Destroying a sacred site was never healthy, but this region was uninhabited, and the statue was an abomination. Do it.

Elianas lifted a hand and the angel exploded. The site itself remains, he murmured after. He glared at the empty space. No angels for me, ever.

Let us be gone. To the cottage to think this through.

Elianas inclined his head, gave Lowen his arm, and they were gone. An insane cackle filled the forest.

Chapter 5

"Does the physical universe actually exist; do tangible objects speak of touch or imagination? Would it not be more accurate to suggest what we feel and how we act and perceive is the creation of everything around us?"

~ In a letter to Nemisin from Lord Sorcerer

Sanctuary

Mariner Island

"IT DID NOT SAY ‘shadows’," Elianas said, pacing the small space.

The cottage was made smaller by stacks of books and boxes from the Keep on Valaris, as well as other personal items from the villa on Sanctuary. Tianoman and Teroux clearly followed Torrullin’s direction, and made the Keep and villa theirs, dispatching personal items to this small space. In the bedroom, clothes obliterated the bed.

The angel had a black heart, Torrullin said.

Yes, but it linked us to it.

The future is dark at present.

Elianas frowned. Heart is not future. There is a message in there; we are overlooking something.

We should go to Akhavar, Lowen suggested.

No. Torrullin was irritated. Where Saska was. Gods.

Yes, she insisted. The Chamber of Biers.

He stared at her. You have seen it?

In a vision. We should go there. This connects to that.

Why? Elianas snapped.

Because the dead speak, Lowen responded.

They bloody do not.

Torrullin sighed. There they do, Elianas. Unfortunately. One message each.

Lowen cleared her throat. Cassiopin is interred there.

Elianas swore and sank down as if nerveless. I do not want to hear anything she has to say. No, I say. Let them lie.

If it’s a message you seek … Lowen said.

We will not hear just one there. It is not merely Cassiopin we need fear, Torrullin said. A host of them wait. Including Nemisin.

Torrullin, dare you walk away from this? Something huge waits out there, controlled by an ancient network. Tell me, why is it you felt free of the past, only to go off to find other history, to discover the two are indivisible? Why did you know the various forms of the future and now see darkness? Why not shadows, as Elianas suggested? Did we, in restoring the known present via the Void, in fact tweak so profoundly, there is no future? Is this tangible or do we imagine all of it?

He glared at her. I hate it when you are clever.

She grinned. No, you don’t.

We may be clutching ether here. What if the two are not connected? We would place unnecessary burden on us, and the dead.

Heart of Darkness. Certain personalities wait in darkness. There is a parallel. Lowen shrugged as if to say it was obvious, to her anyway. I’ve never known you to step away from a challenge.

This is more than a challenge, Torrullin retorted.

I do not want to hear the dead, Elianas added.

Well, I am not doing it without you, Torrullin said. We know those people; we listen together.

You want to do this?

Damn it, I do not, but Lowen makes a point we cannot ignore.

Elianas leaned against a stack of books. Fine, but I am beat. Ten days in paradise stressed the hell out of me; yesterday was wearying and today … was today. Sleeping on pine needles to a rude awakening did not help. He closed his eyes.

Stubborn. And, yes, exhausted. Torrullin studied him, and stood. Ignoring Lowen, he went to the bedroom and tossed clothes into every available space, and then stood in the doorway.

Bed’s clear. He headed for the front door. I am going to the villa for food. He left, his footsteps crunching in the snow outside.

Elianas rose and made the bed in time, falling face down into a deep sleep. Lowen drew a shaking breath. Goddess, the by-play was intense. She crossed over to remove his boots. She tried to get his sword belt off, but found it impossible. Shrugging, she left him there.

TORRULLIN RETURNED A few minutes later with supplies and dumped them in the kitchen. He headed to the bedroom. He could have taken his sword off first, he muttered, and manhandled the sleeping man until he could get it clear. He left the room swiftly.

Lowen watched him wander among stacks of books. I could help to get order in here, she offered.

A waste of time; I intend moving everything. This mess aids in a decision. I have to do something about it soon.

Where to?

Somewhere new to call home.

You’re different from the man I walked away from ten years ago. Not all of it is due to Elianas.

He nudged a precarious box into a more secure position. Lowen, I cannot talk about us now.

Clearly.

He swung around to look at her. Do you want an apology? Do you need me to say something to explain what happened?

I am as much to blame for that disaster as you are. Saska was between us then, as Elianas is now.

He swore under his breath, and neared. I did not know it, but I have been fragmenting for centuries - at least - and the rate is increasing. At this point there is simply no safe way to divide myself for you, him and Saska.

You have to choose a single heart.

He blinked. I dare not.

Why not?

Torrullin moved away. That answer remains elusive.

She changed the subject. Heart of Darkness, what does it mean?

No light.

"For pity’s sake, what does it mean?"

I do not know, Lowen. I hate not knowing.

Akhavar

SASKA WAS LISTLESS. She was without purpose. She wandered among the Valleur taking up residence in the mountain enclave and could not summon a smile for the friendly faces passing her. Everything that needed doing to restore Akhavar to a functioning world was done, and others would now take it further. There was no Dome for her anymore and she did not have the will to reassume that life anyway. The Lady of Life was no longer her responsibility, and neither was being a wife. No husband, no duty, no work - no purpose.

A stir behind her caused her to turn. The husband she recently released, because he asked her to, had returned? Her heart fluttered, but no. Elianas also. And Lowen. The two points to a new triangle. No change of heart, then.

They, apparently, had purpose. They strode nearer, greeting Valleur as they went, or Torrullin did. Lowen received side-glances and Elianas was an unknown.

Torrullin came to a halt before her. Forgive me. I had not intended to return soon.

You are welcome here, you know that. She transferred her smile to Elianas. As are you.

Elianas returned the smile. Thank you, Saska.

Saska shifted. Lowen.

Saska.

The two women appraised one another and then both looked away. Elianas’ lips quirked.

Why are you here? Saska asked of Torrullin.

The Chamber of Biers.

After your reaction a few days ago, I expected you to stay away from it.

Elianas turned his head, a question in his eyes.

Torrullin ignored him. Matters have changed.

Now you want to hear the dead? Saska frowned.

Want is too strong a word.

Saska sighed. You know where it is.

He gave a nod. Yes. He walked on past with Lowen following.

Elianas hung back.

What is it? Saska asked.

What was his reaction?

Like someone punched him in the gut. Why?

How long was he in the presence of the dead?

A second, two. Elianas …

How long can you remain in their presence?

I hear mostly echoes, which are disturbing, but I handle them.

How long?

Saska frowned. I have never stayed more than an hour. Why?

He cannot do it, and I doubt I can. Lowen might, but she is unproven. We need you to listen for us.

She stared at him. What are you talking about?

The dead speak, and we must listen.

Are you mad? she whispered.

I could be if I go in there. Please help us.

She thought about it, but did not have to think long. Her curiosity was piqued. She headed after Torrullin and Lowen, and Elianas fell in beside her. What are you hoping to hear? she asked.

Nothing, Elianas muttered.

What’s going on? Saska prompted.

Elianas looked down at her and shrugged. We had an incident recently. Something called all three of us ‘Heart of Darkness’, like it was a message - what?

Saska had slowed and then stopped. "Heart of Darkness?"

Elianas inhaled sharply. You have heard this before?

Oh, yes, she whispered, and set a stiff pace to catch up to Torrullin and Lowen. Bemused, Elianas went with her.

Torrullin was about to enter the chamber and Elianas called out to halt him. He understood what Saska had to share was of extreme importance.

She marched up to Torrullin. Heart of Darkness is a term of condition in finding the sterile and lifeless to breathe renewal into it. This is what a Lady of Life does. It is recalling dead things. Torrullin, you go in there to speak to the dead and you bring them back to life.

Torrullin blanched. So did Elianas.

Gods, Lowen muttered.

Saska studied their reactions. As once Lady of Life I am able to banish something recalled, if it is deemed unfit.

Elianas’ gaze was stark. No.

Torrullin looked at him. We must know.

Elianas shook his head, stepping backward. No, please.

Torrullin, not even you can banish someone returned, Lowen said. Don’t expect it of him.

Silence followed, long and profound, before Torrullin said, What do we do?

Saska pulled a face. I have no current Heart of Darkness, therefore I can enter. I could listen for you.

Elianas nodded, patently relieved.

Saska, that is stressful, Torrullin murmured.

"Less so than deciding who is unfit if you enter. How did you come by the Heart?"

Something in a wood somewhere bestowed it upon us.

Highly unlikely. It isn’t bestowed, not unless a dead person did so - gods, someone dead?

He nodded.

Saska whispered, Someone wants, maybe needs, you to listen. She shared her glance between them. Is it safe?

Elianas threaded a hand through his hair and did not answer. Lowen did not have to say anything; her expression revealed uncertainty, and for Lowen that was odd.

Not safe, then. Maybe you should leave it alone.

I think we are now beyond that, Torrullin said. He glanced at Elianas, who eventually nodded. "Saska, you would go in there and listen? You can say no; it isn’t safe."

Heart of Darkness is a message, even the bestowing of it. If I don’t, you must, or it won’t ever leave you alone. She gave a grimace. Despite what I said, you cannot walk away.

How does it work? Torrullin stalled now, and shored up for what was coming. No, she