Eurue- The Forgotten World Read online

  Patting that tensing hand, Jala said, “At the gathering centres two Grunway addressed us. Again, widespread. They told us they had a device able to bring forth rain. Seeing as we were in drought conditions, we cheered. There had been a storm, but it brought no rain. These odd funnels appeared between earth and sky. Anyway, they showed us a white sphere and told us to cover our heads because it would soon be raining.” She paused. “I remember how we laughed at that.”

  “I wish we’d asked why we needed to gather to feel the rain,” Dash muttered.

  Nodding, Jala continued. “Afterwards, we understood the funnels brought the spheres, magic summoned to create magical rain. The Grunway were paler than usual, so it made sense to us. Stupidly, we trusted them and we looked up with amazement when they launched the sphere into the air, throwing it quite high. My father said at the time that he was impressed the magic workers still knew how to use their muscles.” Sorrow bloomed in her eyes.

  “How many gathering centres?” Alusin interrupted.

  “Thirty-five,” Dez said.

  Tristan and Alusin met each other’s eyes. Thirty-seven daetal. Enough to cover each gathering place.

  “Go on,” Tristan prompted.

  “The spheres started spinning and then opened, and rain did fall, but not rain as we know it,” Jala said, her voice toneless. “White drops, hard like hail, but it had no weight. It pelted down to absorb into exposed skin. At first, we were silent, wondering what kind of rain that was. Nothing happened. Just whiteness attaching to skin.”

  “The Grunway were as astonished,” Lunas said.

  “They were used,” Alusin muttered.

  “The man in front of me suddenly exploded,” Jala said. She swallowed convulsively.

  The others stared at the table’s surface.

  “But not as in blood and guts, no; he exploded into mist, like a ghost. My father told me to run, and I did. I never saw him again. With hindsight, I realised he had the white stuff on him, but it had missed me, and he understood what that meant, and told me to …” She inhaled. “… run.”

  Fleur gripped her hand in his tense claw. “The spheres were still spinning, but now they grew tentacles that quested for the ghosts of our people. I leaned against a tree and the foliage above me saved me, but soon I was the last of only four in that gathering centre. Even the Grunway were consumed. The sphere ceased moving and floated to the cobbles … and then hunted the living. I too ran then.”

  “We’ve been running since,” Macki muttered.

  Dash added, “At first we moved at night. I was with a group of twenty survivors, and one day, around mid-morning, I was on watch while the others got some sleep, when they came. How easy we made it for them, sleeping while they hunted.” His mouth twisted in self-disgust.

  Clearing his throat, Alusin remarked, “And that’s when you found the barn.”

  “About a month ago, yes. We were so tired and had lost all hope, so we barricaded ourselves in. If we were to die there, that was fine,” Jala said. “We didn’t have much fight left.”

  “The six of you?” Tristan questioned.

  “Eleven. Three one morning simply walked out into daylight and stood there.” Dez shrugged. “Can’t say I blame them.”

  “One killed himself in the barn,” Fleur added, “and one succumbed to other injuries.”

  “There has to be something in those walls,” Tristan frowned. “I saw steel bolstering the wood; it’s probably coated in quicksilver.” He looked at Alusin. “Those creatures would’ve breached the walls otherwise.”

  “And the door, when opened, became a way through,” Alusin nodded. “We were thus able to enter and leave without the agony experienced here.”

  “Are you saying Gabryl used the barn to trap us first? This is in fact his second trap?” Lunas demanded.

  “Looks that way,” Tristan said.

  Jala laughed, an ugly sound. “But he got only six! Bet he hoped for more, the dick. His children were too effective!”

  “Whether one or a thousand, we would still have come and we would still have stayed,” Tristan stated.

  She closed her eyes and nodded.

  “We found a cache of bows and arrows in the barn,” Dash said. “Makes sense now. He needed us to fight back, not to kill those things, but to keep us hoping.”

  “Until you arrived,” and Macki pointed at the two Kaval men.

  Alusin pushed his chair back and rose to pace. “Now here I have an issue. By his own admission, Gabryl sought to get Tristan here. He understood I might be with him and I am now an unforeseen bonus, and yet it was Tristan he wanted.”

  Tristan watched him, and did not interrupt.

  “Usually the Kaval enters an arena such as this en masse.” Alusin punctuated his thoughts with a finger stabbing at the air. “We were, point of fact, engaged as a team on Lax.” He glanced at Tristan. “I don’t believe he created the damage there.”

  Tristan shook his head. The others glanced between the two men, all curious.

  “So it’s in the message,” Alusin went on. “The messenger found Jonas, who told Belun, who summoned you from Lax to hear it.” Arms akimbo, Alusin came to a dead stop. “What the fuck did the message say?”

  Heaving a sigh, Tristan muttered, “So clever.”

  “Skyler, what did it say?”

  “That someone here on Petunya claims to have found the replica Medaillon Rivalen used against me in that past.”

  Alusin went ashen, a shade ominously more ashen than his usual pale. “My god!” He sat untidily. “Please tell me fucking Rivalen isn’t hanging around.”

  “No, he remains sealed away, but I knew the message was thus a summons for me. I told Belun to keep quiet and to muzzle Jonas.” Tristan barked a laugh. “I tried to put you off, but you insisted on coming.”

  “It was a trap and you came?” Jala whispered.

  “As my grandfather said many times, it’s better to know than to start looking over one’s shoulder.”

  “Elianas said that and, anyway, you are not Torrullin!” Scarlet splotches now adorned Alusin’s cheeks.

  Staring at his tormentor, Tristan rose and carefully replaced his chair under the table. “You are right. I am not Torrullin.” With measured tread, he moved for the double doors.

  “Tris.”

  Giving the finger over his shoulder, Tristan left the room.

  Alusin thumped the table and swore to high Aaru.

  Dash grinned; it was the first time he’d found anything amusing in many months.

  Elsewhere

  RIVALEN WAS LESS of a monster than her gaoler. She could easily have tamed his kind of insanity.

  In the darkness she smiled. The six in that chateau were survivors. Like her. They would reap their reward; she would ensure it.

  Chapter 7

  The monster in the looking glass leans in when I near and gazes deeply into my eyes to see my fear.

  “Quiet now,” it whispers. “Only you know I have arrived.”

  ~ Thing from Elsewhere

  Beaconite novel, author unknown ~

  The Chateau

  Night

  AFTER COMING UP with a roster for preparing an evening meal and, after Jala and Fleur had cooked and served a delicious soup with the remaining bread in the larder, most retired for the night.

  Alusin found Tristan at the small desk that once belonged to the lady of the house in the small morning room near the front entrance. The fair-haired man poured over an atlas, the page open to the landmass of Frond.

  “You took my words wrong,” he said.

  “Did I?” Tristan did not look up.

  “Has it not been your intent to be someone apart from Torrullin; is that not why you wear your scars? To be seen as someone apart? Therefore, how is what I said incorrect?”

  Still ignoring him, Tristan murmured, “That is not what you meant.”

  “What did I mean?” Alusin paced nearer.

  “I am not as able as he is. I need someone
to hold my hand.”

  Alusin perched on the edge of the desk to stare down on that bent head. “Tris, you are not Torrullin.”

  Jerking his hand away from proximity to the thigh on the desk, Tristan snarled, “I am well aware.” He slammed the book closed.

  “You are as able …”

  “Shut up, I don’t need validation.” Rising, he strode around the desk to the window. Darkness had the world outside.

  “Sometimes I think you want to be him.”

  Tristan huffed a wry laugh. “I already am.” He swung around to face his companion. “And that is the biggest reason I hold back, haven’t you realised it yet? I refuse to hurt you the way he did Elianas.”

  Alusin remained wordless, for once struck dumb.

  “I am not him, but I am him too. What a conundrum for me.” Raking both hands through his shoulder length hair, Tristan heaved out a great breath, as if releasing something contained inside him. “It is true that I am not as able as he is - I am not bloody Elixir, after all - but not only do I look like him, but I feel as he did.”

  “How do you feel?” Alusin managed to croak out, shifting on the desk in order to face him.

  “Angry! All the fucking time.”

  “Torrullin was angry all the time?”

  Inhaling calm, Tristan muttered, “You have no idea. Elianas’ presence controlled him, as yours does for me.”

  “Why are you angry?”

  Closing his eyes, Tristan moved back to the desk and flung himself into the chair. “I don’t know.”

  Silence descended for long minutes. Tristan kept his eyes closed, head back on the chair’s edge, while Alusin studied him.

  Then, “You have overlooked something.”

  One grey eye peered at the Kemir. “Oh?”

  “I am not Elianas.”

  Tristan reared back, sending the chair spiralling. Cursing, he planted his feet to still the movement. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  With apparent serenity, Alusin clasped his hands on his thigh. “From what I’ve heard, Elianas had more darkness inside. I do not. The Danae was afraid to love. I am not. He had …”

  Tristan cut him off. On his feet, he gripped the man’s neck and hauled him in. “Then you live in denial, my Eternal Companion. You have great swathes of darkness inside and that is another reason I hold back. Not because I am afraid of it, but because I am afraid I may find it is at the root of this attraction.” He flung Alusin away from him.

  Rubbing his neck, Alusin bared his teeth. “Watch yourself.”

  “Exactly what I have been doing,” Tristan muttered.

  “I know myself, Valla. I have been alive a bloody long time.”

  “While I am a fledgling immortal.”

  Alusin slapped him hard.

  Tristan quirked an eyebrow in challenge.

  This time Alusin strode out throwing the finger in parting.

  Nowhere

  SHE LAUGHED, AND instantly covered her mouth to mask the sound.

  They were closing in on truth now.

  The Chateau

  THERE WERE SUFFICIENT supplies in the larder and cold room to last two weeks, if they were careful. It meant, whatever manipulation Gabryl was up to out there, would see a result soon. If he needed them healthy until he was ready. Or he meant to wait until hunger created the kind desperation even an idiot could employ to advantage, in which scenario it would be a while longer before this trap was sprung.

  This trap needed to be pried open before supplies or time ran out.

  Tristan found Alusin with Jala in the dining chamber. Clearly she could not sleep either.

  “… must be an answer,” she was saying as he entered. “If quicksilver keeps them away, it can kill them.”

  “We dare not remove even a drop from the barrier,” Alusin frowned.

  “Have we investigated the cellars yet?” Tristan asked, taking a seat beside Jala. “He had quicksilver to hand to create the barrier and there may be some left.”

  Jala snapped her fingers. “Let’s go look.”

  “Why not, seeing as there’s no way I can sleep tonight,” Alusin muttered, sending Tristan a look.

  Jala glanced between them. “Are you two a couple?”

  Tristan burst out laughing. “That would be the question!” Grinning maniacally, he led the way to the kitchen and then down a narrow flight of stairs.

  “Fuck off, Tris.”

  Still laughing, he put a shoulder to the sturdy door in his path. Macki and Dez had attempted to open it earlier in the day, but it did not budge and there was no key to be found.

  Jala, trailing the two men, said, “Might need a touch of magic to open.”

  “Listen to the lady,” Alusin said, and put a hand to the door.

  It twitched wide.

  Tristan, unbalanced, stumbled willy-nilly into the darkness below. “Bloody idiot!”

  Chortling, Alusin slapped palms and light flooded the space. He went down, with Jala bringing in the rear.

  As cellars went, these were clean and dry, contrary to expectation. There were two chambers, the one leading from the other. Wooden shelves groaned under the weight of various items, from closed crates to old books, from jars containing mysterious liquids to canisters filled with unknown substances.

  Jala puffed out her cheeks. “This will take a while.”

  Indeed.

  Methodically, they started with the closest items, working from the beginning of a shelf all the way to its end, before moving on to the next. Simply put, it was a hoard of junk, the ‘might need in the future’ items.

  Jala investigated the canisters and vessels of all types, while Alusin checked the books, lifting another insulting finger when Tristan accused him of wasting time, that there was no quicksilver in books. Jala actually smiled, watching them. She did not realise they had formally stepped into battle.

  Tristan concentrated on the crates, employing small nuances of his power to open them. Cast-offs, such as old clothing and soft furnishings, filled most of them, but a few did contain tools, and those he marked.

  In the early hours, when the darkness was at its deepest - not that they were aware of night or day - Alusin murmured, “Here. I found it.”

  Jala got to him first, with Tristan hastening in. The man stood at a rickety table in the far cellar. A fat candle shed light and shadow. On the dusty surface a small rectangular box waited, its lid lowered. Smaller than a standard toolbox, it nonetheless had the appearance of one, which meant it was easily overlooked.

  Jala and Tristan craned over it.

  Two stoppered glass flasks nestled in ancient padding, both with a silvery mien.

  Cautiously, Alusin removed one to carefully tilt it. “Empty,” he said moments later, and reached for the other.

  “Don’t.” Tristan gripped his wrist. “I have a bad feeling.”

  Jala’s eyelids flickered. “Yes, he must have known we’d come looking.”

  Freeing his arm, Alusin stared at the second little flagon. “Then we do it another way. Stand back.”

  Giving the man a searching look, Tristan gestured to Jala and the two of them retreated.

  “More,” Alusin murmured.

  “What the fuck?” Tristan demanded, but he moved back and so did Jala.

  Alusin gave a strange smile. “What do you know about me, Tris? That I am Kemir and my world was once called Eurue? That I am the last of my kind? That my world is deserted today? What else do you know? That I am a seer, a sorcerer and a warrior? I am, but is there more? Did I spring out of times past and simply present myself as a candidate to the Kaval?”

  “Gods, just spit it out, will you?” Jala snapped before Tristan could even think of a response that made sense.

  Alusin winked at her and then transferred his attention to the Valleur in the room. “Many ages lie between us, Tristan Skyler Valla. What do you think I did in that time?”

  “I guess I assumed you learned how to see.”

  “Assum
ed. A terrible state. I did, of course, finesse my gift for sight; yet imagine how boring that must have been. Long ages spent sitting and looking at events behind my eyelids? I do believe even the most unimaginative soul would swiftly be insane in those conditions.”

  Tristan growled.

  Smirking, Alusin gave his attention to the box. “I know how to unmake matter.”

  “So?” Jala said.

  Tristan understood, even if she did not. To unmake anything was a talent that lay firmly and unequivocally in the realms of the darak fallen. A sorcerical device requiring destruction needed a chant from the dark arts, whether the device was fashioned for lumin or darak. Torrullin, with his dual nature, possessed the means, and had employed it to both nefarious and benign ends. Elianas, as the Danae, could unmake and restore in the same breath, but was unable to simply unmake.

  He blinked, realising what that meant. Elianas was of the light, always.

  To unmake was to destroy.

  “Antimatter?” Tristan eventually murmured, unwilling to expose what this talent meant in front of Jala.

  “Yes.”

  Jala’s eyes and mouth rounded, and she backed even further away.

  “Tell me, Alusin Algheri,” Tristan murmured, and paced closer rather than further. “The Kemir of ancient time - was this their ‘gift’ to the multiverse? Is this the weapon Gabryl referred to?”

  Briefly Alusin looked up. “I know nothing of weapons, but, yes, a fair few Kemir knew how to unmake matter.”

  “I suggest you leave that alone. We need to figure it out first.”

  Nodding as if giving the suggestion due consideration, the Kemir did not otherwise move. Then, “I think I am angry too.”

  Ice flowed into Tristan’s singing blood. “This is not the way to prove it. Use it against Gabryl.”

  Long silent minutes went by.

  Jala held her breath. While she did not quite gauge the depths of their volatility, she understood there were undercurrents present.

  “This is our world,” she finally said. “How dare you hurt it more than it has already been hurt?”