Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 140
November 28, 2022
November 26, 2022
November 25, 2022
Chapter 1: The Echolone Mine
Step over the threshold at your peril!
The real truth about the Valleur through the ages is uncovered when exploiters delve the green hills of Echolone for gold. After an ancient door is discovered in the bowels of the earth, it serves to unmask the hidden power Elianas carries within, a power that places him on the same pedestal Torrullin, as Elixir, already inhabits.
The two men swerve through different realms unravelling what now lies between them and every step reverberates in reality. As loved ones pay the ultimate price, old enemies again step forward to challenge their right to rule, particularly Nemisin, First Father of the Valleur.
Nemisin desires above all else to be the One and will do everything in his power to wrest the title from Torrullin, even using his daughter against Elianas, thereby unsettling a powerful partnership. In this he is not alone, for Tymall, Warlock, seeks to sunder that connection as well.
In a time when all seers’ visions and dreams cease, revelations are given to those who have never before experienced them at the site of a mysterious door in a mine. Here is a mystery and it requires solving, but the answers will change the future, in reality and realms.
Greed is able to create massive chaos. It will unbalance everything. Delving deep is able to construct fissures in time. It will release hidden truth.
It will also shatter sacred space.
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 WANDEREDfar, 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 willmean 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?”
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November 24, 2022
Avatar: Way of the Water
Looking forward to this!
Back to normal
FYI, the Lore of Arcana page has been republished - Yay!
November 23, 2022
Well, this is a first for me ...
The Lore of Arcana Page has been unpublished by Blogger, after a complaint, citing it goes against community guidelines. I have removed book review links (other than Goodreads) and have updated old links to https (this page was built when it was still http) and have requested a review. Fingers crossed!
My apologies to those of you who have clicked to view the page, only to be met with a notice that it's unavailable. Hopefully, we'll be back to normal soon.
Let's do lists today :)
November 22, 2022
Chapter 1: The Nemesis Blade
His name is Elianas.
Torrullin’s sanctuary is invaded by a desperate call through the spaces. Someone has stolen the Xenian seer Lowen Dalrish, and he suspects Agnimus, the draithen who nearly annihilated his world and then vanished without a trace.
It is time for the Animated Spirit to stand forth.
Meanwhile three Valla heirs await the rising of the Valleur Throne; only one will be chosen as Vallorin. When a prophecy is uncovered about Three Kingdoms and rumours of an army secretly building to prevent it, Torrullin realises the three heirs to the Throne are in danger, for the warmongers believe he will carve out three kingdoms, one for each heir.
It is time to deploy Nemesis, the mighty blade forged of two, of both darak and lumin.
As activity becomes frenetic in the spaces, the dark man of Torrullin’s visions and dreams stirs and becomes aware of the newness in the ether. He now seeks release from his long incarceration. He knows how to find the missing seer; more than that, he is the catalyst to releasing long-suppressed memory.
It is time for Torrullin’s Nemesis to stand forth. His name is Elianas.
Chapter 1
Listen not only with ears, friend. Listen also with your skin.
~ Arun, Druid
Sanctuary
ROCK STRATA SURROUNDING him revealed he was deep within the layering of ancient rock. Shades of colour gave evidence of depth. There was disconcertingly little else to see. It was akin to being far back in time.
“Help me!”
Her desperate scream assaulted him anew and he swung swiftly, seeking, ever seeking. That terrified plea was behind him, as it was behind a moment ago, and the moment before, and yet he found nothing every time he moved, and found nothing now … only the sad echoes of opportunities forever lost.
Then the uncaring rock moved to close in and he was the one screaming.
TORRULLIN SAT UP, sweat-drenched and chilled. The sheets were twisted, pillows on the floor and there were scuffling sounds in the night. He took a breath, another and another to still his pounding blood, and swiped damp hair from his face. Ordinary sounds filled the dark - crickets, a far nightjar, perhaps a mouse in the closet - nothing alien, nothing frightening. A dream, and he was in his bed and there was no danger.
Shivering, he rose and found his robe by touch, pulled it on and wrapped his arms about his chest for warmth. Swallowing, he headed to the bathroom for a drink of water, and did not bother with lights.
On his way back to bed, he halted in the centre of the large and darkened space.
“Help me!”
Torrullin swore under his breath and closed his eyes to listen to the echoes, really listened, but there was no more. He stood a long time waiting for the cry to repeat and, when it was not forthcoming, knew with certainty he would not hear it again. It had now gone beyond his ability to perceive, and it meant one of three possibilities.
One, it had been a dream and his waking mind toyed with him. Two, she was already dead, and that should not be possible. Three, god help her, she was in real danger, had sent a call, and was now masked from him.
Fingers tightened on the fabric of the robe. A disturbing, repeated dream he could swallow, for it no doubt spoke of his turmoil over this woman. Death he did not see as likely, for she was like to him. But the latter did not sit well.
He was in motion. The robe flew across the chamber, he dressed feverishly, returned to the bathroom to splash water on his face, brushed his teeth with hurried movements, and then vanished from there. There was one person able to understand. Even if he said not a word, his presence aided clarity.
Luvanor
Grinwallin
TEIGHLAR, SENLU EMPEROR and lord of Grinwallin, looked up in surprise from his midday meal. The sun-dappled portico threw geometric shadows over his pale face, darkening his blue eyes to the colour of deep water.
“Torrullin?”
“Gods, it’s day here … thank Aaru, for I need a stiff drink.” Torrullin flopped into a seat opposite the Emperor, shifting his sword out of the way when it bit into his thigh.
“Hello to you, too,” Teighlar muttered. “There is only wine on the table, but help yourself.”
Torrullin was already pouring. “Forgive me, my friend. Am I intruding?” He barely tasted the first glass, slugging it back without appreciation.
“Besides ruining my taste buds with your rudeness? No. Is something wrong?” Teighlar pushed his meal aside. “You are armed, as ever, but I see you give the blade little attention. So what is it?”
The second glass went down more slowly. “Dreams.”
“Ah. Bad?”
“Yes. This is excellent wine.”
“Thank you. It is Senlu red, about five years old, and thank the gods you have reverted to more civilised behaviour. My winemakers would shudder to see your treatment of their finest. I assume it is night back on your sanctuary world, you just dreamed, and now hasten to me and daylight?”
“I did not realise it was day.”
“You were to pull me from my bed, then?” Teighlar grinned.
Torrullin responded in like fashion. “If necessary.” The grin vanished and he set his goblet down. “Fourth night in a row, damn it. Exactly the same.”
“Why come to me? I am no expert.”
“You are a friend.”
“You want a sounding board.”
“Maybe.” Torrullin lifted a shoulder.
“That bad.”
“I fool myself into seeing a dream as a mere dream, but tonight I heard her after I awakened.”
“Heard who?”
Torrullin pulled a face. “Lowen.”
“Ah. Erotic dreams?”
“I do not have erotic dreams, Emperor.”
Teighlar snorted. “Then you are unique as a man.”
“Dreams do not do justice to reality.”
“Lucky, too, as a man,” Teighlar muttered, finding himself currently between mistresses.
“Lowen is in danger and cries for help. I hear her only in a dream.”
Teighlar sobered. “A premonition?”
Torrullin frowned. “I do not know. I hope so.”
“You hope so?”
“I can do something, idiot, if it is premonition.”
“Of course. Have you tried to find her?”
“No.”
Teighlar swirled his tongue inside his mouth, throwing his friend a thoughtful look. The subject of Lowen, he was well aware, was a sensitive issue, and largely taboo.
“Perhaps you should find her, then, and check on the veracity of your dream.”
Torrullin stared at him, but was not really looking.
“Torrullin?”
A slow focus. “The rock encloses me. Why is that?”
“I am afraid you have lost me.”
“In the dream I turn again and again to find her and there is nothing, only rock, layers, strata. The rock moves to envelop me and I am the one screaming - it does not make sense. I have no fear of enclosed space and I would simply transport away from that kind of situation in reality. Why am I afraid?”
Teighlar poured more wine and lifted his glass to stare into the ruby depths. “Sounds like Grinwallin rock.”
Torrullin’s gaze sharpened. “Why do you say that?”
Teighlar took a long pull of the wine and swallowed. He gestured with the vessel at the arches nearby; Grinwallin, the inner city’s entry into the mountain.
“I often feel as if the stones in that mighty mound are alive, sometimes watching, sometimes slumbering, and I have often speculated, were a disaster to befall the actual building blocks of Grinwallin, it would arise.” The Emperor shrugged. “It would be in control. No escape.”
A long silence ensued, and then, “Has Lowen been here?”
Another long silence, for they knew each other’s minds well. “A week ago.”
Torrullin nodded. “What did she discover inside the mountain?”
Teighlar released a breath. “She would not say, and these factors may not be linked.”
Torrullin lifted an eyebrow.
A finger pointed. “You should talk to her, sort this impasse out one way or the other. No, listen to me. She is like the walking dead, and you have shut yourself away from everything. It is unhealthy and that may be the danger in your dream. Talk to her, soon.”
A brief silence answered this time. “I hear you, but that is not it. There is real threat.”
“The more reason to find her.”
Torrullin grimaced. “Where is she?”
“I do not know.”
“Or will not say?”
“Why would I hold out when I am the one advocating you talk? I do not know, for she did not say. She barely spoke to me.”
Torrullin nodded. “How is Grinwallin?”
“As demanding as ever,” Teighlar grinned. Then he was serious. “Samuel was here.”
“How is he?”
“Hurting.”
A veiled look went to the Emperor. “Why?”
“Curin passed away.”
A deep breath followed. “Damn, I did not know.”
Teighlar tossed him a significant look. “You have separated from too much, Torrullin. Oh, I know why, you think you know why, and your family trust they understand, but there are limits.” Teighlar paused there. “Saska was at the funeral.”
Uninterrupted silence arrived in answer.
The Senlu gave a snort. “Elixir is the walking dead. You are a fool! Wake up before the perils - which are many-facetted - in your dreams overwhelm you and you find you are helpless …”
“Teighlar …”
“… no, pal! The rock encloses because it is a warning. Wake up to the issues before only regret finds you.”
Torrullin rose and bowed. “As my Lord Emperor commands.”
“Please, Emperor of what? You are the real master of Grinwallin. I am no fool.”
Torrullin, in the act of leaving, paused. “Grinwallin is yours, Teighlar.”
Teighlar threw his napkin on the table and rose as well. “Have you heard the stones sing to you in the mountain?”
Torrullin blanched.
“Ah. I heard it once, but no more, not since you came. What does that tell you? She heard it when she was here, I suspect, for she is not the idle type. A mystery required solving and Lowen cannot leave stones unturned … stones! Stone and rock - that is Grinwallin. Gods, you have so much, including freedom - just go, before I damage a friendship I hold dearest in my heart.”
Teighlar scowled into the amazing view over the continent Tunin. Grinwallin possessed a mighty vantage point. A brief, self-debating silence ensued, and then Torrullin was gone.
Sanctuary
BACK IN HIS DARK bedchamber Torrullin was dissatisfied, restless and angry. Moreover, there was foreboding. In one brief visit with Teighlar the spectres of Lowen, Saska, Samuel and the mystery that was Grinwallin had risen from the ashes of a deliberately damped fire, and he could not ignore them.
He paced, hand straying often to the hilt of his sword. His nemesis at his hip. Would he need it? Was it time for its namesake to put in an appearance?
A beam of light pierced the eastern window and he regarded it in astonishment. Dawn, sunrise, a new day. The Valleur would regard that as an omen. Into the dark of his heart had now come light, chivvying action from inaction, stirring emotions from behind defences.
Torrullin gave a mirthless smile. Fine. It was time to confront Lowen.
THE NEMESIS BLADE
Chapters 1 for LORE so far (in sequence)
Chapters 1 started with my standalone novels, short stories and novellas (that alphabetical list HERE) and thereafter I started posting the LORE books. Below is the list so far:
The cover has changes since Song's chapter 1 was posted :)
The Infinity Mantle Chapter 1
The Kinfire Tree Chapter 1
The Kallanon Scales Chapter 1
The Nemisin Star Chapter 1
Up next are the 4 Sanctum books and the 5 for Ancient Terra.
