Chapter 45. A Place of Rescue
All around Thor on every side he saw a T’Iea city of a style similar to many other T’Iea cities, but subtle differences in architectural design and the materials from which the city was built did tell it apart somewhat. A sure sign that these T’Iea architects lived in isolation from the rest of the T’Iea world and its adaptations of trends and fads of design. So this was R’Iggorr’Thegoran, once the city of the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran, but no longer, it had become a city of the one united race of T’Iea. The beauty of this city was unmistakable. It seemed the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran for whatever befell them under the presence of the Rift entity retained their love of beauty and culture. Perhaps some things can never be changed by evil intent, only disguised perhaps, hidden by foul intent but always there, ready to rise once more.
The population of the city had been persuaded out of their homes by the returning united armies of the T’Iea. The entire population now surrounded the depression in the ground where the nemesis that was once the Rift had been. Most looked, expectant, as if they waited for someone to tell them what to do, where to go. Soldiers mixed in with merchants, maids, dignitaries, all where here beneath the warm midday sun shining down from a deep blue cloudless sky. There was a fragrant aroma of flowers upon the cool breeze that blew across the vast open space. Yet all the people remained quiet, silent without comment, in an air of anticipation and the hint of excitement. Life was returning and Serinae’s heart rejoiced.
On the bridge that once spanned the Rift, next to the great black stone stood a number of figures. It was towards these that the population of the city looked. From one end of a street a number of other figures spilled forth into the open area. Those that stood by the black stone noticed the movement and waited for them to approach. The crowd had parted to let them through. Solvienne was part of this group of new comers, she shouted and ran up the slope of the bridge to where she had noticed a certain figure standing looking at them. She threw herself at a T’Iea male who stood there smiling at them. One word escaped her lips as she shed tears of happiness, “Thor.” They grasped each other tightly.
Then her facial expression turned to one of increased joy, she had seen another figure an older T’Iea male, he caught her eye and smiled. She let go of Thor and went across to where this other stood, then grasping each other’s hands they stared into each other’s faces. Solvienne looked into her father’s eyes, a deep knowing look passed between them.
Minervar had followed Solvienne up the span; she looked at her husband and her daughter, tears in her eyes. “Nar’Allia,” she said to the figure standing next to her, “thank you for not giving up on me. For not giving up on both of us.” Nar’Allia nodded and took her stepmothers hand. She looked over to where the twins and Iolrreas stood and walked over to join them taking Minervar with her. In that moment the family was complete once more. They were together again and they each felt a deep satisfaction tinged with great relief.
The crowd parted once more, but this time for a single figure. A T’Iea male strode through the throng of onlookers at the base of the bridge. He walked up the span and stood in front of Serinae, he wore the hooded cloak of an academic. He stared at her, keeping eye contact even when she stared back at him. But he tilted his head in respect. She asked with a smile, “do I know you?”
“Perhaps not my lady,” came the reply. “Yet I and my people are indebted to you, for you have saved us many times over. My name is Teathe’De’Turon, I am beginning to remember much, but my life of late has been full of darkness.” He gestured to the T’Iea people standing around them. “Like them my soul feels great pain, it endures much torture, for black have been my thoughts for so long.” He hung his head in sadness as he continued. “I remember still the pain and injustice I have wrought to my own kind and to others. Once I was proud of those acts.” He shivered. “But now I remember them with guilt and loathing.”
Minervar had been looking at the T’Iea male and Serinae for some minutes, a realisation came to her and a feeling of dread and disgust washed through her thoughts. She crossed to where they stood, “you are the Guardian of the Gate. You welcomed me into the city when I first arrived through the Gatekeepers portal. You had me face the evil presence in Rift, it changed me – forever.”
Teathe’De’Turon sank to his knees before Minervar, tears ran down his cheeks. “You must despise me, many must hate me for the suffering I have wrought.” He reached down to his waist and drew a dagger from its sheath. He offered her the dagger hilt first and placed the point over his heart. He grasped her hand and placed it upon the hilt of the weapon. “Push the weapon and have your revenge lady, at the same time relieve me of my misery.”
Minervar clenched her fist around the hilt of the dagger, his invitation almost tasted sweet to her. She felt the hilt of the dagger in the palm of her hand; saw the long cruel serrated blade and its tip pressed against the cloth of the T’Iea robe. She looked into his eyes and saw agony there. But she no longer felt hate or malice, not even pity, she understood the torture he felt, knew of the pain he harboured. What would killing him achieve? Nothing was the answer. She had come here to save these people, all of them, not to exact vengeance upon them or on any individual. Suddenly she felt a great sense of joy. A joy that a different relationship was possible now. The joy and the relief of forgiveness, true forgiveness. She grasped the hilt tighter and drew the dagger away from his breast and turning she threw the dagger far out over the depression that was once the Rift, she watched as it arched up high and tumbled down bouncing once upon the ground. Turning back she reached down and grasped Teathe’De’Turon’s arm and pulled him up to a standing position. “No. There has been too much hate. Too much suffering. It stopped with the Rift’s destruction. Someone close to us, a true friend sacrificed himself to rid all of us of hate and malice, he took it, took the evil with him willingly, even unto to his own death. I will not sully his sacrifice and his memory by falling prey to my own selfish emotion. We cannot allow such hate and revenge to manifest itself within our hearts once more, to do so would truly destroy us.”
Nar’Allia walked across to join them. She looked at Teathe’De’Turon and said, “I know your name.”
Teathe’De’Turon turned to look at Nar’Allia his head cocked slightly to one side. He said, “my Lady?”
Nar’Allia looked at the T’Iea’s face, “I have seen your name, it was written in a book in a house in Amentura. Your name, it appeared in some kind of ledger.” She thought for a while then added, “it was the only name, the only name for a given year, the last and final year.” She smiled and taking the T’Iea’s hand she said, “I know someone, master Teathe, someone you should meet, she will be overjoyed to learn that after all these years, after all that has happened, she is in fact not the last of her order, for another has survived.”
Serinae had wandered away from the crowds and was now examining the dark portal stone, the massive key stone that stood upon the bridge above the Rift. JDC went to stand next to her. “So milady, what do you understand of the great stone?”
Serinae smiled. “It is the largest single piece of this certain mineral I have ever seen. It makes me wonder how the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran came by it.” She then smiled. She remembered a conversation she had with Amndo whilst they flew in the Leviathan a few days before. Amndo had told her, “for many years the keepers had a pact with the Grûndén to mine the voids. The Grûndén sort many minerals, for their knowledge of the earth is great and they are able to fashion many things from what they dig out from their mines.” He had leaned forward and touched the chainmail coat that Serinae wore. “Their skills are great. But it was not only weapons and armour of immense strength that they discovered how to make. No, they learned how to forge this black mineral; they forged it into the vast block that we see before us. How they did this I do not know, maybe it is a skill that even they have now forgotten.”
She remembered asking. “Amndo, one thing I do no
t understand?”
Amndo had looked quizzically at her.
“Deanola. She is human, she should have died of old age long before we managed to arrive back in Elit G’fedrel. The day she fell into the Rift with Minervar she was an old woman and many decades of man had passed when we eventually arrived, yet Minervar tells me that Deanola doesn’t seem to have aged a day since when they both first arrived.”
Amndo had then chuckled. “The passage of time in in the sanctuaries is different from here within the world of men. It has always been the case in fact since the sanctuaries were built by the ancient fathers. They designed Elit G’fedrel and all the sanctuaries as well as the machine hall to be outside of time in relation to the world of men. The main reason is that the machine as a navigational beacon had to operate in zero time so that it had no effect upon the travels of the great star ships in which the ancient fathers traversed the voids. In other words, because they took effectively zero time to travel vast distances when compared to the passage of time within the world of men, then the machine that guided them also had to work in zero time.
“Wait Amndo, do you mean to say that whilst we were within Elit G’fedrel then no time had passed in relation to the world?”
“Put into simple terms yes, at least very little milady, perhaps a few minutes at most. It is impossible to stop time altogether, if that were to happen then the very fabric of the universe would fail. But you are right in your assumption. Elit G’fedrel as you call it and all the other sanctuary places are linked to a time clock that is derived from the ancient father’s great star ship. The elder races are in turn linked to the sanctuaries. It is why the T’Iea and the elder races do not age. Our lives, all our existences are tied to the ancient father’s great star ship. We do not wholly exist in the world of men, our presence here is metaphysical. What I mean to say is yes, we are in the world, yet our innermost being resided elsewhere, it is difficult to explain the concept without using my own language. I suppose the T’Iea would say that our bodies lived within the world, yet our spirits resided in Elit G’fedrel. Little time passes there whilst we are in the world so we go on living.” His face brightened as he said, “it is similar to the principle applied to your quiver of arrows, how it bridges two physical places and both of these places exert an influence. But they can’t both exert the same influence, to do so would destroy the bridge. So the two places find their own natural stasis, this can be influenced by anyone having the detailed and complex knowledge available.”
“But now the machine is destroyed, how will that affect things?”
“Well milady, whilst we are in the sanctuaries I don’t think it will affect us at all, worldly time still stands still there as long as the link to the great star ship remains, worldly time has no effect in the voids just as void time now has no effect in the world. The sanctuaries remain tied to the power of the ancient father’s great ship of the stars. But now that the machine is destroyed and with the Rift gone, the connections have been lost to the world and thus to anyone remaining within it. I believe that if we were to continue within the world of men time would pass for us in the same way as it does for mankind.”
Serinae remembered answering. “So, if we were to stay in the world then we would age as men do, we would eventually fade from the world as do men. We would eventually die. Are we trapped then, destined to the same doom as they?”
Amndo had just nodded. She remembered his anguished look and she regretted that she had not sort to comfort him then for that was the last time they had spoken at length. Her thoughts returned to the present and she reached out with her hand and touched the keystone. It felt warm to her touch, it vibrated gently at her touch like a purring cat.
She remembered something else that Amndo had told her. “Whilst I was in contact with the keystone I found a presence there, a presence that linked to the Grand Master, I knew then that he used the large stone above the Rift as a portal, but also as a power source. The stone can act like a storage jar for arcane energy; because of its size it has the capability to store massive amounts of such energy and power.”
Her face beamed with a smile, something was formulating in her mind, she concentrated. Then with great delight she found that she could enter the stone, see what it contained. Much of it was empty now, it was just what Amndo had described a benign store of arcane energy. So it didn’t take much searching to find it. There it lay, within the stone, Amndo’s last legacy to them all, there within the stone was his gift. He had placed all the signatures of the entrance portals to all of the sanctuaries within the keystone, reconstructed and redirected all of them, she saw them all and joy rushed into her heart even as a tear ran down her cheek. She knew that all the time the keystone retained sufficient arcane energy it would function in that way, it would be the gateway to all of the sanctuaries. But that energy would dissipate slowly over time, further if the energy was used then the natural energy loss will be advanced. She knew that every time a portal was opened then the keystone would use up stored energy and now with the Rift gone there was no way to replenish that which was lost. She prayed there would be enough energy to last at least a few hundred years of man if the energy was used sparingly.
JDC’s touch on her arm brought her back from her memories. She sighed and wiped a tear from her eye. Amndo had done so much, sacrificed everything for them, for them all. She hoped that he was conscious somewhere, hoped that the Maker had seen fit to gather him into his presence. Serinae wished to thank Amndo sometime, somewhere; above everything else she hoped and prayed that she would have that opportunity. Her last thought was of Amndo explaining to her how her own signature was imprinted into the stone, for she had been present within it all those years ago. She was now also a Gatekeeper, in fact the only one, and she could now command the energy within the stone above what was once the Rift. She shook her thoughts from her head and told JDC.
At the end JDC said, “so the portals that join the sanctuaries they can still exist, at least for the time being?”
Serinae laughed again, “why of course master Pnook, do you not see? This fact will be invaluable in persuading the elder races to return to the sanctuaries. Of course they will not be forced into leaving the world, but I should imagine that most will go when faced with these facts.” She took in a deep breath and looked around her at her surroundings. “It is time to leave the world of men JDC. It is time the elder races gave the race of men the chance to forge their own destinies. We are, we have always been just visitors to this world and like all good visitors we must leave at some time, we must not overstay our welcome. For our hosts must get on with their own lives.” She thought for a while and sighing added, “and we must get on with ours.”
“But if what you say is true, then eventually the world will be without any usable source of arcane energy.”
Serinae nodded her head, “perhaps master Pnook they will be better off without it.” Without waiting for a response Serinae turned to the throng of people below and around them. She smiled and looked across all the faces that looked up at them standing there above the chasm. She went back to where Teathe’De’Turon was standing and she took his hand and said, “my friend, we can go home. All of us can go home. Back to our true home, once more the T’Iea will be reunited in a place of great healing, all the wrongs shall be righted, all will be made whole once more, all will be forgiven.”
Serinae shook her head and wiped a tear from her cheek. She looked across at the mass of faces, the pain that Teathe’De’Turon’s face still reflected, also showed in all those faces that she looked into. She had saved them from one thing. The Rift was gone, the effects it had upon these people, her people, had also gone. They were free of it, free of its control. Yet they were now bound by other shackles. Shackles of self-loathing, of guilt. She realised that they weren’t saved yet, much needed to be done to heal them further. She knew just the place to do that though, a place made for the T’Iea long ago, a place for whatever reasons they had abandoned. Y
et that place of healing awaited them.
She addressed Teathe’De’Turon, he had been listening to the conversation that Serinae had just had with JDC. Serinae knew that he understood much. “Can you aid your people? Persuade them to go through a portal back to Elit G’fedrel. There I am sure they will find peace at last.”
Teathe’De’Turon nodded, “I am sure they will listen mistress Serinae, they would welcome the opportunity for a new life.” He looked around him at the former T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran city. “This place will always be a reminder of darker times.”
She looked at Teathe’De’Turon. “That is good, you will tell your people the good news?”
Teathe’De’Turon nodded and smiled.
Serinae turned to Minervar, Solvienne and Nar’Allia. She did not hide her excitement as she repeated the words, “we can go home. We can all go home.”
A few weeks later R’Iggorr’Thegoran, the city of the T’Iea’Neat’Thegoran was all but empty. Serinae had sent emissaries, volunteers who had agreed to go to the other elder races and tell them of what had happened. Serinae herself had gone to the Grûndén, to the city of Gwéldølĩn, she was known there and she wanted to fulfil a number of promises she had made. She also wanted to pick up certain things she had left there. Nar’Allia had asked what these were, Serinae would not say, but Nar’Allia knew Serinae, knew the former T’Iea mercenary, knew the sentimental side of the battle-hardened ranger. Nar’Allia smiled knowingly, she understood that Serinae wanted to retrieve the letters that had been written to her from Tezrin.
A flow of people, T’Iea mostly, but Grûndén and ognods were coming over, or under, the Tolle’Fornosse’Veetri, sometimes in family groups and sometimes in great numbers. Minervar was disappointed that fewer Grûndén and ognods were coming; she feared that these peoples may have decided to stay in the world of men. Or perhaps there was just fewer of them than she had expected.
The Pnook also were flying in on airships they were performing a steady transport service to and fro from Scienocropolis and the western continent, bringing those who wished to go. On one such delivery Nar’Allia was standing with JDC watching the Pnook embark from a large airship, she remembered it as the one in which she and Tnie had travelled to Gwéldølĩn. JDC suddenly gasped and ran forward. Nar’Allia watched him run across to the ever-growing group of Pnook that were spreading out around the airship. Once all had disembarked the airship rose once more into the air and flew away back to transport more from Scienocropolis. When it had disappeared into the distance Nar’Allia once more turned her attention to JDC. The crowd of Pnook had dissipated, been welcomed and taken away by fellows of their race. But two Pnook stood upon the ground where the airship had dropped its cargo. JDC was holding the hand of another Pnook, a smaller person, almost a child he looked to Nar’Allia’s eyes. But she recognised him. Her heart leapt for joy for there stood Citac, the Pnook kings son. She walked over towards them and was surprised, for Citac looked different. He turned at her movement and his eyes actually fell upon hers. He smiled.
JDC turned also and said, “milady Narny, please meet Citac, my long serving companion, he has returned to us.”
Nar’Allia bent and shook the hand of the Pnook, she kept hold of his hand looking deep into his eyes. “Yes I remember master Citac well. Yet changed it seems? Returned indeed, returned in more ways than one I think.”
Citac smiled at her words. “I must apologise milady, for I do not remember our meeting, strange has been my life in the past. A dream it seemed to me. I remember a great loneliness; I was the only one in that place where I was. A city but an empty city. I did not feel or seem to have form, yet JDC tells me that I was with him, here in this world, but I have little recollection of it. My only thoughts are of the city in which I was aware. What I did in this world I could not tell. It is as if I lived in two places at the same time, my consciousness in one, my sub consciousness and physical form in another.”
For some reason Nar’Allia thought of Serinae’s old quiver. That two had a similar ability to that described by Citac. “Perhaps master Pnook you formed a bridge. There is a place, a place where your people travel to now as we speak. A sanctuary. If you go there I feel that you will recognise it, you will feel you are home. But this time you will go home with all of you, complete.”
Citac looked at her, he had a strange expression upon his face. But something dawned upon his thoughts. He nodded as if in some understanding or agreement. “Show me. Please show me, I wish to go there immediately to this sanctuary of which you speak. My people need me, I have a task to do, one long overdue.”
JDC directed Citac to where the Pnook just arrived on the airship where going. He nodded, and walked after them. Once he turned and looked at JDC and Nar’Allia, they both bowed in deep respect. The true Pnook King had returned, he walked to re-join his people and take up the responsibilities he was born to undertake. Nar’Allia couldn’t help but notice JDC wipe a tear from his cheek. She cocked her head to one side and smiled.
Many of the elder races continued to come, all those who wished to return to the sanctuaries were coming to the city, many it seemed wished to go, driven by some inbuilt desire to return to places that they had long forgotten yet remained burned into each individual soul. There was an air of expectancy a feeling of great change across the world.
A stiff breeze blew around Nar’Allia as she stood on the outskirts of the city looking out over the moors. She waited hoping perhaps to see someone, someone she had to thank and say her farewells to. She sniffed at the cool air; she could smell the passing of summer. There was freshness on the breeze, cool air blowing down from the mountains of the Tolle’Fornosse’Veetri. She reached up and held wayward fronds of her hair from blowing across her face. Something moved upon the heather, she screwed up her eyes trying to see what it was. Perhaps nothing. Yet there it was again. Yes, a grey wolf walked towards her, sitting upon the back of the wolf a hare washed its ears. She watched as the animals came nearer, following a worn animal track through the course growth that covered the ground. The purple flowers had all but gone, spent after the heat of the summers passing. The hare jumped down from the wolf’s back, the wolf stood upon its hind legs and the air shimmered. She said a name, “Alonso?”
“Hello Nar’Allia.” He took her hand and squeezed it in a mark of mutual trust and affection. But then his smile broadened and he knelt on one knee and bowed his head. Nar’Allia reached down to make him stand once more but he would not do so. “My Taekla,” was all he said.
Nar’Allia was shocked, why would he call her by that title? But then she felt a presence behind her. She turned and there leaning on a thick staff stood Deanola. Nar’Allia pursed her lips in realisation. She stood to one side and it was Deanola who walked forward and gripping Alonso’s arm made him rise.
Alonso looked into the woman’s eyes. “What is your bidding my Taekla?”
Deanola smiled, she held Alonso’s hand, he looked down at the hand holding his with an air of reverence. “There is a city behind me, an all but empty city. The previous inhabitants seem not to want to live there any longer. It seems a waste to let it fall into ruin.” She smiled broadly, “I think Alonso it is time our people returned to civilisation once more and perhaps the Pixie would like to share in our good fortune. There is a long road to travel, but the past is now gone and the road is at least straight and clear. We have an opportunity to change our future, a future that we may command. We will gather the clans Alonso, invite them to taste another way of life, a way with a bright future, some may agree, I hope so.” She surveyed the moorlands around her, she breathed deeply of the fresh cool air. “Winter is coming; I would prefer a thick stone walled house with a strong roof and a warm soft bed, these old bones cringe thinking of the cold drafts blowing within my croft.” She paused thinking before she said, “I heard a name, an elven name. I was told it was the name the ancient fathers had for their vast ship of the voids, the same great ship of the stars that many ages ago
heralded the beginning of our salvation, even though that salvation has been long in coming. I think Alonso it would be wrong of us to forget such a name, to forget such an act of immense grace and benevolence.” There was a tear in her eye as she said, “many have died to save us, paid the ultimate cost for their selfless acts. I know my own gratitude shall never falter; I for one will honour their name to my last breath. So we will call this new city of men, this new start for our race, Atlantis. Yes, the city of Atlantis, in honour of the ancient fathers and all who have aided us.” Deanola turned to Nar’Allia, she looked deep into the T’Iea eyes, smiled broadly and grasping Nar’Allia’s shoulders she kissed her brow.
Nar’Allia then hugged the two elderly humans, Alonso bent down and picked up the hare and cradled the small animal in his arms. Then the two people turned and walked away arm in arm, back over the heather leaving Nar’Allia standing once more alone. Her last view of them was of the hare, it seemed to look back towards her. She waved. The hare after a few seconds leapt from Alonso’s arms and landing upon the soft ground skipped high into the air, turned lithely in mid-flight and was then gone down the far side of the ridge.