Free The Echolone Mine by Elaina J Davidson

tones
complementing and jarring at the same time. Three voices. Somewhere
in there was a parallel. Death and death, with Three Voices.
    Nine skeletons
fell to the floor.
    Torrullin
lifted a hand to send twelve sets of bones skittering into the
corner with the others.
    Saska fell
silent, breathing hard, and Elianas bent to draw in air.
    The bier
bucked.
    Elianas jumped
off.
    One end of the
lid lifted and dust streamed out.
    He and Saska
retreated.
    Torrullin
climbed off and drew his sword. He heard Elianas’ slide out as
well.
    The lid
exploded outward to fall with dull thunder. The floor cracked.
    A man sat up,
hand at his throat, taking great gulps of air.
    Nemisin. Fair
of face, golden hair, yellow eyes.
    Torrullin
gestured and Saska commenced the chanting. Elianas joined his voice
to hers.
    Nemisin’s head
swivelled. Not for him the skeletal exit, a stumbling gait until
flesh found bone. He was perfect. He could have been sleeping in
that perfection for all the years passed.
    Yellow eyes
bored into Saska, and she gargled and fell to her knees. “That will
not work on me.” He lifted his gaze to Elianas. “Please stop,
beautiful boy, before I have to silence you also.”
    Elianas
ceased, glared his hatred across the space and bent to Saska. He
lifted her, helped her away, but neither left.
    Nemisin faced
Torrullin. He laughed. “Try anything, Lord Sorcerer, and we shall
both be swerving through the realms of eternity.”
    Torrullin’s
hand was bloodless on the hilt of his sword. Out manoeuvred. “Why
do you not get to your feet, my Lord Vallorin?”
    “Ah, yes.
Thank you.” Nemisin rose, splendid in his nakedness and stretched
out. Then he gracefully left the bier. “So confining.” He looked
around. “You have sent the others away - better, I think. A new
time requires new blood. Not so?” He glanced at Elianas. “Dear boy,
will you not come here and clothe me as you have in the past?”
    Elianas stared
back and did not move.
    Nemisin
laughed and returned his gaze to Torrullin. “I am unarmed. Are you
to raise your blade to an unarmed man? Come, clothe me.”
    Torrullin
sheathed his sword. “Clothe yourself.”
    Nemisin
shrugged, murmured and was dressed in flowing blue robes. “Now we
can dance, you and I.”
    Torrullin
sauntered nearer. “I wanted to simply send you on your way, then I
meant to ask the why of this farce, but I am no longer interested.”
He commenced a chant …
    … and Nemisin
burst into great peals of laughter. “Please, Torrullin, you know me
better! Two ways of getting out of the bier, many ways of
protecting myself once out. Chant all you like, use any spell you
desire, and know only failure. The worst that will happen is you
and I shall dance elsewhere, never quite done with the choices
between us.”
    Elianas left
Saska’s side and strolled nearer. “Can you hold against two?”
    Nemisin threw
arms theatrically into the air. “A host, dear boy!”
    “Is he telling
the truth?” Elianas asked of Torrullin.
    “I am afraid
so,” Torrullin muttered.
    Nemisin
swirled around. He wandered the chamber and stood before Saska.
“My, you are lovely. What race claims you?”
    She had
courage. “I am Sylmer, my Lord.”
    “And how many
races are there, lovely Sylmer?”
    “Countless, my
Lord.”
    “Ah, I was
right.” He swung back to Torrullin and Elianas. “What happened to
my Valleur?”
    Torrullin
pinched the bridge of his nose. “Guilt has no place here for you,
Nemisin. You did right by your people. The Throne continues in
splendour and the Dragon symbiosis ensured the hereditary longevity
you desired. A Valla sits on the seat of power as we speak, and the
Valleur flourish. We have three worlds, we have power, we have
respect and we live among others in peace and harmony. You did not
fail your people. You succeeded beyond your wildest dreams. This is
the absolute truth.”
    Nemisin stared
at him. “What of Orb?”
    “Orb is a
world that is sanctuary to many and the