The Dreamer Stones (46 page)

The deserted
White Palace, no longer a sacred site, but it was once Mantra’s
home. The place Raken and Lycea were murdered. The place Tymall was
incarcerated.

They left it
quickly and went into Menllik to visit Linir.

Valleur lined
the streets shouting out good wishes, and Vannis cried and laughed
simultaneously.

The islands of
dreams, the Three Gates.

From there
they stopped at the extinguished Pillars of Fire. It too was not a
sacred site, but so steeped in history it deserved a visit. Neither
mentioned Tymall’s mastery in putting out the magnificent fire.

Thereafter
they went to Farinwood for ale, Gasmoor to walk down the tree-lined
main thoroughfare, Galilan to take in the sights and sounds, and
Tetwan to walk the lakeshore.

Then on to the
Lifesource.

Quilla paced
the lightbridge when they arrived. It was early evening and the sun
dipped swiftly into the west. He was agitated, his small face awash
with silvery tears.

When he saw
them he ran to meet them, falling to his knees before Torrullin.
“Can you forgive me?” he cried out, raising his tiny hands in
supplication.

“Quilla, my
old friend, there is naught to forgive,” Torrullin whispered, but
his voice broke. He fell to his knees as well. “I understood your
heartache, gods, I …”

“I saw how
wrong I was as I worked Q’lin’la magic on the Temple,” Quilla
whispered as well, “and as every chamber took its old essence, I
began to heal. Torrullin, I heard their voices telling me to open
my heart, Phet’s angry at my stubbornness …” He paused, sobbed, and
then, miraculously, smiled. “They are happy, Torrullin! Happy where
they are - they are in the realm of the ancient Q’lin’la homeworld,
the essence you and I carry within! They are happy I am the one who
survived … they say I am the best choice …”

Torrullin
nodded. Indeed. Quilla, the best choice. “Thank the Goddess,” he
murmured, “for returning to me this dear friend.” He rose and held
his hand out to the birdman. “Come. Show us our Temple. Vannis has
come to say goodbye.”

Quilla glanced
at Vannis. “Oh, dear.”

Vannis smiled.
“I, too, am happy where my home is now, Quilla.”

The birdman
nodded. “Yes, death is not the end, is it? How very comforting that
is.”

He smiled,
turned and led the way into the wholly renewed Lifesource.

Luvanor.
Grinwallin. The crucible.

Teighlar and
Samuel had both spoken farewells and left them alone.

About the
crucible a soft mist hung. The shift between realities.

Vannis smiled.
“I knew this would be a shattering experience, so I prepared a
little surprise.”

He waited
expectantly.

Torrullin drew
breath. “Raken?”

“Yes,” Vannis
laughed. “Five minutes only, but Raken reckons it sufficient to set
you straight.”

The fiery
redhead erupted through the mist and flung herself squealing
delight into Torrullin’s arms. He lifted her from the floor to
swing her about, holding her tight. When he put her down, he kissed
her resoundingly. Laughing, they hugged again, with Vannis watching
fondly, his eyes over-bright.

“Raken! What a
welcome sight you are!” Torrullin cried and twirled her about
again, still laughing.

“And you, my
sexy man!” she returned breathlessly. She took his face and kissed
him on the lips with a wet smack. “Lordy, I miss having you
about.”

Laughing, they
joined hands and faced Vannis, who shook his head in mock
impatience. He went forward and threw his arms around them, drawing
both fiercely close. “I love you two beyond all others.”

It was
time.

Still
laughing, Raken hugged Torrullin. “Don’t be sad, beautiful man. Be
happy.” She winked and then strode back to the crucible to wait for
Vannis.

Vannis and
Torrullin looked at each other. It was a close scrutiny, an
imprinting, and then kinfire erupted bright as they gripped
hands.

“Time,
Vannis,” Raken choked.

Still they
stood.

“Vannis,”
Raken prompted.

Vannis’s face
twisted. “This is why I knew Raken had to be here.”

Torrullin
closed his eyes and dragged his hands free of Vannis’s tight grip.
The blue crackling ceased. “Go.” He opened his eyes and,
incredibly, smiled.

It would be
all right. Of course it would be. They were both strong.

Vannis
inclined his head, a wry amusement. His eyes crinkled. Then,
wordlessly, he turned and joined Raken. They stood a moment longer
to smile at him and then together stepped into the depression and
…

… gone.

An instant
later Torrullin, too, was missing.

No one knew of
his whereabouts for three days.

Redlef
Month

Life
everywhere went on regardless.

Summer briefly
intensified, breathless and suffocating, and then Cludcast released
its ever-present storms, cooling the land as the month wound to a
close. Redlef heralded the season of change. Leaves turned and the
temperature dropped.

Autumn had
arrived. It was the eighth month of the Enchanter’s return to
Valaris after a two thousand year absence.

Much had come
to pass. Many died. Some things had changed forever. For the small
watery world the universe took its cue from, despite horrendous
pain and suffering, it was time to again bask in former glory.

The Golden
were returned.

Then Samuel
returned to Valaris and the stage was finally set.

Chapter
Thirty-Six

Ask the name
of the stranger if you desire understanding. A name can reveal more
than features are able to.

Ancient
Oracles

His name was
Agnimus and he stood in the deep shadow thrown by the overhang.

He was
invisible to prying gazes and even the discerning black eyes of the
family of eagles roosting on their rocky perch not two feet away
were undisturbed by his presence. He had cautiously searched these
mountains, this range and the one opposite, testing the boundaries
of the sentient valley. It was a presence to fill his soul with
fear every time he wandered too close, until he found this
concealing overhang.

Always in deep
shadow no matter where the sun and with the aided advantage of a
bird’s eye view across the entire valley, the overhang was perfect.
The sentience ceased eight feet to the fore at the lip of the rocky
shelf he watched from and, while he sensed it wanting him to step
over for judgement, he was far enough removed for it to consign the
threat he was to the background, and thus he could safely ignore
it.

He had been
here a month now, carefully cataloguing the comings and goings of
the Keep. The only scare he received was from the Darak Or Margus.
The fair man roamed the lower slopes of the Morinnes, to what
purpose the watcher could not fathom, but he gazed up at the
overhang often. Agnimus prepared to flee, but in the end Margus did
not venture this high.

It was hungry
work sitting day and night, dozing fitfully. He left his perch
periodically to fetch food and water, using those quick forays to
check on the untrustworthy Warlock, mostly without his
knowledge.

Fortunately
the Warlock used the time to rebuild and garner strength sapped
after the Q’lin’la murders, and to hone his skills to this reality,
this world’s gravity. Keeping it unobtrusive. All the while nobody
knew the Warlock was resident on Valaris.

Agnimus
grimaced, thinking on that. You had to hand the man points for
hiding thoroughly, and until the other, the twin’s descendent,
arrived, the Warlock would be content in the rundown cottage,
waiting.

Soon he would
have them all together. Enchanter, Warlock, Priest and, as a bonus,
the Darak Or. He had not expected that when he commenced his plan,
and now he understood Margus, of all of them, was the most
important factor.

Soon they
would all know his name.

He grimaced
again. The Warlock, curse him, had not bothered to ask.

For that alone
he would pay.

Gold, reds,
ambers and yellows bathed the valley, the colours vying with a
multitude of emeralds, olives and greens.

In full autumn
regalia, Torrke was a remarkable sight. Streams ran like liquid
gold, burbling over rust speckled river pebbles. Birds sang
merrily, busy as bees.

The spectacle
entranced Samuel. He halted before the Dragon doors, about to knock
for entrance, when his jaded senses harked to the glory.

He lifted his
gaze when cries sounded overhead. A hawk and an eagle screeching at
each other, while the disputed pigeon made hasty escape. He smiled.
Grinwallin was beautiful, but it was stone. This was natural. Land,
air and things between. Real, untamed.

The doors
opened behind him. Someone had seen or sensed him and he turned to
face what was to come next. He had delayed long enough.

Torrullin.

Grey eyes met
grey eyes.

Torrullin was
in black as ever. His fair hair had seen a recent trim, the fringe
still skewing over his face. He was tanned, fit, healthy - he
clearly spent a lot of time outdoors. His shoulders appeared leaner
and more muscular simultaneously - he had been at swordplay …
often. A way to release frustration. He was also calm.

Samuel.

With
Tristamil’s face and bearing, until one saw the maturity in those
eyes. His streaked golden-auburn hair had grown long, plaited
neatly. He was dressed in black also, but a leather-strapped jerkin
mitigated the severity. Trezond glinted at his waist. He was pale -
Luvanor had moved into winter - but exuded strength. His hands were
scarred from many weeks sword practice. He was calm, almost
resigned. Perhaps his new face, the unlined version, was now
acceptable, as was an uncertain future.

They smiled
and clasped arms. No kinfire. Not only had skin not made contact
this occasion, but also the tell-tale fires were deliberately
subdued.

“Welcome,
Samuel.”

“Thank
you.”

“Come within.”
Torrullin stood aside.

Samuel nodded
and passed. With some trepidation, he entered the courtyard and
then relaxed when he noticed how empty it was. Likely witnesses to
his arrival bid him alight outside, but it was mercifully deserted.
He was not one for showmanship.

He spied
Saska’s form up on the battlements. She probably saw him arrive and
told her husband.

“Where’s
everyone?” he asked as Torrullin came abreast after closing the
Dragon doors.

“But for
essential retainers it’s me, Saska, Lowen, Kismet … what’s the
matter?”

A frown
crossed Samuel’s brow. “Are you pandering to my need for privacy?
Did you know I was coming?”

Maybe not so accepting. And Teighlar
had
warned him to expect Samuel any
day. “No. Firstly, I’m not in the habit of pandering and, second, I
have ordered that my home shall be my home.”

“And here I
am, uninvited.”

“You are
family - and I see you’re still angry.”

“You
aren’t?”

Torrullin
smiled slightly. “All the time. I learned to hide it better than
you, though.”

“Ah. Your calm
is a façade.”

“Not today.
Today is a good day, for you are home.”

Samuel’s smile
then was genuine. “It’s good to be back. Valaris will ever be in my
heart.”

“As she is in
mine. Come. Caballa, Krikian and Lucan are about somewhere.”

“Your team,
Torrullin? Surely your Valleur saw through the ruse of you desiring
your home to be just your home?”

Torrullin
laughed. “Absolutely! Little they could do about it!”

“The Vallorin
commands.”

“Do I hear
criticism in there?”

“No. It’s just
handy, you know, having folk obey you? Yes?”

Again
Torrullin laughed. “Yes, sometimes.”

Samuel looked
up. Saska was moving downward. “Is Margus here?”

“He is.”

“Quilla?”

“In the Dome.
The Kaval await temporarily.”

“I heard about
the Q’lin’la. That was hard.”

“Very.”

Samuel came to
a stop in the centre of the courtyard. “You still have quite a
force around you and the Dome to call upon. Tymall is one.”

No, soon he will be three. Then it’s time for choice.
“My son remains tricky.”

Samuel’s gaze
swept about. “You altered the stage.”

“Astute of
you, but so has he. Enough is left to drive us to finish it.”

“I’m
ready.”

“I see
that.”

Samuel planted
his feet. “I’m pretty good with Trezond.”

“I’m sure you
are.” Torrullin would not be drawn.

“Torrullin,
please, what of the Sword?”

“What of
it?”

“Is it
here?”

“Somewhere. Do
not attempt to find it.”

“Why not?”

Time for some
truth. “The Lumin Sword was forged of the blue and green blades the
twins were gifted by the Kallanon. I reforged it and only I am able
to wield it. Please trust me on this.”

“Yet it
travelled the universe in another’s hands without threat.”

“I gave it to
her.”

“Teighlar
touched it. So did I.”

Torrullin drew
breath and released it. “Every time another had it in hand, I was
in another realm. That is no longer the case.”

“You’re
saying, with it and you in the same reality, it’s dangerous.”

“That’s what
I’m saying.”

Samuel looked
down, defeated. The Sword felt right in his hands, he felt
powerful, filled with purpose, strong, yet light, without burden.
“Fine, as you say.”

Torrullin
breathed in and out again and made a decision.