The Dreamer Stones (48 page)

Lucan pushed
the needle in.

“Gods,” Samuel
breathed.

Blood pumped
and swiftly there was enough.

Torrullin,
however, was deep in the clutches of a vision.

Samuel looked
questioningly over at the Xenian, who said, “We dare not
interfere.”

He was merely
a watcher, a ghost in the sunlight, and therefore the three boys
did not see him.

He knew them;
he knew them by the call of the blood.

One was fair
with grey, shining eyes and he was sixteen years old. A youth with
long, gangly legs and arms, boyish hips, shoulders showing the
promise of growing maturity. He was tanned and healthy, sand a fine
sheen on his skin.

The boys were
at a beach somewhere, the ocean calm and musical beyond them.

The second boy
was golden. Hair, eyes, skin, and he was ten or eleven, with a
sturdy build. Alert, friendly eyes, fast hands building a
sandcastle for the younger boy, laughter shared among the
three.

The third boy
was six, tall for his age. He, too, had fair hair, a suggestion of
red, but his eyes were out of sight, the boy looking down at the
growing edifice on the beach. A narrow back tanned fast in the sun
and he was like a monkey, skittering this way and that to catch all
angles of the sand castle.

Tristan,
Teroux … and Tymall’s son. No name presented itself to the
watcher.

They seemed at
peace with each other.

Torrullin’s
eyes snapped open.

A frown of
concentration settled deep into his forehead.

Tymall’s son
would live.

Tymall would
either die, be defeated, or would return to Digilan.

The three
Valla boys would grow up together.

He had seen a
time about six years hence, when it was too early to know with
certainty what lay in those boys’ hearts. Except Tristan. Tristan
would fulfil every promise he now showed as a ten year old.

Was the future
secure?

Dare he hope
that his son’s redemption lay in a son?

He focused on
the others. “Have you the blood?”

Lucan
nodded.

Samuel asked
it. “What did you see?”

Torrullin
managed a smile. “I saw your son. He will be a strong and good
man.”

That father
smiled. “Well, I already knew that.”

“Lucky you
are.”

Lucan looked
from one to the other. “I thought the boys …” A huge grin spread
across his face. “Clever of you, so clever. And how excellent.”

“Hush now,
someone may be listening. You have what you need, Lucan, so do your
thing there with that map.” Torrullin rose, touching his arm where
a bead of blood still showed. It vanished and he pulled his sleeve
down.

All three were
then at the desk.

Lucan removed
a strand of hair from each lock, used the cotton wool to dab blood
from each tube to both strands and then took up one to wrap it
around a crystal pendant he took from about his neck. Carefully
placing the other coated strand to one side, he removed all objects
from the map.

With the Valla
men looking on, he sent a prayer up, held the pendant suspended by
its chain over the centre of Valaris.

He blotted out
external stimuli and concentrated.

The crystal
shape, an elongated oval, moved, but that had more to do with the
forces of natural energy than magic. A long moment passed and
eventually the pendant was in motionless state. Lucan barely
breathed.

Another moment
passed and then he lowered the crystal with the pinkened thread of
hair until it nearly touched the map.

It went
crazy.

Samuel’s hand
slapped over his mouth and Torrullin gave a snort.

The wild
movement resolved into a wide arc, first tracking east-west in the
south and then west-east in the north. Then the thing slammed down,
jerking from Lucan’s hand in the force of its decision.

“Christ,”
Lucan muttered, immediately bending over the map. The other two
were with him.

All three drew
back.

“Nor
Peninsula,” Torrullin murmured. “Gods, it worked.”

“A large area
to cover,” Samuel said.

“But sparsely
populated,” Lucan pointed out. “Not an impossible task.”

Torrullin
smiled over at the Xenian. “Well done, Lucan.”

“What say you
now about human tricks?”

“I guess I
learn something every day.”

“Too right.
Now, I’ll go to the Nor and sniff around there.”

“It’s almost
certain death.”

“The Lady of
Valaris said you’d need my strength, my Lord. She also said you
would use it. I’m giving it to you and it’s more than my oath that
drives me.”

“I have lost
too many recently.”

Lucan was
fearless and resolute. “I got married while I was home. She knows I
may not return, she has been well provided for … she’s carrying my
child. To ensure that future knows only peace, I am prepared to die
for it.”

“Lucan,”
Torrullin interrupted, “I’m not asking you to die.”

“I am giving
my life freely. I’m prepared to offer it so my son or daughter may
know a universe in which the power of good is known to be
stronger.”

Torrullin said
nothing.

“Torrullin,
Matt was willing, Cat was willing, Le Moss did all in his power and
Lowen, young as she was, went into the deepest danger. I am the
Oath today and this is how I choose to see it through. I’d do it
anyway, oath or no.”

Torrullin
hefted a sigh. “I cannot deny a man his destiny.”

Lucan smiled.
“No.”

Torrullin
nodded and glanced at Samuel, who said, “You got married and you
say nothing?”

The Xenian
blushed. “I’m kinda young; folk tend to raise their brows at me …
it’s embarrassing.”

Samuel gripped
Lucan in a huge hug. “Congratulations, man!”

Laughing,
Lucan disengaged. “Ta.”

Torrullin
smiled. “My good wishes also. May your son or daughter be half the
person you are and he or she will be strides ahead of all the
others.”

A tear slid
over Lucan’s cheek. “Thank you.”

A comradely
silence ensued and then Torrullin turned back to the map. “I want
you to use the other strand.”

Lucan said,
“Why?”

“To be sure.
To see how it reacts.” Torrullin did not look up.

Samuel rubbed
his cheeks, feeling strange tension there.

Lucan said no
more. He unwrapped the one stand from the crystal, wrapped the
other in place and suspended it over the map. When it was still, he
lowered it.

Torrullin
watched impassively, Samuel with trepidation.

The pendant
jerked from the Xenian’s hand, but did not drop. It remained
levitated, without motion, the chain parallel to the map.

Lucan watched
it in fascination. His hand balled into a fist against his
chest.

“Jeez,” Samuel
muttered.

Torrullin did
not move. His eyes glittered.

The pendant
moved. It turned in slow time, as if seeking, until the point of
the elongated crystal pointed towards Torrullin, the chain trailing
out behind it. Super slow, it then headed for him.

The point came
to rest against the area that was Torrullin’s heart. It bumped
there once, twice, three times, and was still. An instant later, it
was falling to the floor. Torrullin caught it before it could
shatter.

The face he
showed the others could not be described in words.

He handed the
pendant back. In a croak he said, “Godspeed your journey north, my
friend. Be careful up there.” He turned and gestured the door open,
swinging through into the fresh air with a stumbling gait.

Samuel slumped
into a chair. He stared at Lucan.

Lucan stared
at the pendant and then clutched it hard in his fist.

Chapter
Thirty-Seven

Maren of Rual
refused to listen to his inner voices. Why, you ask? Because
admitting to hearing voices was regarded as a sign of insanity. It
still is, I suppose, but I tell you this, Maren died a lonely and
unhappy man. If only he had ignored others and harked to what
remains a healthy attitude - those voices are the sounds of
instinct.

Tattle to his
scribe

Samuel felt
the need to be alone.

As night
folded the valley in shadow planes before dark, he took to the
stone path beyond the Keep. The lights behind him were welcoming,
the faint sounds of habitation soothing. He halted on the first
bridge he came to and leaned on the immovable boulder at the place
of crossing. From this vantage, the stream below was crooked and
lit with the first, faint stars. The waxing moon dipped towards the
west and had little influence in the night sky. The gentle sound of
running water was a mere whisper.

It did mask
approaching footfalls.

Lowen stopped
before he became aware of her, and studied him in the interlude
before awareness. She knew Tristamil, knew this man was another,
and it was exceedingly strange to see the same features. She began
to understand how some things never change, the same faces
confronted at every turn. Only time, in all its guises, wrought
alteration.

She cleared
her throat, startling the man. He twisted around, fearful, and
wondered why he should be. This was Torrke. It was safe here.

“You move like
a cat,” he murmured after a moment. A remark that evidently caused
displeasure, for she frowned before her brow smoothed again.
“Lowen? Something wrong?”

“Restless.”

“Or merely
seeking quiet time?”

“I’m sorry,
I’m intruding.” She began to turn back to the Keep.

“Please, stay
awhile. Why are you restless?”

“I don’t
know.” She joined him at the boulder. It retained a degree of the
day’s warmth, but the air was chilly. “Since the coronation each
day is filled with tasks. Weeks of meetings with ambassadors,
laying in supplies for winter, the Elders of Luvanor coming to the
Elders of Valaris and Torrullin closeted with them, daily
management, the Electan back and forth - busy, necessary, yet I
feel like a third wheel.”

Samuel smiled.
“When Curin used to get into spring cleaning mode, whipping out
orders to do this, do that, and everything got hectic, with me
trying to keep up, still I always felt useless.”

“Like that,
yes,” Lowen said. “Why is that?”

“I guess we
don’t feel in control.”

“I’ve been
under Torrullin’s thumb before and it wasn’t like this.”

“And for a
long time the control was yours - it gets harder then.”

“You’re
probably right.” They sat in companionable silence while the
shadows deepened around them.

“Do you feel
it?” Samuel asked.

She glanced at
him. “Like we’re being watched?” When he nodded, she said, “I’ve
felt it for some time. Your senses are sharp.”

Samuel
chuckled. “I didn’t sense you.”

“That would be
because I do not walk the Darak Path.”

“Ah.” It was
an enlightened sound and anxiety followed it. “That means someone
with not so good intentions may be spying on us.”

“Could
be.”

“Tymall?” It
was unlikely, given the map reading earlier, but Tymall did not
have to stay in one place either.

Lowen pulled a
face. “I doubt he’d risk proximity.”

That was
worse. “Gods, who then?”

“Well, others
will have seen an opportunity here. There is a showdown in the
offing. Someone could be watching to see which way the tide flows,
perhaps awaiting advantage, or the motive may be twisted and
obscure and neither you nor I would understand.”

“A comforting
thought,” Samuel murmured with sarcasm.

“Actually, if
it’s another, it can be comforting.”

“How do you
figure?”

“No personal
involvement for Torrullin. A player easily dispatched.”

“No soul
searching?”

“There you
have it.”

“You worry
about him.”

“As do
you.”

It was not
quite the same and both knew it. “Lowen, tell me - you mentioned
the Darak Path … what of the Path of Shades?”

She glared at
him. “Are you suggesting I walk in the shadows?”

“No, I want to
know if one can sense someone like that.”

“Only if
you’ve seen it for yourself.”

“Oh.”

A searching
look. “Is that what you saw with the Sword?” A beat. “And he took
you back in? Gods!”

Samuel did not
respond.

“You could
probably sense someone who walks the Path of Shades, yes.”

He nodded.
Barring Torrullin, of course. “This watcher, if he’s spying for
Tymall …”

“He may know
our every move.”

“Shouldn’t we
do something?”

Lowen
shrugged. “Margus wandered these mountains. If he sensed a
presence, Torrullin knows.”

“And maybe
we’re paranoid,” Samuel muttered, for he no longer felt
anything.

“Hmm.” Lowen’s
features and form were grey blotches against the deepening dark and
the monosyllabic sound was therefore not evident upon her face. Nor
was warning forthcoming of change of subject.

“You must not
fight Ty.”

It was an
intense statement made more so for being issued in a whisper.

Samuel had
expected it. The meeting was not a chance encounter. His voice
even, he asked, “Why?”

Why do you tell me this? Why do you ask that I not walk into
my destiny? Why should I heed you? Why do you seek to change our
future? Why does it hurt you to say this?
Many whys, other whys, and each loaded into one
word.

Lowen did not
answer.

The seer had
seen.

“Surely a
thing seen will come to pass,” Samuel murmured.

In the almost
complete dark only her heightened breathing gave her away.
Quandary? Slight irritation that he guessed?