The Dreamer Stones (55 page)

He travelled
worlds unseen, entered realms unheard, shifted into parallel
universes unnoticed, and bore the new scars of knowledge after
every journey.

A trampled
caterpillar screamed and was heard; a baby squalled for its feed
and was heard. A man beating his wife secretively was seen and
remembered. The smell of poison, millions would succumb, was noted.
Insignificant and of great consequence, it was all the same, held
equal value.

He journeyed
far, near, up, down, all ways between, and conquered the confusion,
the noise, the hell, the joy, the stink, the anxiety, the terror,
the fire, the ice, the perfume, the heat, the loneliness, the
claustrophobia, the cold, the surprise, the withdrawal, the wonder.
He lived and died and lived a thousand times until he could hear on
command, taste only as required, see as needed, touch when willed,
smell as requested, sense when he released that inexplicable
talent, and know when life was threatened, a soul in jeopardy, an
innocent about to be compromised.

It was
everywhere.

He would have
to learn the power that lay in delegation. Or be as nothing.

He was all,
knew all. He was Elixir, the animated spirit that was and is and
will always be, and his Kaval were his multiple arms, swords,
minds, souls, bound to that spirit always. He was God and they were
his angels, his warriors.

Elixir
awakened.

He was ready.
He was accepting. And he was fatalistic as in his other past, and
furious through his calm. The darak path, the lumin road, the same,
for he travelled both. In that imperfection laid salvation for
others, if not for the walker. His eyes were silvery and would not
again darken for Destroyer. He was all and all was in him. He was
one.

At last, he
truly was the One.

“He stirs,”
Jonas, last to the Kaval from Lintusillem, a small, obscure world
in a small, obscure galaxy, said in a whisper.

“He is, in
fact, awake,” Torrullin murmured and sat up.

His silvery
eyes raked the fourteen about him. Two circles. Six in the inner,
eight in the outer. Power there. His gaze rested on Lowen in the
outer circle before he shifted to take in his surroundings.

The Dome was
altered. Gone were the tiered stone benches and missing was the
transparency overhead. In their stead was a space akin to a war
room. A narrow, semi-circular platform faced the dais of lights
like a conference table, of solid and unblemished white marble, and
piles of papers were scattered on its smooth surface. Arrayed
before the ogives without detracting, obscuring or interfering with
them, various marble, rectangular platforms hosted the essentials
to solid planning. Computers on one, most of alien design, maps on
another, world maps, star charts, seabed tracings and so forth, and
on another a holographic device; weapons manuals, actual weapons,
primitive, technological, mechanical, biological, chemical, the
volatile ones in special vacuum containers; many more.

Behind the
dais, a large movable set of shelves held knowledge, a library on
wheels. Books old and new, computer printouts, scrolls, inscribed
stones, pamphlets, magazines, even yellowed newspapers.

Beyond the
shelves, a spiralling staircase vanished into a lowered black
ceiling that replaced the view overhead. That view now belonged to
the sleeping quarters installed above. There were ablution
facilities, a well-appointed kitchen, a dining chamber and an area
for relaxation.

The Dome was
not merely a war room. It was a home for the Kaval, many of whom no
longer had anywhere else to go.

Torrullin
looked at the whole with new eyes.

He swung his
legs over the side of the marble rectangle he laid on - cotton
pyjamas, he noted, wondering who undressed him to put it on.
Quilla, probably, given his innate prudishness. He smiled at the
little birdman.

“With all the
comfort upstairs under the starry dome, you rest me on this cold,
hard thing?”

“Upstairs is
for the body; this is for the mind,” Quilla returned.

“Ah,”
Torrullin murmured, and stood. His legs wobbled as they took his
weight. “How long?” he asked, looking at no one in particular. He
took a tentative step forward.

“Twenty-nine
Valaris days,” Lowen murmured.

He stared at
her and then glanced at Quilla, who inclined his head.

“Too long,”
Torrullin muttered. He stretched, flexed his fingers and paced to
loosen stiffened muscle. When he stopped, he looked at Belun, one
of the inner circle. “Valaris?”

“Big
problems,” the Centuar answered.

“First things
first,” Quilla said. “How do you feel, T … my Lord?”

Torrullin gaze
snapped to him. “We have been friends long, Quilla. Do not call me
‘my Lord’. I’m fine. Belun?”

As Belun
moved, Quilla said, “Torrullin, go slowly. One thing at a
time.”

Torrullin
looked down at him again. “I feel fine. Wobbly legs soon toughen.”
He drew breath. One thing at a time. He looked at the others. “I
know what you did for me. I am very aware of the energy expended to
make my journeys easier, and for that and more I thank you. You now
suspect what it is I am …”

He stopped and
frowned, and swung to Belun again.

“Why is
Valaris dark to me?”

“The skies are
sealed,” Belun said, his gaze steady.

“Not a Valleur
seal, though. Sealed?” Torrullin held his hand up, shaking his
head. “Wait.” He glared at Quilla. “Why is it closed to
me
?”

“I don’t
know,” the birdman replied.

“Never mind. I
know the way through - it will have to be an answer until this
darkness unravels. Belun, what happened?”

The Centuar
swallowed, his facade cracking.

He looked to
Declan for help and the Siric spoke, “Under cover of a storm
symbiotic darkling-soltakin invaded Valaris. Two days ago.”

“The symbiotic
horde we created two thousand years ago?”

Declan nodded.
“And their offspring - however they do that.”

“We dealt with
them, to the last.”

The Siric
shrugged. “We thought we had, Torrullin. Unfortunately, it occurred
before we knew enough of the realms beyond.”

“I caused
this.”

“We didn’t
know,” Declan insisted. “And none of this would be remotely
probable had it not been for Tymall’s recreation of the past.”

“Explain.”

The Siric
broke from the circle and came to stand before Torrullin. His
colourless eyes were steady, but behind it lurked uncertainty. “The
power of the past, my friend. It isn’t exactly a secret, is it?
Some others used the recreation in progress on Valaris to open a
doorway to those creatures.”

“How many? How
bad?”

“We’re unable
to gauge how far they have progressed in their plan, but at last
count - three hundred thousand,” Belun said.

Dead silence.
Then, “Who aids?” No answer. “No one?”

“There is no
communication and no way to pierce the seal,” Quilla said. “We are
entirely in the dark.”

“No, Valaris
is entirely in the dark. It is therefore priority,” Torrullin said.
“My priority.”

He turned on
his heels, encompassing all in his wide-view glance. He nodded
once, to himself, and headed for the dais.

As he walked,
his pyjamas appeared to absorb into his skin and before nakedness
could materialise he was dressed in breeches, tunic and boots.
Black.

Lowen’s hand
trembled on her chest at that casual display of sorcery.

The dais of
lights spun as he approached and then lit all four symbols in
recognition before he even touched it. Torrullin smiled as he
stepped up behind it, leaning forward onto his arms.

Continuity.
The dais was the link between the old and the new.

“Sit,” he
commanded, looking down at the lights. Sorcery, Knowledge,
Communion and Recognition. Well, that set the tone. He looked up as
the fourteen Kaval sat, pulling recessed chairs from under the
semi-circular platform. As they sat, backrests materialised for
their comfort. Torrullin raised a brow, but did not remark on the
marriage of utility and comfort. It was an amusement suited to
another occasion. There was silence as he studied them and then he
began to speak.

“We are the
future Guardians, bless those who went before. Our task, broadly,
is to minimize evil, catastrophe, natural destruction and the like,
and in that we shall be no different from our predecessors. We are
also charged with teaching and goodwill in times of peace and it is
expected of each of you in idle times to go forth and do so. We
shall not be aloof.”

A pause to
acknowledge confirming nods, the majority pleased, the rest
uncertain as to form not content.

Torrullin
continued, “The Dome has been enhanced, I see, to aid us in the
battles ahead and is a job well done. But this …” His right arm
swept the space. “… is a convenience only. Rely on your instincts
and talents rather than await a prompting from a computer. Of
course, I am like those devices and will shock you into battle
often before instinct warns you. Time is not with me. I cannot
afford drawn introductions and a probing of your particular
talents. I ask you to exercise patience. What each of you has lost
to be here has been terrible and I acknowledge it, but personal
interaction perforce will stand aside. Please forgive my
haste.”

Unblinking
stares, and not one accusatory.

“Now, Kaval,
before I go. Belun, have that damnable nuclear device on board
removed and destroyed forthwith. Then I need you to reset the
Dome’s parameters so it doesn’t wink out when emptied. We shall at
all times be visible as deterrent and hope both. Enhance the Dragon
ogive to answer the call of a soul in need - you know how to tell
truth from subterfuge.”

Belun nodded.
It was not required to add that the Dragon ogive would now hark to
the change.

“Declan,
research shifts, doorways, rifts between the parallels and Reaume.
Arm us with knowledge to prevent future invaders, as well as
something to use against those here now. Fuma, go to Marion Central
- there’s a man beating his wife who deserves to be taught a
lesson. From there to Beacon - a father slowly kills his wife and
daughter and makes his son into his image. Stop it, and stop any
family violence you encounter. That is a great evil. Quilla,
Fortani is plagued by poison in the air, water and earth. You know
what to do.”

He knew the
other names although he had not seen them before.

Torrullin
continued, “Amunti, the attitude to nature on Yltri concerns me.
Prima, Beacon has commenced logging on Nera - it must cease
immediately. Shenendo, infant death on Lax is over averages even
for a primitive society. Jimini, a cult of shapeshifters have
consolidated on Clintor - a task well suited to you, I believe.
Infiltrate to ferret out their intentions. We have no issue if they
are well intentioned. And make contacts for the future. Galarth,
the darkling planet my son occupied requires cleansing. No
prejudice, just sterilise it. Chaim, the Dalrish clan need to hear
of us and we need their support. As human sorcerers their power and
their reputation is of great value to the Kaval. Bring them to the
Dome if you feel it will help. Aid will flow in both directions,
make that clear.”

Torrullin
tapped the console. “Erin, the Pilanese falter in their gods - too
many offworld visits upsets the status quo. Appease them or bring
them into our so-called modern ways, preferably the former. This, I
realise, is a task that may keep you for some time. Ignatius, the
simian race on Ardosia are race-cleansing - stop it. Jonas, you
will prioritise events that require attention and allocate as your
colleagues return to the Dome. Do this with Belun’s assistance
until I return and both of you will find an uninhabited world to
use as sanctuary - ask the Sagorin to assist in building.
Understood?”

Torrullin
waited a moment to receive affirmation and then, “Sanctuary is
important, thus any time you find yourself unoccupied, give of
yourself, each of you. We all understand the need for quiet in a
storm. Declan, once you have something, join me. Lowen, you will
come with me to Valaris.”

“I can do
other than hold your hand,” she said, colouring when a number of
Kaval stared at her.

“You are
needed. Those people are desperate for a helping hand, a friendly
voice and an understanding heart. Do you deny them?”

Her eyes
dropped. “No. Forgive me.”

“We are at
war, my friends. Every skirmish, every battle, every confrontation
is part of a whole. The unprecedented peace all speak of today in
past tense is well and truly in that past. We fight once more. Go
now to your tasks and go with my blessing and the hopes of all
everywhere. We shall meet another time.”

Torrullin
stood straight and still, meeting gazes where they came to him,
returning smiles where they were offered, as one by one the ogives
chimed musically in exit until only Lowen, Belun, Declan and Jonas
remained with him.

Belun rose to
approach the nuclear device with a greater caution than he had thus
far, beckoning Jonas to join him.

As they busied
themselves, Declan stretched and asked, “How do you intend piercing
this unholy seal?”

“My Throne.
That link cannot be severed.” Torrullin left the dais to perch on
the platform before Declan and Lowen. “Tell me of
darkling-soltakin.”

The Siric
pursed his lips. “Well, it was the first melding we attempted en
masse …”

“I know.”

“Yes, but you
didn’t know then it has happened in the distant past and not by
Siric machination. We used that prior event as basis for the meld -
a basis only, for the previous event altered body-wraiths not
soul-wraiths like those on Valaris. We reversed the process and it
worked, but it also made the host darklings stronger, which we
didn’t foresee. We created a body-soul symbiosis - to our own ends,
granted - but what we did was make something, well, like us,
Torrullin. Bodies were gifted souls and that’s real sentience. We
played god and now they’ve had time to learn. There’s a name for
the creatures we created, creatures of legend enshrouded in
darkness, creatures the Siric used as basis for this experiment -
body-soul, soul-body, it makes no difference in the end. They are
draithen, and not to be underestimated.”