The Dreamer Stones (64 page)

“What?” Saska
gasped at the same time as Tymall’s, “Impossible!”

“Nothing, I
take it. It explains how he is able to use your accruements.”

Tymall was
white. “Gods, you have to get it from him! I’ll not return to
Digilan without my power, and you can’t allow me to. Any battle we
don’t fight now will be re-fought in the future.”

“You have
chosen.” It was a thoughtful statement.

Tymall
blundered up, sending his chair crashing over. He gripped his groin
with both hands and thrust his head forward. “Sexless, father! Yes,
I have chosen …” And then it hit him. “You know?”

Torrullin rose
more sedately. “He is my blood also, Ty. How could I not know?”

Locked
gazes.

Then, “What
have you done to Fay?”

“Nothing. She
is watched. Stop playing games. Ty. You can enter Luvanor despite
the enchantment - you killed Vania.” There was no reaction, so he
continued, “If you can do so, you can pierce this seal. I want to
know how to do so without announcing it every time.”

“Why?”

“Do you want
your cloak and staff back?”

Another
silence and then Tymall snapped his fingers. He opened his hand to
reveal the ethereal replica of the Dragon Taliesman. “With
this.”

Torrullin
stared at it. Gods, many died because of that Taliesman, and to see
it now, if only in this guise, was a slap in the face. “I
underestimated you.”

Tymall
inclined his head. “Yes, you did, as I underestimated you. Here. A
trade. The Taliesman for my cloak and staff.”

“You cannot
then return to Luvanor.”

Tymall’s eyes
hooded. “Perhaps it is better for my son.”

He lies,
Torrullin.

Of course he
does, Saska.

“Fine, Ty. A
trade. The Taliesman for your cloak and staff.” Torrullin held his
hand out.

What are you
doing?

Making a
trade, wife. Until I find a solution.

Tymall
grinned. “Excellent.” With a flourish, he tipped his hand to allow
the coin to pass. As soon as it left his hand, he said, “I can make
another.”

Torrullin’s
fingers closed over it. A moment later his hand dropped empty at
his side. “I dare you to try. You are right, you know; your son is
better off without your interference.”

Tymall’s mouth
drew thin. “My son is the sole heir and you want him
unsullied.”

“Something
like that. I cannot remain Vallorin forever.”

Tymall sat
heavily, leaned onto his elbows holding his head.

“I shouldn’t
have fallen for Fay. I should never have slept with her. In
choosing my son, I can’t escape Digilan much longer.” He looked up.
“If I return powerless I’ll have to start over. It will mean
another four thousand years and you may or may not stop me there,
or you may be drawn into the power struggle. Whatever, the chances
are favourable, in two thousand years, Valaris time, we’ll redo
this fiasco. Make no mistake; I’ll reach for this again,
particularly after your refusal to heal Margus’s mutilation.” He
looked away. “Do you want that?”

Torrullin said
nothing. He knew, if or when, after the choice spoken, Digilan
pulled Tymall back into its embrace, it would not again release
him.

“Well? Do you
want
to do this all over again?”

“No.”
Torrullin chose then to ignore the danger posed in Tymall choosing
his son. It was an unselfish act, which would have repercussions.
That battle, however, lay in the future.

“Then we are
agreed. You will retrieve my accruements.”

Torrullin
nodded. “I shall find a way.”

“Good,” Tymall
said decisively and stood. “In the interim I’ll track Agnimus’s
every move and keep you informed.” He smiled. “I can’t follow you
about like a puppy, father.”

“Krikian will
be freed of duty.”

Tymall
chuckled and after helping himself to another pancake left the
dining chamber.

Saska said,
“In choosing to allow his son life, knowing what it means, he is
surely sealing his fate?”

“It appears
that way, but he has something more, something unexpected. Let us
not yet trust his choice.”

“Torrullin,
this wasn’t part of the plan, bringing him here. I … this must be
complicating …”

He turned to
her. “He is my son. Blood to blood always. You know the drill, the
Valleur singing blood. I cannot ignore him; I cannot prevent myself
caring despite all the hell between. It doesn’t mean I trust him
and it doesn’t in any way signify a wavering on my part. I shall
not allow him leeway, but if I can get five minutes with him as
father and son, unencumbered, it will bring a measure of peace. Is
it too much to ask of eternity?”

Torrullin
closed his eyes and turned away. After a moment’s silence, he
left.

Five minutes.
What would Tymall reveal in five minutes? For he, surely, was not
after the same peace as his father. She lifted her mug, and saw
Lowen in the opposite doorway, her expression sympathetic. Gods. No
privacy, not even within. She grimaced, acknowledged the Xenian,
and drank her cold coffee.

When next she
looked, Lowen was gone.

Standing
outside the Dragon doors, Torrullin watched Krikian argue with
Tymall as they wandered down the path.

No love lost
there, particularly as Krikian would find a way to bait Tymall with
his immortality. They were a foil for each other.

He turned,
hearing footfalls behind him.

Lowen.

“Torrke is
full,” he said. “I wonder what it was, exactly, which prompted it
to accept so many incomers.”

He again faced
forward, his gaze sweeping out. By his estimation, there were
approximately eighteen to twenty thousand souls under the valley’s
protection. It was unprecedented, unselfish.

Torrullin
smiled. It was not for the woman coming to a halt beside him, it
was for the valley, and in his soul he felt the answering
acknowledgement. It was good. A holy act.

“Do you need
an answer?” Lowen asked, gazing over the sea of tents and other,
more natural shelters.

“To what?”

“You wondered
what prompted the valley to allow this.”

“Oh. No, not
really. It does as it deems fit. We don’t necessarily have to
understand.”

“Hmm.
Torrullin, how are you?”

He smiled and
all she saw was the curve appear in profile. “About the same as
you, no doubt.”

“Ah. Would
that be angry, confused, disappointed, hopeful, resigned, afraid,
curious … I could go on.”

His smile
deepened. “Something like that.”

“Fine. So,
you’ve studied these draithen.”

“Darkling-soltakin, new and old, immune to the elements and mundane
magic. Not immune to great feats.”

“There’s a way
to overcome them?”

“There’s
always a way, but one has to discover the path of least resistance
and the most viable result. In other words, destroying them should
not destroy others also. That is my dilemma, that and the
realisation, summarily terminating them merely heralds a future
return.”

“Gods, speak
plain, will you?”

“I have to
send them through the shift they came through, hopefully crippled,
weak or dying, or all three, and then seal that shift permanently.
Only then are we true victors.”

“Someone
should be looking for that shift.”

“Right. I
intended to …”

“… but now
you’re worried if you exit the valley this Agnimus will unleash
whatever he has in reserve.”

“You think he
has a trick or two?”

“Most
definitely. This type of siege is useless, holds no sway over
Torrke, and thus he has an extra something to step it up. He hopes,
no doubt, you will absent yourself. He wasn’t quite ready when you
collected Tymall.”

“Agreed. Fine,
next step. Council in my study. Find Saska and meet me there.”

He saw she was
about to say something and then she merely murmured an affirmative
and turned back into the courtyard.

Krikian.
Tymall. Council, study.

Way down the
winding path, the two men turned and headed back.

Change watch!
Caballa, Kismet, as soon as you are relieved, council, study.

He thought a
moment longer and then,
Samuel, meet in the study.

Before anyone
could miss him, before Agnimus could be aware of his intentions, he
transported to the study, sealed the chamber and, employing with
some distaste the Taliesman, transported out through the seal.

As he broke
through to the other side, he prayed Agnimus suspected nothing.

The Dragon
ogive chimed and Torrullin strode in. “Declan!”

“Here!” The
Siric hunched over the hunched Jonas, both intent on an alien
computer.

“Tell me you
have something.”

“We have
something,” Declan confirmed, straightening with difficulty.
Grimacing, he stretched and yawned.

“Good. Come
with me.” Torrullin turned on his heel and headed back to the
ogive.

Declan glanced
at Jonas, at Belun, who mouthed, “Go!” and swiftly followed. In his
ogive, Torrullin held out his hand and as Declan grasped it, they
vanished.

“Well,”
murmured a stunned Belun, “things must really be hotting up on
Valaris.”

Lowen and
Saska prepared to enter the study when it unsealed.

They did not
know the difference.

“Declan? How
…?” Saska squealed in amazement and then grinned and kissed the
Siric on both cheeks. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,
Saska,” Declan smiled and bowed. His gaze went to Lowen. “Hello,
Lowen.”

“You look
exhausted,” she responded, smiling a greeting.

Twenty-nine
days together in the close confines of the Dome - the Kaval members
had reached out to each other.

“Stupid
computer,” Declan muttered. “Eye strain and a crooked back.”

Samuel
entered, stopped, and shook hands with the Siric. Taking a seat, he
said, “It’s getting colder out, snow coming.” Leaning back, he
closed his eyes.

Krikian came
next with Tymall. The first thing that happened was Samuel’s eyes
snapped open and he and Tymall locked gazes, both entirely without
emotion. The second thing was Declan’s wings flared out wide in
threat, hands forming claws …

“Simmer down,
Declan; Tymall was invited,” Torrullin said.

Refolding his
wings, Declan stared at Tymall. “He makes a false move, he’s
history,” he declared, causing Krikian to smile.

“Not unless it
is by command,” Torrullin retorted and waved everyone to a
seat.

He waited in
the tense atmosphere, ignoring the belligerent stares Tymall and
Declan now traded, with Krikian looking on with a satisfied air,
and he ignored Samuel’s withdrawal, knowing no words could change
how he felt.

Caballa
arrived breathing hard. “Sorry. Kismet had an accident … no, no,
just winded. He’s on his way.” Rubbing hands blue with cold, she
glanced at the dead fireplace. “Gods, it’s icy! Hope you don’t mind
…” and without waiting for permission she snapped a fire into
bright blaze, leaning in close.

“What kind of
accident?” Saska asked.

“Wasn’t me,”
Tymall said.

Caballa
turned, putting her back to the fire, tucking her hands under her
armpits. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Declan. I apologise. Welcome and
good to have you with us.” The Siric smiled and she continued,
“Kismet slipped on shale, fell hard …”

“I’m fine,
read nothing into it,” Kismet said, entering. He sent a bow towards
Torrullin. “My Lord, forgive my tardiness.”

His hands were
grazed and so too, undoubtedly, were his shins and knees, but they
were out of sight under his clothing. Pointedly, Torrullin did not
offer to heal; Kismet would consider it an insult.

Inclining his
head, he gestured to an empty seat and Kismet complied, saying,
“Siric, you’re joining us. Welcome.”

Declan pulled
a face, now ignoring the Warlock. “Someone has to help you
idiots.”

Torrullin
rounded his desk and sat in his chair. “One, the shift. How it
operates, how it may be reversed and where it can be found. That’s
why Declan is here, to tell us what we need to know, and then to
find it. Declan, Torrke is besieged, no one leaves, no one enters,
unless by a device I’ll give to you. You use it to leave the valley
and enter again at an obscure point, unnoticed. I’ll grant you the
opportunity to speak in a while.

“Two, Agnimus
now engenders a clear signature in employing the accruements - an
unexpected advantage. Until I wrest it from him Tymall will map his
movements - he will speak in a while also. Three, we require a
great feat to annihilate these draithen without doing harm to
others. Kismet, Krikian, this will be your task, but first you need
to hear what Declan has to say. The feat must occur in tandem to
shift closure.

“Four, Caballa
had a vision concerning the possible bloodlines that form the
creature Agnimus. On this we require clarity and you and Lowen will
delve deeper, Caballa, and as quickly as possible. Five, until this
hell is seen to completion, Warlock and Enchanter are in a state of
uneasy truce. That means, Samuel, you will not pick a fight in the
name of Destiny, and, Ty, you are not to make a move on Samuel
until the appointed time. I shall see you in Digilan before you can
say ‘it wasn’t me’ again.

“Six, a
million draithen, a siege, now possibly a complacent leader.
Something more is a-foot. I have to know what and it means I must
confront him without placing Torrke in danger. Saska, this is where
you are needed. Go with Declan when he exits and then go on to
parley with the new Lady of Life.”

He could see
her pale.

“Listen. This
is not something I do by choice, nor do I ask a boon of her for the
many deaths to date or the deaths that may follow when we confront
the draithen. I ask for the ancient power in this bowl of land, for
without it Valaris could lose something intrinsic, something of
utmost importance to the planet as a whole. Agnimus may only have
enough to breech the barrier, he may never touch the wellspring,
but in this we need be prepared. I believe the Lady of Life will
see wisdom in this foresight. Think on it. Your chance to speak
comes.”