The Dreamer Stones (70 page)

Barring his
son, they now knew the power of Elixir and understood why he had
not wanted it.

He said one
thing in reference to the day. “It is not over. Agnimus lived due
to the power in Warlock accruements, and the shift is still open.
No sane general commits all his troops and Agnimus is probably the
sanest among us. Be on guard.” He turned away, shaking his head as
Caballa proffered a cup, and then stopped. Without facing them, he
said, “No one is to shelter in Torrke again, understood?” He walked
away.

Tymall took an
empty seat in silence and stared at his hands. “Will someone please
tell me?”

“Tell you
what?” Kismet demanded.

Tymall looked
up and then ignored the Valleur Elder. He glanced at Samuel and
rested his gaze there. “You tell me.”

“Your father
is …”

“Samuel,
don’t,” Caballa said, sitting down to wrap her cold hands around a
mug of tea. “Torrullin will tell him.”

Samuel shook
his head. “Torrullin went beyond us today, Caballa. As much as he
cares for this world, it can’t now be home to him again. I suspect
he needs this done, Tymall and I, so he can go.”

Tymall said,
“He told me to finish, said he had another destiny.”

Krikian rose,
toppling his chair. “Elixir, you upstart! Your father is Elixir!”
In disgust, he strode out.

Caballa threw
her hands in the air and looked at Lowen. Lowen was not even
listening.

“Pretty
insular your Digilan, wasn’t it?” Kismet muttered. He rose and
left.

Tymall raised
his brows. “I take it being Elixir is not a good thing.” He glared
at Caballa, willing her to answer.

She looked
directly at him. “It’s a great thing. It’s noble, just and … and …”
She frowned and fell silent.

“…
catastrophic,” Samuel added.

“You’re
stating the obvious. Is Elixir more than Enchanter? A higher rank
of lumin kindred?”

Tymall.

Tymall put his
hands up. “Never mind. My father summons me.” He rose and wended
his way up onto the battlements.

“He’s lost,”
Caballa murmured.

“Who do you
refer to? Tymall or Torrullin?” Samuel asked.

“I was
referring to Tymall, but I take your meaning. Lowen, snap out of
it.”

The Xenian was
far away.

Caballa pursed
her lips. “Stay with her, Samuel, until she returns. I have to do
something.”

“A
vision?”

“Perhaps. I’ll
be back shortly.”

Caballa left
through an inner door, hoping to avoid the others.

“Father.”

“Tomorrow
night, Ty. Your deadline. I shall have cloak and staff by morning.
You and Samuel do what you must, if both desire it.”

“You can’t set
my programme for me.”

Torrullin did
not turn from viewing the darkening valley. “If you’re on Valaris
soil at midnight tomorrow, you will be returned to Digilan. The
Sentinels of Reaume estimate your time is up.”

“What? What is
this Reaume crap? And this Elixir nonsense? My time is up when I
say it is!” He gripped his father’s arm and twisted him around.
“Get with it, will you? So you killed a few extra today …”

He hurtled
backward as Torrullin smacked him.

“Reaume is an
encompassing term for the alternate realms both of beyond death and
beyond this reality when you know how to enter and exit. The
Sentinels guard the Gateway. They are the Syllvan and answer to
me.”

Tymall’s
injured air dissipated upon hearing the emotionless tone. Torrullin
turned back to the view as if he had not raised his hand to his
son.

“They are
cognisant of every entry and exit. They tell me Digilan has opened
and one has come through seeking you. A Tracloc.”

Tymall doubled
over.

“You know what
it is. A Tracloc recalls recalcitrant citizens.”

“It doesn’t
know where I am!”

“It does. It
followed your signature to the doorway you employed here on
Valaris. The Syllvan confirmed it. You have until midnight
tomorrow.”

“I am not
done.”

“Do you choose
your son?”

Tymall’s mouth
worked and he had difficulty answering. “At this thirteenth hour …
gods, I am not done.”

“You will gain
time if you kill him, and her.”

The long
silence did not seem to bother Torrullin, but weighed heavily on
Tymall. Finally he said, “You knew all this time.”

“Did I not
tell you the Syllvan answer to me?”

“They told
you? I … I made a deal …”

“You spoke an
oath. In Digilan. I hear the Traclocs take oaths seriously.”

“I couldn’t
know Fay would take my heart! Or bear a child!”

Torrullin
turned. “If you had a heart that could be taken, son, all is not
lost. If you can love an unborn child, you are redeemable.”

Tymall turned
and walked away. Desperation, confusion, fear, resignation,
futility, all that was in his rapid tread. The mark of a hunted
man.

Torrullin
sighed. The power in Tymall choosing to leave his son life no
longer bothered him. There was nothing a child and later a man who
was Valla and Warlock by blood, not training, could do that Elixir
could not counter.

What did
concern him was Tymall killing Fay and the baby, thereby fulfilling
his oath … and still the Tracloc, notoriously single-minded, would
come for him. Not all Vallas were dead.

Lies and
deceit.

There was no
worse state.

Caballa
wandered the back passages of the Keep.

Something she
had to do. She came upon the chambers set aside for retainers,
furnished as the rest of the Keep, for the Valleur did not
denigrate those in the services, regarding them as essential and
important - they were Valleur. Caballa frowned. What did it matter
who was important or not? A soul was a soul.

She sank to
her knees in the doorway of one chamber, a small sitting room, and
gave way to tears. Her shoulders shook with grief, as tears became
sobs and silent wails.

Time, she
needed time to find her balance, for she could not face him without
it. She wanted to attack him, scratch him, bite him … she hated him
as much as she loved him … he needed her. For what?

To see this?
To know this?

Her head sank
to the floor; she curled into a ball and wept.

Krikian and
Kismet left their conversation hanging as Tymall ran by them across
the courtyard.

“What’s bitten
him?” Kismet muttered.

“His father,”
Krikian shrugged. “Not a comforting figure at present.”

“You against
our Vallorin?”

“No, Kis,
relax, besides it’s not the Vallorinship that worries me.”

“Goddess,
what’s next? For us, I mean? The Valleur. He will have to
relinquish the Throne.”

“If it will
let him,” Krikian muttered.

“Gods, can you
at least pretend to be positive?”

“And you’re a
ray of sunshine?”

“Stop it, you
two.” Torrullin’s voice from the balcony.

Both looked up
and both were uncertain.

“Krikian,
Marcus Campian shelters in a copse where the Galilan track curves
south. Fetch him, please.”

“Yes, my
Lord.” Krikian nodded, exuding relief, and vanished.

“Kismet …” A
pause, a frown. “Go to Grinwallin. Tell Teighlar to tighten
defences.”

“Why?”

“I saw it in
his eyes today. A confirmation. It’s Luvanor my son desires. Go
quickly.”

Kismet
disappeared.

Torrullin
straightened and vaulted over the wall, floating down to the
cobbled courtyard. Tymall’s time was too short now to achieve his
goals, but knowing that would not prevent him trying … for the boy.
He would do something; leave a legacy the maturing half-Warlock
would recognise. Or Tymall would go to Luvanor and murder his
child, his wife, and in his last hours wreak havoc. Torrullin found
his capacity to care one way or the other much diminished, but duty
was duty. He would care later.

Samuel sat
with his head in his hands. Lowen stared into that place of visions
- he recognised the signs. She had to be called back - she was in
deep. He shivered, wondering what she saw.

He addressed
Samuel first, preferring to deal with Lowen in private. “Samuel,
prepare. Before this night is out Tymall will come for you.”

Samuel’s head
came up. “Linir?” He sounded relieved.

“Yes. I shall
follow in a while.”

Samuel walked
from the dining chamber. Torrullin thought the man intended to walk
all the way to Menllik, but then, as he approached the closed
Dragon doors, he vanished.

He was alone
with Lowen.

“Lowen,”
Torrullin murmured, kneeling on one knee beside her catatonic form.
He cupped her hand on the table and called. She twitched and he
clasped her hand, and called again. This time her eyes flickered
and he rose, holding onto her hand. Contact was imperative.

“Come back,”
he murmured, bending to her ear.

She animated
then, turned her startling eyes into his, their faces a breath
apart. Then she closed them as she laid her cheek against his.

“I am so very
sorry, Torrullin.”

He was not
sure what she meant and held himself still, but it shook him hard.
Life altering, then. When she rose, her hands on his shoulders, her
eyes wide again, watching him with a strange expression, he pulled
her roughly into his arms and held her to escape that gaze, and
then nearly came undone when her hands smoothed across his back in
a caressing motion.

She comforted
him, by god. He did not deserve comfort from any source, but, gods
help him, if she offered it now, freely, he would reach out and
grasp it. He was in a bad place. Her arms tightened on him as if
she was aware of his thoughts …

… oh.

All gods.

This was what
she saw. Comfort offered. Comfort taken. Before the fact, she said
she was sorry. Moreover, she said sorry, because she would not now
step away.

“I
cannot.”

“You have to,”
she whispered, and the touch of her breath on his cheek set him to
shivering. “Now, Torrullin.”

“Why?”

“You have to
sacrifice also.”

“And you are
willing?” he demanded, drawing away.

She stared
into his eyes. “The thing we dare not speak of, Torrullin. This was
written a long time ago when I was a mere girl. You saw the woman I
would be then - you spoke to the woman always.”

“This will end
my marriage.”

“Your
sacrifice.”

“Yes, my
sacrifice. What else can I expect? A small price given what has
happened.” He cupped her face then and stared into her eyes. “One
day I shall act on what is in my head,” he whispered, and lowered
his mouth to hers as her fingers dug into his wrists

It had ever
been about mastery and control with Lowen, seeking a way to negate
her influence on him. She saw into his deep, hidden spaces where
light had difficulty reaching, and he came to the conclusion that
loveless sex would tame her, had avoided it, and not because of
Saska, but because it was akin to rape.

Lowen had
known, of course, had aided him in avoiding it, for him. She
attempted to circumvent, not because of what it would do to her,
but because of what it would do to him … for she was the seer and
she saw what was hidden. As her nails gouged him, they were both
aware they crossed the line.

As he lifted
his head he gazed into her knowing eyes, he knew he had lied to
himself. She had lied to herself. Both wanted this. Needed it.

“Dear god,” he
whispered, and took them away to a private place.

Away from the
demands of Torrke.

Chapter
Fifty-Seven

Sister
sparrow, why is your nest untidy? Brother sparrow will return home
soon!

Tattle’s Blunt
Adventures

Lily awakened
Saska early to see the sunrise.

In the midst
of a crazy universe, she was forced to appreciate nature and its
freely given beauty. She was grateful for the gift, and she knew
that bespoke her state of mind. Celebration of Life. Reaffirmation
of self. And humbled anew at the vastness and variety of Mother
Nature.

What are we
but tiny cogs in a great wheel?

As they
approached Lily’s cave, the Lady of Life began to speak.

“We need
periodically to stand back, Saska. Each of us. We become entangled
in the issues that form our daily lives and can’t see beyond them.
Life is more than tasks and duties and it’s also more than coaxing
new growth from old ashes. I know I’m young and inexperienced, but
the day I chose to leave society behind I knew I found something
besides a solitary existence. I see my family often, here or there,
and many pay a visit to my fire. I’m aware of the normal ways, but
having time alone I can also see around and beyond them. Stand
back, Saska, and take a good look at your life. By your own
admission something is wrong and if you truly want to fix it, you
have to be objective and dispassionate.”

“We aren’t
made that way, Lily. We reason with our emotions.”

“Yes, and trap
ourselves. I can’t tell you what to do next …”

“You have a
few ideas,” Saska smiled. They approached the banked fire and sat
opposite each other.

“I like to
meddle, yes, and pretend at being a wise sage,” Lily grinned,
swiftly as serious again. “But you’ve done and seen more, loved
more,
lived
more than I have; you know yourself, you must
think it through.”

Saska did not
say anything.

“Saska, take a
day or two, somewhere different. Be someone else for a time, a
stranger in a new land, before you return to Valaris. Even if you
don’t for a moment think about your life, you may, in the simple
act of standing aside, find an answer or even the question you
desperately seek to ask.”