The Kallanon Scales (28 page)

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Authors: Elaina J Davidson

Tags: #action and adventure, #sci fi fantasy, #apocalyptic fantasy, #sci fi action, #sci fi and apocalyptic, #epic fantasy dark fantasy fantasy action adventure paranormal dragon fantasy

BOOK: The Kallanon Scales
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The birdman
grinned, hands tucked into each other. “You scaled it
yesterday.”

“No hiding
from you, I see.”

“I continue to
keep a watchful eye.”

“I am a grown
man.”

“Old habits
die hard.”

Vannis
sauntered closer. “What is this I hear about you and yon
Tower?”

Torrullin
burst out laughing.

“You did? Right to the top?” Vannis was flabbergasted. He
knew his grandson had it in him, but had not thought he would
bother to prove it. “Excellent! You uphold the Valla record in this
new era.
Hey
,
Valleur!”

Worried
soldiers spilled from their caverns.

“Our Vallorin scaled the Tower to the very
top
!” Vannis crowed out.
Presenting it as fact, to Valleur, proved fact, and there was a
scattering of applause, surreal in the emptiness of the
bowl.

Torrullin
bowed. “Do not ask that I repeat the performance.”

There was
appreciative laughter. They knew how difficult it could be. The
feat, witnessed or not, would be discussed repeatedly and at the
next solstice the challengers would prove their mettle further.
They clamoured around asking for detail and Torrullin complied. It
was, after all, an achievement his people understood. He found
himself ragged and teased and enjoyed the banter, teasing others in
turn. For brief minutes, cares were forgotten.

Vannis was
proud, grinning like a cat with the plumpest mouse.

“My Lord!”
Camot’s voice soared over the laughter, which instantly dissipated.
The troops were, for the moment, more frightened of him. They
vanished as their war leader strode over.

Torrullin lost
all sense of humour. Quilla’s bright gaze went from him to the
Elder and shifted inward. The war leader came to a halt.

“We found
nothing. Not a trace.” Camot’s voice was hoarse and somewhere in
there was fear.

Torrullin’s
heartbeat marked the time of his rising premonition. “Explain
yourself.”

Camot
swallowed. “The last time I personally saw them was last night at a
campfire. A number ate together. This morning it was bedlam, we
packed, doused fires, removed evidence, and I assumed they were in
the confusion. Now there is no trace, not here, not there. Not
tents, a cup, a footprint, as if another swept the ground after we
left. My Lord, something else is at work and I am at a loss to
explain it.”

One of Camot’s
lieutenants approached, nearly wilting under the stare he received
from his war leader.

“Yes?”
Torrullin prompted.

“My Lord, a
soldier informed me two others are absent. Vicke and Renar, tent
mates of Tris and Ty … my Lord.”

Torrullin
indicated his thanks. “It is not a prank, for they would not
involve others.”

“I believe
they were forming bonds.”

“I am happy to hear that, Camot, but I tell you they needed
only each other to pull an elaborate hoax. There
is
something else at
work here.” He paused, and impaled the birdman with his gaze. “I
know you, your turn.” Before Quilla could speak, he noticed Vannis
frowning. “They are not dead!”

Vannis’ eyes
shuttered. If he nearly lost himself upon Raken’s death, he could
only imagine how Torrullin would react to losing his sons.

Torrullin
glared at Quilla.

“Enchanter, I
prefer not to speculate aloud.”

Torrullin drew
breath for calm. “Leave us, all of you. Vannis, you stay.” Everyone
melted away, leaving the two men alone with the diminutive birdman
at the foot of the Tower.

Camot barked
commands and, moments later, the entire troop lined up in
formation.

“Last night
Phet and I wandered the Temple,” Quilla began, stoic under
Torrullin’s eyes. “At one time we exited the eastern portal and
noticed the moon. There was a red ring around the full moon,
Enchanter.”

“A red moon is
not unusual.”

“A red
ring
. That signifies sorcery.”

“Birdman,
explain properly, or I shall banish you. Desist with the
theatrics.”

“There is no need to threaten me, I
am
attempting to
explain.”

“Gods, give
him a direct answer,” Vannis said.

Quilla huffed
and said, “It is sorcery that alters reality - allow me to explain!
There are parallel universes, there are alternate realities. The
red ring indicates such a manipulation is in progress. Akin to the
tweaking of time I am able to achieve, but more so, for it moves
independently afterward. I need return to real time, whereas that
continues onto a new track.”

“You saw this
ring, you knew what it meant, and you did nothing, said nothing?”
Torrullin demanded.

The birdman
appeared ashamed. “Forgive me, my eyes told me it was moisture in
the atmosphere.”

“Yet now you
present it as fact,” Vannis growled.

“I would still
have thought it atmospheric if the twins were here,” Quilla
admitted. “Now the two events go together, and I am afraid they
were drawn into the manipulation.”

Torrullin’s
breath exploded from him. “Who could do this? How do we reverse
it?”

Quilla
shrugged, his tiny face pale.

“Those boys
hide or …” Vannis bit his tongue when Torrullin’s look silenced
him.

“Sorcery can
be undone,” Torrullin stated. “We find the trace and rescue
them.”

“Last night
someone changed reality, Enchanter. This morning four young men are
missing. I tell you now they are not on our world as they know it.
They could be together or separated …”

Torrullin
interrupted the birdman. “What have two others to do with it?”

“Tent mates,
in the wrong company at the wrong time.”

“You believe
this?” Vannis demanded.

Torrullin
retorted, “Put two and two together here and you end up with five,
and what does that tell us? Before I aim to trust it, Valaris will
be thoroughly searched. In the meanwhile, sorcery leaves traces. We
will find them one way or the other.” He raised his voice, “Camot!
Organise eight teams of four and give each an area to search.
Nobody returns until every stone on Valaris has been lifted. Find
my sons.”

“Yes, Lord
Vallorin.”

“Leave the
training ground to me,” Torrullin added. “Camot, wait - did you
happen to see the moon last night?”

“Low in the
west this morning, shortly before sunrise.”

“Carry on.
Vannis?”

“Right beside
you.”

 

 

Morinnes
Camp

 

Torrullin and
Vannis sniffed like bloodhounds as they deliberately paced the
perimeter and narrowed the circle with each circumference.

Vannis halted
beneath the tree where Tymall and his two companions lay, or would
lie, and where Tristamil stumbled to in search of shade at the same
time as his brother. Vannis cocked his head in a listening
attitude. “I thought I heard an echo.”

“They are
calling to me,” Torrullin said after a moment. “What we hear is no
more than residue. They cannot reach us and we cannot reach
them.”

“The birdman
is right.”

“I shall wring
answers from him.” Torrullin took in deep breaths. “We return to
the Tower. Unless Quilla has a solution, there isn’t much we can do
at this point.” One fist was bloodless in an attempt to hold his
rage in check.

“It feels like
abandonment.”

“What it is,
is coercion. The answers lie in the Zone and this ensures we go
there.” Torrullin was grim.

“Then there is
an additional force in play. Everyone else tries to prevent us
going.”

Torrullin’s
lips drew back in a thin smile. “Quilla will know who or what.”

Vannis gripped
Torrullin’s shoulder. “They are alive, son - you have that
knowledge at least. Will you cope with the wait?”

“As you say,
they are not dead, and while I know that I am able to cope with
anything. I will not cease searching for answers, no matter what
lies waiting in that Zone. If …” He bit back the words that would
herald a war of revenge. He locked gazes with Vannis, who nodded,
his hand dropping away.

War. Let it
come anyway, for Raken, and the others.

 

 

Tower of
Stairs

 

“Talk to me,
Q’li’qa’mz.”

Quilla heard
in those words the intent. They were alone in Torrullin’s suite.
“If they were taken, they cannot return without our help.”

“They were
taken and I already know they need our help.”

“What do you
want of me, Torrullin?”

“Another force
is at work here and you know what that is. They are behind the red
ring, and you know who can work that magic.”

“The magic is not of this universe,” Quilla said after a
while, “as my manipulation of time is not. It is of
my
universe, the one the
Q’lin’la left aeons ago. Having said that, I do know something of
the cause and effect, but as to countering and reversing? I admit I
am as much in the dark as you are and that means we have to travel
to the source to aid your sons.”

Quilla paused,
but Torrullin said not a word, and thus the birdman heaved a sigh
and continued. “It means, effectively, someone from my universe
came through the barrier into this one - yes, a new Rift. The
Q’lin’la called them the Kallanon, a race of super-beings. Yes,
Enchanter, the Kallanon are Dragons. They have come as you
foresaw.”

“Nemisin’s
nemesis was not in fact the last of his kind.”

“He was in
this
universe, but not beyond the barrier.”

“Why are you
afraid to speak of them?”

“We are not
likely to mention them aloud for fear of making them real.”

Torrullin
nodded, understanding that. “They came nonetheless. Why?”

“The prophecy.
Once Dragons, now
hidden.
They are aware of this telling.
They are part of it.”

“It transcends
the barrier.”

“It may even
have originated beyond it.”

“Nemisin was
the link?”

“I do not
know, yet I would not hasten to separate that ancient event from
what happens now.”

Torrullin
studied his hands intently. “I need your advice. What do I do
next?”

That cherubic
countenance was serene. “You stay calm, Enchanter, and you go where
you are called to. One way or the other you are now bound to end
this. Vannis was the catalyst between two realities because of the
love he bore his unborn son; you are the catalyst between two
realities because of the love you bear your boys.”

Torrullin
briefly closed his eyes. “I need to know all you can tell me about
these Kallanon.”

Quilla’s
serenity did not falter. “Everything I am able to recall.”

“Thank you. I
need to be alone now.”

The teams
Camot dispatched returned. The war leader headed up to the
Vallorin’s suite to report a negative, and left grim of face.

Torrullin
barely reacted; he sat staring into the wall opposite as if he had
not heard.

 

 

Taranis entered
the dark suite.

Torrullin sat
alone in the dining area, a bottle of solé wine open before him. It
was untouched, he simply sat. The gloom could not hide the
desolation on his face.

He stirred
when Taranis sat down. “I am fine.”

“I’m sorry,
son,” Taranis murmured, dragging the bottle closer.

“They are
needed alive to ensure my co-operation; they will survive
this.”

“What did
Quilla have to say?”

“The twins
were dumped into alternate realities by Kallanon.”

“Never heard
of them.”

“Dragons,
Taranis.”

The solé wine nearly upended. “
Dragons
?”

“Shocking,
isn’t it? I have known about the Dragons for a while, and I knew
the time would come to face them, but I never suspected this.”
Torrullin changed tack. “This venture has become unwieldy. There
are too many involved, too many to protect.”

“You don’t
want to worry over the likes of Skye.”

“Right. You
have organised missions like this.”

“No mission is
ever the same, son. Once there, chances are you will be thankful
for every beating heart you have with you. However, you now have
ninety-six soldiers and Camot, a significant heat signature. The
rest compound it and could lose us stealth. Lose two-thirds of your
fighting force. Place them on standby for Valaris and have them
train others.”

“You think we
will bring the war home?”

“Don’t
you?”

“Perhaps. What
else?” Torrullin reached for the wine and took a pull, thumping the
bottle down. His hands were rock steady.

“Streamline.”

Torrullin
grimaced, “First I need speak to Matt about the heat factor. I want
soldiers and he will need crew. Only then can I cull from the
others.”

“As long as I
go,” Taranis grinned.

“And Vannis.”
Torrullin managed to smile back. “Will you send Caballa in as you
leave? She is outside.”

Taranis rose.
Told to go. Grey eyes stared into grey and Taranis walked out.

His son would
ever be his responsibility, but Torrullin had a barrier between
them, the one erected in childhood when a little boy reasoned out
he was abandoned.

 

 

“Would you send
the Thinnings away?” Caballa murmured as she entered.

“Thundor? You
are here?”

“I am going,”
the little man grumbled and vanished.

“You have good
ears. Sit down.”

She stood
behind him instead. “Remove your tunic.”

“This is not
the time.”

“That is not
why. Take it off.”

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