The Kallanon Scales (37 page)

Cat glanced at
her brother. “Are you getting this?” He shook his head.

“My sons were
not kidnapped, they were removed to an alternate plane to force my
compliance, to bring the Dragon to the taliesman. The magic is
unique to the Kallanon - Quilla and his kind hail from the Kallanon
realm. That same sorcery preserved us earlier. We have a host
awaiting us and you need be aware of that.”

Matt asked,
“Why you, Torrullin?”

Grey eyes
lifted. “I am who I am.”

Cat frowned.
“You asked us to go into danger and now we find the danger is
greater than you realised. Things change, often not for the better,
but we deserve to know as much as you can tell us, for us to aid
you. Your sons vanished, folk murdered, and we’re hurtling through
space towards this, for what? Tell me why, Torrullin.”

“Have you not
joined the dots, Cat? I am the One.”

“What is the
One?”

“The One is,
above all, a Walker of Realms.”

Vannis
swore.

“No,” Taranis
denied.

“Rifts are no
barrier. I can take this Dragon and wing him home or I can bring
millions here to war upon my command. The Murs would prevent me
achieving freedom for this creature, because they know what the One
is. The Kallanon may desire it for the same reason. If I control
the Dragon, or it controls me, then nothing matters anymore.”

“Moses,” Matt
said. “They are afraid of you, there in Tennet. They are more
afraid of you than they are of the Dragon you carry.”

“The fear is
equal.”

Phet murmured,
“The Kallanon are the enigmas here. They were both darak and lumin
sorcerers in the Q’lin’la latter days. The question we ask is
whether we shall find Dragons of the Light or not. We dare not
swoop in prepared to kill, only to realise they are there to help
us.”

“Dare we take
the risk?” Matt said.

“Act now,
regret later?” Phet spluttered. “Such is not the way!”

Taranis rose
and leaned onto the table. He glowered at his son. “None of the
Walker of Realms crap from you. That is a myth and I am not
discussing it further. Maybe there is Lumin power in Tennet, but if
those Kallanon are darak fallen, they await this Dragon for
purposes clear to me. A Dragon who knows this universe inside-out,
all cultures, the history, the power, the weak and the possible
obstacles to rule. What a gift he is to Dragons of Darkness. This
is why there are Kallanon in the Tennet system and we would do well
to act on that premise.”

“Taranis.”

“Torrullin, I
refuse to lose you to this!”

Torrullin
stared at his father.

Confrontation
was due, between father and son.

Camot rose.
“My Lord, with your permission, I believe we have heard all we need
to hear here.” Camot headed for the door, and Krikian left as well.
Bartholamu glanced at his Guardian leader’s white face and decided
he was not required. He took the Xenians with him, overriding their
protests.

“You are not
going to lose me.”

“Because I
have you not,” Taranis whispered.

Phet sent his
Enchanter a despairing look, which went unnoticed, and exited in
silence. Vannis and Quilla looked at each other, but neither
prepared to leave.

“That is a
strange thing to say, father.”

“Father. Yes,
sometimes you call me that, but in your heart, I am Taranis, Dome
Leader. You keep me at a distance.”

“Unfair.”

“I am there
for you, I do as you ask, and more, but never do you confide in
me.”

Torrullin
rose. “I am too tired to think this through now.”

“And thus you
do it again. What is there to think through, for pity’s sake? Be
honest!”

“You love my
wife, Taranis!”

Taranis
straightened. “Ah, twenty-six years later we get to it.”

Torrullin
inhaled sharply. “Get out.” He did not mean Taranis.

Quilla and
Vannis decided to obey that directive.

“It isn’t
Saska that stands between us,” Torrullin said when they were alone.
“She is a convenient symptom. The real issue is six thousand
missing years.”

“Bull. You
accepted that on Silas, you know it and I know it. Don’t use it as
a crutch now.”

“What do you
want from me?”

“Truth. Your
confidence. Trust. A real connection.”

Grey eyes
bored into grey. “It is there. I don’t know how to show it, not to
you.”

“Why?” Taranis
whispered.

“Because then
you must know all, and you cannot live with it.”

“What must I
know?”

“Who I really
am and what I am capable of. You cannot bear the thought of a
Walker, how will you accept the rest? I love you too much to hurt
you with reality.”

Taranis shook
his head. “You underestimate me.”

“Do I? You quickly denied me earlier. I am able to pass
through the barriers and it scares you. I have not assaulted them,
I know not the science and the magic behind it, but I know I am
able. I feel it inside. I dream it. I see it. You are afraid of
losing me physically to another realm, which is possible, but you
are more afraid of losing your son on the spiritual plane, and that
can
never
come to
pass. No distance, no time, no barrier can ever sever the
connection, I swear it.”

“And if you
die?”

Torrullin
closed his eyes. “Not likely.”

“Son, what are
you really holding back? Can you tell me?”

Torrullin’s
eyes opened and they were steady and sad. “Forgive me, but I
cannot.”

Taranis
sighed, shrugged. “And we go on.”

“I am
sorry.”

Taranis
shrugged again. “About Saska.”

“Defensive on
my part.”

A nod. “You
mustn’t trust any of this.”

“I find it
extremely hard to trust a Dragon, do not worry.”

Perhaps you
should talk to one, Enchanter, for Dragons do not lie.

Torrullin
paled.

“Son?”

“Taranis,”
Torrullin mumbled, “go now, please.”

Taranis’
concern grew into anxiety and then sullen disappointment. “As you
wish,” he said and walked out, leaving the door open.

In the
corridor, Vannis and Quilla gazed after Taranis’ retreating form,
and turned to see Torrullin pale at the head of the empty table. As
they took a step toward the open doorway, his hand lifted.

The door swung
shut and could not be opened.

You turn too much to others, Enchanter. Know your mind and
follow it.
The tone was laconic.
Elders aside, the Vallorin’s word is law. Nemisin
knew that.

Torrullin sat.
“That you, Dragon?”

In your
flesh.

“You can
speak.”

The time has
come, yes, to answer your questions. My name is Neolone.

Torrullin barked a laugh.
“You are
Time’s Timekeeper. I should have known.”

The prophecy
is mine.

That gave
Torrullin pause.

The Guardian
said it well, Enchanter. I know all and learned to take the long
view. I have been in symbiosis with Vallorins for near eternity - a
telling was simple. Writing in the dead of night, where I used my
host’s unconscious digits to do my bidding. The priests were my
innovation as well, a whisper that grew in that Vallorin’s mind.
They were entrusted with the secret, the prophecy and the
taliesman.

“Why?”

To be ready,
Enchanter. For you. Unluckily, the sect became powerful and fled,
taking with them the means to fulfilment. It is how it is now and
the wheel has turned. You and I are exactly where meant to be.

“Exactly where
is that?”

Here.
Destiny.

Torrullin rose
and paced to the Mysor map. He clasped his hands behind his back,
for he desired to rip his tunic apart to view the Dragon and would
not give it the satisfaction.

A chuckle sounded in his mind.
I am
able to read you.

“That was the
last time.”

Indeed?

There came an
interlude as Torrullin stared at the map.

It appears you
have foiled me. I am impressed.

A cold smile. “
Do not mess with me,
Neolone.”

You are more
than Nemisin was.

“Monsters of
worlds. What is it you meant?”

Depends on
your point of view. There is no one answer.

Torrullin
turned from the map. “Tell me this, then. Why were my sons
removed?”

It has
something to do with the swords they will wield.

“To slay
monsters?”

I cannot
say.

“You claim to
have spoken this prophecy.”

As it was
seen, Enchanter. I do not claim to understand it.

“How do you
answer my questions, Dragon, without understanding?”

You desire to
know what awaits you in the Tennet system. There are Valleur,
war-like, protective of the taliesman. They are the descendants of
the priests, but whether they recognise your authority as Vallorin,
you the bearer of their nemesis, I cannot say. They uphold the
ancient way and yet crucial concepts are set aside, for protection
they claim, while some went into sectarian hiding. Did you know
they were there when the rest of the Valleur settled for a time in
the Zone? They remained hidden, turning their backs on blood kin
and heritage both. Strange, but they believed they were wholly
right. They did the same when the Siric came. Of course, there are
Siric there again, this time the Murs, but these were welcomed for
the protection they afforded the taliesman.

“How do you
know this?”

I can do no
more than watch and listen, as the Q’lin’la once did, but I do see,
hear and analyse, guess and read between the lines.

“What of the
Mysor?”

Slaves. Strong
and blindly obedient. Do not underestimate them.

“Kallanon?”

Yes. I do not know which Dragons, or even if they are
Dragons. Could be Dragonnes.
He ended with
a sneering tone.

“Why the
melding?”

I was trapped
in this universe.

“That is not
sufficient reason.”

Nemisin
thought it reason enough. Immortality?

“Nemisin
already discovered the Rituals by the time you approached him. You
had that choice before you.”

Touché,
Enchanter. I entered this reality long after Nemisin’s time and
sought the Q’lin’la. I was to force them back into our realm, but
it did not transpire, and thus I sought other avenues, thereby
finding a host of tellings about a man who would arise in the
future. The mythical One. He would release the Q’lin’la. How could
I tell Nemisin about birdmen, I ask?

“Ages would
pass.”

The birdmen
were my original mission and it was entrusted to me to see it done.
Though I understood my reality would be altered when I returned, I
was unable to turn my back on that. I needed to await Q’lin’la true
form and the one who can pierce barriers, and it transpires you are
at the root of both.

“You aim to
take the Q’lin’la back. I cannot allow that.”

See how
valuable they are? Worlds move for their knowledge. If my Dragons
have come, they may change the way of it. It may be unnecessary
today to again use the birdmen.

“You altered
the future, Neolone, in crossing time the way you did.”

The Q’lin’la
changed it in coming into this realm. The Kallanon would never have
followed if not for them. No prophecy would reveal a taliesman that
could never exist. I merely gave the Vallorinship unassailable
power, the rest was incidental. Nemisin had already seen the One.
That future would happen without me and thus I changed little. You,
on the other hand, have tweaked almost as much as the Q’lin’la.

“Untrue.”

Neolone laughed.
Maybe, maybe
not.

“You seek to control
me
.”

Yes! The
taliesman is immaterial to your person. You are the one able to
survive its destruction. You are dangerous to me, a creator, but
with the taliesman, I am able to control you.

“For the
Kallanon realm. Whoever reigns.”

I would become
High King.

A Dragon was as nothing without territory, and this one
wanted all of it. “
We head for
war.”

I look forward
to it. Every defence you conceive places you more in my power. The
time has come to separate. I need to rest now. I return to silence
for a time, but you may ask a final question.

“My sons,
Dragon.”

The twin war
gods. They will return once they walk the gauntlet of their natures
in other realities. Such is the nature of the manipulation. I have
myself been through the gauntlet. There is no magic to bring them
out. When they know what they are, freedom will come. I speak true,
Enchanter. They will return to wherever you are, for you are the
beacon that calls. When they do, a word of advice - beware. The
telling does not state war gods lightly. Remember, Enchanter, you
have the duty of choosing, this you must do or all will fail.

The Dragon was
silent.

~ Monsters of
worlds

Jungle
Valaris

V
icke and Renar found running water
and it was the sweetest nectar.

Sated, they
flopped onto the bank beside the stream and fell into twitching
slumber. The nightmares began immediately.

Tymall’s
visions spilled into the waking world, but were worse behind closed
lids. Every time he shut his eyes something waited, watching,
taunting, and sometimes it hounded him openly, sometimes it stalked
with great stealth, and he knew not which was worse.

This time it
was the ethereal blue creature. She was the gentler of his
monsters. Perhaps a recuperating drink lessened the impact of a
feverish mind. He whimpered in his sleep, but it went unheard.