The Kallanon Scales (69 page)

Not good,
Teighlar thought. The creature possessed terrible power if he could
do that to an Enchanter - how much more with the Taliesman? He
began to move stealthily along the perimeter. There was one circle,
a deep indigo, near the opposite exit, that nullified all magic in
the chamber.

It was a
fail-safe instituted by Senlu magicians to counter an experimental
spell if it went haywire or became too dangerous. If he could reach
it, he could bring them to an equal footing, himself included. They
would surrender their power for a time, but so too the Dragon.

Time enough
for Torrullin to wake from that dead-man-slump.

Caltian
recovered by degree. With Neolone’s attention on the Vallorin, the
sorcery bypassed him. He realised Teighlar was about something and
thus sought to draw the attention. His mind shouted for Torrullin
to recover.

Gods, the
Dragon was still growing, how large would it get? Caltian whistled
a mischievous tune - one that boosted his morale as well - and
scuttled across the floor on all fours, a smaller target, away from
Teighlar and the cage.

Neolone
laughed. “Some things are common to all, no matter the divide,” and
he began to whistle along with Caltian, taunting, sure of himself,
and paced towards the Valleur.

Crap.
“Please,” Caltian groaned, “stop! You cannot hold a tune!” His
sword lay under his fingers. He coughed and spat loudly, retrieved
it and rose.

Neolone
stomped closer, his head swinging this way and that, and then he
halted in consternation. He bellowed, and froze.

Teighlar had
lightly touched the dot.

All magic
ceased.

The cage
vanished.

The Dragon
shrank rapidly and it was truly reassuring.

Caltian stared
at the blade in his hands, feeling empty.

Torrullin
stirred and sat up groggily. Recollection flooded in. He bounded up
before standing there unmoving with his mouth agape.

Strength
returned, but magic fled.

Rarely had he
been so astonished.

Teighlar
laughed. “Relax, it is a temporary condition, and are we not lost
without our sorcery? Imagine feeling this ordinary all the time.
The magic in this chamber is on hold and it will give us time to
rethink. Yon Dragon took us by surprise.”

Torrullin
looked around, still bemused, and alighted on the shrinking form of
Neolone. Furious Neolone. “What happened?”

“He took your
will when he made his bid for freedom.”

“Genius of
him. Thank the gods you were here and thank the Senlu for this
chamber or we would now be lost.”

Teighlar
inclined his head.

“He grew
pretty big before Teighlar removed power, bigger even than Abdiah,”
Caltian muttered. “He had no real form, though, only voice and
intent.”

“We cannot
touch him until he is solid,” Torrullin mused, “but he cannot harm
us until then either.”

“But he can
paralyse us,” Caltian pointed out.

“And get to
the coin, and do harm,” Teighlar added.

Torrullin
scrubbed at his face. “We need figure how to retain what he
saps.”

“He has
different power, Torrullin. I think the Taliesman will prevent
it.”

“That protects
only me.”

“Then Caltian
needs stay in physical contact with you.”

“Caltian
cannot fight holding onto me.” Torrullin was thoughtful. “Do you
trust in your destiny, Caltian?”

“I do.”

“Do you truly
believe this particular killing is for you to do?”

“The gods help
me, yes.”

“Then I must
give the Taliesman to you.”

“What? I would
not know what to do with it.” Caltian was pale.

“You give it
back … after.”

Caltian was
horrified.

Teighlar
glared at him. “It makes perfect sense, Valleur.”

“I guess.”

Torrullin
remained in the crucible. He glanced down at his feet. A glittering
pile of tools lay gathered there.

“It is not
there in this state, it is double-cloaked,” Teighlar murmured.

Torrullin was
grim. “Many ifs and buts here, Emperor. Not only can he hear this
plan,” Neolone indeed listened intently, “but you will be
unprotected. He knows you now and he is nothing if not
spiteful.”

“The cage will
lift quickly and you two will draw his attention. I see no other
way, do you? Get the coin and I am safe.”

“Timing is of
the essence,” Torrullin murmured. “Gods, is there no way to restart
the cycle from inside the crucible?”

Teighlar
sighed. “Torrullin, stop.” He approached to stand on the rim of the
depression. “Get the coin that gifts you ultimate control,
concentrate on that. Caltian will do his part and I mine. Agreed?
The dots require physical touch, my friend, particularly when the
devotee has lost magic.”

Their planning
was for naught. The tiny listening form jumped into the depression
with Torrullin, sat atop the heap of magical tools, and looked up
in challenge.

Torrullin
stared at Neolone, who stared back. Magic removed, they could not
communicate, but did not require it. With or without words, the
situation was clear.

Torrullin
swore soundly under his breath, looking away.

Metal clinked
as the Dragon shifted in amusement.

Metal
clinked.

Torrullin
focused his gaze on the Dragon. Small, ethereal, it should have no
impact on anything solid, and did. He hunkered until he was at its
level. He stared unblinkingly at the strange form. Neolone stared
back. Torrullin dropped his hand into the pile of tools and moved
them casually, Neolone did not look away, but a slow blink
signified he understood. Torrullin then reached out and passed his
hand through the ethereal form.

Again Neolone
did not move.

The Dragon
based his freedom form on a manipulation of matter, which was how
he sapped will. If he knew where the Taliesman was right now, he
could take it and the game would be over. He was not to even
guess.

Torrullin
laughed. “You want to mess with me, you snivelling piece of
transparent snot? I do not retreat from a challenge. You
pre-empted, hooray. The challenge fires me! You think you are
stronger - I say you are scared.” The two glared at each other.
“All bets are off, Neolone, but you knew that, did you not? You
knew I would not come this far to be controlled by the likes of
you, as you knew I was not ever interested in controlling you. It
was live or die, you or me, and then you heard an interesting
titbit, didn’t you? You heard you could not kill me.” The
unblinking stare intensified.

“What is he
talking about?” Caltian whispered.

“A Walker of
Realms is immune to death,” Teighlar replied, stating it
clearly.

The Dragon
swivelled to look up at the Senlu Emperor.

“So?” Caltian
said. “My Lord Vallorin is immortal.”

Teighlar
stared at the Dragon. “Not just any immortal.”

“You sought to
control me,” Torrullin said, forcing Neolone to turn back to him.
“This show of mastery was to bring that about. Without control, you
are dead. All your ages would mean exactly nothing.”

Neolone was
unmoving.

“Do you even
know why you chose me to get to this point? Beyond prophecies and
immortality?”

“Teighlar,
gods, stop him incensing the creature,” Caltian murmured.

Teighlar shook
his head. “When removing magic, I knew two things were likely. One,
we come up with a plan to outwit this thing long enough to take
possession of the Taliesman or, two, Torrullin finds a different
power. He appears to be doing that.”

“He was
paralysed, as I was! What different strength, for god’s sake?”

“Yon Dragon
knew that would not last long, which is why he moved so fast.”

Torrullin went on. “Neolone, who am I? Dragon? Yes, but that
was a reflection of you. Vallorin? Yes, but that will not help me
now, not here. Destroyer? Gods, yes, but I am not going to pander
to you by bringing him forth. Enchanter? Is that not simply a term
that encompasses all the former?
What else
am I?
”

Caltian
groaned. He was a brave man, but he was decidedly out of his
depth.

Teighlar
smiled and his expression was anticipatory.

“I have had a
long road.” Torrullin paused and leaned in close and whispered only
for Neolone’s ears. “Far, far longer than yours.”

Neolone reared
back and spat.

“I am the One,
Dragon,” Torrullin said, straightening. “And I know you know what
that means. Time for showdown, I believe.”

“Lord
Vallorin?”

“Caltian, do
not look so worried.”

“I do not
understand.”

“I do,”
Teighlar said. “I wish I had it. I am an Enchanter because I am
able to create and destroy and there is alternative magic I am able
to employ, but that is all I am. The Imperial Seat does not infuse
me with more, be it knowledge or power, and I have not carried evil
with me, unless you care to count the burden of my deeds. Such a
weight of evil requires a counter-balance and it resides in
Torrullin along with all else. I do not have the power of the
Light, but he does.”

“Like
Tris?”

“Like my son, yes,” Torrullin said. “Tris, however, has
always walked in the Light and therefore is his power pure, and
weaker. It will grow in strength as he is tested, for the Light is
strong, exceptionally so, when tested against the Dark. I have
delved into all ways, sometimes into the pits of the netherworld
and I have been evil incarnate.” Torrullin, Caltian realised,
explained for Neolone’s benefit, to unsettle him. “The Light I
carry, when I acknowledge and seek to use it, becomes a gift from
the universe herself, and it is destructive in its purity and
strength. Tris is Light, but I
wield
Light, and that is why Neolone
has decided, wisely, to run at last.”

Sure enough,
the creature scrabbled out of the depression, throwing frightened
glances over its shoulder.

Caltian
laughed and immediately sobered. “But you have no magic now.”

“The Light
does not require it.” Torrullin turned as Neolone attained the exit
and lifted one hand and shouted, “Come back here!”

The Dragon,
clearly, could not deny the command. He slinked back.

“The Light
is,” Torrullin murmured and pointed at his feet. “Come!”

It was not the
Dragon he commanded then, but the Taliesman. A small gold coin
erupted from the metal mixture of tools to settle into his hand. He
gave a triumphant smile and raised it high.

Neolone
instantly grew to his true size and took on solidity. He reared up
on powerful hind legs and his scales glittered purple in the rosy
light. He snarled and it was loud, encompassing, and powerless. He
had no magic and his fire had been so long doused it would not now
respond to him.

Torrullin took
the coin between his fingers, presented the golden circle with its
leaping Dragon to Neolone, and said, “You and it are revealed,
together at last, but both are pretty ordinary, not so? I could
give this to you and it would be as nothing.”

Neolone was
not done. The lack of power did not negate his physical being. He
bellowed again and leapt at Teighlar, lifting him, crushing the man
to his massive chest.

“The Emperor
will return the magic or die! I shall have my Taliesman!” he
shouted and the cavern trembled with sound. “Tell him to obey,
Enchanter!”

“The Light is
stronger than magic, you fool,” Torrullin whispered. “What would
you gain?”

“You have no
idea, do you, Torrullin?” Neolone hissed. “I have the Dark! With or
without magic! Let us level the battlefield!”

“Let us battle
as we are, Dragon. We are already on equal footing, are we
not?”

Neolone hissed
breaths and then, “I want the Taliesman!”

“Teighlar,
trust me, please,” Torrullin said softly, and added, “No deal,
Neolone.”

Teighlar
groaned, legs twitching. Alive, Caltian thought, still with a
chance.

“Then the
Senlu Emperor dies!”

In his
ferocity, the great blue creature from the abyss crushed Teighlar
to him and hideous sounds of bones cracking and breaking
reverberated. Teighlar screamed once, a wail of pure agony, and
slumped lifeless in Neolone’s great forepaws. The Dragon hissed and
tossed the figure aside like a rag-doll. Teighlar hit the floor
with a meaty thud and lay as he fell, without movement, without
even the tiniest sound from within that broken form.

Caltian stared
in appalled shock before his long simmering resentment roiled. He
gripped his sword with renewed courage and greater intent and began
to stalk the terrible creature.

“Stupid move, Dragon,” Torrullin said, with all his will not
looking at the Emperor’s lifeless form. “Now who is to reverse the
magic?”
All gods, I hope I can heal
him.
From mistrust had come complete trust
in the Senlu, and the beginnings of friendship, drawn together as
two like minds. Teighlar did not deserve to die at this creature’s
hand, at the hands of a destiny not his own.

Neolone
reached for Caltian, seeing him stalk, but Caltian was furious and
fearless. He lifted his blade two-handed and sliced the Dragon’s
left claw hand off, shouting out his rage, and then prepared to
swing again, but Neolone screeched and retreated.

“Check on
Teighlar,” Torrullin murmured and followed Neolone. “We finish
this, Dragon. I am sick of you.”

Caltian knelt
beside the Senlu, fingers searching for a pulse.

“You will miss
me, Enchanter,” Neolone whispered in a hoarse, pained voice,
holding his stump. Blood dripped noisily to the paved floor.

“Yes, at
first,” Torrullin murmured. He had not drawn his sword, but held
the Taliesman closed in his right fist, holding it before him as a
weapon. “But I do not need you, I have never needed you.”