The Kallanon Scales (8 page)

“Not a
chance.”

“I’m too old?”
she demanded, eyes narrowed.

“Raken, it is
dangerous and, yes, you are too old.” Torrullin smiled to take the
sting out.

Raken stared
at him and swallowed. “I accept that.”

“You hate
it.”

Raken giggled.
“You know me well. Yes, I hate it. In my head I’m still
eighteen.”

“Gods
forbid.”

She gave him
the beady eye. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Man, do you
remember the messes we made at eighteen?”

“Hmm, you have
a point. Torrullin …” Her tone alerted him to the shift in her
thoughts. “Vannis asked years ago if I wanted to reach for
immortality, that he would assist me. He didn’t tell you, did he?
That would admit weakness. I couldn’t imagine going on forever, you
know?”

I do know.
“How did he
react?”

“I think he
was relieved, but now? He will hurt so when I go.”

“Forever is a
long time.”

She mulled
that statement a moment. “Vannis never minded being mortal
again?”

“No, Raken. He
is already had far longer than I and it is, well, it’s tiring.”

“Does Taranis
feel the same?”

“I think so.”
Torrullin glanced at his father, who engaged Krikian.

“Raken, come
eat!” Vannis called out, chewing up a storm. “Torrullin, stop
filling my wife’s head with subversive thoughts!”

Raken grinned
and, after squeezing Torrullin’s hand, went to sit close to her
man, her eyes soft on him. He reacted to it by kissing her
soundly.

Shep Lore was
blissfully unaware as he ate with relish. Purple and good food, for
Shep. Lycea grinned, pushing a plate of broiled shrimp at him,
which he set to immediately. It had been a good idea to get away
from the Keep.

After lunch
Torrullin rose.

“What do we
have? One, a prophecy, two, a mysterious map, and three, two dream
messages. This is sufficient to set the alarum ringing and thus we
need discover where this takes us and why. We need know whom or
what prevented this before. Why were people killed? We have to
consider ourselves in similar danger, thus be wary. On the
flip-side, dream prompts are often from an outside influence - it
may be others work towards uncovering this mystery. We must be
watchful, caught as we may be in the middle of a situation not of
our making. We will now unravel Taranis’ dreams and see what it
gifts us in clarity.”

The Guardian
filled them in; thus far Torrullin and Krikian had heard it in its
entirety, and Quilla earlier, who then suggested Krikian’s
involvement.

Vannis showed
no reaction. Raken watched her husband. From him she took her cue,
listening in silence. The twins watched their father and he watched
them. Lycea sat with Shep, both with faraway gazes.

Krikian rose
as Taranis sat on the grass. He bowed to his Vallorin. “My Lord, I
am honoured to be here.”

Torrullin
inclined his head.

“The two
dreams are connected. The colour red appears in both and signifies
danger, heat or war. I am inclined to all three or any combination
of two. A red marble could be a hot planet, a red rock could be
danger and together they signify war. A red marble in white chips
is a hot planet in a bright galaxy. This is an entirely different
system, not close. An empty pond smacks of it being ignored. Now we
come to what or who. Harvestmen in a bleaker field, harvestmen are
arachnids …”

“Mysor,”
Tymall murmured.

“Exactly. The
bleaker is their main source of food. The Mysor appear to expect
something - change, trouble, even evolution? Perhaps
starvation.”

“As simple as
a rescue mission?” Torrullin pondered.

“Of the
Mysor?” Taranis said. “Unlikely.”

“A rescue
mission over nine thousand years in the making, if Rees is to be
believed?” Vannis snorted. “I think not.”

Krikian
glanced from one to the other and saw he needed to continue. “There
is another pointer, this time to position. The giant star that
almost blinded is a twofold image. One, it is recognisable
astronomically and two, it is a warning. To look upon this system
is regarded as trespass.”

“Which
connects us neatly to the Forbidden Zone,” Quilla said.

“Mysor
territory,” Taranis muttered.

“With
far-flung, forgotten galaxies and a bright star or two,” Quilla
added.

Raken
shivered.

“In fact,” and
Quilla glanced apologetically at Krikian, “I knew the Zone before
it was declared Forbidden. There are a number of galaxies, and a
greater variety of solar systems. Among those there was a giant
star, brighter than any in the known universe.”

“Do you know
its location?”

“It has been
an extraordinary long time, Enchanter.”

“Carry on,
Krikian,” Torrullin said.

The younger
man hesitated. “Next there is this beam that transforms into a blue
cylinder. It is not Mysor, it has another origin …” He paused and
glanced at Taranis.

“Like another
race?” Taranis supplied. “In the Forbidden Zone?”

“That is how I
see it. This race has the power to alter reality, they are
technologically advanced …”

“… or
sorcerous,” Tymall breathed.

“Just so,
young lord. And golden.”

Torrullin’s
eyes narrowed and Vannis’ head swung in a slow arc. “Valleur?”

“Gold reflects
goodness, my Lord Vallorin,” Krikian replied. “A good race. Maybe
Valleur, maybe not even close.”

“I thought
gold reflects greed,” Tymall said.

“And sometimes
it means simply wealth,” Krikian nodded. “The trick is to take it
in context. The admonishing finger says not to lose sight of what
is important, and what appears paramount is the parchment. It links
the dreams. Lord Taranis is distracted by his surroundings, he
loses sight of what is important. Both times he is punished, first
falling into the void, then the dust storm. That is a clear
warning. The danger, it says, is great if we do not follow the
path.”

“What path?”
Taranis asked.

“The map is
the path. The giant star is the mapmaker. Find the star and the
system and you may not need a physical map.”

“That was
insightful, thank you.” Torrullin said.

“The map was
in Valleur,” Taranis said.

“You
are
thinking the golden hand is Valleur,” Tymall stated. “It may
prove only that the Valleur knew the region inside the Forbidden
Zone.”

“Tymall has a
point,” Quilla murmured.

“Krikian, what
are named circles in a dream?” Torrullin asked.

“Planets, my
Lord Vallorin.”

“Taranis?”

“I saw named
circles on the parchment with lines connecting them. I managed to
read two before my gaze fell on directional arrows in the left
corner, with names beside them.”

Tymall asked,
“What would arrows signify?”

“Positioning
of galaxies,” Vannis said, rising to stretch. “Look on any star
map.”

“Rees had it right,” Tristamil said. “Ley lines
and
star
chart.”

Tymall
grinned. “And maybe he had it right about treasure also.”

“Treasure,
son, may not be gold and riches,” Torrullin said. “It may be
knowledge and we may wish we never know what we find.”

Raken glared.
“Torrullin, if you know something …”

“Suspect,
Raken. I need confirmation.” Torrullin faced Quilla. “You know the
galaxies. Somewhere there must be a link.”

“I can list to
kingdom come and never confirm anything. Give me names and I shall
add those I know to be in proximity.”

Taranis said,
“I saw only one. I was drawn to it for it is known for another
reason. Dantian.”

Vannis said, “
Dantian
?”

Dantian, as in a name of a person, was Ardosia’s fourth
Vallorin, captured by Margus beyond the Rift to use as leverage
against Vannis. Dantian died in the caves of the Steps Mountains, a
Valla missed by the majority of the Valleur in Menllik, for they
once knew him as their ruler. His name meant
Rift Breaker
.

“That galaxy
is not known to me. It must be a changed name,” Quilla
murmured.

Taranis
remained silent. Dantian, he knew, died by Torrullin’s hand.

“What have we
learned?” Vannis snapped.

“This is about the Mysor and Forbidden Zone
and
we know the name of
the giant star,” Taranis said. “Tennet.”

Quilla
murmured, “That is the name of the star I mentioned earlier.”

“
Tennet
means
encompassing
embrace
,” Tristamil said. “Another Valleur
word.”

“I also saw
‘Urac’,” Taranis said.

“Not Valleur,”
Vannis said. He sounded relieved.

“It’s Siric,” Taranis returned. “Means
birdsong
.”

Shep Lore
giggled.

Torrullin
inhaled a few times and his tension eased away. What would be would
be. “It tells us nothing of why and it doesn’t tell us who or what
would kill to keep this secret. No Mysor will come here to silence
this, of that I am certain.”

Taranis
nodded. “Mysor have no sorcery.”

“And we are
back where we started,” Vannis grumbled.

Torrullin
said, “Taranis, we need bring Bartholamu on board.” Bartholamu was
the Siric leader. “Vannis, we need study the Oracles for that
taliesman and mention of Tennet.”

“Doable.”

“Lycea and
Raken, Aven’s papers are at the Keep. I will transfer them to the
Palace for you to work through. Anything you heard here today comes
up, I want to know about it. Shep will help you.”

“Great,
paper-pushing,” Raken muttered, but nodded.

“Krikian, I
would like you to remain at the Keep. Your insight may aid us
again. Further, we need an astronomer. I hear you have connections
with the spaceport at Two Town.”

Krikian rose
and bowed. “You do me honour, Lord Vallorin. I know of a young
woman who visits Menllik from Xen III. She is an astronomer seeking
to learn magic. She teaches us about this universe, and we teach
her.”

“Is she on
Valaris now?”

“Due to
arrive.”

“Arrange a
meeting and I will convince her to help us.”

“Enchanter,
the why lies in the prophecy,” Quilla remarked.

“And thus we
will dismantle it word by word.”

Raken and
Lycea began clearing away. “Torrullin, folk were killed for knowing
about this map. If it continues …” Raken said, standing with
tablecloth in one hand.

“Point taken.
Shep and Krikian, fetch Kisha and Kylan to safety first. They may
need convincing. Kylan trusts in the Forest.”

“He is right,”
Taranis murmured.

“And something
may breach those defences,” Torrullin said. “Shep, use magic to
make Kylan leave if you have to. Vannis, the guards at the
Palace?”

Vannis was
sombre. “I aim to impress urgency upon them.”

Silence came
then and gradually everyone dispersed.

Festoon the
mundane! Transform it for the feast! Be gaudy, be base!

~ Tattle’s
Blunt Adventures

The Keep

T
he courtyard was
transformed.

The mosaic
pool sported a broad bridge, the fountain festooned with porcelain
fishes, and the mermaid statue held a lantern in each hand.

Lanterns
suspended from cross wires. Silk hangings adorned the walls. It was
gaudy and colourful, but the whole was eminently festive.

The staff
prepared the Throne-room as well. Trestle tables were in place
along the perimeter as space for gifts. Flowers adorned the
benches. At the foot of the dais was long table from the conference
centre in Menllik. Two wooden chairs faced it and the Throne.

Torrullin
commissioned the chairs specifically for the Coming-of-Age
ceremony. Crafted from a single chunk of wood, each seat was a work
of art. The wood was from a rare tree, the pluntin from an
abandoned Valleur world. Each chair was suffused with an amber
glow, an inherent property of pluntin.

The carpenter
enhanced the natural glow to a polished sheen by buffing it
countless times with a wax extract from the silverthorn bush, which
possessed magical properties also.

Each young
man’s name was engraved into the backrests in Valleur glyphs.

Beside the
chairs stood gold urns, and behind them identical pillars of
pluntin, eight feet in height topped with shallow golden dishes.
The entire ensemble rested on a circular mat.

The Throne was
unadorned, but a similar pillar rose from behind it, topped with a
golden bowl, and a giant urn of purest platinum rested
adjacent.

The festive
bustle greeted them when they returned. Torrullin raised eyes
heavenward and indicated his study. The twins nodded and followed,
but studied preparations with interest. Vannis trailed to climb the
courtyard stairs with measured tread.

He took the
women to the Palace and had a word with his guard commander. Lycea
was in a huff, but Raken would sort her out. Torrullin transferred
Aven’s papers, as he climbed the stairs. Boxed and bound, they
shifted easily. Taranis and Quilla would construct a map from dream
and memory, and headed out to Moor to Taranis’ cottage.

The Oracles, ten volumes of history and magic pertaining to
the Ancient Valleur, waited in the study when the four entered. It
was
the
Valleur
treasure. Vannis immersed himself without a further
word.

Torrullin
shook his head, not in the mood for the Oracles. He turned to his
sons and indicated the battlements.