The Sleeper Sword (34 page)

A longer
period of silence ensued and down the row the guard was ever more
uncomfortable. He knew basic sorcery and his senses told him that
the silence was unnatural. He wished he could have heard what
caused it, then, upon reflection, was relieved he had not. He
discovered he was ready to run.

“Why would I
take you back?” Torrullin asked, and followed immediately with,
“Thus your promise to remain here was empty? What has happened to
your word?”

“I promised to
remain when you found the doorway. I did not promise to stay
forever.”

“I aim to seal
it from the other side. You would be trapped.”

“Come, you’d
never leave me here. Protect the innocent and all that.”

“Devious.”

“I am who I
am.”

“You figured
all this before I degraded myself?”

“I wasn’t
thinking then. After, I understood you wouldn’t leave me here.”

“Beyond that,
there was the little matter of your ace.”

“Yes.”

“Your promise
was empty.”

“I would have
kept it as I saw it.”

Torrullin
pushed away from the wall. “Why do I need you on Valaris?”

“I was part of
him for a long time. I know how his mind works.”

“As do I.”

“No,
Torrullin, you had your head in the sand where he was concerned.
You loved him and overlooked his worst.”

“I did not
know which of my sons harboured …”

“Exactly. Thus you did not know him, could not know him. You
do
not
know him.
In the end you were merely reacting and mostly in anger and
disappointment as a father, not Enchanter.”

Torrullin
looked away. “There is hard, unpalatable truth in what you say.” He
returned his yellow gaze to his enemy. “Will you tell me how his
mind works, is that it? You aim to be with me against him? Now
you’re stretching it beyond rational belief.”

“We’re not
rational creatures. We operate on instincts and levels that reach
beyond the rational. Our minds may deduce, employ magic, but, in
the end, at the most pivotal point, instinct sails forth to rule
us. Mine led me here, to this pivotal point. I hate you, but I also
like and respect you … love you … gods, yes, that’s it, isn’t it?
Love and hate, closely intertwined.”

Torrullin
grimaced. “Don’t flatter yourself in thinking I return it.”

Margus
shrugged. “I’m not asking. All I’m saying, by way of irrational
explanation, is I want to remain in your realm, preferably with you
and at your side. As I desired in death, for the two of us, thus in
life, when life is all we have. What you did for me the other night
- it decided me. The question was, with you or against you? And the
answer, with you, Torrullin, and if assisting you against your son
is what it takes, I am prepared to do so. You may yet need me for
that.”

“I don’t need
help.”

“Torrullin,
think. What threat do you suppose will assail Valaris? What is it
only you are able to counter? What, no, who, will need to vent
vengeance on your world and your people? It is not me, I am here.
We both know it’s not simply a desire to reconnect with family that
spurs you home; you are greater than emotional ties. It is not the
desire to hold your wife again, although I have no doubt it is a
part. I have said before emotion is your weakness, but here, now,
it is not as simple as that. You seek to re-enter Valaris space and
time because they have need of your talents. You know this. Yet let
us examine emotion and ties, for, at your pivotal moment, are you
able to … cancel … your son. You’d be vulnerable and we both know
this. Will you possess the necessary to invalidate Tymall?”

“Yes.” But
Torrullin was ashen.

“And if murder
is the only way? He is not immortal. Are you able to administer the
stroke that will end his life?”

“Are you
offering me this service?”

Margus slid
from his bunk and hunkered before the seated Enchanter. “If it
comes to that and you cannot do it, yes.”

Torrullin
closed his eyes. “Get away from me.”

The Darak Or
retreated to the bars, leaning there with arms folded across his
chest.

“You are a
bystander, Enchanter, watching past, present and future unfold
beyond your power to influence. You wait for the brief instances
you are able to make a difference, and you have to be swift or they
pass by in the blink of an eye. All you have is time and it is not
enough, is it? I am familiar with this feeling. I have been a
bystander since the day my world lost its sun and my moments proved
few … and led to you.”

Margus’ eyes
narrowed. “The last thirty years returned life and purpose to an
empty, frustrating existence. Have I been alive millennia … for
thirty years? Have you? Where is the justice in that? I know what I
am and it is too late to revert - eons of evil deserves eons of
netherness - but it cannot be finished, not yet! I have a task that
begs completion and considering our destinies have linked, I
suspect my real task is you. You, with you. There is my justice. No
Light at the end of the tunnel, but maybe a mite more than just
netherness. Maybe the grey path. Maybe a chance to fend off the
worst in death. I have to see it done and we shall both know when
it is over.”

Torrullin
watched him throughout that uncharacteristic speech, noting the
play of emotions.

He once told
Saska this Darak Or could not be turned, could not be saved from
evil, and Margus just confirmed it. Yet, watching sincerity,
honesty, purpose and compassion, he wondered now if he was
wrong.

Margus
possessed a strange sense of honour that did not fit in well with
an utter slide into the dark, and that honour had been there since
their first meeting - the day Dantian died in the caverns. That day
Margus gifted Torrullin the right and rite without
interference.

There were
moments he felt close to this man, felt sorry for him - not pity,
but protective. Had he not always stayed his hand? Except the night
at the Pillars of Fire, but that terrible night he fought for his
soul, something Margus never again attempted to steal from him. The
Darak Or, too, stayed his hand. Had they been aware then of a
linked destiny?

He rose and
motioned Margus from the bars.

“You will not
revisit doom on my world. You will not make the universe your
future playground. You will not harm any Valleur, human or other
sentient race in the Light. You will …”

He drew
breath. Was he really going to do this? Yes.

“You will
fight at my side, do as I say, and only when I give the word on my
son, are you to take him on. Give me your solemn oath and I swear
to find you a habitable planet that will be yours to do on as you
please, no matter what that might be.”

Gods.

An expression
of boundless joy, quickly concealed, and then Margus knelt on the
hard unfriendly surface.

“I swear to
fight at your side, to lift my hands to destruction only upon your
command. I swear to leave your universe and everything in it alone
into eternity. I am the Darak Or, but swear to prove it only at
your behest and discretion. I bind myself and my power to you
alone, Enchanter.”

Dear god. “So
be it,” Torrullin murmured.

He stumbled
through the bars into the corridor.

What have I done?
“We leave
tomorrow.”

He strode
away, face closed, and dared not think.

Margus rose,
watching him go. Then, as Torrullin’s form turned a corner, he
gazed upon trembling hands.

How had that happened?
What have I
done?

Torrullin
leaned against the wall out of sight of both Margus and the guard
and inhaled shocked breaths.

Maybe the
gravest error ever. He was Destroyer also and had bound the Darak
Or to him.

Can I hope to
control both?

And then he
hardened his resolve.

Tymall. He had
known in the back of his mind. He saw it in his son’s eyes when
Tymall’s ethereal form came for Tristamil.

Margus was
right. He did not know his son.

What would he
find?

Chapter
35

Day Ten:
Restoration

200 years ago
- present

Tial took
Torrullin on a guided tour of the Falcon Isles.

He
commandeered a swift craft and wanted an excuse to play with
it.

Tial smiled to
himself after half an hour aboard the sleek little vessel. He noted
how the tension gradually evaporated from the Enchanter’s
expression, saw how his hands relaxed. It would be a good day.

It was a great
day. The Falcon Isles were a glory to behold. In full colourful
spring bloom the fertile land was alive and awake. Farmland was
sprouting green and herds of cattle, sheep and goats fed off lush
new growth. Little cottages nestled in folds, stood prettily beside
clear streams and rivers, and lovely hamlets dotted the meandering
landscape.

Further afield
large tracts were forested, evergreen pines for the most part, but
also stately oaks, elms and chestnuts. Plantations of wattle, sugar
cane and tea flew past beneath the belly of the swift flyer.

Still further
large herds of wild buffalo and antelope roamed newly greened
plains, and eagles, herons, vultures, hawks, wild geese and other
smaller waterfowl vied for space along the shores of natural
emerald lakes. Small mountains were draped in the lace of countless
waterfalls and in their privacy wolves played in abandon and great
cats climbed the heights with majestic solemnity.

They came to
the ocean and it was a frightening thing. Gunmetal grey, movement
that knew no tides, it clashed constant, contrary breakers and was
soundless. That was the scariest, the lack of sound when there was
so much action. It was sobering, entirely alien, and Tial turned
the craft to hug the coast.

Both averted
gazes from the water to look upon the land.

Long stretches
of brown beach were followed by immense cliffs. In some areas the
land wound down green and smooth to meet the water and sometimes
the cliffs were black, then white. Gulls flew noisily and swooped
into the sea, but did not dwell there. Other than birds nobody
fished these waters and no one lived close to it. The first signs
of habitation began inland.

Tial shrugged
at Torrullin’s raised brows, and headed inland.

Peace returned
and it was appreciated more after the strangeness of the ocean.
They over flew the once doomed lands of the Enforcer enclave, now
more wholesome and glorious than its neighbours, and entered the
flower counties. Bluebell, Primrose, Daffodil, Violet, Petunia and
Rose, and from their bird’s eye view it was clear why the counties
were named thus. In the few days since Torrullin’s arrival the
bulbs and bushes transformed from dormant into vibrant showmanship
and the counties were awash in colour.

Tial then took
them to the other side of the isles, east, west, depending on your
view, and slowed over what was once a broad swath of land
connecting the severed land to the gigantic landmasses in the
distance.

Here they did
pause to study the forbidding ocean, but when Torrullin asked
whether they wanted the submerged land bridge restored, Tial shook
his head in definitive denial. The Falcon Isles were
self-sufficient, he said, and inhabited by peace-loving peoples -
not so elsewhere.

Tial turned
the craft, leaving without a backward glance.

They landed
for lunch in a flower-filled field, ate and talked of the little
things that defined daily life, often finding the funny aspect to
those mundane things that are generally frustrating, laughing,
completely at ease with each other. Tial spoke at length of his
daughter Tiana and how she had her eye on a young Deorc
warrior.

A permanent
parting was upon them and thus they were able to be honest, like
two psychologists ethically bound to hold secrets dear.

Tial revealed
the hardships of being a black man in a world where the white man
was believed superior, and Torrullin spoke of trying to hide his
Valleur genes from humankind. It was a parallel that drew them
together, created understanding, and there was no judgement. Tial
learned trust for a white man was possible and it would aid him
well in years to come; Torrullin learned true friendship was found
in the most unlikely places, and it straightened his skewed view of
sentience.

Rose-coloured
dusk was upon them as Tial nudged the craft to ground before the
habitation module. Both were reluctant to de-board; it had been an
inspiring day and now it would end, in every way.

Then they
grinned at each other, acknowledging the mirrored reluctance, and
made a great show of jumping to the ground.

Laughing, they
made their way to the entrance.

As Torrullin
stepped through the opening he reeled back to collide hard with
Tial, who caught him by the shoulders.

“Something
wrong?”

Torrullin did
not answer. He could not answer. He held his hands before him as if
warding himself and his gaze went outward over time and space.

“Torrullin,
what is it?”

He shook
himself free and lurched forward. A bond was in the process of
renewal, beyond his control, and it pulled at him, tore through
him, called out to him. All equilibrium vanished as Tymall returned
to the place of his birth.

Pale and
shaking, Torrullin strode unsteadily towards the cellblock, calling
for Lazar with both voice and mind.

Tial followed,
afraid for the Enchanter and a friend, knowing something bad
happened, something to do with great magic. He could feel the
presence of magic.

As Torrullin
stepped into the corridor of cells, he reeled again, coming to rest
with his back to the wall, hands pressed flat to the surface on
either side of him.