Chapter 12
Herald, lift your bugle! The gods
have come!
~ Tattle
The Well of Crystal Sound
Valaris
Two nights to New Moon
Using magic to travel via doorways through the
spaces, insubstantial as a breath of wind, faster than light, they materialized
in the clearing.
Like
to Drasso and his kind, when they sought entrance through the barrier of the
space warp surrounding Valaris skies, it proved assailable then and it proved
so now; the warp was no barrier to real magic, and thus not to them.
Belun of the Centuar arrived first and grinned as
he landed. Time for action! His golden tail raised high in challenge and
swished gracefully. When physical battles were enjoined Centuar plaited their
tails in intricate patterns, the symbolism of war. Belun’s eyes were silver
with dark blue pupils contracting and expanding in light and dark. His glorious
wings, folded now, glinted in the sunlight, a shimmering palette of gold and
silver.
He was a magnificent sight. Let it be said here a
Centuar is not a Centaur, confusion for those who do not know the truth. A Centaur is a myth, and may even be real in
the back ends of time, for myth frequently has basis in reality, but a Centuar is of the universe, part of time and
history and reality, a created legend that continues to breathe and function,
think and act. Belun, if one dared query the distinction, would snap at one for
confusing one with the other.
Glint
of the Sagorin and Llettynn of the Siric arrived simultaneously. Llettynn was
in his usual white attire, wings folded sedately. Glint, whose skin tone was a
paler green than his companions, had divested himself of eye-catching amber to
don shades of olive that blended with the Forest; even his boots were khaki,
which Belun smirked at, and only his hair relieved the severity of camouflage.
It hung loose, long and enviably thick, the purest white.
Saska
of the Sylmer appeared three seconds after, appearing closest to the Well. She
complemented Glint in her forest tones, but swapped elven slippers for sturdy
hiking boots and her tinkling bracelets were missing. A broad leather strap
adorned her left upper arm, studded with crimson, sapphire and saffron gems.
Taranis,
having ascertained his team’s safe arrival, came last, materialising at the
edge of the clearing, his muscular form clad in grey, the colour of
concealment.
He
strode forward to meet up at the Well of Crystal Sound.
“What
now?” Glint asked, gaze travelling the perimeter of the clearing. It was a
tranquil place.
“Now
we wait for the nine humans,” Taranis replied. “Two moonless nights still
remain.” He, too, absorbed the surroundings.
We could have delayed our arrival
and used the time to investigate other factors, Belun communicated.
“We
need acclimatize,” Llettynn pointed out. “This is an oxygen rich planet, which
makes us heavier. Remember how slow we were during that first confrontation with
Drasso?”
“It’s
no joke,” Glint grumbled. “I feel like a giant.”
“You
are a giant,” Saska giggled.
Smiling,
Belun sent, what happens when we are
gathered?
Taranis
sat on the low Well wall, studying the clearing as he spoke. “The next move
depends on Infinity …”
He
broke off, for he spotted a blue jay landing in a carpet of tiny wildflowers
near the tree line. It had been a while since he smelled air that was both
fresh and alive, heard the friendly
rustle of forest creatures and seen birds other than his Immortal companions …
particularly birds this free and unafraid. As there was nothing more pressing
to do other than wait and acclimatize, he resolved to enjoy it. His spirits
lifted. Is this how it feels to be human? Valaris ensnared him anew.
I would die for this land.
He
realized they waited on him. “Right now I know as much or as little as you do.
We wait.”
Saska
smiled. “That’s no hardship, it’s a wonderful day. I wonder if it’s spring;
everything smells fresh.”
“High
summer,” Llettynn informed. “Cool under the trees, an inferno out from under
them.” The Siric always checked. The weather could be telling in a
confrontation. “We are in the month of Hatubrath, solstice month, and it will
get hotter as we go.”
Taranis
grinned. “We have had our geography lesson; how about history? This Well and
Infinity’s sense of irony is based on more than bathing here before Drasso’s
defeat. Up for it? Then get cosy on this carpet of fresh grass.”
With
alacrity everyone found a space, tossing packs aside, and even Belun - without
a pack, naturally, for a Centuar never carried baggage - deigned to lower his
hindquarters to the ground. Before long, he nibbled sweet stalks. Not that a
Centuar ate a horse’s meal, but the grass was tasty, and the others picked out
sweet centres as well, and thus it would not be beneath him.
Taranis
rested against the cool wall, stretching legs out. It was not long before most
were prone in some manner staring up at the blue sky, enjoying the warmth on
their skins, smelling the sweetness and listening to Taranis’ voice and
birdsong all around. His voice took on a familiar formal tone they recognized,
and they grinned.
“Back
in Valaris’ beginning, once it became a habitable world, there was no sentient
life. The humans of today did not evolve here; they came from faraway worlds,
much the same as happened elsewhere. One starship came and saw it was good;
there was another and another, a familiar tale. This was and is a paradise
world and the humans who settled were happy, but, being human, being sentient,
they were selfish also - another familiar tale - and denied entry to other
races.
“Now,
around the time that selfish mind-set started, a space warp materialised in the
heavens above that made it impossible to travel the stars again, the same warp
in position today. It also, of course, denied entry to other settlers, and put
an end to other races interfering with the humans already here. Thus, without
great effort, the humans got their wish, and the Valarians were born as a
people apart. There were enough settlers to work this new land, but don’t they
say ‘be careful of what you wish for’? They no longer needed their grounded
starships and, as time passed, these fell into disrepair and along with it all
technology. These items were literally allowed to rust away. It surely made
those initial years harder, for they had what they required to ease transition
from ship life to land tenure, but no one cared. It was claimed the warp
overhead cleansed them, and they returned to an earlier human way of life, the
ways that hadn’t known technology - we would call it the dark ages or darak
times. Still, it was paradise, so what more could one desire?
“Only
to be left alone and the warp achieved that. However, in the time of discovery
to enforced isolation, one other sentient race made Valaris their home also,
and I am sure they were made to feel unwelcome, probably threatened, certainly
ostracized, as humans have been doing for time immemorial. I cannot say who
they were or how many or how long it was before they realised Valaris could
never be a home, but that day came and the warp trapped them. Had they the kind
of magic we possess, staying or leaving would have been easily decided, but
they did not, not in the way we know. They retreated to this Forest; it was even
larger then, and proved a haven for a time. They built this Well.”
Taranis
thumped the wall behind him.
It
was an ordinary, round, stone well. Looking in, the water was a stone from
overflowing, the liquid fresh; there was no bucket, no handle and no rope in
sight.
“They
built it with only four left. They were farseers and had that kind of
extraordinary magic. Who they were, as in a race name, has been lost, but an
inquisitive little boy one day spied on them and the tale has lived on. The
four gathered around their well and linked hands, peering deep into the depths
to infuse the water with all magic they possessed. The liquid - water being
pure and life-giving - became a medium for their song, and when the story was
told and retold over the ages since then, all shake their heads and sigh in
deep regret. As the story goes, one could see magic made music, and the music,
the song, the harmony, the sound and purity of vibration gently lifted out,
droplets pure and beautiful, sad and filled with longing. One could hear magic
as it soared out on gossamer wings, filled the Forest and rose into the air,
the atmosphere and beyond; crystal sound, astonishingly lovely and terribly
haunting. They were calling home, sending crystal harmonies to penetrate the
warp.”
Taranis
shrugged eloquently. “We don’t know if they succeeded, but hope it came to
pass, for when the music was at its purest, they simply vanished. The sound
slowly dropped back into the water and it retains magic to this day. Dip your
fingers in and you feel it; drink it and your ailments of mind and body
disappears. Sadly, no one has made it sing since, and that, my friends, is how
this came to be called the Well of Crystal Sound.”
Taranis
fell silent, his gaze faraway.
Saska
rolled over onto her stomach and looked at him with eyes bright with tears.
“That’s sad.”
Belun
sent, yes, it is, and it carries a
profound lesson, but is it true or is it another legend humans love to cherish?
“All
legends are based on fact. Sometimes their truths are so unbelievable they are
called legend to deal with them, like us with the Arcana. With others, time
passes and the real facts go astray and it becomes a popular tale, embellished,
legend,” Taranis supplied, and smiled wryly. “Again like the Arcana. To answer
your question; there is mention in the oldest surviving works, although it
isn’t well-known.”
Taranis
closed his eyes and relaxed and only Saska caught the tension in his fingers on
the ground, and wondered at it.
Llettynn,
lying on his side, sat up, for once not bothering about marks on his white
clothing. A small frown creased his forehead and his pale eyes sharpened. “A
good story and poignant if it is as true as you say.”
The
tension in Taranis’ fingers increased, and Saska felt the need to shut the
Siric’s mouth.
“Pray
tell, Taranis, how you can be sure?” Llettynn said.
“I
am not. Can we move on to something else?” Taranis ground out. He knew them
well and therefore knew what was coming, but it was his own fault. The beauty
of this day unlocked his usually reticent tongue.
Llettynn
was silent a time and as Saska breathed out an inaudible sigh of relief, he
spoke again, a determined quality to his voice. She grit her teeth; Llettynn
never let anything go, especially not when his curiosity was aroused, and his
insistence had the others listening closely.
“Taranis.”
Taranis grunted without opening his eyes and Llettynn ignored it. “Tales and
daily doings of worlds we become embroiled with are not factors we usually
hear, see or read, not unless we make it our business to know more.” The Siric
paused, aware at last of the mounting tension in his leader.
It
did not stop him; on the contrary.
“As
I recall, we did no research when we fought Drasso, for it was about Drasso and
not advantage required against Valarians, or even one in their favour. No tale
would have made one iota of difference where Drasso was concerned - it was
about geography and war tactics. How is it you claim with such conviction the
tale of the Well is true, and how is it you know it in detail?”
“He
said he’s not sure,” Saska snapped.
Llettynn
ignored her, and waited.
Taranis
opened his eyes. He saw Saska’s simmering anger first. If she had her way she
would permanently muzzle the Siric. “It’s all right,” he said and faced
Llettynn. “Sometimes one speaks without due thought, forgetting how intelligent
others are, but sometimes it is an unconscious instinct forcing words out
before thought silences them. Would you agree?”
“Absolutely,”
Llettynn murmured.
Taranis
nodded. “And perhaps that is what happened to me - instinct.” He sat
straighter. “I know because I read it in that old tome, and read it many times,
for it speaks to me in a manner few other tales do. It has prejudice, magic,
will, survival, beauty, all that and more. I bathed here deliberately before
meeting Drasso in combat, for I already knew the magic would protect.”
“How
could you know that?” Glint asked. “A story is also often just a story.”
Taranis
relaxed. The time had come whether by instinct or another route, and it would
do no one any good to fight its coming. “I used the magic before and it worked
for me then.”
“Before?”
Llettynn prompted, eyebrows raised.
“Ah,
Llettynn, you are a bulldog, and most of the time that is fine,” Taranis said.
“Shall I tell you I visited Valaris before Drasso?”
Llettynn
pursed his lips and replied, “You would have told us then.”
Taranis
nodded. “Indeed.” He studied his companions in turn. “We have our secrets,
matters we do not talk about because it hurts too much. Valaris has been my
secret.” He looked up at the blue sky. “This is where I was born.”
“Why
not tell us the last time?” Glint asked.
“I
was angry,” Taranis said. “It was my first return here since Ritual and to see
what that creature made it, well, I wanted to kill him. Tales and histories and
confessions were far from mind.”
Glint
nodded his understanding. It took time before the Sagorin felt they could
comfortably share their tale of death and destruction … and the rigours of the
Ritual.
You could have told us in the
Dome,
Belun said. Knowing what you know of the
past here.
“I
am aware of that, and perhaps that is why instinct forced words, but I needed
to see her first,” Taranis said. “Here I was born and raised, here I became an
Immortal …” and here I lost my heart and
my love and I still feel the pain every day. “Valaris is my talisman. When
I feel lonely or unhappy, I bring her out and remember beauty and warmth.” He
fell silent and his eyes returned to the nature around them. “I have forgotten
the reality of this world, that there is magic in nature and much peace- this
was missing three thousand years ago. And in telling you this, I make it more
real than it is in memory.” He looked back at them. “Can you understand how
difficult it will be to leave again?”
He
rose then and strode away.
They
let him go.
Night fell.
Taranis
returned, markedly silent. Glint arched an eyebrow at Belun, who shook his
head. The implication was to leave him alone.
Llettynn’s
lips thinned, but chose not to broach that subject yet. He believed Taranis
could have better prepared them had he been more forthcoming in the Dome, but
he also understood - academically - how a secret could be a crutch. He thought
his leader used his homeworld as a buttress; he would address it soon.
Saska
unknowingly did it for him.
As
they sat down to a late meal, she said, “Valaris has presence. It has greater
impact without the distraction of war.”
Taranis
swirled his tongue in his mouth, glanced at the studiously eating team around
the fire, and murmured, “I don’t want to talk about Valaris yet.”
Saska
frowned. “Taranis, I’m not trying to draw you out. I’m saying we can feel this
world now. It wasn’t like this before.”
“And
I am too touchy - forgive me. You are right. She is noticeable now. There is
emotion in the wind, senses in the air … gods, I have missed her.”
Glint
murmured, “A beautiful world filled with promise. How not?”
Taranis
smiled. “True.”
“This
isn’t a secret that should be kept into eternity,” Saska remarked, thereby
inadvertently addressing Llettynn’s concern.
“What
is that supposed to mean?” Taranis barked out.
“You
are touchy. Stop it. There’s trouble brewing and misfortune has come and
gone here many times, and still most of the inhabited universe remains ignorant
of this promise. That shouldn’t be. Valaris should have the right to call on
allies and she should be hauled from the dark ages the settlers dumped her into
when they chose to let it rust away, including sorcery. As Guardians it is our
duty to unveil her.”
Llettynn
nodded, but did not say anything.
Taranis
gave him a hard stare, and snapped at Saska, “I don’t agree. If we do as you
suggest, Valaris will soon have too much technology, too many people, strangers
will visit with agendas unhealthy for …”
“You
sound exactly like those settlers now,” the Siric pointed out.
Taranis
bit down an urge to haul the man into the fire. “Maybe they were not so wrong.”
Glint
lifted his great shoulders. “Now we enter territory argued for ages; separation
versus inclusion. There is no answer. Besides, it’s moot, don’t you think? No
amount of talk will take the space warp away and allow Valarians the choice of
inclusion or not.”
Taranis
swore under his breath.
Saska
watched him. “What really bothers you, Taranis?”
He
was quiet for some time, largely to bring his temper under control. When he did
speak, his tone was even and without inflection. “What bothers me is that
Infinity may win this round. I may lose my home for real.”
Saska
reached over and clasped his hand, feeling there the tension. “We haven’t begun
this particular war. Don’t give in yet.”
He
rose to pace. “I am not giving in. I am trying hard to control an urge to go
after the dara-witch and kill her.” He stopped and glared at Llettynn. “Don’t
dare remind me how foolish that would be. I am aware Valaris has been a crutch.
I cannot change overnight.”
The
Siric did not even blink. “You are on the right path. That is sufficient.”
Taranis
did blink and he laughed softly. “Sometimes I want to shake the crap out of
you. How can you be so unruffled?” He swore again and headed out into
the dark.
They let him go.
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