Chapter 40
The Sight – seeing over distance
The Sight – employing visions
Mind Reading and Speaking
Retrieval of objects from afar,
both from the physical plane and the ether
Transport of Mind and Body across
Space (foundation)
Transport of Mind and Body across
Time (mastery)
The Shield of Defence
~ The Steps of the Magical Condition
Ardosia
It gave him pleasure after all, taking on the
Golden.
After
long practising his art on mindless slaves, it felt unaccountably good to
encounter magic of equal purpose.
They
fought hard, but the element of surprise was wholly his. Even as they repulsed
his soltakin countless times, they could not kill them. No sorcery was able to
do that, no matter how strong, for his soltakin were sorcery.
A
sorcery immune to sorcery; how ironic and what an army.
Valleur
died. Buildings burned and crumbled.
Screams
echoed into the atmosphere.
Margus
stalked the great Palace, eyes gleaming.
Where
had Dantian got to?
The Dome
The
Gatherers’ Circle was bedlam.
Sacred
ogives lit and dimmed as Immortals came and went. The rotating dais was
overworked as one after another they jostled for the opportunity to voice an
opinion.
Taranis
was grim as he made his way there, his heart heavy and angry. “Prepare for
battle!”
Declan
of the Siric shouted, “We cannot! Taranis, they outnumber us!”
“Never
stopped us before,” Rilt of the Centuar said. “And there are Valleur numbers to
advantage a battle.”
Taranis
thumped the dais. “We are going. Rayne and Vannis will do it alone otherwise.”
“Really?”
Llettynn drawled.
“Siric,
I do not have time for suspicions right now.” Taranis thumped the dais again.
“Question - do we know who this Darak Or is?”
Bartholamu
of the Siric said, “We believe his name is Margus.”
“Kras,
communicate that to Phet. Any idea where he is from?”
“Definitely
from beyond the Rift,” Bartholamu replied. “An unknown.”
“Next
pertinent question - do we know how to kill soltakin?” Taranis leaned on the
dais. A few hours ago he paid homage to renewal; now he faced this. The
contraction was exhausting.
“Soltakin
are an extremely unstable form of sorcery,” Llettynn spoke up, “and therefore
seldom utilized. Properly controlled, they are deadly to mortal and immortal. Extremely difficult to
counter; sorcery is ineffective. Theoretically, the only certain way of
negating them is by returning the souls to the bodies, and then killing those
bodies. I wager they no longer exist.” He paused. “We dare not enter the
battlefield, Taranis. Not that one.”
Taranis
was wordless.
“What
of host bodies?” It was Gren.
“Host
bodies have to be soulless,” Llettynn said. “It will take more time than we now
have.” He walked up to his leader. “There is a way, but it is a battlefield we
need prepare on Valaris. It is too late to stop the slaughter at the Rift.”
Belun
stomped his hooves. “The darklings, our darklings, those idiots who follow
Infinity like dogs after an uncaring mistress - they have no souls.”
Llettynn
colourless eyes gleamed in calculation, but he did not release Taranis from his
gaze.
“And,
if we could transfer the souls of the soltakin into darkling bodies, we could
rid ourselves of two scourges at one time,” Belun added.
“Well
done, Belun,” Taranis said and swirled his tongue in his mouth. “Llettynn?”
“It
will not be easy, Taranis. The Siric must put heads together to produce
something that cannot rebound.” As expressionless as Llettynn appeared, there
was nonetheless a faint aura of challenge to him. “If we can lure the darklings into the same vicinity as the
soltakin.”
“Oh,
she’ll bring them now,” Glint muttered. “Now that her precious Arcana are no
more, now that she realises she’s been duped by the illusion of Chaos.”
“As we
were,” Gren murmured.
“Right,
but she will take it as a personal affront, the arrogant witch. She’ll be
uncertain of this Darak Or, but her vengeance isn’t done simply because the
nature of her game has now changed,” Glint mused. “Uh-uh, oh no. She will want
to finish it this time, and thus she’ll call her darklings in to find
confidence and show mastery, but not only over us. She needs be powerful now
with a Darak Or entering the field of play.”
“Good
luck to her,” Belun muttered. “I hope they destroy each other.”
“And
maybe they join forces,” Bartholamu said.
Taranis
and Llettynn were still locked in a battle of wills. Then Taranis heaved a sigh
that seemed to tear his heart from his body. He closed his eyes briefly to
avoid the sympathy he saw in the Siric’s. Sympathy from Llettynn could be hard
to bear.
“Siric,
find the way to meld body and soul. Leave the where and when to us. Agreed?”
Llettynn
still stared. “Will you fight at the Rift without the Siric?”
“I will.”
“For
Rayne.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Llettynn whispered.
Taranis
smiled, a complicated gesture. “The connection. He would do it for me.”
“How
can you know that?”
Taranis
thumped his chest. “Find the solution to the soltakin, my friend.”
Llettynn
bowed. The Siric, as one group, left the Dome.
Taranis
leaned on his arms. “Funl, send your Eagles out. Arrange a meeting with the
dara-witch.” The Eagles flew out through their ogive without delay. “Kras, you
and your Falcons spread the word to all worlds. They deserve advance warning in
the event we fail.” The Falcons left immediately. “Glint. I need the Sagorin to
formulate an evacuation strategy for Valaris.”
“It
will be done.” The Sagorin left as well, except Glint. He stepped into the
Gatherers’ Circle. “You’re sending us away. A few minutes ago you called us to
battle. Taranis, what are your intentions?”
“Make
it safe for this realm, Glint. Please.”
The
Sagorin gazed at his leader in much the way Llettynn had earlier, and then he
nodded. His ogive chimed seconds later.
Taranis,
hands white on the console, a death grip, continued, “We need the Sylmer in the
oceans of Valaris. Go to your homeworld and relearn the skills of the deep, and
put together a unit to accompany you when I call. Assure your unit there is
little chance of harm befalling them, for soltakin are too ethereal to
penetrate water.”
The
three Sylmer nodded without speaking, bereft without Saska to be their voice.
They left.
Watching
them go, Taranis wondered if he made the best decision in leaving Saska behind.
She was the only choice to remain, a link between the people of Valaris and the
Dome, with Phet the communicator, for she was best suited to relationships.
Those were bound to become frantic and uneasy now.
Valarians
would swiftly wake to a new and terrible reality. He shook his head; he simply
could not worry about it now.
He
glanced around the near deserted Circle. It sounded hollow and lonely without
activity. For the first time in a while he actually looked at the Dome.
It
was a place of beauty, our sacred site,
he mused. We, too, have infused it with
our essence.
How
lovely the soaring white columns, the pristine snowy floor, the art overhead.
He craned his neck up, noticing the darkling scenes. He knew, deep in his
heart, what they were about to experience would be worse than that.
“My
lord?” Belun interrupted his reverie.
“Ah,
Belun, I haven’t forgotten the Centuar.”
Belun
waited, but Taranis said nothing further. “You’re worried about Rayne,” Belun
prompted.
“He
could track Infinity all this time? He could see what Vannis was doing? He
intends to fight? Yes, I am worried.”
“It
is time to trust him. Seems Valaris will need that kind of power.”
Taranis
frowned. “Is he ready, Belun? Will he survive this Margus at the Rift.? Can he
control Vannis in the heat of battle?”
“He
will either rise or fall. We must look to what we can do right now.”
A
nod. Then, “You will accompany me.”
“To
fight?” The Centuar’s eyes glowed with anticipation. His companions arrayed
behind him, prepared to enter the field.
“Yes,”
Taranis said, drawing his sword.
Hooves
stamped metallically.
The
Gatherers’ Circle was empty seconds later.
It winked out.
No comments:
Post a Comment