Our children
are sacrosanct.
By
magic.
By
time.
By
manipulation.
On Akhavar, meanwhile, Enlyl Valla lifts from the mud in the badlands an ancient artefact, a sword created to protect children. The plight of Reaume’s children is dire, after all, and volunteers from many worlds gather to do something about it.
Will the sword help?
When the shivers of premonition tell that the young are taken to keep Avaelyn enshrouded, the Vallas take the fight to the monsters responsible for such horror. They will not rest until every child is safe.
CHAPTER
10
~ David,
Mayor of Galilan ~
Sorison
City of Dara
Daybreak
HAVING delivered the team from Valaris to the hotel at the landing site, promising to find accommodation elsewhere - already the building was at capacity, and folk were beginning to mutter - Pandora, following her nose, went in search of the Electan … right, girl, you’re looking for Cyrillus and the mysterious Enlyl has nothing to do with your search.
The
time differences played havoc with her sense of self. It was night on Valaris,
and here the watery sun greeted a new day. She needed to get some sleep soon to
align herself to Sorison time. When she noticed the activity at the embassy
building - musty beds leaving and fresh furniture arriving - she knew she would
find the Electan there. Tristan Skyler Valla’s fair hair was a beacon in the
diffuse light, and where he was, there would be Cyrillus. She would also run
into Enlyl. Something about him set her senses to tingling. Preferring her own
company, she certainly wasn’t in the market for a relationship, and yet, in the
first moments of meeting him, he ensnared her. Had she envisioned him between
her thighs? Oh, instantly. But it was more than animal attraction. He had the
look of someone seeking purpose and having found it, discovered it scared him.
Did she not know that feeling too well? A siren song, thus.
“Deep
in thought?” a male’s voice sounded behind her, and she swiftly turned, one
hand already curling around the hilt of a dagger nestled against her back.
“Ah,
Emperor,” she murmured. “Good morning.”
“You
may release your weapon,” Teighlar said in amusement.
“Sorry,”
she muttered. “Habit.” She then cocked her head. “Few notice that.”
“That
you reach for a weapon? Few will. Either they are too trusting or too slow.” He
offered her a feral grin. “Can’t fool me, though.”
Laughing,
she shifted to hook her arm through his for the walk to the building opposite.
“So, what are we up to this morning?”
When
he told her about overseeing the Sorison operation along with Gabryl, Enlyl and
another yet to be nominated, her heart skipped oddly. It meant she would spend
much time with Enlyl Valla.
“I
accept,” she said. “And I know who to nominate also. Swann Sneddon from Trin.
Having lost her daughter, not only is she highly motivated, but she has
empathy. Add to that the fact that she’s the under-secretary to Trin’s deputy
Prime Minister, and that woman knows how to organise people.”
“As
you do?”
“People?
Not so much. Logistics is more my game.”
The
Emperor halted then. “You are a bounty hunter, Pandora.”
Lifting
her tawny eyes to meet his gaze, she murmured, “What makes you say that?”
“I
have been alive a long time, and I read people well. It is in the way you move,
the way you watch others …”
“Perhaps
I’m an ex-soldier.”
The
man had the temerity to laugh. “Never. You are not built to take orders.”
And
wasn’t that the absolute truth. “I hunt those who deserve the justice coming
their way. This doesn’t make me a criminal.”
“What
of those who don’t deserve justice?”
She
shrugged. “I suggest to the one offering the contract to rather hire an
assassin. I am not in the business of killing.”
“Does
the Electan know?”
Pandora
sniffed. “No.”
Resuming
their amble across the square, Teighlar said, “I have no issue with what you
do. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I suggested you for oversight. Gabryl is
good at reading between the lines, Enlyl has something to prove, and you say
this woman from Trin knows how to people. What is missing?”
The
man from Grinwallin was clever. A step, two, three went by before Pandora
responded. “The team needs a warrior.”
“Not
just a warrior. Gabryl and Enlyl both know how to fight, after all. We need
someone with insight, check before you lob a head off insight, from someone who
knows how to hunt.”
“You
need me to curtail …”
“…
the hotheads in the teams. They will hear you because you know what you’re
talking about.”
“Surely
Gabryl knows?”
Teighlar
sighed. “I don’t know.”
Ah.
The father did not know the son too well, for they had not yet been placed in a
situation requiring action of this nature. She squeezed his arm. “I accept the
duty.”
He
smiled down at her. “Thank you.” They halted again - the embassy was before
them - and the Emperor lifted her hand to his mouth. “I’m almost envious of
Enlyl.”
As
heat rose in her cheeks, he kissed her glove and headed right rather than
entering the building. She stared at his retreating form. Clever. Very
clever.
Avaelyn
The Lifesource
Cathedral
KARYDOR Danae wandered the chambers within chambers that was the Lifesource Cathedral. From the outside this magical place appeared no larger than a small village, but a stroll inside swiftly belied that. The spaces were eternal, and had everything to do with Q’lin’la magic fused to the Valleur talents employed to raise this spiritual place. And the colours! Lo, every hue imaginable, from pale moonlight to shimmering ebony. Here colour soothed or challenged, and the wanderer, without being aware, walked into chambers suffused with shades according to the needs of the spirit.
By
all accounts, Quilla had achieved for this century old site what he had for the
Temple on Valaris, his original infusing, that one many thousands of years old
now. On Valaris, the Lifesource was also known as the Temple of Reversal, for
the magical enclave possessed the unique ability to reverse immortality. To
enter there immortal was to leave again mortal. Few visited for that, for it
was true that immortals, while often bemoaning long life, did not inherently
seek an ending. Here, though, all were welcome, and thus Karydor, immortal,
could wander at will.
Agitation
overcame him this morning on waking. Not feeling the need to burden another
with his state of unrest, he chose to visit the Cathedral, and as ever it had
worked. In a chamber suffused with pale blue glows through which saffron stars
sparked, he rediscovered his usual equanimity, and also understood what had
been subconsciously bothering him. Torrullin. His son. The man was in his
thoughts more than usual, and that meant something brewed in the man’s mind.
Perhaps the same something his dreams were plaguing him with night after night?
Watching a yellow star explode against the opposite curve of this spacious
chamber, Karydor smiled. While he did not need an excuse to visit his son, not
after the events on Lykandir, still, now he had one, and would use it upon
leaving here.
A
few more chambers, though, would not go amiss. Feeling far better, he walked
on, entering a space filled with magenta and silver streaks. Instantly he
inhaled, beset upon, almost freaked out by the pressure in the chamber, and
wondered why his spirit led him to this unsettling space … until he saw
Torrullin hunkered against the wall, his head lowered to his chest, his
dangling fingers appearing bone white. It scared him. For a moment he thought
his son dead, by the gods … but no, not Torrullin. Impossible for Torrullin. He
did, once he had established control over his breathing, understand why he had
entered. His son needed him.
Hunkering
before the man, Karydor took hold of his son’s chin and forced the man’s head
upward. Silver eyes stared at him, through him, around him, seeing everything
and nothing. Shuddering, he called, “Torrullin, can you hear me?”
At
first there was no reaction, and then a slow tear rolled from the corner of
Torrullin’s left eye. It tracked over the man’s cheek, reached his jawline, and
then Torrullin rapidly blinked. He stared at his father and a hand lifted to
swipe at the droplet.
Releasing
him, Karydor murmured, “What is it?”
“She
tells them about the Sleeper … she has hope now …” Grunting, Torrullin surged
to his feet, holding his head. “They have placed me on an eternal pedestal,
father. I cannot save everyone.”
Yes,
leaving Reaume had been the best idea for this man. Torrullin found the ‘him’
in himself without every expectation surrounding him. And now? Now Reaume
called to him. He would answer, for he was who he was, but what would it do to
the internal peace he had fought so hard for? “Then save her,” Karydor
murmured. “The one you sensed just now.”
Torrullin
nodded and his chest inflated and deflated. “Wise words. I can save her,
yes.” His lips drew back in the semblance of a smile. “Did you know I once
dreamed of a girl across the spaces from where I was? I tried hard to save her.
I still feel guilty that another did so. ‘Mitrill, my name is Mitrill,’ she
whispered in my dreams, and I ended up keeping her separated from family when I
did find her …”
“I
know the story of Mitrill, Torrullin, the woman who married your son Tris, the
girl who was also Varelie Valla. You did save her, many times, and you know
that. Tymall would have killed her had he known about her. You saved
her. You will save this girl also.”
Closing
his eyes, Torrullin nodded. When he reopened, his eyes were their natural grey,
matching his own. “’I am Airelle,’ she tells me. You’re right. I will find
Airelle.”
“In
the ground,” Karydor said, “where tunnels host a multitude of cells.” He
grunted at the look his son bestowed on him. “I’m dreaming, too.”
“Well,
that is a piece of a gigantic puzzle,” Torrullin muttered. “Tunnels. No wonder
there’s no trace. Come, we have much to discuss …” Bemused, Karydor followed
his son into the next chamber, that one awash in sunlight’s benevolence, and as
both breathed easier, they started talking.
The dwelling on
the cliffs
“WHERE did you go?” Elianas asked as Torrullin entered their kitchen with Karydor in his wake.
“Lifesource,”
he muttered in response.
“Hello,
Karydor,” the dark man said.
“Hoy,
Elianas. We ran into each other there, and Torrullin has filled me in.”
A
dark eyebrow hiked upward. “And you’re raring to go?”
Laughing,
Karydor sat at the table. “Coffee first, I think, and then I need track Echo
down. Not so raring, then.”
Grinning,
Elianas brought an urn to the table, set it down and waved at Karydor to help
himself. All the while Torrullin watched him, and when those dark eyes flicked
his way, he inclined his head. He was right. Elianas saw the need, but he was
not so enamoured of returning to Reaume in the manner that had now presented
itself. The Lake of Swords was a place of death and remained that even when
vanished into the ether of legend. Also, and did he not know this about the
man, he was less than comfortable hitching his journey to the coattails of
another.
“Short-lived,
Elianas,” he murmured.
“Say
what?” An unblinking stare came his way.
“Once
rid of portal, you will be free again.”
Pressing
his lips together, Elianas nodded, but Torrullin noted how his shoulders
relaxed. In the last hundred years, Elianas had discovered he was able to think
for himself, that he no longer bent his every decision to include what he,
Torrullin, might think of it. Ever it has been thus, from his perspective, but
Elianas now believed it as well, and it made all the difference for the man.
Freedom, internal freedom, was important to him now.
“What
sent you to the Lifesource? I thought you wished to avoid Quilla until after
the fact.”
Torrullin
grunted, “Fortunately the birdman was absent.”
“Torrullin.”
He
shrugged. “I heard a voice in my mind, and sought clarity. A girl’s voice,
calling to me.”
Elianas
blinked. “Like it was with Mitrill?”
“Yes.”
His
dark eyes filling with sympathy, Elianas approached to lay his hands on
Torrullin’s shoulders. “And? Did you find clarity?”
He
smiled from his inner being. “I did. My father told me exactly what I needed to
hear.”
“Which
is?”
“I
can save her, Elianas. We can save her. And we don’t need to be there
for everyone.”
Fingers
dug into the muscle of his upper arms, and Elianas murmured, “Now you get it.
One at a time, together, or we drive ourselves crazy.” Releasing, he returned
to the table. “Drink your coffee. We need bolstering for this chant.”
“One
other thing,” Torrullin said as he hauled a chair out, and sat next to Karydor.
“I’m not pandering to personalities this time. I will not put a mask on to
appease the sensibilities of others, whether family, friends or strangers.”
Taking
a seat opposite, Elianas winked. “Good.”
“Really?”
“Torrullin,
you gave different parts of yourself to different people in the past, and
called it easier for them, which meant it was everything but easy for you.
Guess what happens when you get ticked off? You lash out, and did, creating chaos
for those who thought they knew you when they could not, seeing only the part
you allowed them to see. So, good. Be yourself. Easier for you, and maybe they
will finally get to know who you are.”
“Will
you apply that to yourself?”
Filling
a mug, Elianas smiled. “Oh, indeed.”
Karydor
held his mug out for a refill, and said, “I agree, and I will do the same. Had
enough of trying to fit in, I have. If someone doesn’t like me, to hell with
him or her.”
Torrullin
spluttered into laughter. “Beware Reaume!”
Clinking
mugs, they grinned at each other.
Sorison - City of
Dara
THE DINING and sitting rooms on the ground floor of the hotel filled cheek to jowl when Tianoman Valla put the word out that they had decisions to make before their endeavour properly got underway.
Just
over a hundred worlds had sent teams to Sorison, and another hundred teams were
en route, which meant soon their number would be in the region of two thousand,
and the hotel would never house everyone. Also, when on occasion they needed to
gather, this place was too small to fit all in. Mercifully, in Tianoman’s view,
Pandora offered to find solutions, such as opening other hotels and embassies,
and securing a large space for gathering. She mentioned seeing a warehouse, and
would investigate viability. Excellent; he would leave logistics up to her.
Right now, they needed to discuss leadership, and thus he stepped forward and
started speaking. Half an hour later, all were in agreement, and Swann Sneddon
joined the oversight team, a middle-aged woman with shoulder length chestnut
curls and pale blue eyes. Slim and tiny as she was, it was also immediately
evident that she took no prisoners when it came to doing her job. Excellent,
Tianoman mused again; the teams were in good hands. Swann would move into the
embassy with them, the oversight base as Pandora called it.
Tianoman
was about to end the gathering, when Enlyl stepped in. “Our thanks to my father
for calling us here this morning, but now we have work to do. Who has
experience with the supply chain? Is there a tech wizard here? Are any of you
soldiers?”
Stepping
aside, Tianoman smiled as his son sent out question after question to determine
who could do what. Right, in good hands. Gesturing to Teighlar and Tristan, he
indicated they leave.
“Seems
we are not needed,” Teighlar laughed as they stepped outside into the bracing
air.
“I
find I’m relieved,” Tianoman chortled.
“Likewise,”
Tristan added, and sent his gaze over the concourse, noting someone had created
order in the chaos of yesterday’s parking. The hangers on the far side were
open, some with ships already inside, others clearly meant as repair
facilities, and he nodded. They were not needed, not for the operational side
of an investigation; their strengths lay in what they could do when confronting
the enemy. “I say we go to Akhavar for breakfast.”
“Right
behind you, mate,” Teighlar grinned, and laughing, Tianoman led the way,
vanishing from that cold world within the blink of an eye.
Akhavar - The
Royal Suite
AISLINN was waiting when they entered. “Timare is missing.”
His
wife would never dissemble, especially not when it came to her loved ones. A
hollow pit opened inside Tianoman as he asked, “Tell me.” Behind him, Tristan
and Teighlar said not a word.
Striding
forward, her golden hair swinging, Aislinn stated, “Zane tells me he went to
the Lake of Swords.”
Fuck.
Not this. “When?”
“Minutes
ago. Zane went after him, followed his signature, and he found footprints
leading into that bloody pit of mud, and nothing more.”
Aislinn,
Tianoman realised, was about to scream her rage. Zane and Timare were her
beloved grandsons, and woe to anyone who messed with them. “Calm, Ais, we’ll go
there now. It’s only been minutes. Where is Zane?”
“Still
there, to wait, he says, in the event Tim needs help coming back.”
The
goddamned place was a portal also, yes. Swallowing, Tianoman kissed his wife’s
cheek and then summarily vanished. He did not have to ask; the two men with him
would follow.
Avaelyn
Western orchards
ANASTIR, busy with the guard roster for the mud pit, facing the three Valleur with him, jerked when something squelched behind him. The hairs on his arms spiked, and he shouted, “Artorin, something’s coming through!”
His
fellow Elder watched from the other side of the pit, and when he turned,
Anastir saw the man hunkering there with a look of terror on his face. Between
them, the mud boiled and spat, making otherworldly sounds.
“Torrullin!”
Anastir yelled next, his gaze fixated now on the roiling mire. The Valleur with
him arrayed along the edge, swords already drawn.
Thank
the gods, Torrullin appeared within two seconds, and did not have to ask why he
was summoned. His attention immediately went to the pit, and his hand settled
upon the hilt of his blade. “Come!” Torrullin roared … and, by the gods, a man
suddenly stepped up and out with not a spatter upon him. “Who are you?”
Torrullin demanded.
The
man inhaled, a Golden by any Valleur’s measure, gazing convulsively around him.
“Where am I?”
Abruptly,
to Anastir’s everlasting astonishment, Torrullin released his hold on his
weapon and, frowning, stepped forward. “You are Valla,” he stated.
“Is
this Avaelyn?” the man blurted. “Are you Torrullin? You look just like
Tristan.”
Reaching
in, Torrullin hauled the man closer by the arm. “I am Torrullin, and this is
Avaelyn. Are you Tian’s son?”
“Lunik
is my father.” Rolling his shoulders, the man altered his stance to grip
Torrullin’s in a forearm-to-forearm clasp. Where their fingers brushed as they
reached in, blue flames briefly spat. Kinfire. “I am Timare. Most call me Tim.
Well met, my Lord Elixir.”
Waving
at the guards to stand down, Anastir retreated somewhat. Artorin, closing in
from the opposite edge, joined him. The two Elders looked at each other. The
Vallas certainly knew how to astonish, did they not?
“So,
my grandson is a grandfather. Man, I’m old,” Torrullin laughed. “Welcome, Tim,
to Avaelyn. You have utterly surprised me.”
“I
didn’t do it on purpose,” Timare explained. “I stepped too close to the mud,
and the next moment everything went haywire. Zane will go mad.”
“As
we assumed, then. This is a portal between Avaelyn and Akhavar. Who is Zane?”
“My
brother. We were meant to meet at the mud pit.”
“Valla
curiosity,” Torrullin grunted in amusement. “Come; we have much to …” Before he
could finish that thought, Timare gargled, elongated. and vanished. A sucking
sound accompanied his sudden disappearance. “No!” Torrullin hollered.
Artorin,
a hand splayed upon his breast, huffed his utter astonishment. “The pit took
him elsewhere.”
For
eternal moments Torrullin stared into the cloying wetness, and then his mouth
set in a grim line. “Double the watch on this place. Who knows what else will
use this as a means to reaching Avaelyn?”
Anastir
grunted agreement, and Torrullin left, leaving the Elder with the sense that
his ruler was coldly furious.
Akhavar
Lake of Swords
ZANE paced madly, coming to a dead halt when he saw his grandfather. “We said we’d meet here, but when I arrived no more than a few minutes behind him, Tim had vanished. He went in there, I just know it.”
Tianoman
gripped his grandson’s shoulders. “This isn’t your fault. We will deal with it,
understand?” Zane nodded without speaking. Letting go, Tianoman shifted to
Tristan. “Can you place Kaval watch here? You know the Valleur will be
foolhardy, so I prefer not asking them to guard this.”
“Consider
it done. I’ll contact Belun now.”
Teighlar,
meanwhile squatted near the edge of the mud’s reach. “It’s a portal,” he
murmured. “It has the same feel as the crucible in Grinwallin. Does this one
exit in multiple locations or is it a way between two fixed places?” He
sniffed. “The latter, I’d say.”
“Avaelyn,”
Tianoman sighed.
As
Teighlar looked up at him, he looked down, and Tristan immediately blurted,
“Don’t you dare, either of you. What we suspect may not be what we actually
find. We are not Walkers.”
“Neither
is Timare,” Tianoman whispered.
“But
Torrullin is,” Tristan said. “When he cops this, he will use it, and he can
find Tim if he went elsewhere. We do not step in there, hear?”
“Lunik,”
Tianoman breathed, fixing his gaze over Tristan’s shoulder. “Son, wait …” Lunik
was already striding for the pit, and his father stepped into his path.
“Tristan is right, Lunik! To go haring in there is looking for trouble. What if
you land up somewhere else? What if you end up trapped in limbo?”
“Out
of my way,” Lunik growled, only to be tackled from behind.
Tristan
had him in a headlock. “Torrullin can find him, Lunik. Think! For fuck’s sake,
why are we Vallas so bloody headstrong? Just think, will you?”
Ceasing
his struggle, Lunik muttered, “Fine. But I want to know what’s going on. All
the rumours going around led to Tim doing something he wasn’t prepared for, and
Zane might have vanished also had he and his brother been together. Enough.”
“We
will tell you everything, I promise,” his father murmured, “and Zane and Ash.”
Belun
arrived then, along with Assint and Mahler. The three Centuar noted the tension
but did not say a word. They took up positions around the mire, and Belun said,
“We have this, Tris. Fuma, Amunti and Chaim will spell us in four hours.”
“Thank
you.”
“Let’s
go.” Tianoman murmured, nodding his appreciation towards the Centuar. Holding
Zane, he vanished.
Tristan,
still with Lunik in his grip, left as well, leaving the Emperor to look Belun’s
way. “He’s coming, Centuar,” he murmured. “He will arrive here.”
Belun’s
now silver eyes glowed. “Well then, to hell with being relieved of watch. I’m
staying right where I am.”
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