Purity. Life-giving
water. The Lifesource.
Thousands of years ago
when the Valleur settled Valaris, they came to this place. Water and its
life-giving properties were and remain extremely important to the Golden. Water
was their collective soul, respected, worshipped as a living entity. Thus they
did not name rivers, for naming something worthy of worship was considered
sacrilege. They came here to acknowledge Life.
Although Valaris had
larger and broader rivers elsewhere, here the water was vibrant, trembling with
joyous life within the core of the planet, bursting forth into the light and
freedom of the world in splendid glory. Water gushed powerfully from the deepest
caverns of the old rock mere feet from him, to fall hundreds of feet to paths
below.
Here they built a temple
of transcendent beauty, infused with the earth’s telluric currents; small
wonder the monuments to death were located in the neighbouring valley: life and
death, inseparable.
Torrullin knelt and
leaned over the sheer precipice to touch the icy water, marked the violent
power it contained, and drew strength. He straightened and licked his hand,
becoming for a second one with the power of Life.
He put his back to the
dangerous drop, and faced east, the direction the planet received the first
rays of light from day after day without fail, only local cloud cover
occasionally interfering with that sublimity. He shouted into the wind, he
shouted the words Kylan shouted when faced with Infinity, the words Rayne used
to protect them on an angry ocean, the words of protective enchantment. “Mykia lan shuldra ka! Invin ka!”
Considering his
precarious perch on the narrow strip of land, in the fury of the mother of all
storms, he would need the protection when he called forth the Lifesource
Temple.
He raised his hands on
high and shouted the uncloaking, “Ma nume
ka shunl, ma nume ka shunl, ra shu donl ken, nume ka! Nume ka!”
Effervescent colour,
glittering bright as day, transformed the deep night into a carnival of
fireworks. Music burst forth, symphonies, but not of this world or any world,
rather the harmonies of legends and angels, once heard forever yearned for.
This is Valleur? Torrullin questioned in profound amazement, and tears were on his
cheeks, of joy, of sadness, for so swiftly did the music find the soul, and he
was not ashamed of his reaction.
A force pulsed outward.
Without the protective enchantment, he would have cartwheeled backward into the
void, for even with it he hit the ground, his tears now for physical and
unexpected jarring impact.
The music softened to a
background whisper of continuing bliss.
“Invin ka! Ra shu len Vall rin!” he ground out, his shout a whisper.
This was the second
uncloaking, for the Temple laid hidden layer within layer. The pulsing force
petered out, and Torrullin rose with a groan, rubbing his left elbow. From the
narrow land bridge, a path of white illumination shot into the dark over the void
to the east and, at its end, the Temple.
It shimmered upon an
island of imagination, suspended in the air, its tenuous connection to reality
the path of light. He held his breath, awed by the ethereal beauty. The Temple
was pure light, silver sparkles, and almost he stepped onto the path of light
in his urgency to get to it.
In time he remembered
the third uncloaking, the one that created out of fantasy solid reality. This
was the trap, the narrow line of a truth test. Only a Valleur, or an initiate
accepted by the Valleur, could know the three words of the truly ancient tongue
that would solidify the light in the dark. Without those words, the Temple
remained a dream vision, and to step onto the bridge of light to it resulted in
a screaming descent into the eastern void.
Vicl manna vann loosely translated meant simply I am able, and Torrullin whispered them. He was able, and he
stepped onto the lightbridge. His feet met the resistance of reality.
Slowly, fascinated, he
walked the path of light. The Temple increased in size and magnificence the
closer he came. It was the span of a small city, chamber within chamber,
seemingly random and without thought and the walls were transparent moonlight.
To gaze on it was to see into its heart, while seeing only a portion of the
whole. It had been built by the master-builders, yes, but of undiluted sorcery.
It was real, but to touch meant one’s senses, one’s fingers, could find no
equivalent. It was a fantasy, a religion, a thought, a soul-vessel, and it was
tangible. It was inspiring, magical, angelic and of true beauty.
Kin is Everything
We return to the
Land of Skies. One battle is already behind the team, the disastrous events
upon Ardosia; time now to concentrate on the stability of Valaris, or the same
fate awaits her.
Hidden from humankind are fourteen sacred Valleur
sites, built upon nodes of power. Vannis Valla advocates unveiling them to
restore balance to the earth, which will aid in the fight against Margus. The
Darak Or has other ideas, and unleashes his soltakin …
In the north, Averroes discovers her true past and she
and Kylan run the Maze gauntlet. Kisha, Mordan, Cristi and Samson prepare the
clans of old for eternal night. In the south, Vannis, Rayne and Saska, along
with the charismatic little Falcon, Phet, move from site to site. Taranis and
the Guardians delve arcane ritual in the Dome to find the answers to the ending
of soltakin, while expecting Infinity to bring her Darkling Horde into the mix.
Meanwhile McSee, unmasked as traitor, meets the crazy Lanto and they hatch a
bold plan, involving a pirate and ancient loot.
Rayne begins the internal battle that will change all.
It began for him on Ardosia when he touched Vannis only to release blue sparks
between them. The ruling house is almost extinct. How, therefore, does a Valla
recognise the blood for the future? By the blue flame of trebac. Kinfire. The
legendary Vannis is kin, but there is more in store for Rayne than the reality
of this profound connection.
The Kinfire Tree has many branches hidden in its
foliage, a condition Rayne suspects, a greater truth he must reveal …
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