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 …
Chapter 1
“Go
to the mountains, son, and sing songs of praise. Majesty is in timelessness.”
~ Father Rees
Vall
Peninsula
Northern
Valaris
DESPITE
HIGH SUMMER elsewhere, it was
bitterly cold in the far north. Icy winds came off the towering Legend
Mountains in the distance. The giant slopes were covered in snow almost to the
point where rock met land, capped with dark, threatening clouds. A storm brewed there, and it boded ill for the two travellers. They were not dressed for it.
In sharp contrast to the whiteness, the
wasteland they crossed was ochre in colour. Loose dust puffed up with every
step as if they walked in low gravity and it blew up into their faces with
every gust of icy wind. Already they were barely distinguishable from their
surroundings.
It was an empty land, abandoned,
lonely, and frighteningly different. There were no trees. There was no water.
The only tangible objects on that vast plain were edged, black pebbles hidden
in powdery dust that served to trip.
Averroes could not believe she was born
here, that someone took her across this to the south.
They had been walking for hours. Vannis
said she would instinctively know where to go, but she felt nothing other than
burning thirst. They had not brought enough water; she had one swallow left, as
did Kylan.
Would this never end? The barren ochre
plain stretched in every direction. Only the mountains to the north relieved
the disheartening vista. Now that
stirred something within her. Did it mean they needed to walk all that way?
She groaned aloud.
“Averroes?” Kylan said hoarsely behind
her. He was a wonderful companion, ever uncomplaining.
“I’m fine; just wishing I knew where to
go.” Her voice, she found, was equally gruff.
“Wait, Averroes, I see … what is that?”
Kylan, when she turned, pointed at a
patch of black growing in size as they walked. It was on the ground directly
ahead, and she had not even seen it.
“I don’t know.” Her heart commenced an
uneven rhythm.
As they drew closer, the black patch
materialised into a perfect circle, recessed, about three feet in diameter.
“It’s not natural. Do you recognise
it?” Kylan queried as they halted at the edge of the sphere. It was smooth like
stone eroded by the ceaseless movement of water.
She shook her head and knelt to touch.
It was warm and there was a minor vibration under her fingers. She placed her
hand flat on the surface, and it moved.
Snatching her hand back, she stumbled away from the edge and pulled Kylan with
her.
“It’s moving!”
A circular tube rose perpendicular to
the ground and halted at about seven feet, still attached to the earth.
“What is that?” Kylan asked, passing a hand before his eyes to check his
sight.
“No idea.”
They heard a whooshing sound. What
appeared to be doors retracted into the sides of the cylinder.
“I have read something about this. I
don’t know what you call it, but I think one travels in it, up and down. I
think we’re supposed to get in.” Kylan was clearly uncertain.
“This is technology, then? Can we trust
it?”
“Unless we want to walk to nowhere
without water, we have no choice. Vannis did say the half-Valleur were
underground. Come, take my hand, we will do it together.”
They linked hands and approached.
“Ready?” Kylan asked, and when Averroes
nodded, they stepped in quickly, fearing the doors would close on them before
they were fully inside.
Once in, they stood waiting, feeling
peculiar in a black cylinder in an ochre desert, but nothing happened. Long
moments passed as they kept glancing at each other for reassurance. Nothing
inside offered a clue on how to operate the device.
Kylan shrugged and Averroes giggled.
“Well, it can only go one way,
hopefully. Why does it not move? Surely it should go down …”
On the word ‘down’ the doors closed. A
ceiling light came on and there was the sensation of falling. They could not
tell how fast they went, thus could not estimate distance. What seemed an
eternity later, but was no more than minutes, the tube came to a halt; the
doors whooshed instantly open … behind them.
“Oh, boy,” Kylan muttered as they both
turned.
Directly ahead was a wall, white and
blank. Peeking around the doors, they looked left and right. It was a corridor,
stretching unendingly both ways, lights evenly spaced along the ceiling,
glowing muted white.
It was deserted.
They stepped out. The doors closed, and
the device remained stationary.
“Now what?” Kylan whispered, looking at
lights that needed no flame to burn. The nearest phenomenon he could summon to
mind was the solar glows in Galilan’s Prism Park.
“Pick
a berry; pick two, three, four
Eat
them; eat them well
Come
again for more …”
Averroes recited a child’s rhyme,
wagging her finger left and right with each word. She ended pointing right.
“That way.”
“You’re not serious.”
“One way is as good as another, and I
still have no sense of recognition.”
Kylan laughed nervously and went
right. A hand strayed to his upper thigh where his knife was. Averroes pulled
hers from her boot to put it in her jacket pocket.
They walked a long while, at first
warily, but as time passed and no one appeared to challenge them, they relaxed
and strolled more casually.
Other than the pools of light that came
and went as they passed, there were no changes to the stark corridor. It was
spotless, the air fresh and the temperature comfortable.
They came upon a recess; a square space
penetrating the rock beyond. There was a white basin on a pedestal, a black
button on the side, with a spout inside the basin. They knew what it was.
Basins and baths in the south were of stone, wood or copper, and taps were
rudimentary, hot water piped in from an outside fire and cylinder, yet a basin
was a basin.
Averroes pushed the button and from the
spout, and a jet of clear water erupted.
“Water,” she breathed. Putting one
finger in, she tasted. “Fresh.” She grinned and leaned in to drink her fill,
before standing aside.
Kylan needed no coaxing.
They then filled their bottles and took
the opportunity to change into fresh clothes. Ochre dust permeated the material
they removed and they shook the garments thoroughly before packing them away.
The white floor was red by the time they were done.
Much refreshed, morale higher, they
stepped back into the corridor.
A low hum filled the air behind them.
The ochre dust on the floor dissipated and disappeared. The humming stopped.
“Technology,” Kylan said. “I don’t know
my world at all.”
They went on.
A while later the corridor reached a
junction. Again, they had a choice of either left or right. The left was blue,
the right green, the two colours meeting in a perfect line before them. At
least the unrelieved white was gone, but there was no further sign to aid them.
Indecisive, they peered both ways. All
was quiet.
“I think there are doorways, look.”
Averroes pointed along the green arm. There were rectangular shadows further
down.
Kylan thought it could be anything, but
it was change at last, thus he nodded.
A muted clang emanated from the same
direction. They were here to find people, not avoid them, and even if it was
danger they found, it was infinitely better than the sense of being the last
two people alive on the planet.
They chose to go right.
The closer they came, the more Kylan
had to admit Averroes was right; doorways indeed and doorways usually meant …
… without warning someone stepped out
left ahead, to cross the corridor into a doorway right. The impression the two
intruders had was of a flowing purple robe.
Kylan was flat against the wall, knife
in hand. His reflexes surprised him.
They crept forward.
Kylan peered around the right-hand
doorway into which Purple Robe vanished. It was a large yellow room with
benches attached to the walls. In the centre, there was a square table, about
two feet high, of blue marble, matching the blue of the benches. On the table
was a statue of a little girl holding aloft the moon, sculpted from a
bluish-grey marble akin to the moon itself. Her little face was alive with the
joy of holding something so precious. Kylan was riveted.
Abruptly, from another doorway in the
far corner of the room, Purple Robe appeared.
Crikey,
I will one day cause my own doom, if it is not today, Kylan thought.
On seeing Kylan, Purple Robe dropped
the tray he carried. Loaded as it was with empty crystal goblets, the resultant
noise was shatteringly loud. He uttered a shrill cry.
Averroes, studying a similar chamber on
the left, dashed across.
That cry!
Kylan was rooted, mesmerized by the
yellow eyes of Purple Robe, the cry resounding in his ears.
Upon seeing him thus, Averroes’ memory
jiggled, shifted and opened … of another life … clutching her head in an influx
of images, each vying for supremacy, she nonetheless had the presence of mind
to run headlong into Kylan, jolting him to break his transfixed state.
“Don’t look at him! Block your ears!”
she managed, shouting over the noise while battling the images of returning
memory. “He’s paralysing you! Do it!”
Kylan sank to the floor, fingers in
ears, eyes screwed shut.
She entered the yellow room. Purple
Robe turned his gaze on her, continuing his ululation.
Staring straight into his eyes, she
said, using the common tongue of Valarians, “It won’t work on me. I’m half-Valleur.”
It was true; she was half-Valleur.
She now knew it with certainty.
Blinking his eyes, Purple Robe shut the
din off. He stared at her in horror, while she bent to grip Kylan’s shoulder.
The Herbmaster looked up at her,
unblocking his ears. “All right?” he asked.
“It will be,” she said. “Get up.”
“Who are you? You are a trickster!
Half-Valleur have yellow eyes!” Purple Robe cackled, evidently thinking he
caught her out.
Averroes put her hands together. “’A
dark-eyed child will be born among you. She will be the Changeling who …’” she recited
in Valleur. Vannis was right; a Valleur baby never forgot. I am home.
Kylan shifted her way on hearing her
speak in Valleur, familiar to him now after both the Guardians and Rayne had
uttered enchantments in it.
“No, no …” Purple Robe’s eyes were
wide. “… it cannot be … you were … we …”
“You left my mother and me for dead,
yes.” Averroes said.
Purple Robe sank onto the nearest
section of bench, setting it a-quiver with his great bulk, his face ghostly,
trembling as if with fever.
“By all the gods, is it time?”
THE KINFIRE TREE
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