The Dreamer Stones (20 page)

She found him
in the library sitting in the dark with a flashing sky his
intermittent illumination.

“Torrullin
told me I am the essence of Tristamil,” he said before she said
anything. “Did he suspect what that meant or was he merely
repeating something told him? Did he realise there was more to it
when he saw himself in my son? Perhaps we can answer yes to some of
those, but what really matters right now is what does Tymall know?
Is this the reason he has ignored me since Linir?”

He did not
look at her.

Caballa took a
seat opposite him in the lightning dark.

“After Torrke
melted we could find no trace of either Torrullin or Margus,
speaking of their essences, signatures, call it what you like, but
we did perceive Tristamil and Tymall. They died the night before
destruction, and the destruction therefore didn’t affect their
signatures. They hadn’t yet passed beyond long enough for what
remained to entirely dissipate, and thus we saw certain things in
those remains.

“We formed a
pact, a secret circle, again call it what you will, to keep what we
found in those signatures hidden - until you came. You had no name
or face, but we knew a half-Valla would come forward when the
Enchanter returned. It was largely conjecture, I must admit,
partially seen truths, half-grasped logic, lots of ifs and maybes,
but we did it anyway, in the event we were proven right. Instilling
the ‘sight’ in you was the proof we needed - simply put, what you’d
emerge as after receiving it. Or, more precisely, what you’d know,
the blood connection you feel, it being far more than what you
accepted so far.”

“I have
accepted this,” Samuel said. “I cannot deny something so
clear.”

Caballa
nodded. “True. We, the circle, protected Tristamil’s descendants,
unseen and unknown to them
and
the Vallas in the west.”

“You knew
Tymall would return.”

“Yes, but not
as what he is. You see, Samuel, Tristamil is beyond our reach, we
know that now, but then we thought to see a new arising of the
twins. It was in their essences, things left undone,
dissatisfaction that could herald return. Reincarnation, so to
speak, and why not - their father already set the precedent. We
thought it was to make the Enchanter whole after his ordeal in the
invisible realm, a renewal of those he lost.”

She shook her
head, her beauty flashing into sight with each lightning bolt. “The
Valleur don’t know much about reincarnation, not enough to discern
the errors in our logic. You’re not Tristamil reincarnate, for he
is where he is into eternity. You are of the blood, the inheritor
of what was, and maybe, if we looked deeper when it became evident
only one son per generation was born to your line, we’d have seen
that truth. The inheritance was passing down unbroken to you. As
for Tymall, well, we thought your line would eventually deliver up
twins. One for Tris, the other for his brother, and together you’d
be reincarnates, all of this happening around the time Torrullin
was to return. We were wrong.”

“You didn’t
notice how close in looks I was to them, for you weren’t watching
close enough. You were waiting for the twin birth.”

“Yes.
Conversely, the lack of such a birthing meant we weren’t really
expecting Torrullin when he came.”

“Tannil
knew.”

“Tannil had
other information, never shared.”

“I heard
Kismet call me typical Valla. What did he mean?”

She smiled.
“That’s just Kis.”

“No. Are we
arrogant, above our station, what?”

“Samuel, it’s
like someone suggesting the Vallas are ordinary; it doesn’t fit.
You’re one of them, not above your station, for it is the royal
line. Is that arrogance? No, but it’s an unconscious mantle you
wear. How else?”

“It doesn’t
sit well.”

“Not from
Kismet’s viewpoint,” Caballa teased.

He was in no
mood for that. “To return to the issue.”

“Of course. We
let it slide, having misrepresented what we read in the signatures.
We were unprepared for you, but mostly for Tymall. And we misjudged
his capacity for evil. We thought, in a reincarnate twin, it would
hibernate as it did the first time until the Enchanter could either
reverse or negate it, having this time foreknowledge. Thus he’d
have two true sons. I think in a way we were playing at gods,
attempting to prepare these gifts for Torrullin, something like a
second chance, but we were wrong.”

“Not
entirely.”

“Not right
enough either,” Caballa sighed. “There is you and there is him, but
neither of you are quite who and what we expected.”

“And now, what
comes next?”

“You, Samuel.
We need to know what you feel inside and what you learned from the
blood’s perspective. Only then does the way forward become
clear.”

“For who?”

“The
circle.”

“Explain.”

“Do we use the
circle to finish what we started? Or do we use it to turn around
and start anew? Or do we simply disband it? I don’t have a proper
answer.”

“What the
blood tells me is specifically designed for the circle?”

She read a
simmering frustration in him. “Not at all. What you know is yours
and you can choose to share it with no one and no one will be the
wiser, except perhaps Torrullin. Or you can take a risk and tell us
and then still back away from the circle. Samuel, don’t you
understand yet? You are a Valla, and while Valleur are not sheep to
ploddingly follow, you don’t have to tell me anything. Nobody can
force you to either. If you tell me to disband the circle, I’ll
probably fight it and then go on to do so.”

He frowned. “I
have no authority over you.”

“On the
contrary. Not only authority, but the right and the power of the
blood.”

Dear god.

She gave him
time to assimilate, then, “Will you tell me?” Softly, a question
put with respect.

He nodded, the
movement jerky in the lightning, and then a loud peal of thunder
drowned the words that went with that action. He began again,
muttering under his breath about bad timing.

“Genetically,”
he said, speaking louder to overcome the rolling drums of the
storm, “I am Tymall’s twin. Older - how strange that is to me,
being older - but I am not Tristamil. He does not inhabit me,
although I have clearer race memories than before. My signature is
not Tris’ or Tymall’s - it is, after all, unique - but that you
already know.” He smiled, the gesture nearly lost in the dark, and
then it lit in the next blue flash. “I believe I could trace
him.”

“Then he can
you.”

Silence, and
then, “Have you ever thought, Caballa, how like Valla kinfire
lightning is? It crackles and spits when two poles meet, it’s a
release of pressure and also a manifestation of power.” Samuel
laughed. “Never mind, purely rhetorical.” He leaned forward,
looking at her with lowered head, eyes fixed. “Why do you need to
protect me, beyond the obvious?”

“Tymall hated
his twin. He’ll come for you, especially now.”

“So I was
right. He has ignored me. He waits for me to know myself.”

“More than
that. He waits for his father to know you. A greater and sweeter
vengeance. We must train you.”

Samuel leaned
back in his seat. “No.”

“Heed me in
this. He is very strong.”

“The Sentient
Lady of Valaris called me the New Priest, Caballa. I don’t need
magic, I need the Light and I need it as strong and as bright as I
can get it. That’s what I know about myself, and I believe that’s
what your circle is able to bring forth.”

Caballa,
Elder, seer, sat back astounded. He surprised her, after all.

She whistled
through clenched teeth as she realised something more. This was why
Teighlar willingly entered the circle to protect the secret of the
twins coming again in another guise. Those conversant in the Light
formed the circle, as Samuel had seen.

Some, like
herself, Mitrill and Kismet, had it to a lesser degree, but Saska
had been Lady of Life and Teighlar dead and returned, returned in
the Light. A circle to assist Samuel. Teighlar, curse him, sensed
more than he let on at the time.

She exhaled
lengthily and said, “We need to go to Grinwallin.”

Teighlar
lounged in his paradise grotto, reflecting.

An epic
struggle escalated around Valaris, a world he had not seen except
through the eyes of others, a struggle, nay, a war that appeared
headed directly towards Grinwallin.

Grinwallin.
Well of Power.

The forces of
good and evil clashing in this place could bring about genocide,
total destruction.

It happened
ninety million years. It came close two thousand years ago when
Murs and Mysor bayed at the gates.

It happened to
those who came before, the builders of Grinwallin.

The Luvans,
arrogant, immortal, supreme builders, who evolved into a
licentious, debauched race as their extinction level grew ever
nearer. There were too many reincarnations and too few newborn and
eventually they surrendered to the inevitable, becoming in the
process something cheap, until their slaves, the colourful Senlu
rose against them.

A long war
that, a rebellion that evolved into the age-old struggle between
good and evil. The Luvans did not survive - genocide, in the end.
The Senlu went on to become what their masters were originally,
only with less finesse. Even that did not last.

Grinwallin had
a way of turning matters on their heads. Such as the Senlu, in
their victory become what they rose against. From that came
terrible strife, and resulted in his long and lonely exile.

He sipped at
his drink. Not that he foresaw a war of that nature. Neither a
formal confrontation of armies, nor a protracted guerrilla
skirmishing.

No, it would
be a war of individuals with the main protagonists the Enchanter
and his son. Which was in progress, but their natures were so
volatile, if they brought it to Grinwallin, it could set Grinwallin
to interfering again.

Teighlar
sighed and rose. Setting his drink aside, he wandered the paths of
his rock-bound garden. He could not deny anyone this haven. As
Grinwallin could be explosive in her retribution, thus she
protected the innocent. It had not always been that way.
Grinwallin, fairest of cities, was also gifted a second chance.

The Senlu
Emperor halted on the bridge and cocked his head.

Ah. Samuel,
with Caballa. And the man knew.

Again he
sighed. The circle’s time had come.

First priority
was to replace the departed Mitrill, rest her soul.

He turned to
head for the Great Hall.

At least, for
now, Grinwallin would hide what they would do next.

Chapter
Eighteen

Drawing
circles in the sand isn’t that creative.

Arc, poet

Samuel wanted
to see Tannil, but Caballa said it was better to leave the Vallorin
to his grief, and Teighlar could send for Curin and Tristan.

Thus it was
they entered through an arch into Grinwallin’s Great Hall to find
Teighlar descending the stairs from the royal apartment. It was
otherwise empty.

“I sent
everyone away. We’ll not be disturbed.” He smiled at Samuel. “Your
wife and son are in the library.”

Samuel nodded
his appreciation, turning without a word to the chamber further
down, vanishing into it. A shriek of joy was heard from Curin.

Teighlar
focused on Caballa, who said, “You’re prepared, my Lord Emperor, as
if you knew we’d come this moment and for what purpose.”

“I sensed
Samuel arrive at certain conclusions. Now, about Mitrill’s place -
we need fill it to close the circle. Five isn’t sufficient.”

She inclined
her head. If he said so, then it had to be so, but the Valleur
always worked with three or five or fourteen to affect greater
feats. She could not fathom his insistence on six. She had not then
and she did not now, but then, like Torrullin, he was an enchanter.
Perhaps enchanters knew something the Valleur did not.

“Saska will
join us in a while,” Teighlar continued. “Where’s Kismet?”

“Back home.
Samuel and I have come to talk …”

“No more time
for that. Call him.”

She sent the
call and asked, “What of … you know who?”

For the first
time the Emperor appeared uncertain. “I’ve sent the contact out,
but I don’t know whether I reached him. If not, the five we shall
be may have to reach out together.”

“If he doesn’t
come, what then?”

“Then we add
another new member.” He peered at her. “You’re looking at me.”

She was
silent.

“They told me,
of course, what happened, but it’s hard to believe something
sometimes until you’re presented with proof,” Teighlar murmured.
“Are you comfortable with the transfer to sight?”

“Now I
am.”

“Occasionally
a complete change can herald new insights.”

“Sight being
the operative word.”

“Forgive me,
I’m being intrusive.”

She smiled. “I
am fine now, my Lord.”

Kismet
appeared and the first thing he did was frown at the deserted Hall.
Senlu were always in evidence here. “Where has everyone gone?”

Teighlar told
him and then went on to explain about Mitrill’s replacement.

Kismet
shrugged. “I don’t see why. We’d be five if all goes well, and in
Valleur feats that is sufficient.”

“I am well
aware of the circles Valleur curve, but this one is different. One
of us is not in this realm. To make use of his knowledge - and we
do need it - five physical beings need make up the circle. We
centre him - he comes.”

Ah. Caballa
wished she asked two thousand years ago.

Kismet
pondered and nodded. “I get it. Who do you have in mind?”