The Dreamer Stones (29 page)

Eyes
closed.

Torrullin
nearly hyperventilated. Siric and Centuar. Down to one each. Bound
to him. The Q’lin’la? Who else? What a terrible responsibility, one
he did not want. Although it was not the answer he sought, it was
an answer, one he wished he did not now have.

He wanted to
know of one companion, the ultimate companion - gods, perhaps it
was better not to have an answer to that.

Suddenly the
Syllvan who answered the question reopened its four eyes. “I may
add, I am told, another Immortal, not one of an accepted Immortal
race, when he or she is the lone Immortal, may form part of your
cabinet.” Eyes closed again.

Like … Lowen.
Like … Saska, if no other Sylmer were to ever reach for
Immortality. Like, dear Aaru … would he? Teighlar?

“Can I prevent
this cabinet?”

“Not unless
you seek to deny the sacrificial deaths of those who forfeit all
for one of their kind to be an eternal companion,” a Syllvan
snapped, not liking the question. “Powerful you are, Elixir, but
not cruel. Do not ask such stupid questions.”

It closed its
eyes with a decided huff.

Eternal
companion. Why does that strike a chord?

It formed part
of an answer he was not yet ready for.

He paced back
and looked the Syllvan over as a group. Six with eyes closed. Eight
questions remaining. He had better concentrate on matters other
than his personal journey.

Glancing back
at Lowen, who smiled encouragingly, he was glad to see she heeded.
She was the mainstay, the point of entry, therefore the point of
departure.

Clearing his
throat, he moved along the crescent. “Tymall recreates the past,
largely mine. Beyond revenge - why?”

The nearest
Syllvan looked down on him. “A pertinent question. Why would he do
such a thing? It is an awesome task, takes an incredible degree of
planning, forethought, a frustration that can go wrong given the
factor of chance, and the unpredictable nature of minds. Revenge,
yes, and more. After all, nothing is simple. I shall answer.
Digilan is magnetic alchemically and sorcerically and it will draw
Tymall back after a time unless he achieves certain objectives. He
did the first, which was to vacate with the tools of power, and he
did the second, which was to draw the power of a severed
connection, a profound connection. Nemisin’s Star. Ah,
enlightenment, I see. There are two more, one being the power of
the past, which lies in recreation, and the second is he has to be
the last. The last Valla. Is that possible, I wonder, the last
requirement?”

The creature
closed eyes.

Torrullin
frowned. Tymall would never be the last Valla. Unless. His face
stretched in disbelief.
Unless he forces me to repudiate my
Valla blood, as Fay did
. At least long enough for Digilan to
lose its hold over him.

The Medaillon.
It had slipped from his grasp, slithered out of sight. Pure, honest
Valleur magic. Created with Valla blood. Lowen earlier underscored
that.

“Will you
return the Maghdim Medaillon to me if he succeeds in closing off my
Valla blood?”

A general
wheezing of laughter from all, even those with closed eyes. “His
mind is sharp,” someone muttered and another went, “Hush!”

“We thought
you would come to that conclusion only later.” The Syllvan he
addressed shook with silent chuckles. “Ah, it is good to speak with
a clever mind again! Yes, it will be returned, gladly.”

Torrullin
smiled and felt hopeful again. Then,
if it gets to that point,
it will mean every Valla will be dead.

“Can the
Medaillon be used to keep the other Vallas hidden?”

Quiet.

Then, “A
compassionate soul. How uplifting,” and it came from the seventh,
his eyes still closed. “You seek to use it for Tymall to believe,
but for you, the Vallas are gone? Elixir, you are unique. No one
has ever stood before us and asked to save others at their expense.
The Medaillon, if it does what you ask, cannot again be used for
you. If your son succeeds in forcing your blood out, the coin will
not return it to you.”

Torrullin
nodded.

“Excellent,”
the Syllvan murmured. “Yes, it can be done. All we need is your
confirmation.”

Torrullin
nodded again. Tymall would not be the last, for others would hold
the blood if he lost his. A price worth paying.

“I want it
thus.”

“Very well.
Upon your return, gather your family in Grinwallin’s crucible. We
shall do the rest.” The creature closed his eyes and there was a
beatific smile on its small lips.

True hope. The
empty vessel refilled, and this time it was good.

“Must Tymall
die physically?” The pertinent question.

“Not
necessarily. You could dupe him, allow Digilan to pull him back.
That is one choice, with a price - to you. There is another way -
it, of course, involves physical death.” Another set of eyes
closed.

Four questions
left.

There was much
he wanted to know, more he needed clarified, but those matters
would eventually sort themselves out, one way or another. With four
questions left, he needed to select carefully. He glanced again at
Lowen, then paced around the stalagmites, weaving in and out, the
conical shapes focusing his attention. He halted before a
particularly thick one, stared into the scarlet flickering
depths.

“Light as a
feather. To come here, I emptied myself. What of another
occasion?”

He did not
look at the Syllvan, but one answered. It did not matter which
one.

“We called to
you; we knew you. The dream haunting was meant to penetrate. Until
you were willing to decipher it, you would not be ready. Being
ready was not sufficient. You required the suffering of what you
carried inside to open … everything. Mind, heart, soul, all.
Otherwise, this would seem like another dream, a visitation of
symbolism. Thus you entered unencumbered. Next time, if it becomes
needful, you call to us and we shall open the way. Yes, the Abyss -
it cannot be escaped.”

“Few survive
the Abyss,” someone said.

“We expected
you would, Elixir,” another added.

“Hush!” a
third said.

Torrullin
smiled. Personalities in the strangest places. He turned and waved
at them. “A wasted question you will no doubt tell me, but … no,
forget it.”

Number seven,
who appeared to be the leader, opened his eyes.

“We have
decided to answer your unspoken query … for free. Universes there
are, plural. Realities there are, plural. Invisible realms there
are, plural. Everything is linked. Some are temporary, others
permanent. If we are to speak of your universe, the Valleur were
the first indigenous sentients, but others came before and some
came and went. The Syllvan belong to no universe. We are not
inhabitants of physical reality. We were and are the Gatekeepers of
Reaume, not immortal, but as near as. We are as old as Time, if it
can be measured, if a curve may be said to have a beginning and an
end. Even that is relative, for the curve is altered in the spaces,
as it is in alternate universes. No absolutes. And, yes, the day
will come when we shall be no more, but we shall have done our duty
and you, Elixir, will know what to do after we are gone.”

Seven sighed,
swayed a little and closed his eyes.

“Thank you,”
Torrullin said.

“You are most
welcome,” Seventh replied without opening his four eyes. “Now
concentrate on your final three questions.”

“Of course.
With the past where it belongs, I cannot deny even now I shall walk
the Path of Shades always. Dual nature does not allow one or the
other to reign supreme.” A long silence as he pondered.

“What is your
question?” one of the three remaining wide-eyed Syllvan asked.

Torrullin
looked at it. “It has been a while since I released Destroyer. He
is around and beats at my defences, even now, unencumbered as I am.
They say,” and he waved airily, “I am to be feared …”

“What is your
question?” the Syllvan asked again.

“Is it
possible to banish Destroyer?”

“No. You will
need him. The Path of Shades demands his presence.” The Syllvan
snapped his eyes closed.

Torrullin
swore and turned away to present his back to the crescent panel.
“So be it. My alter ego remains with me.” He swung around and
glared at the second-to-last Syllvan with an answer. “Tell me I do
not need him for Tymall.”

“Is that a
question?”

“Yes.”
Calm.

“There are no
absolutes. You may or may not require Destroyer. There are choices
within choices, but neither another nor I can tell you how it will
be. The atonement you seek extends to Destroyer also.”

A short pause
ensued and, as Torrullin thought the creature would lapse into
silent mode, it continued.

“You must
realise your son cannot be redeemed. In that is atonement. If you
care for others, for innocents, if you care for your son, you will
stop him. Putting an end to what is pure misery is an act of
unselfishness. It will not seem so at first, but you will accept
it. That is atonement.”

Torrullin
nodded. “Your clarification aids me. I thank you.”

“You are most
welcome.”

“Final one,”
Torrullin said.

He walked to
the final Syllvan, second to right, and stood before it. The
creature returned his stare. None had eyelids, which was
disconcerting. The act of closing their eyes was a cessation of
eyeholes, also disconcerting.

“Fine. A
burning question, the other dilemma I face. Margus, the Darak Or. I
have given my word to see him on a world where he may live
unhindered, if he honours his bond. What am I to do?”

“You will know
when the time comes.”

Torrullin
stared up. “I need more than that.”

The Syllvan
leaned forward, the first to do so. “The Darak Or is eaten with new
revenge. He can do no other than break his word. All bonds will be
severed.” The creature returned to position. “You will know when
the time comes.”

Torrullin
sighed and then returned to stand beside Lowen. He said nothing
further.

One-by-one the
Syllvan reopened their eyes. They too said nothing. Sat.
Waited.

Torrullin
stared at them and began to laugh, understanding. They had
completed their task and were no longer independent, at least not
of him.

“Dear, oh
dear,” he spluttered, “now it is my turn? Fine. One question of
each of you and I shall answer as truthfully as I am able.”

A collective
sigh, and number seven shook with sympathetic chuckles. “Not so
good, is it? We will keep it short. Number One!”

The creature
furthest right twiggled its ‘fingers’. “Elixir, who do you turn to
in your hour of need?”

Torrullin’s
mirth vanished. “I cannot answer, for I no longer know. I am
different.”

“Who do you
love above all others?” the Second asked.

“My son,”
Torrullin said, without hesitation. “Tristamil.”

“He is gone,
Elixir. You must look to the living … or the waiting,” Number Two
added.

A flash of a
dark head of hair, a back turned. It was not Lowen.
Elianas.
Waiting.

He shuddered
and shifted his gaze to the Third.

“Will you ask
the Immortal Xenian at your side to join your cabinet? She is the
only one of her kind.”

He glanced at
Lowen. She stared at the ground. “There are factors to consider. I
truthfully don’t yet know.”

Her blue eyes
glittered when she lifted them to him.

“Did the
flatlands teach you anything?” Number Four.

“How to
lie.”

“Where is your
home, your true home?” This from the Fifth.

A long silence
and finally he answered thus, “Where I love most.”

“You say you
love your son. Are you saying Aaru is your home?” Number Six.

“That realm is
so perfect I think I would go insane,” Torrullin muttered. “It
means I prefer the shadows and uncertainty, and you’re right, I
have to look to the living. My home will be where I love most - and
it escapes me at this time.”

Again, Lowen’s
eyes glittered.

“Do you really
seek to banish Destroyer?” A penetrating question from Number
Seven.

“No.”

Number Seven
shook with silent chuckles and then Number Eight spoke, “Surely you
love your wife most?”

Torrullin
closed his eyes and stood there stiff with tension. “I shall not
answer that.”

“Ah. You have
answered.”

Lowen stared
at him, he felt it, but ignored her. “Next.”

“I have
nothing to ask, but would like to say something. No response
required. After Tymall, avoid all Reaume, Elixir. What is unseen is
better left undiscovered. You are unique and immortal; time will
have no meaning. Do not shorten or lengthen it by delving the
realms. Seeking to learn is one thing, masochism is self-defeating.
Live in reality.”

The Syllvan
lapsed into silence.

“I hear
you.”

The Tenth
cleared its throat. “Peace is the ultimate gift. There is such a
place, Elixir, where you may find it. My question is, do you desire
to know where?”

“Not yet, but
I reserve the right to ask its location in the future.”

“Of course,
and you answered correctly.”

“I would know
no peace, if I left it undone now.”

“Indeed.”

The Eleventh.
“I have no query. I say only this; do not attempt to bring back the
dead.”

“What does
that mean?” He raised his hands when they stared at him. “Fine, no
questions.” He pointed a finger at his next questioner. “Wait. I
need to think.”

He thought it
through. Someone had died or would die, close to him, another
Valla, or … gods, Saska? He glared at the Syllvan, knowing it would
not answer if he asked. He muttered under his breath, and shifted
his gaze.