The Dreamer Stones (61 page)

“Which is
better? Silence or a loose tongue?”

“Silence.”

“Compromise.”

“You know it
well, too. You hold back, keep it in, but one day soon you’re going
to act on what is swirling in your mind.”

“What the hell
do you know about it?”

“A nerve,
Torrullin?”

Indeed a
nerve, a giant, thick rope of a nerve. “When will you act,
Saska?”

“When I have
to defend myself.”

“Against?”

“You.”

He drew breath
and subsided. “We have overcome awful things before.”

“I know. I’m
not without hope,” she murmured and smiled.

He returned
the smile and it was so warm and gentle she flew into his arms to
hold on.

“I love you,
don’t ever doubt that,” he murmured into her hair.

The moon was a
setting crescent in the west before the draithen made their
presence known.

An hour before
dawn, when everyone began to think in relief of a safe night.

They did not
touch anyone or make a sound.

Torrullin,
upon a high ridge on the Morinnes Range, saw them.

They
saw
him
.

One million
draithen.

They
surrounded the valley standing five hundred deep. From the western
entrance of the Torrke, curving along the northern face of the
Morinnes, out in the east, over the land bridge between the Assents
and Arrows where the Lifesource Temple slumbered in cloaking,
curving around the southern slopes of the Arrows, occupying every
space in Menllik, until they joined back at the entrance. They
ignored every soul awake, asleep, frightened, brave, wounded and
whole, and simply stared in the general direction of the
valley.

It was a show,
nay, proof of strength, and the intention, the ultimate goal was
clear. They were here for one reason only.

Torrullin
stared down into the mass. He turned clockwise, using his extra
vision, and stared at the total. It was akin to a siege. If
daylight came and they remained in place, it
would
be a
siege.

They were here
for him.

Combined as
they were, even Elixir could not easily defeat them.

He did not
react.

Like them, he
awaited the dawn.

Chapter
Forty-Nine

Now it gets
interesting ...

Curse

Tymall sat
bolt upright, feeling no pain though he probably tore any number of
stitches.

The ugly bitch
of a nurse hissed at him and came waddling over, but he ignored
her.

Agnimus was
not
going to take his revenge away!

“Mister, lie
down or I’ll have you restrained!”

Tymall flopped
back and glared. “Bitch, will you go somewhere and rot?” He winced
at the searing pain in his lower regions.

She wagged her
finger. “You nasty son of a whore, I’m going to tie you down! And
I’m going to gag that filthy mouth!”

Pale, with
beads of sweat upon his brow, he snarled, “Get Garin, you imbecile
… can you not see I need him?”

The wagging
finger arrested and she studied him. Then she waddled away,
muttering she was not going to take the blame for this.

Four minutes
later Lorer Garin appeared. He was flustered and thick-eyed,
awakened from a nap in his office. He hurried to the bed, waving
the nurse’s explanations aside, and lifted the covering.

“You can’t
move so violently. Please, for both our sakes. Now, two stitches
need replacing …”

“You must do
the procedure in the morning, Garin. Time is short. I have
something that needs done yesterday.”

Garin shook
his head. “It’s too soon.”

“Listen, doc,
you lot here are known for experimentation - do
not
tell me
there isn’t something you can use to speed this up!”

“I’m sorry
…”

“I don’t care
if it hasn’t seen trials or if it’s unethical or illegal. I want
out and you want me gone. Do something or my father …” He groaned
and screwed his face up to control a spasm.

“Are you
threatening me?” Garin murmured, reaching for a needle and
thread.

“No! My
father’s in trouble!”

Garin raised a
brow. “And you, out of the kindness of your heart, want to go to
his aid?”

He bent over
Tymall’s groin and snipped at a stretched stitch, pulled it out and
immediately threaded the new one through. The nurse viciously
sprayed antiseptic over the area.

Tymall
groaned, but did not move a muscle. “Doc, listen to me! My father
is outnumbered!”

“He strikes me
as the kind who can handle himself,” Garin muttered, bending to the
second problem.

Tymall nodded
on the pillow with great effort. “Yes, he’s good at what he does,
but this is something new. I know this creature … all right,
altruism and filial crap aside, this creature is upsetting
my
plans and must be stopped! But it’s to my father’s
advantage, I swear it!”

Garin finished
and straightened. As the nurse drew the tented covering over, he
approached the head of the bed.

He leaned
close. “These things take time, Tymall. Your father has speeded
your healing by a week, even two, in removing the fever you had and
you should thank him. I’m sorry, medical possibilities in trials or
not, I can’t take the risk in operating before your penis has
bonded. Your father wants you alive and well and that’s how you’ll
be discharged, however long it takes. That is my final word.”

“Garin …”

“Nurse, give
him a shot to help him sleep,” the doctor said and left the
cubicle.

“My pleasure!”
the ugly nurse sang out and came forward with hypodermic. “Move,
idiot, and you set yourself back. You’ll have only yourself to
blame for every extra day you make my life a misery!”

Agnimus paced
before the open shift.

He had a
million now. A round figure. He halted and peered into the misty
rectangle, but could not see anything. He could hear. What he heard
filled him with an unnamed dread. There were terrible things in
there, things growing in strength now the draithen were leaving.
Still, they would keep their distance - many draithen had not yet
left.

He retreated
when a particularly sibilant hiss reached out to him. Yes, enough
to keep these things back. His reserve army, equally as obnoxious
and numerous as the one he had called through. They, too, would get
their chance.

Now for the
next little trick. One last embellishment before he met Elixir on
the battlefield.

Nodding at the
shift guards, he turned and left.

Dawn came and
the draithen remained.

Unmoving. It
was a siege.

Fine,
Torrullin thought, and settled to study them.

Kismet came
and asked whether they dared exit the valley to see to the ill and
dying. He was told no. It was a siege and breaking it meant death.
No one could leave, as no one could enter. A second sealing.

Krikian came
later and asked whether he could attempt to slip out to the east.
He was told, emphatically, no.

Samuel came at
midday bearing food and drink and settled in next to him, and
Torrullin was glad of his presence. Samuel knew when to keep
quiet.

Together they
watched the draithen, not once exchanging a word.

Declan
returned to the Dome, shaken.

The Syllvan
unnerved him, but he had something. He glared at Belun and Jonas
when they attempted to question him and hurled himself into a seat
before one of the computers, an alien thing with arcane symbols on
a round keypad.

He proceeded
to jab, mutter and make notes.

Evening
brought Caballa, empty-handed.

Both Torrullin
and Samuel stared accusingly at her. Both were hungry.

She smiled
sweetly. “I am the relief watch. You two go down to eat.”

Torrullin
glanced at Samuel and then shrugged. Groaning with stiffness, he
rose and stretched. “Have the other watches been relieved?”

“Yes, it’s
done. Your turn now.”

“Very well.
Call if they move.”

“Immediately.”

The Keep was
markedly emptier when they got there. The golden were on watch
about the perimeter of the valley and the women and children well
enough to find shelter in the camps in the valley had left
also.

Some sixty
children remained, with around twelve adults, and most were
installed in the lower chambers. Having eaten they had retired to
the small spaces that were their entire world - their beds.

Two boys
played a game of chess at the table beside the pool and looked up,
thereafter returning to their game and whispering together. One’s
foot was in cast, the other’s head bandaged to show only eyes, nose
and mouth.

Torrullin
ambled over and leaned in to study the game’s progress. Real
strategy. If only reality’s plans were that simple.

He touched the
boy with the broken leg and said, “Your leg is healed, young man.
Go to your mother now while I have a word with your friend. Take
the game with you - you two can pick it up in a while.”

The boy
nodded, and rose to gather the board carefully. He tested his leg,
but would only know the difference when the cast came off. Grinning
at his friend, he shuffled away.

Torrullin sat
and leaned forward. His fingers steepled. “What is your name?”

“Vitto, sir.”
The boy was remarkably calm.

Samuel
meanwhile wandered off in search of food. Good. “Vitto, what did
you see that you now lock carefully away?”

“I-I’m not
sure I know what you mean, sir.” The boy’s dark eyes slid away and
he stared into the darkening waters of the pool.

“What happened
to your face?”

“Burned, sir,
but not too bad.”

“Let me see …
come here.” Torrullin pushed his chair back, gesturing for Vitto to
stand before him. With evident reluctance the boy came. “Keep
still,” Torrullin murmured and began to unravel the bandages.

Burnt all
right, and badly. The boy should be moaning in feverish pain.

“Who are your
parents?” He gently touched the boy’s damaged skin and watched it
smooth into pink health. He smiled. Sometimes the rewards were
wonderful. “Where do you come from?”

Vitto touched
his face and sighed. “It’s gone.”

“Yes. Sit.
Tell me who your parents are.”

“I’m an
orphan, sir. I grew up with four other boys in a home in
Farinwood.”

The boy
thought himself grown up. Well, perhaps he was closer than other
boys; growing up without parents brought early maturity. “Do you
know who they were?”

“No, sir -
why?” He was nervous at last.

Torrullin
smiled and shrugged to put him at ease. “You blocked my enquiry
into your health as soon as I came in and you bore the consequences
of a serious injury as if it was a scratch
and
you know
something and are able to keep me out. Now why is that?”

Vitto was so
shocked he could only be genuine. “I did none of that!”

Torrullin
smiled and patted the smaller hand on the table.

“Not
consciously, young Vitto, but it’s nonetheless fact. You remind me
of someone I once knew, a young man disbelieving of all things
magic and yet, in times of crisis, a protective enchantment would
roll off his tongue. He grew up an orphan and later we found his
mother had taught him how to protect himself before she died. He
was too young to remember, like you, perhaps.”

Vitto was
frozen, barely hearing. “I just push bad thoughts away, is
all.”

Poor boy. The
hard lessons of life. “I know, son.”

Vitto blinked.
“Can what I know help you, Enchanter?”

“Maybe.” He
would not push more.

Vitto nodded
and looked into the depths again. A moment passed, two, three, and
his thin shoulders squared. He looked back at Torrullin. “Can you
take it out? Without me knowing. I don’t want to know.”

So young, so
very old. “I can do that.”

“Will, will it
… hurt?”

“No, I
promise.” Torrullin clasped the hand on the table in his.

“How?
When?”

“Now, and all
I need is for you not to fight me.” That was not a satisfactory
explanation for a boy. “Allow me to sit here quietly with you. Do
not need to get away or feel frightened …”

“Just sit and
think on other things, calming things?”

“Just like
that.”

“All
right.”

Torrullin
released the small hand and leaned back.

“Why do you
let my hand go?”

“It isn’t
physical …” Torrullin paused and then, “The truth? I don’t want you
to read the import of your knowledge in the language of the body. A
hand could tremble if scared or twitch if excited, that sort of
thing.”

The boy nodded
and placed his hands in his lap.

He glanced at
them and wondered why they stayed clean in this wonderful valley …
always he had problems with dirty hands, muddy feet, smudged face …
and Aunt Lydia would tut her displeasure … so nice here, wish he
could stay forever or until he was grown up … Vitto sighed and
looked up.

The Enchanter
stared over the southern battlements, stared at the patched black
and grey sky.

“It’s done?”
he asked. He felt as if he had given something away. He felt
lighter.

Torrullin
focused. “It’s done. You may join your friend now.” His face was
expressionless. “Thank you.”

“It
helped?”

“Yes.”

Vitto stood
up, seeing clearly the Enchanter wanted to be alone. “Was it …
bad?” He shuffled his feet.

“It’s a huge
piece of a puzzle. I am overjoyed I met you today …” His voice
petered out and then he muttered, “Forgive me, son, but I have to
think right now.”