The Dreamer Stones (77 page)

“A cycle of
pain.”

“Yes. One we
should avoid.”

He laughed.
“It’s too late for me.”

“Lily saw
something.”

He frowned.
“Lily saw a face only.”

“What do you
see?”

“A beautiful,
troubled woman disillusioned in love and life. A woman who deserves
better than the husband she has, and should walk away from this
man. A ten minute conversation, even this intimate, shouldn’t make
a connection that may alter relationships - yet a connection there
is. I have never been this attracted to anyone, beautiful Saska,
and that is the truth.”

He faced her,
unspeaking. A question and a challenge in his amber gaze.

“I’d never
forgive myself,” she whispered, knowing what he asked.

Still he said
nothing, making no further move.

She imagined
him under her hands the moment she turned to face him after
throwing up. That had not changed despite words. She swirled her
tongue over her teeth, seeking the taste of vomit, and found only
the taste of his medicine. In that little, self-conscious act, she
realised she made her choice. To the devil with the universe and
its problems, for one night at least.

“Promise me
one thing. Promise me you’ll think before you change the future of
your world.”

“A bargain?”
His voice was soft and there was a thoughtful aspect to it.

“Yes.”

His smile
questioned her motives. Then, “Very well, you have my word.” He
meant it, and found he was as surprised as she was.

Staring at
him, she recalled the time she kissed Taranis, thinking he was
Torrullin, and how Torrullin raged over her perceived betrayal.
Would he care now? He was prepared to kill his father because of
her; would he now shout a few angry words for appearances only? She
no longer knew, she realised, and perhaps that was the best reason
for finding forgetfulness in another’s arms.

She stepped up
to the sexy man from Merrix, twisted her hands into the long silky
hair at his neck and kissed him. His hands ran over her body and
then undid the ribbons in her hair. Her hair floated free … until
his hands delved into it, pulling her hard to him to return the
kiss. Green silk floated next, upon the water, and when her breasts
touched his skin … gods, thoughts of Torrullin fled.

He lifted his
head from her neck to look at her in surprise, but the surprise was
for his own intense desire … to see it mirrored within her.

Chapter
Sixty-One

An omen is
plain only when a believer views it first-hand. To a non-believer,
any sign or portent is pure gibberish.

Arun, druid

Tymall sat
awaiting his father on the uppermost step of the stairs to the
Temple of Stars.

While Samuel
leaned against the building opposite Linir and Declan paced before
its entrance, Lowen perched on a stone bench far removed from
them.

Then Torrullin
was there.

It was a
measure of his impact on others, the way the four immediately
looked to him, their attention engaged.

“Right,”
Torrullin said, striding forward. Halting two steps lower than
Tymall, he leaned his arms on his right thigh, his left leg on a
lower step. “We’ll finish this now.” Tymall nodded, uncommonly
subdued. “Ty, the cloak and staff were destroyed, but not by me or
Agnimus, but rather by a strange twist of fate. It’s not important
now, but know there’s no changing it.”

Tymall
shrugged, feigning impassivity. Without staff and cloak, he was
half what he claimed, and far less than what he could be in
Digilan. “So be it. Things happen and there has to be an end … or
change. Maybe the Tracloc won’t find me now.”

Torrullin
doubted it, but responded, “Good for you.”

He
straightened and called Samuel over. As he approached, he locked
gazes with Declan, communicating the twist regarding Agnimus.
Declan sucked at his teeth and moved away.

“Samuel, you
and Ty prepare.”

Samuel looked
at Tymall. “I don’t want to fight.”

That drew
Tymall’s gaze. “There has to be an end. No loose ends, kinsman, or
we’ll be doing this again.”

“I don’t like
it,” Torrullin said, “but Ty is right.”

Samuel nodded
and switched back to Tymall. “You sound as if you’re leaving.”

“He is,”
Torrullin said. “Go into the Temple now. I must speak with
Lowen.”

Out of the
corner of his eye, he noticed her rise from the bench, noticing
also her deliberate containment. She was so pale it told him
something he was unaware of before.

He met her
halfway down the stairs and watched her climb up to him.

She faltered
on seeing his eyes.

“You knew I’d
be absent last night.” It was a statement without accusation.

“I couldn’t
tell you.”

“Yet they
didn’t fight.”

“I sort of
warned Samuel a while back.”

Eyebrows
lifted. “You tweaked?”

“Only a
little.”

“You could
have stayed away from me instead.”

She shook her
head, her gaze unmoving. “No, that’s a major alteration.”

“How so?”

“You wouldn’t
be here at all, not now, or tomorrow or the next day. You’d be in
the Dome and Elixir would be in charge.”

“Is that not
the right future?”

“It is the
future, Torrullin, but not yet. Things remain undone.”

“You’re saying
you put Elixir at bay last night.”

“Yes.”

“You saw that
path?”

“Yes, and it
was told me.”

“Someone told
you to hold Elixir back?”

“Yes.”

“Who,
Lowen?”

A smile.
“Vannis.”

An explosion
of astonishment. “
Vannis
?”

“He’s a wise
man; he saw the dangers in releasing who you are before all was
done here.”

“A warning too
late.”

“What happened
yesterday was necessary.”

“Many would
dispute that.”

“Let them, if
they dare.”

Again, that
dare thing. “Lowen, did Vannis tell you how to hold Elixir
back?”

She grinned.
“No.”

Tymall
returned to the head of the stairs then and Samuel was not far
behind.

It meant he
did not have to respond to her smile. Torrullin turned. “I told you
to go inside.”

“My time in
this realm ends at midnight,” Tymall said. “I want done, for I want
to see my wife before I go. Will you please forget the chit
chat?”

“You already
went to Luvanor.”

A wry grin.
“Without the Taliesman, I couldn’t enter, not without the entire
Luvanese army on my back.”

“I thought you
could make another,” Torrullin murmured, lifting a brow.

“A white
lie.”

“Yet you
managed to get through the sealing about Valaris.”

“No fooling
you.”

“It ends, Ty.
No sense in holding back now.”

A beat of
silence, and then, “Tell me, does that hold true for all
things?”

A stirring of
foreboding. It would be a day fraught with all manner of deeds and
time would be both excruciatingly slow and swift as a bird’s
flight. “Yes. All things. Begin with how you left.”

“Very well.”
Tymall lifted his left hand to his brow. He pressed his palm
lightly in the centre of his forehead and when he lowered it, the
Warlock circlet sat there, its gem winking in the weak winter sun.
“It’s mine and responds to me alone. I am its fingerprint, if you
will. Agnimus can’t steal or use it.”

Torrullin
lifted his gaze to the silver band and its blue stone. He whistled.
“That is your power. It proves your status.”

“Digilan? Oh,
indeed. The cloak and staff are tools, no more.”

“Nothing I
engineer can negate the Warlock in Digilan.”

Tymall
shrugged. “We each have our aces.”

Torrullin
laughed. “You have surprised me, Ty.”

“I know.”

“It’s useless
here.”

“It got me
from Valaris and back, but, yes, it’s useless really. Luvanor was
immune to it.”

“I shall take
you to Fay.”

“Your sense of
decency is admirable. Your sense of completion overwhelms, and that
is the reason your people remain loyal to you. See? I do begin to
understand, when it is too late. The Tracloc will find me with
this.” He touched his brow.

“I am glad
Digilan exerts pull on you.”

A flash of
anger. “Why?”

“I don’t have
to finish it myself,” Torrullin said.

An instant of
shining joy, quickly covered. “Ah, well.” Tymall turned upon the
space between steps and temple where battles were fought, addresses
made, farewells witnessed; an unprepossessing space with an august
history. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “Come, Samuel.”
Smiling, he entered Linir.

Samuel looked
to Torrullin.

Torrullin
gripped the man’s shoulder. “It takes guts to set aside your fate,
Samuel. If you choose not to fight, tell him that and stand firm in
your belief. Let the convincing be the confrontation, the ending
you seek.” His hand dropped and he nudged Samuel. “Go, there’s
little time.”

Samuel nodded.
He was alone in this. He squared his shoulders and went after
Tymall.

Declan neared.
“Samuel has not the heart to win.”

“I know; pity
has overcome him. His only hope now is to prevail against Ty’s
wishes.”

The Siric
nodded and then, “Do you want me to do something?”

“Stay close.
Agnimus may prove unpredictable.”

“I should be
searching the ocean for the shift, Torrullin. We don’t have much
time.”

“I’m aware of
that, but even Elixir stands confused by this strange Valla
kin.”

“He is
filth.”

“Yet Valla. I
cannot kill kin.”

The Siric
swore. The Valleur had not the same objectivity about kin, unlike
the Siric raised on kin-strife.

“Do not repeat
this information, Declan.”

“Understood.”

“Go inside and
play negotiator. My conversation with Lowen was interrupted.”

Declan flicked
a glance and entered the Temple.

Only when they
were alone did he face her.

They stared at
each other without words for a beat and then, “I saw us together,
Torrullin, on the night Samuel and Tymall were to fulfil their
stupid destiny. Yes, I call it stupid, for re-enacting something
that didn’t actually happen with Tristamil is an arrogant, stupid
pride on Tymall’s part, and he drags Samuel into the vortex with
him. Look how the poor man has had to change …”

“Lowen, shut
up. Gods, give me a chance to speak.”

Her mouth
closed and she glared at him.

“Now
understand this, the fault is mine. I speak not of us; I speak of
the past recreation.
I
left too many loose ends. Ty, Tris,
Vannis, Saska, Cat, the exiles in the west and a host of details.
Had I been less selfish, more patient, less cowardly, more
steadfast, I’d have seen it done then.”

“And I’d now
be dead.”

He blinked and
had no response.

“Dead,” she
repeated. “Every vision a lie.”

“Lowen …”

“Oh, shut up.
I’m not stupid, I know about alternate futures, but this was the
future I wanted. I wanted this moment, Torrullin, where I stand
before you on the morning after … and wonder where to next. So say
whatever you want about loose ends and blame, but I find no fault
in your choice then, and never will.”

Torrullin
closed his eyes and opened them again. “An end or change, Tymall
had it right. When done, I get off Valaris so none of this can play
again. I regret choices made, Lowen, I do. Absolution I received
during the Hounding, but I cannot erase regret. I regret the loose
ends.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “You would not be dead,
for I saw you as the woman you are now. I wanted the woman then, as
I do now.”

She had
nothing to say to that.

His eyes were
shadow-filled as he continued to look at her. “I thought there was
something wrong with me, Lowen.”

She shook her
head.

“Come. The
time comes for that future; now we need to see the present come to
pass.” He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss there. “I
know all about regret, my lady seer, but I cannot regret you ever.”
Still holding her hand, he led her into Linir.

She could say
nothing, for she had too many words and none would make sense.

“… will not do
this,” Samuel said as they entered. “Torrullin, tell him, tell him
it need not be this way.”

“He knows.”
Torrullin released Lowen’s hand before they came within sight of
the others, and now he gestured to Declan in the shadows.

She nodded and
made her way there. The Siric was not required as negotiator, for
Samuel held his own.

“That’s all
you’re going to say?”

Tymall
laughed. “A fence-sitter, what did I tell you?”

“Tymall has to
decide in which manner he prefers to leave his homeworld. We should
not interfere.”

“That’s not …”
Samuel began, but Tymall overrode him. “What do you mean by
manner
?”

Torrullin
circled the pair. Neither had drawn swords. “How do you want your
son to find you when he comes looking? Will he be told of his
father the evil creature who indiscriminately murdered the blood,
right up until the end, or will he discover someone to tell him
there was some good in his father, for in the end he stayed his
hand. Your choice.”

Silence.

Torrullin
continued circling.

Then, “You
assume I have a better nature.”

“You had once.
Are you so far from the boy I knew?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then my
words are of no further import. Do what you will.” Torrullin moved
off.

“The sword,
father.”

Torrullin
closed his eyes, his back to the two. “No.”