The Dreamer Stones (92 page)

“
What
?”

“I’m being
truthful. She’s a seer and therefore familiar with visions. All I
did was enhance those visions. A form of hypnosis, and when she
‘awakened’ she put it down to inexplicable visions. Genius, I
thought.”

She had not
betrayed him. “How …”

“My turn. You
are at a crossroads in your personal relationships; how do you
choose?”

“That has no
place here.”

“Then I’m
leaving.”

Torrullin drew
a breath. “I shall leave both behind.”

Agnimus shook
with silent laughter. “Are you strong enough to do so?”

Torrullin did
not deign to reply. “How did Caballa enter Digilan?”

“A very
portable shift. I generally used her when she visited the Dream
Islands.”

Monster. “And,
of course, she visited often to explain away her strange
visions.”

“Bingo.”

“Pure
genius.”

“You may not
like my methods …” Agnimus shrugged.

“Forget it; it
is done.”

“True.
Accommodating of you. Tell me, Enchanter, what happens to an unborn
soul?”

From left
field, that one. Silence ensued. “What kind of unborn?” Torrullin’s
eyes narrowed.

“There are
kinds?”

“It’s an
encompassing phenomenon; you want a definite answer, you ask a
definite question.”

“Innocent
unborn, Torrullin, such as your child unborn to the Xenian.”

Torrullin
nearly hit him.

“Another
nerve? Hold your anger, Enchanter. I ask for I need to know.”

“My relation
…”

“I fathered a
child,” Agnimus interrupted, effectively silencing Torrullin.
“Where, when and how doesn’t matter here, but it didn’t reach full
term, and I would like to know what becomes of them. Their innocent
souls.”

Torrullin took
another breath and released. “I don’t know.”

Agnimus’s gaze
narrowed in turn. “Or is the hold over me you have gained?”

“No, I don’t
know …for sure.”

“Guess.”

“Aaru.”

“Innocence?”

“I would
assume so. Only the pure, the forgiven and the innocent make it to
eternal bliss, so too the unborn, I hope. If their souls were as
young as their physical forms.”

“Meaning?”

“Is a soul
born when a life form is conceived, Agnimus, or does a mature soul
choose a habitat? I know I have done the latter, but I also know I
… or maybe not. Maybe I am a soul older than my birth millennia
ago.” He sighed. “This is for philosophers, draithen, not us.”

“I choose to
believe Aaru is her home.”

“I’m
sorry.”

Agnimus
shrugged. “A long time. Your turn.”

“I grow tired,
I want done …”

“After what
went before, why now your hurry? Are we getting too personal? Does
it become difficult for you to raise your hand against kin? If so,
why force the issues at this vulnerable and important stage?
Patience may be rewarded, and you may never have to wrestle with
another kin slaying.” Agnimus’s strange eyes were serious.

Torrullin
wanted to explode. He wanted to wring the scrawny neck under that
cloak. He wanted done. He wanted peace. And he dared not ruin it
for his world.

Sighing,
Torrullin ventured, “Agnimus, if there’s a chance you desire to
become an Ancient, I shall exercise all the patience I can muster,
but if you seek merely to yank my chain, I would be done as fast as
possible.” Despite his calm tone, it was a challenge.

The draithen
leader laughed. “Yes, I see how it is for you. A man of action
comes to despise words and negotiation. I sympathise, for I thought
long, planned so much, words now roil around my head ripe for
throwing out. I prefer action also; however, a little patience on
my part is to my advantage, and yours.” He smiled his weird
grimace. “To answer, I have not decided.”

“Do you need
more time?”

“More
convincing. Tell me about the Ancients.”

“You are part
Valleur; the answers you seek are within.”

“I haven’t the
experience of Valleur inner sight. What I
think
could be
fantasy.”

“Fine. Why
don’t you sit? Let us talk then of the Ancients.” Torrullin’s voice
had an edge, but he resolved to grant the creature, and thereby his
world, this final opportunity. Agnimus sat on the bench as
Torrullin paced thoughtfully away. “Where to begin …?”

“At the
beginning.”

Glaring,
Torrullin continued, “The Golden were the first endemic sentients
of this universe. Alone. There was no pressure beyond natural
internal struggles. Many races in the aeons since have believed
themselves alone and unique, and thus were the Golden not unusual
in their ways, but
were
unique in the universe. Did they
know? Yes, for in creating them Mother Universe also endowed them
with superb intelligence and a gift for the supernatural. A great
and potentially terrible understanding of anything intangible.
Early on, the dangers were recognised and a hierarchy developed to
protect the Golden from it. Thus the Ancients were born, those
powerful individuals who banded together to form a sect, for want
of a better description, and their sole purpose was in safeguarding
dangerous sorcery. To do so effectively they had to learn all there
was to learn and as they grew in knowledge thus they grew in
wisdom. This is truth, not wishful thinking, I assure you. The
Ancients were not merely protectors; they were individuals in whom
wisdom was a fact of life.”

Torrullin
paused as he realised how unlikely it was Agnimus would assume a
similar mantle.

The wily
draithen picked it up and before Torrullin could resume, said, “It
certainly doesn’t describe me.”

“Yet you know
the rules of antiquity. With a new mind-set and a change of heart,
it can be achieved; you would become the last of the Ancients, a
living link to a faraway past.”

“Nemisin was
an Ancient?”

“He took prime
position when still young. Nemisin was … unpredictable. He enjoyed
delving the dark side as much if not more than the light. His
experiments caused havoc and fear and it was decided to curtail him
with responsibility. It worked for a time and in that time he saw
the need for a ruling family, a source of continuity, a legacy to
the generations of the future. He was an arrogant man, enjoyed
power - to make it short, he created the Valleur Throne, imbuing it
with his considerable power and, having done so, with unusual tact
and diplomacy set about creating the hereditary kingship. He was
thus Ancient and Vallorin, the first Enchanter. He was revered,
loved and feared. The Valla power really came into its own after
Neolone. Had anyone considered dethroning him before, they dared
voice no dissention then.”

“He created
the darkling seeds in that time,” Agnimus stated.

“And probably
didn’t comprehend future repercussions. Still, he began to feel
guilty and was therefore a model Vallorin, and that is why he is
called First Father today.”

“He sounds a
lot like you.”

“I am no model
Vallorin. You have his blood, Agnimus, and now you know how diverse
he was, like you. You must want it, however, and that is all I’m
going to say. You decide. Don’t take too long.”

“Wait …” This
as Torrullin retreated. “Look at me. I’m a monster, an amalgam of
creatures. Ugly is the word. How can you expect Valleur to look
upon me without revulsion, Ancient or not?”

Torrullin
revealed something he had not wanted to. “Accept your Valleur blood
and you will change. In time you will take on Golden features.
Accept your Valla blood and the secret remedies too will be
yours.”

If the
draithen turned his back on the offer and if he then won this war,
he now possessed knowledge to cause untold harm in the future. A
weapon. He would be the weapon, an Ancient once he accepted the
blood without the rules - a destructive force.

“You risk
much,” Agnimus whispered.

“Then don’t
let me down.”

The draithen’s
eyes hooded and then flicked up piercingly. “Now there, see, is the
problem. Don’t let you down.
You
. I shall have to subject
myself to you.”

“Until you are
ready, yes.”

“Ah. You
decide when that is? And what exactly is ‘ready’, Vallorin? You
will be judge and I’ll never be free. I like your proposal, surely
I do, and you have …”

“You little
prick.”

“That’s more
like it. What did you expect? Did you think I’d grab the hand of
friendship unwillingly extended? You’re a romantic for all your
posing; you wanted it to work and therefore duped yourself into
believing I’d trust you.”

“You idiot. I
would keep my word.”

“Forgive me if
I say I can’t believe that.”

“Nothing in my
past suggests I’d renege,” Torrullin said.

Inside he
boiled with insatiable fury. The creature milked him.

“Torrullin,
Torrullin, I suspect you do wear rose-tinted spectacles. You are
Elixir, and once you leave this world all bets will be off, don’t
you see that?” Agnimus rose and stretched. “Nice talking to
you.”

He walked into
the opposite direction.

Torrullin
inhaled deeply to control rampant fury.
You will not touch
him,
he forced himself to think.
He is kin. Vile and
manipulative, and yet kin. Let him go. Let another slay him, please
gods, let another slay him.

Almost
Agnimus’s mocking laughter undid his resolve.

He shouted,
“Kismet!” and watched the draithen leader swiftly vanish.

The first
cries came from outside the city mere minutes later.

Agnimus was
about to throw his might against the meagre numbers Torrullin had
to command. Unless he annihilated the draithen army where they
stood, along with the land, the innocent, the animals, the Luvanese
host, the city of Menllik - it was not a choice. They would fight
until no one remained.

As tension
mounted, he sought the miracle.

In times of
great need, look to the Light.

Staring at the
gloomy skies, Torrullin grimaced. No miracle. No Light.

“Kismet, we
attack.”

The war leader
smiled. “Agreed, my Lord.”

Life or death,
the Valleur would not go out waiting for it to come to them.

“Fire first,
then ball lightning, blind them, then bring on the black of true
night, blind them double,” Torrullin said. “When I … hold. A
message from Declan.” His head cocked and he grinned. “Dear god,
Kis, you will not believe this!”

A miracle.

Kismet stared
at his Vallorin. “My Lord?”

“Declan
reports … Tracloc!”

“What? Man,
not this also! Those bastards …”

“… are sent by
Tymall!” Torrullin grew serious. “Hold the fighting, delay the
draithen until I know what they want. Kismet, wounded or dying,
every soldier will project a force field now!
Now
!”

Kismet shouted
the command. And a mighty force surrounded the city against which
the draithen threw themselves seconds too late.

“We can’t hold
it long,” Kismet murmured.

“I need only
minutes,” Torrullin promised and vanished.

Chapter
Seventy-Four

For love of a
child …

Unknown

On the rocking
platform, Declan balanced easily surrounded by more than a few
Tracloc.

Clothed in
black with their faces covered turban-style, they appeared
menacing. They awaited Torrullin in silence.

Declan’s
relief knew no bounds when Torrullin alighted before him. “Sixty
here, my Lord, and a further one hundred and forty waiting to exit.
They haven’t said a word, barring they were sent by the Warlock.”
The Siric’s eyes shifted uneasily when one approached.

Torrullin’s
attention moved that way. “Ah, my friend, you are in my son’s good
graces again?”

“My Lord,” the
man said in his gravelly voice, “good graces aside, the Warlock
entrusted this mission to someone familiar with the territory
here.”

“Naturally.
And your mission?”

“To rid
Valaris of draithen. We are to bring them to Digilan.”

Time was
short. Even as his heart eased, Torrullin knew there was a catch, a
deal to be agreed to. “In return for?”

The Tracloc
smiled. “A father knows his son.” He nodded then and gestured
behind him. “Two hundred of us, sufficient to deal with two million
draithen, and we know there are less. They present no problem; the
call of Digilan with Warlock power is undeniable. In return for a
favour a son asks his father.”

“What does he
ask?”

“His words, my
Lord,
tell my father I am on the Path of Shades, I recognise it,
I understand the dilemma of the grey. Tell him the Shadows lighten
my heart as well as darken my soul and I can do no other than
hearken to my homeworld’s terrible plight. Love and hate are so
closely bound I will not see Valaris fall to the hands of
traitorous creatures. Tell my beloved father all I ask is that he
personally chooses my son’s name at the Naming Ceremony and beg of
him to bring my son to Digilan when he comes of age. I would like
to see the babe as a man one time only, and will never again
attempt to contact him. Tell him I love him, tell him I ask not so
much for our world’s freedom.
”

The Tracloc
lapsed into silence.

Torrullin
closed his eyes. He felt his son’s pain and he felt Valaris’s
suffering. Time was too short to stall. “Tell my son I swear to do
as he asks and tell him I love him also.” He opened his eyes and
stared deeply into the Tracloc’s. “Will you be there for him? You
now know he walks the Shadows; it will be dangerous for him.”

“Digilan spits
out ambivalence, yes. I swear I shall not only be there for him,
but I shall keep his secret until time can touch us not.”