The Kallanon Scales

By

Elaina J.
Davidson

Lore of Reaume
I

The Kallanon
Scales – Lore of Reaume I

Copyright
Elaina Davidson 2014

Second
Edition

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This is a work
of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents,
are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or
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Cover designed
by Poppet

An ancient map,
a strange prophecy … anyone who dares speak of it, dies.

A new enemy
enters the Valla arena, but this one is as ancient as time and must
be unleashed in a forbidden place. An ancient map points the way.
To get there in stealth a ship able to cross vast distance is
needed … and an expert crew to navigate her. Sorcery and technology
works together to contain a creature created of time and fire.

The terrible
secret of the source of Valla power is uncovered and, as friends
and family are murdered, Torrullin stands forth and reveals the
truth about the Valla Dragon, a secret about power and greed from
the era of Nemisin. Hurting after Saska abandons him, Torrullin
hurtles into battle when his twin sons are kidnapped, and takes
with him into danger a pilot, a navigator and an innocent girl -
they are the Dalrish seeking escape from Xen III and become
embroiled in the war … and Torrullin’s future.

Another truth
rears up, the tale of the Nine who fled into the Forbidden Zone
with a strange taliesman in the shape of a dragon. “There are
dragons in my future,” Torrullin once tells Quilla of the Q’lin’la
… and that future is now.

Quilla must
speak up, for others come for the creature of time and fire. He
knows who they are; the Q’lin’la fled them in ancient time. They
are the Kallanon, the Glittering Darkness.

War erupts on a
world no more than a circle on an ancient map at first, a world
hidden in the time of the Nine. Torrullin will discover who his
sons really are, Taranis confronts his inner demons, Bartholamu of
the Siric will face his arch-nemesis, Q’lin’la and Kallanon are
thrown into the same melting pot, an ancient emperor speaks again,
the new Lady of Life is born, the Dalrish have a profound effect on
Torrullin, and Vannis seeks revenge while a world burns and terror
is unleashed.

The Kallanon
Scales is an epic journey into the realms of time and legend and
forever alters the future.

For my
family

My magic

Valaris

Torrullin’s
Keep

Graveyard
Sacred Site

S
ummer’s heat had sprinkled layers
of fine sediment upon the fawn stone of the ancient
crypts.

Saska traced an arrow into the dusty deposits beside the arch
of an empty chamber, and entered the mote-filled space. A marker
perhaps, to call to her husband Torrullin, to declare
I am here
.

Hoping for Torrullin, she thus did not see
him
until it was too
late. His shadow loomed inward and she whirled, blood pounding. In
her introspection she had placed her life into his
hands.

She trapped
herself.

A perfect
situation for a psychopathic sorcerer.

His striking
face was ugly with hate and he laughed like a devil. His expression
and his actions rooted her, paralysed all thought and action. The
next moment was the one that would mark her death. No, she was
wrong. He would kill her, but the next moment was meant for utter
degradation. She realised how aroused he was.

Lifting her
hands, she cast a shield of protection, but he countered easily,
his face twisting in delight. He wanted her to fight. She staggered
back into cold stone, fingers spread in desperate defence. She
possessed no magic able to stop him, or to distract him long enough
to flee.

He lifted a
slim black whip, shook it in cold calculation, and cleaved it to
her repeatedly, spittle flying. This moment was not about sorcery,
after all. His intentions were clear.

She screamed
once before placing her energy into surviving instead. Her gown
split. She stumbled. Blood flowed, dripping to the sandy floor, and
he thrust her viciously down, the whip’s handle hot at her throat.
His free hand clawed at her bodice. She fought him with nail and
tooth, causing him to laugh anew.

As he kneed her legs roughly open, his twin hurtled into the
speckled space with murder in
his
eyes. Without saying a word, he attacked his
brother, tearing at his hair, splitting his lip. Dragged him out,
he struck him repeatedly, and hurled him against the crypt
stone.

The brothers
fought for long silent minutes, without quarter, coming within a
breath of death.

Saska whispered
enough
, thinking more of the agony
Torrullin would suffer than her own, and they ceased. Heaving,
beaten and bruised, they glared at each other.

Saska crawled
slowly into sunlight.

Looking up at
her tormentor and her saviour, she realised he had already altered
his appearance to fit that of his twin. She could not tell them
apart. She could not win, not then, not now, not ever.

She understood
the next encounter would be even more brutal.

Neither
brother apologised, for there could be no words.

We are formed
in our present, actively and emotionally. And we are formed of our
pasts, personal and historical.

~ Malin
Drew

The Keep

She had to
leave or die here.

Their love
would die.

She hated it
here now, and thus spent her time elsewhere when the boys were in
residence. They pretended respect for their father’s wife, but one
was a liar and the other desired her dead.

At age five it was a deadly scorpion, a week later a lethal
snake. At six, her horse spooked riding the ridges of the Arrows.
Immortal she may be, but she could only survive to a point. The
twins turned seven, a bad year. Poison, crossbow, and an attempt on
her body while her mind roamed. At eight, after stabbing Nessie the
cook, they left her alone for a while. No,
he
left her alone.

Quilla
advocated years ago she absent herself when they were in the
vicinity, exactly when Torrullin needed her most. Now she did
precisely that and it drove a wedge between her and her
husband.

Yesterday’s
terror made her decision final.

Saska went to
Quilla at the Lifesource Temple for healing. His reconstruction was
not as complete as Torrullin’s could be, for red welts remained on
her arms, but no matter. Quilla, dear friend, had been sad.

She saw the
brothers earlier, both healed. What tale they spun their father she
could not know, but Torrullin took pity again.

A screech filled the air and she looked up in time to see a
hawk captured a smaller bird in mid-flight.
I am that little bird.

“Saska!”

She leaned
over the battlements and saw Torrullin in the courtyard below. She
waved and moved out of view. When she looked again, he strode
through the great Dragon doors together with his sons Tristamil and
Tymall. It was Millanu’s Naming Day and they were on their way to
the Graveyard to pay their respects.

It was the
last place she desired to be.

Wandering to
the north-western side, she watched them. They looked good
together. Three lean and fit men, the one fair, the other two with
gold and auburn streaks. The Vallas. Glorious in their beauty,
terrible in their power.

Torrullin looked back, angling his head upward, and she
discerned disquiet. He
knew
something brewed, but he also chose to go on
walking.

She lifted her
gaze to the next rise, to the Graveyard.

She noted Vannis’ stance in the distance, and Raken, his
wife. Lycea was there. Both women had aged in twenty-five years
since she met them.
Unlike me. I do not
age. Yet today I feel truly old.

The boys lived
at the White Palace with their mother Lycea, occupying their own
wing in Vannis and Raken’s home. Raken quietly informed Vannis the
first time something happened between her and one of the boys, and
Vannis gave both such a beating she dared not say anything
thereafter. Vannis respected her silence, knowing how close he came
to losing himself in violence.

Poor Torrullin, Saska thought.
A
virtual recluse, afraid of accusations he imagines in the eyes of
friends and family. He is particularly shy of Vannis lately,
Vannis, who at their birth twenty-five years ago
told him
to ensure the unrecognised babe
did not take a first breath
.

Going below, she wandered, recalling happier times. There
were many. Making love anywhere, as the mood took them. Then the
boys turned three and remembered the womb. Valleur babies were
aware before birth and thus the father needed to cradle, speak and
sing to the unborn. Unfortunately, Lycea carried twins and one babe
hid behind the other, and therefore remained unrecognised until the
moments of his birth. He entered his world with hate infusing every
atom, and
only
his brother knew him.

Happy times
were no longer a sufficient foundation to build a future on.

She went
upstairs.

Their personal
suite comprised of a small sitting room, Torrullin’s select
library, a bathroom and their bedroom. The whole was a haven as
life after the Darak Or progressed into parenthood and rulership.
Recently it became Torrullin’s retreat as he withdrew from social
graces. To her it was a prison, the walls enclosing, and conversely
it was also the only place she felt safe. No retainers were
permitted, and neither were her stepsons. Torrullin found their bed
slashed to ribbons one night, and instituted the rule the following
morning.