The Kallanon Scales (34 page)

It began as a
diary, became his memoir, and then gained a life separate. A small
sheaf of papers transformed into a huge leather-bound book, and he
commenced a detailing of Valleur history, descriptions of daily
life and expectations, the rituals of magic, past and present, and
the Valleur culture and beliefs.

He was writing
the first volume of what would become the Oracles. He wrote it in
Valleur, but he played with a secret code, one he would later
utilise to record those concepts he regarded as too dangerous for
common consumption. Years in the perfecting, and accompanied by a
spoken dialect, his secret language would be indecipherable to his
people. He instructed his heir in both code and dialect, and that
tradition would pass down, known only to Vallorins.

There were
matters of sorcery he would add to the First Oracle after the
symbiosis, but there came a day when he was done.

Feeling
purged, in a sense, he was ready.

He spoke the
prophecy.

Nemisin called
the Elders to gather with him in the Throne-room.

Sitting on his
Throne he waited gravely while the nine who were the core of his
sovereignty sat. He noted their concerned expressions, they knew
him not this serious.

“I have a
vision,” he said, and saw how they relaxed. “I have had this vision
many times. The first was the night I came of age. Many years I
pondered the wording of my speaking, and perhaps that is why I am
this day certain. This is a prophecy, Valleur. Do you hear the
truth in my words, feel the earnestness of my mind, and sense the
quiet knowing in my soul? Do you sway to the rhythm of my faithful
heart?”

He did not
wait long, they were with him. The time was right indeed.

“My personal power will increase dramatically. This is not
prophecy, but truth. Some matters only Vallorins will be privy to,
thus I am unable to explain. I realise this title is young, but it
will have the authority it requires to become hereditary. Elders,
it
will
be
hereditary. We enter a new era as a people. There will be no
democracy, but have no fear of tyranny. The Elders will advise the
Throne and every Valleur will have a voice.”

He drew breath and his gaze held briefly with each. They were
stunned into silence. “One such as I will come, ages hence, of
Valla blood. He requires an
unbroken
bloodline, and a hereditary
passing of rulership ensures that. He will be reborn many times
with power untold. His will be the burden that saves or destroys
Mother Universe. He will be the
One
.” He emphasised the final word.
“And from the Rock of the Ancient World he will travel across time
to receive his final legacy.”

Nemisin lapsed
into silence to study the effect of his words. There were frowns,
but the Elders remained mute. Did they think he had more to
prophesy? His words were cryptic, but that was the road into the
future. Perhaps he needed to give them more.

He rose to gift his words added weight. “I do not see his
face, I do not know when, but this I do know. He will be of Valla
blood and he will be the Enchanter the universe waits for. He will
arise during great strife, and will either hold Mother Universe in
the palm of a protective hand, or be the means that leads to our
Mother’s ultimate destruction.
That
I cannot predict, no one can, for he will be more
than prophecy, and the choice will be his.”

One of the
Elders stood. “My Lord, we hear. It is an instinctive recognition,
for we have heard this, here, inside.” He tapped his chest and the
others nodded. “We know one such as my Lord describes will come. It
fills us with dread.”

“It also fills us with
hope
,” another Elder interrupted.
“Do not be negative, Mullar. The kingdom we created has been good
for our people. Most of us are happy to have it inherited by a
single bloodline, for that instils security. I shall not believe
that a powerful man, of the Valla bloodline born here this day,
will destroy our beloved Mother. The Light will call to
him.”

“Optimism is
good,” Nemisin said. “Hope is good. There are dark days ahead for
the Valleur; we need to hold the Light sacred.”

The Elders gaped at him. He often struggled to find the good,
was often given to dark rages. This day
he
told
them
to hold onto the Light? It
stilled whispers of remaining doubt.

Nemisin moved
to a low table and whisked aside a silken cloth. “I have detailed
within this work,” and he lifted the heavy book and brought it to
them, “the history of the Valleur and much more. I have inscribed
the prophecy.” He passed the tome to Mullar. “Study this, add to it
where I have been remiss or forgetful, change where I have been in
error, and then return it to me.”

He smiled at
Mullar’s amazed expression, as the Elder paged randomly. “Yes, my
friends, I do believe we begin a new tradition and there will be
more to record. Before I leave it with you, please turn to the last
page of writing.” Mullar halted midway through the book. He looked
up. “Up to date, inclusive of the prophecy. Please read it
aloud.”

Mullar swallowed. “
’These are the
true words of Nemisin, first Vallorin, first Enchanter, as
witnessed by the council of Elders …
’“ He
paused as that penetrated and went on, “
’One such as I will come, ages hence, he will be reborn many
times with power untold. His will be the burden that saves or
destroys Mother Universe. He will be the One. And from the rock of
the Ancient World he will travel across time to receive his final
legacy
.’“ Again, Mullar looked up and
Nemisin gestured for him to finish. “
’These are my words, never to be altered under threat of
curse. Prepare for the coming of the One and do not fail him. I
have spoken.
’“

“What is this
‘final legacy’?” an Elder asked.

“I shall know
only upon my death.”

“We must now
talk of this, my Lord, in private,” Mullar murmured.

“Please. Take
the book with you.” Nemisin gestured and one by one the Elders
left, Mullar holding onto the leather tome, reading as he
walked.

It was
formalised.

It was
believed.

Torrullin’s
tale was written.

We rely on
each other to function. This is called symbiosis.

~ Kallanon
Scroll of Wisdom

Throne-room

N
emisin collapsed on the Throne,
rubbing his hands on the smooth surface.

He crafted it
himself, a design he sensed belonged to another. He stumbled upon
it in a dream and awakened to claim as his.

His gaze
travelled the far latticed arches above. Intricate work, built of
stone, left open to the heavens, the brightness of the hot sun
mitigated by sturdy creepers. It was cool, the light a sun-dappled
spectacle in each chamber and down every passage. Small inner
courtyards were oases of calm.

The Palace was
the Valleur city, stretching for unmeasured distances, into the
rock itself, jutting onto broad ledges. Water bubbled to the
surface into smooth lakes of icy liquid, the wellsprings of this
hot planet. Without it, they needed to relocate.

The time approached. It had not rained in seven hundred
years. He remembered when it
had
rained. It began as a gentle drizzle, like satin
on parched skins, and transformed into a raging storm, unspeakable
violence, and the thirsty desert was no match. Fortunately, high
ground now proved high ground then. As it was, the Palace flooded
as waterfalls hurtled down. The stone held. For the last seven
centuries, they lived off the incredible volume of water that sank
into the far, cold reaches.

“Deep in
thought, Vallorin?”

Nemisin pulled
from reverie. “You have come, Dragon.”

Neolone
wheezed a laugh. “Indeed.” He sauntered closer, long tail swishing.
“You completed the telling, I felt it born.”

“We need to
talk.” Nemisin sat up. “I have provisos, safeguards, for I need to
protect my people.”

Neolone
nodded. “I want that also, or your prophecy will die within
decades. We talk.” He sat on the cool floor, sighing. “What a hot
world.”

“You were gone
long.”

“No more than
it took for the prophecy.”

Nemisin rose
and stretched. He took a seat near the creature. “I have agreed in
principle to the melding as you have illustrated it. I understand
that in accepting you into my flesh, I receive your power.”

“Correct.”

“You gain
immortality, passing from me to my heir, and so on.”

“Until I reach
the One, yes.”

“Will you be
the reason he will be capable of destroying our universe?”

Neolone barked
a laugh. “I do not see the future, Vallorin. I think he will not
need for me for that.”

“And you
believe he will show you the way home?”

“’Power
untold’? Is that how you put it? Do not look surprised, Vallorin. I
have heard this telling in the future. ‘He will travel across
time’, hmm? With that kind of power, of this realm, without my
influence, I believe he will get me home, yes.”

“You do not
want to remain here?”

“Here my
skills are insufficient, and I find myself having to hide.” A whiff
of smoke erupted from the Dragon’s nostrils. “Enough games. What is
it you want?”

“There are
three provisos.”

“Do not push
too hard, Vallorin.”

“Without me
you are nothing!”

“I shall merely be confined to this realm.
You
are nothing
without
me
.”

“I shall not
permit this symbiosis if you cannot agree.”

“I can force
you.”

Nemisin leaned
forward. “You require free will for this melding.”

The Dragon
gazed upwards briefly as if for calm. “If your proposals are within
reason, we shall have agreement.”

“Thank you.
First proviso. After the melding you will not permit your host to
perpetrate evil.”

“I am meant to
loll in boredom?”

“If a Valleur
ruler indicates the ways of darak, the people have the unassailable
right to remove him, permanently if deemed necessary. A Vallorin is
in the public eye. If you wish to continue, you are to ensure your
host is lumin.”

“Very
well.”

“The second
matter is this; you will become the symbol of the Vallorins of the
future. Thus it must be to explain your presence, but you are to
abide only in Valla heirs. In this way you ensure the line to the
One, for yourself, and I am ensured the longevity of my blood.”

“Agreed.”

“Lastly, my
prophecy requires meaning.”

“It already
has, Vallorin.”

“I mean for it
to be recognised by all the races of the future.”

“It is already
so. The future I came from knows this telling.”

“Then we have
agreement.”

“Excellent. I
leave now to prepare. Meet me in three days on the southern ledge
of the Apnor Range. Do you know the place?

“I know
it.”

“Come alone,
Vallorin.” Neolone vanished.

Nemisin stared at the vacated space. Far too easy.
I need this power in outside
hands
. Another safeguard. He rose and
walked from the Throne’s chamber. Halfway to his private chambers,
he was running.

There he
conceived of the taliesman.

Do not rely on
the future to solve problems. Look to this day.

~ Kallanon
Scroll of Wisdom

Apnor Range

N
emisin would never record it, but
when he sat on his Throne after, and felt it tingle under him, felt
it draw power unto itself, the secret way to pass the knowledge on
was found.

The ledge was
massive, an outcrop high above the desert floor. It was hot and the
height of the Apnor Range did little to relieve the suffocating
effects. It was oppressive and bright, with not a cloud in the
sky.

After, Nemisin
would regard an overcast day, preferably with rain, as good
weather. Now he struggled for air and the only pleasure was that
the Dragon suffered more.

“Sit,” Neolone
rasped.

Nemisin sat,
cursing the hot rock.

“Let us do
this quickly, so we may be away from here together.”

Rush through it before second thoughts grew stronger than
discomfort.
Will you double-cross me,
Dragon?
“A sorcerer has to choose one
road. I chose the Light, while you did not. How certain are you my
body will accept yours?”

“You chose the
Light, Vallorin, but are not truly in it. There will be no
problem.”

Nemisin closed
his eyes. “I want what is best for my people.”

“Illogically,
you do so.”

Nemisin’s eyes
snapped open. “I do not see that.”

“You are this
day gifting your people a long and illustrious future, and the
gifts of the Valleur to the universe will not go unremarked.”

“We lose our
way, Dragon; how can you claim that?”

“I forget how
good you are at foresight. You lose your way, but before that all I
have said is true, and after there is the One. Do not fear for your
people, Vallorin.”

“I shall never
be sure.”

“That is your
curse, not theirs. Remove your clothing.”

Nemisin did as
bid, sitting on his robe.