The Kallanon Scales (46 page)

The fourteen
Creed alighted, studied the situation, and murmured as one.

The Web
settled about the cells, glowing squares of light condensed to hold
the wilderness under their aegis.

A resounding
cheer sounded. It had worked.

Then there was
a sense of waiting, heightened expectancy. Caltian would now step
forward.

“Very clever,”
Torrullin murmured.

Lucan

Sinar caught up
with Messber.

Together they
flew to Lucan, but the web of light halted them. It vanished to
leave Lucan deserted. Queen Abdiah would not like this.

They landed.
All they found there was the traveller. In its cloaked state, it
was not ensnared. All else had vanished, people, tents, fires,
gear, everything.

A farmer on
Atrudis the following morning, while out walking his hounds, came
across the rough circle of tents and equipment, food, clothes, and
smouldering fires. He confiscated the whole to barter with in town,
as was his right when trespassers saw fit to desecrate his
land.

“And now?”
Messber grumbled.

“Can only be
Atrudis’ Valleur,” Sinar rumbled back.

“Where they
will want to kill us before asking our mission,” Messber returned
with resignation.

“Orders are
orders. Shall we?”

Wilderness

Uncertainty set
in.

The aftermath
was unforeseen. Not the moments and minutes directly after the trap
sprung. Creed knew of Caltian’s duty, but not the form of it.

Caltian
himself was in quandary.

“You caught us
by surprise,” Torrullin said, gazing at the man.

It was a
terrible mistake to talk now. “I can take no credit. The Web was in
place a long time ago.”

“Web.
Apt.”

“Caltian!” one
of Creed called out. The fourteen surrounded the cell. “It is
time!”

Beast Breacher
braced.

“Caltian? It
could not have been easy, knowing your destiny from an early
age.”

Caltian rose
fluidly. “I overcame the difficulties. It is time to end this.”

“Dragon-man!
Prepare!” Creed shouted simultaneously.

In the holding
pen, there was concerted movement, shouts of dismay, and a young
voice cried out. About to calm them, Torrullin caught sight of a
dark figure in the background, and his words died. The Web lifted
Tymall to Atrudis as well.

“Dragon-man!
It was decreed by the Nine that you are sentenced to death! Prepare
to meet your Maker!”

Father!

Do not fear
for me, Tris.

“Do any of you
idiots even …!” Camot began, but Torrullin turned a dark eye on his
war leader. Camot swallowed again and Quilla came forward to urge
the man away from the forefront.

“There is a
child in there,” Torrullin said. “She is innocent and should not be
made part of this.”

A child? With
the Dragon-man?

“Nobody may
claim innocence in this,” a Creed member said, but his eyes moved
uncertainly.

Lowen looked
steadily at Torrullin and smiled.

“Do I get the
opportunity to say something?” Torrullin murmured.

Caltian
shifted from the sight of Lowen to one of the Creed members. A tall
man, his eyes very yellow, licked his lips and stepped up to the
bars without touching them.

“What can you
say, Dragon-man, to alter the outcome?”

“You are?”
Torrullin barked.

“You have no
rights here!”

“I would know
whom I address.”

A moment’s
silence. “I am Levin, Controller of Creed.”

“Creed? What
is that? Ah, never mind, I have it.” Torrullin turned in his small
space, looked every man in the eye. “The protectors of the
Taliesman.”

Levin hissed,
“You will never see it!”

“Narrow-minded!” Matt shouted and his crew threw out catcalls.
Taranis’ gaze never left Torrullin and next to him, Tristamil was
as unwavering.

“There are
fourteen of you,” Torrullin continued, looking at Levin. “One for
the power of each site, I assume?”

“What do you
know of sites?” another demanded.

Caltian was
paralysed. Every moment passed made it more difficult. He stepped
back a pace when Torrullin looked at him in understanding. The man
could read minds. Not just send and receive, but actually read.

“Who are you?”
Levin asked, uncertainty now overlaid with curiosity.

Torrullin
smiled and the captives relaxed, barring the dark shadow in the
back. “I am to talk, then?”

Levin looked
to a distraught Caltian. “Will you do your duty, Caltian?”

“Yes, my
lord.” He would, no matter how hard.

Levin nodded.
“The floor is yours temporarily, Dragon-man.”

Key-ler gazed
at his friend. It was always better to act when ready, rather than
do something after thought and time interfered. Caltian, if he
survived this, would heal slower than had he simply headed into his
duty. If he survived this. Key-ler’s heart clutched.

Torrullin
inhaled. “There is among you a traitor …”

“That would be
you!” an Overlord shouted.

Torrullin
gazed out to the back of the crowd where an agitated Tarrant paced.
“You!” he called out, his voice drawing the Force Justice’s
attention. “Yes, you! You are a traitor!”

“Are you
talking to me?” Tarrant spluttered, striding closer. “How dare
you!”

“You murdered
someone tonight,” Torrullin said, lowering his voice, but all heard
him.

“Kill him!”
Tarrant demanded, apoplectic.

“Force Justice
Tarrant! Stand down!” Levin whipped out.

“I do
not
…”

“He
is
a
murderer,” Key-ler hissed.

“Tarrant.
Where is Villinar?” Levin questioned.

Tarrant
halted. “The Overlord was taken ill.”

“How
convenient,” Key-ler muttered. “Liar.” The Brother gazed at
Torrullin with respect. The man sensed Tarrant’s misdeeds as a
complete stranger … then, a traitor would recognise a traitor …
right?

Levin stared
at the Justice. “I shall deal with you later. Another word and your
unit will arrest you.” Tarrant returned to his position.

“You have too
many in a position of power, Levin,” Torrullin murmured. “Valleur
do not function well with too many leaders.”

“It was
necessary.”

“What do you
know of Valleur, Dragon-man?” another Creed member asked.

Phet
laughed.

“I know you
have fourteen sacred sites and I know what they mean to you and
Atrudis. After the nomadic wanderings of the Ancients, the Valleur
desired to leave their mark.”

“They are not
listening,” Vannis called out.

“I guess not,”
Torrullin said and faced Caltian. “How are you to accomplish the
death of the Dragon?”

“I must kill
you.” Caltian’s voice was steady, unafraid.

“He will not
go to you.”

“I do not need
him to come to me.”

“When the host
dies, the Dragon must find a new body, and he must do this until
the Taliesman sets him free. If you kill me, he will find another,
and it will not be you. Even if he did, your suicide would simply
pass him to yet another, and you cannot murder everyone in an
attempt to destroy him. The Dragon can only be killed when
free.”

Caltian was
ashen, trained in hearing truth from lie. He shifted his gaze to
Levin, who murmured, “It is a trick.”

Torrullin
pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have allowed the wording of
the prophecy to cloud the truth, Levin. You have lost sight of the
Dragon’s past.”

Key-ler said,
“All gods,” and stared at Torrullin in fascination, fear, and
awareness.

“Key-ler?”
Caltian whispered, drawing near the bars, and Key-ler whispered in
Caltian’s ear.

“So long have you prepared to best the Dragon that you have
forgotten the host,” Torrullin murmured. “Who
he
is, to the Valleur.” He fell
silent. He needed to wait for comprehension to come to them, from
them, or they would not believe. In the pen, everyone held their
breaths, even the shadow in the background.

“I cannot kill
you,” Caltian said.

“I doubt you
could.”

“It would be
the worst kind of treachery.”

“What mean
you, Caltian?” Levin demanded.

An Overlord
rose and then fell to his knees, wide eyes fixed on Torrullin. His
companions whispered at him, but he ignored them.

Levin saw the
kneeling man, and felt as if he should do the same. Begging for
mercy. He turned back to Caltian, his jaw slack.

“The
Dragon-man is Vallorin.” Caltian sank to his knees in despair. “I
dare not lift my hand to the Vallorin.” He bent his head. “Forgive
me, my Lord.”

Key-ler’s
heart broke.

“Vallorin?” It
was a many-throated whisper.

Levin felt it,
but did not want to see generations of preparation fall as nothing
at his feet, not without further clarification. “Vallorin? You are
Valleur? Your eyes …”

Pointedly,
Torrullin gestured at Caltian. “He is Valleur. I am Valleur.”

“Are you the
Vallorin?” another Overlord asked. “A Valla?”

“Your memories stir. Yes, I am Valleur, I am
the
Valla, and I am your
Vallorin. You, not one here, can touch the Dragon; that duty is
mine alone. That is why I have come.”

Nobody knew
what to do or say, least of all Caltian. He was without
direction.

There were
agitated murmurs, intense arguments, and then all was again silent
and countless eyes stared into the cage of light.

Torrullin
watched with great calm.

They
speculated on the nature of their welcome and were proven right -
the elaborate trap and imprisonment spoke loud to that. They
speculated that the long passage of time misconstrued the reality
of the Dragon and host symbiosis, and read it accurately - the
current paralysed silence shouted it out to the heavens.

However, these
were Valleur, strong and capable - as this night had shown - and
cognisant and reasoning. They did not deserve punishment. They were
his people, lost, returned. They deserved medals for their
sacrifices over generations.

Somehow he had
to ease the transition between their past and a new, combined
future, doing so without unleashing Neolone on them.

Camot broke
the silence. In a plaintive voice he asked, “Please, my Lord, can
we get out of these silly holds now?”

Krikian burst
out laughing.

“Lordy, Krik,
should you be laughing?” Cat whispered.

“C-Camot …”
Krikian spluttered, and Tristamil joined in.

“Quiet there,”
Vannis muttered.

“Levin, what
now?” a Creed member asked. “Do we go forward with the plan?”

Levin cleared
his throat. He looked at the anxiety in the pen, and the amusement
- that stumped him - and admitted, “I am at a complete loss.”

Creed and
Overlords were astonished. Most had not seen him in seventy years,
while others had not met him, but all knew him for what he was, and
if he was uncertain, how did they deal with this new
development?

“Levin.”
Torrullin was at his most charming. “My companions dared this
mission with me due to a belief in the good that is our universe.
Look at them. A human crew to fly our craft, Valleur, Q’lin’la,
even a child. Do you see hatred, rebellion, treachery? You see a
desire to free all of us of this Dragon, and that is why they came,
knowing well the dangers. We desire the same outcome. No reign of
darkness, but a future in the Light.”

“There is a
Siric,” someone said.

“A Lumin Siric. He is not the enemy, we are not the
enemy.
I
am not
the enemy.”

“You have evil
upon you.”

“Yes, and I
did not ask for it. I am the product of a long line of Vallas, from
Nemisin to this time. Only when I accepted the duty did I
comprehend the burden, as did every Vallorin before me. Hark to
history and you will know I am not the evil - I am only the
host.”

“You brought
him,” Levin whispered. “You had to know what that meant.”

“I read the
prophecy, yes, and saw the map. I heard the tale and dear friends
and family lose their lives over it. Yes, I know what it means. Was
I meant to hide, to wait until the day a Murs found the Taliesman,
or another Dragon did? Was I meant to wile away the years looking
up, waiting for doom to find me and everyone I care about? Or
should I have passed this burden to my heir and have him watch the
heavens in daily fear? No. The time has come to end this and I mean
to see it done.”

“War,” someone
whispered.

“War was
imminent anyway. The Murs were not going to be patient longer,
neither are the Kallanon.”

“Kallanon?”
Levin asked.

“The Dragons,
Levin. You know they are out there, you also know they arrived
before we did. Had I stayed away, do you really think they would
have left empty-handed?”

“Dragons?”
Key-ler said.

“It is hard to
overturn ages of expectation,” Levin said.

Torrullin
inclined his head. “I understand that. It is hard to trust also. I
have proof I am Vallorin, for I carry the symbol on my chest. The
last thing you want to see, I believe.”

A few
smiles.

“I shall make
you a deal. Release my companions, speak to them in private and at
length, however long it takes, and I shall remain here as Caltian’s
guest. When you are satisfied, we take the next step and you are
free to ask anything of me in the meantime.”

“No!”
Camot.

“We can’t hold
the Vallorin prisoner!” Key-ler burst out.

“Hush,
Key-ler,” Caltian said.

Levin locked
gazes with Torrullin. “And after? The Vallorin has every right
…”