The Kallanon Scales (62 page)

“She had no
equal.”

“Shall we
speak? Are you prepared to take the risk and show yourself?”

A time of
silence and dark went by and the appearance of a figure a distance
to the left followed a deep sigh, standing midway up a short flight
of stairs. Otherworldly, a figure clothed in pale yellow light,
without feet. He wore a long sleeveless overcoat over a short tunic
and at his waist was a broad girdle from where a jewelled knife
protruded. Long hair, clean-shaven, and from his neck a heavy chain
dangled an intricate pendant. Broad armbands encircled his wrists
and upper arms, also jewelled. That much they could discern,
although it was more a play of light and shadow than solidity and
colour.

The light the
figure shed lit the small courtyard.

“I sense you
mean no harm.” The figure glided nearer. “Although I also sense
harm follows.”

“Who are you?”
Torrullin spread his hands palms up.

“More to the point, who are you? This is
my
home.” The form halted a few
paces from Torrullin and now his feet were in evidence, clad in
sandals. His face was narrow with high cheekbones, a thin nose,
arched brows and wide eyes.

“I am
Torrullin.”

The form
smiled to show even teeth. “I sense you are more than your
name.”

“And you are
more than a wanderer in a deserted city.”

The ethereal
man nodded. “Not merely deserted, but ruined now.” He floated up.
“Look at her. Her heart is gone, my people are gone. Walls can be
rebuilt, but what would be the point if the heart has ceased
beating?”

Abdiah stirred
and Vannis hastened to her.

“Majesty,”
Torrullin ventured, Abdiah putting him in mind of a possible form
of address.

“Not that. I
am simply Teighlar.” He returned to ground.

“Teighlar,” Torrullin echoed, inclining his head. “You
are
a king,
however.”

“I was, but no
more.”

“King of this
city?”

The form of
Teighlar studied the reality of the flesh and blood before him.
“Teighlar Sirdann, Emperor of Luvanor.” He waved about him. “This
was my Seat, Grinwallin, fairest of cities.”

“Luvanor?”
Caltian said.

“You call my
world Atrudis.”

“What
happened?” Vannis asked.

Abdiah heaved
to her feet, barely containing her fury over recent ignominy, and
Vannis told her to listen before going off again. She subsided in a
breath of extinguished fire and glared at the light being.

“What
happened” Teighlar echoed. “It was lost. I am not unwilling to
talk. However, harm follows and that is of concern to me. I have
two choices, expel you or hear your tale.” He smiled. “Grinwallin
is cursed and is no safe place to listen.” He grinned when a
soldier muttered in the background. “Come with me into the
mountain.”

Nobody
moved.

“Torrullin,
will you trust?”

After a while,
he received an affirmative.

Teighlar
started towards the steps that led to the multi-arched tier. “If
you would,” he threw over his shoulder, “please recall the two bird
creatures creeping up behind me.” He continued walking.

Torrullin
laughed. “Quilla, Phet, leave off! We are safer with him.”

“Most astute,”
the voice floated back.

Quilla and
Phet joined the rest as they trailed the ghostly form.

Teighlar’s
glowing form halted before the arches under the vine canopy. He
waited until all were together and then led the way inside,
choosing an entrance at random. It was a gigantic hall rising up to
an unseen ceiling and every arch led into it.

Stone pillars
intricately carved into trailing vines with buds and flowers hidden
under leaves soared into invisibility overhead. The floor was
smooth under debris, a muddy colour. It was the labour of
master-builders, enduring and beautiful even in ruin.

Light came
from an unseen source, and Torrullin feared the light would betray
them. The arches had, in fact, vanished when he looked back. He
glanced at the Emperor, to find him watching, narrow face
unreadable.

“Imperial
Lord,” Caltian ventured, drawing Teighlar’s gaze immediately.

“No, stranger,
my title has no meaning.” His tone was abrasive.

“Apologies,
er, Teighlar,” Caltian said and shook his head. “I am sorry, it
does not sit well, it would be like calling my Lord here,” and he
gestured at Torrullin, who again studied the sealed arches, “… by
his name.”

“He does not
permit it?” Teighlar ignored Torrullin’s slow wander along the
vanished arches, but was intensely aware.

“It isn’t
respectful.”

Teighlar
laughed in mock disbelief. “You do not know your Lord very
well.”

Caltian did
not answer.

“Ah,” Teighlar
murmured.

“If you can do
this,” Torrullin pondered, gesturing vaguely at the arches as he
came towards them, “then you are able to take on material form. A
manipulation of matter.”

Teighlar was
unmoving and for long moments heartbeats knocked the time before he
inclined his head. “I believe it is time you properly introduce
yourself … Enchanter.”

“Indeed, yes,
it is time … Enchanter.”

Teighlar
smiled and waited.

“Torrullin of
the House of Valla. Vallorin.”

“Vallorin is
Emperor?”

“Yes.”

“Of
Luvanor?”

“I am a
visitor to this planet, although I do consider the Valleur here my
people.”

“A
contradiction.”

“Indeed.”

“You are not
forthcoming.” Teighlar smirked.

“Neither are
you.”

“You are more
than Vallorin, you are also an Enchanter.”

“As are
you.”

“Hmm,” snorted
Teighlar. “Word games. I like you.”

Torrullin
smiled. “That would be a first. Generally I am either loved or
hated.”

“Or both?”

“Indeed.”

“The curse of
Enchanters. No grey areas exist for those in our orbits, when we
exist in that state every minute and moment of every hour.”

Vannis glanced
between the two - like minds. It could prove a volatile
combination. He caught the Siric’s gaze.

Caltian backed
away, unsure of the new situation, and Abdiah breathed a short
burst of fire, impatient with the pace. She drew everyone’s
attention.

“What manner
of a creature is this?” Teighlar demanded.

“I shall have
your glowing liver for breakfast!” Abdiah grunted, throwing her
Dragonne voice, but Teighlar was unaffected.

“Please calm
down,” Caltian implored, but Phet giggled.

“Teighlar, may
I present Queen Abdiah, ruler of the Kallanon,” Torrullin said.

“It’s
sentient?”

“By the scales
of my ancestors …!”

“Majesty!”
Torrullin yelled as Abdiah readied to charge.

She swung her
head his way. “This Emperor has no manners, Vallorin!”

“You are quite
right,” Teighlar murmured. “I have been inconsiderate and
profoundly rude. Forgive me.” He was clearly sincere and thus
Abdiah stayed her charge. “I simply possessed no point of
reference.” Teighlar bowed. “Welcome to Grinwallin, ruler of the
Kallanon.”

Abdiah sniffed
grudgingly. “Well, I suppose I am able understand. My companions
only recently became aware of the Dragon race as well, but they
treated me with respect.”

“Again, I do
apologise.” Teighlar switched his attention to Vannis. “You are kin
to Torrullin?”

“He is my
grandson. I am Vannis.”

“To appear so
close in age, one or both of you must be immortal.”

“As you are?”
Torrullin murmured.

Again, the two
stared at each other, before Teighlar glanced at Quilla and Phet.
“It seems I am in august company, quite a change from the usual
grave-digging riffraff that passed through before.”

“Q’li’qa’mz,”
Quilla bowed. “Quilla will do, Lord. This is Phet, he has an
equally unpronounceable epitaph.” Phet bowed. “We are the Q’lin’la,
the Feathered Magicians.”

“Well met and
welcome.”

Torrullin
gestured towards the soldiers. “Part of my troop. Are you aware of
the war out there?”

“I am.”

“This is
Caltian. Of all of us, he is the only native to this world.”

“Well met, Caltian,” the Emperor said. “But not a native, I
am afraid.
We
evolved here, others came after and will ever be …
visitors.”

Caltian was
not insulted. “Although we know no other home, we regard ourselves
as visitors, my Lord.”

Teighlar
smiled. “The Valleur have been excellent tenants.”

“Thank
you.”

“And this is
Bartholamu, Siric leader,” Torrullin added.

Bartholamu
nodded, saying nothing, and Teighlar inclined his head, himself
reserving judgement.

“Why is an
Enchanter embroiled in a war on a world not his own? And what is
that presence you carry with you?”

“You are
powerful, Teighlar.”

“I have been
at it far longer. You, I suspect, are fresh to certain
discernments. It took you a while to fathom that.” Teighlar waved
dismissively at the sealed arches.

“Is that why
you revealed yourself?”

“The act of
creation, even for a meal, is not lightly done. I was intrigued and
concerned.”

“Would you
have shown yourself otherwise?” Torrullin asked.

“We will never
know.”

“We seek
something and believe Grinwallin may hide it. It and the presence
you sense are linked.”

Teighlar
touched his nose. “Ah.”

“You know what
I refer to.”

“I do
now.”

“Is it
here?”

Teighlar
shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“You are not
forthcoming.”

“Neither are
you.”

“Touché.”

“Torrullin has
a penchant for the convoluted road,” Vannis said.

“I see that,”
Teighlar laughed. “So do I, unfortunately.”

“Torrullin,
there is no sense beating this stone,” Vannis went on. “Soon we
will have our enemies on that plateau and then time will really
press down on us. Get to it, will you?”

“You begin to
sound like my father, Vannis.”

“And he would
be right. He should be here.”

“Not until I
have an understanding with Teighlar.”

“Shall we then
reach for it, Enchanter?” Without awaiting an answer, Teighlar
commenced an inaudible chant.

Quilla pursed lips.
He reaches for
solidity. He is to be involved, it seems.

A legend, a
king?

May well
be.

Gradually
Teighlar’s form dimmed and darkened until an absence stood in his
stead, which was terrifying, a glimpse of a perfect void. From
within that emptiness Teighlar’s voice chanted rhythmically.

Torrullin
studied the transformation dispassionately. He wondered what tipped
the scales for this ghostly wanderer. Why did Teighlar choose to
change his future in this profound manner? For a war about to come
to Grinwallin also? Why seek to defend a city in ruin? What lay
hidden here besides the Taliesman?

Teighlar’s
form emerged, beginning with sandaled feet and strong legs. His
overcoat revealed as blue and the shorter tunic under it green. The
broad girdle about his waist was wrought of beaten silver with the
dagger matching it in style. Topaz gems caught the light. Strong
and capable hands came into view, then arms, shoulders; the
armbands were silver inlaid with topaz and the pendant cross was
sleek silver. His long hair was coppery and blue eyes stared from
the narrow face.

Ceasing his
chant, fine lines crinkled about his eyes, creating expression in
paleness. He glanced down, wiggled his toes, flexed his fingers and
bent his knees.

Looking up he
noticed the lack of surprise on both Quilla and Vannis’ faces, and
understood at a certain point in their lives these two affected
similar transformations. He was, indeed, in august company.

“You will be
hungry soon,” Vannis murmured with a faraway gaze.

Teighlar
laughed. “I welcome it!”

“How long have
you been waiting?” Torrullin asked.

“Should you
not be asking, why now?” Teighlar ran fingers up both arms. “A long
time.”

“Why now?”

“You first,
Vallorin. I need to hear your tale before I judge where I fit
in.”

“And yet you
transformed before hearing it.”

Teighlar
shrugged.

Morning arrived
while the two engaged in back and forth.

For every
event or explanation Torrullin put forth, Teighlar had questions.
Each was pertinent, insightful, so that Torrullin had a more
comprehensive understanding of the entire mess at the end of it.
Teighlar made him think, hard, and few could do that for him. His
initial irritation surrendered to sharp appreciation.

The Emperor
was a clever man and his grasp of what was a wholly new way of the
worlds was astounding. He did not judge, merely sought to grasp the
ideals and action that led to the present, and nothing surprised
him.

They sat
cross-legged with a small fire between them. Teighlar eventually
grew ravenous, the remains of two hearty meals lay discarded
nearby. He drank copious quantities of water.

The others
slept. Abdiah’s Dragonne bulk hunkered and her rattling breathing
was hypnotic.

Dawn crept up
and pale fingers of sunlight sneaked through the arches.

“That is
west,” Torrullin frowned, “yet the sun comes.”

“Light reaches
Grinwallin late in the morning and thus we devised a means to
enhance the dawn. A mirror or two, a shaft or three.”

It would be a
cloud free day, although the sun had lost most of its warmth. A
rustle drew their attention back to the hall.

“Snow coming,”
Caltian muttered, propped on one elbow, staring out. “Three days.”
He crashed down again.