The Kallanon Scales (67 page)

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Authors: Elaina J Davidson

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BOOK: The Kallanon Scales
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Vannis was
brisk. “He commanded us to stay away from the Corridor when he
confronted Margus. He told us he knew how to stop him, magic that
could not tell friend from foe. And he never spoke of what happened
there.”

“You used it
on Margus?” Taranis questioned.

“Yes.” The
word was cold, and Torrullin was expressionless.

“He succumbed
before insanity, obviously,” Teighlar reasoned.

“I am not
discussing it.”

“Surely there
were others alive outside the gates?” Cat asked. She was paler than
Bartholamu generally was.

“There was an
entire planet out there living and breathing, and when I walked out
of this city of the dead alone and alive, they called me evil and I
could not deny it. They came, day and night, and they cursed me,
they cursed this city, and they threw stones and rotten items.
Twice, three times a day an assassin would come and I deserved it.
I did not defend my actions, for I believed them beyond
explanation. Time went on and some changed upon seeing the old
cycles of violence returned, and began to side with me, not to
excuse what I had done, but to ask for a return to peace. It was
impossible, for I no longer trusted my motives, and these people
were turned upon. Thirty years passed and everyday more died until,
in the end, some fourteen hundred took to the skies and left
Luvanor forever. Only three thousand Senlu remained and twelve
years later they were dead. I was alone in this dead city on a dead
world, the land was in ruin, and cities destroyed everywhere. The
land recovered and ruins vanished into dust, but my fate was to
wait.”

“You chose
immortality,” Vannis grunted. “Did you not want to end it?”

Teighlar
stared unseeingly at the listeners. “Exactly nine days to the
minute of the slaughter in the mountain the visions began, one
after the other fast and so overpowering I was not sure whether I
was hallucinating, awake or dead already. A pattern emerged and
once I was accustomed to those visions, I saw it.”

He rose and
went to the arches, and the late afternoon sun threw his shadow far
into the hall. “It has been ninety million years standard and
Grinwallin has not entirely disintegrated, and that I saw numerous
times. So much time, friends, and yet it seems as if the city was
abandoned a mere century ago. It is not a testament to our building
skills, although they were beyond measure – it is a testament to
waiting. Grinwallin is to rise again when the Light reigns and it
will fill with the forgiveness of the innocent who died here, and
their laughter will ring out and thus the Senlu will be reborn. I
shall lead them with the wisdom I have gained.” He lapsed into
silence.

Cat rubbed at
the goosebumps on her arms.

Teighlar turned and his face was radiant. “For me this is a
great day. The time has come at last. I foresaw a war of ideology,
Light versus Dark, and you have brought it into Grinwallin herself,
so that she will
know
. My sign was to be the reading of the wall. Terrible times,
yes, but for me, win or lose, live or die, the waiting will soon be
over. It is a great day.”

Tristamil
swallowed. “Indeed, my Lord Emperor, it is a great day.”

“Thank you,
young Tristamil.”

Torrullin
stood in an adjacent arch watching the sinking sun. “Ideology?
Maybe, by default.”

“Say what?”
Abdiah grunted.

“The
brilliance of the Light, Majesty, will be short-lived and will come
only because the Dragon is no longer relevant to me. Hail or shine,
by morning it will be done and then I go on to the real struggle,
and darkness descends again.”

“You do not
regard Neolone as your final battle,” the Dragonne Queen
murmured.

“He is
Timekeeper, Abdiah, therefore merely the start.”

There were
rustles amid the Kallanon, but Torrullin did not look at them.

“Torrullin,
the Kallanon will sunder without the Light.”

“What can be
done to ease your future, I shall do, but after I have dealt with
Margus. Abdiah, my road is long and Margus is not the final battle
either. It will not end soon, it may never end.”

She bent her
massive head closer to him and whispered, “How can you know peace?
How do you face your eternal companion if you burden yourself with
guilt?”

“My wife and
…”

“Not the Lady,
Enchanter, the dark-haired one.”

He stared at
her.

“And I do not
refer to a certain Xenian either.”

He still
stared at her.

“I saw his
face in the mirror, Torrullin. He is your redemption.”

He swiped a hand over his face. “
When?

“When you are
entirely without hope, he will come.”

He faced the
view again.

“We shall aid
you against your Darak Or,” Abdiah offered.

“The fight is
mine alone.”

“Then we shall
help everywhere else.”

His eyes were
silvery when he faced her again. “That I gladly accept.”

“I would help,
too, if you permit me,” Teighlar said.

Torrullin
turned his head in the opposite direction to study the Senlu. “We
shall be fighting on many fronts; your help is most welcome.”

Teighlar
squared his shoulders. “And so it begins.”

“Indeed, and
the first act is Neolone. I want the Taliesman.”

Caltian
cursed.

Vannis rounded
on him. ‘We need the Taliesman.”

“Caltian’s
destiny is to kill the Dragon as he separates,” Torrullin said.

“Caltian! You
were right!” Key-ler gasped. “The same Dragon!”

Caltian came
to stand beside Torrullin and his bearing was as intimidating as in
the wilderness. Both stared at Teighlar.

“Yes, I know
where it is.”

“Good,”
Torrullin said. “Bartholamu!”

The Siric
approached.

“I place the
Murs in your hands. You have command until I return.”

Bartholamu
smiled for the first time in days. “I look forward to it.”

“You trust
him?” Teighlar demanded.

“The Siric
have fought the war of ideology you speak of, Emperor, and the
Light overcame the Dark for a long time. This man is a Lumin Siric
and he was there. He knows what to do.” Torrullin gazed at
Bartholamu. “Be careful, my friend.”

“As ever,”
Bartholamu smiled wryly as he retreated. “Time to prove my worth,
as Llettynn once did.” Bartholamu returned to his vigil.

“Camot, you
are under Bartholamu’s command until I return.”

“Where are you
going?” Taranis demanded.

“To the
Taliesman.”

“It can be
brought here.”

“That would be
unwise,” Vannis murmured.

“We could sit
on him,” Abdiah said. “Crush Neolone the moment he exits.”

Lowen’s eyes
rounded further.

“Most unwise,”
Vannis repeated. “The separation must be contained.”

“Then we are
headed to the right place for it,” Teighlar murmured.

Taranis was
grim. “I am going with you.”

“Teighlar will
lead Caltian and me to the coin, and that is it.” Torrullin’s eyes
were dark with challenge. “The rest of you are needed here in the
event an attack comes. Including your Kallanon, Majesty.”

“We should
witness, Enchanter.”

“You will see
him dead and then you will know. You are needed here.”

“Very well.
Anticipation mounts.”

“Father.”

“Tris, no.
Would you bring the Darak Or to the Taliesman as well?”

The young man
made a futile gesture.

Vannis
growled. “I am not …”

“Vannis, do
you desire to witness the ending of the symbolic Vallorinship?”

Vannis strode
out to join Bartholamu.

“Neither do
I,” Torrullin whispered. “Yet I shall do so.” He faced the Senlu
Emperor, who lifted his shoulders.

“This
way.”

Teighlar led
the way into the dark recesses opposite the arches.

Chapter
61

 

We have built
a nation from gold and greed.

~ Senlu
truth

 

 

Grinwallin
Inner City

 

A
s the three descended into the
monolith of the ancient mountain, they left reality
behind.

Hall led into
chamber into passage into shrine over pool about altar into cavern
across apertures past doorways, magical shifts, to relics around
biers, and time became irrelevant.

Grinwallin’s
inner city commanded reverence. Glittering walls, mirrored floors,
gigantic chandeliers, gold altars, marble counters, silver urns,
turquoise and amber statues, coral pillars, onyx balustrades,
pearl, opal and topaz paving around sapphire pools. Gems formed
intricate mosaics on moonlit walls and tapestries fashioned of
precious thread hung in splendorous adornment, undimmed and
dust-free.

It was a
god-like labyrinth, with surprise around every corner, twisting in
the essences of antiquity.

“I feel I am
committing sacrilege in treading here,” Caltian said, his voice
hushed.

Teighlar
laughed. “Always it was thus and you never grow accustomed to it. I
have wandered these halls and chambers long and had the opportunity
to go where before privacy was respected and still I can be
surprised.”

“Was this the
royal abode?” Caltian asked.

“The Imperial
Chambers are above the Great Hall. The wealthy Senlu lived here, in
winter only. Largely they used these suites to store prized
possessions.”

“Many
wealthy.”

“Luvanor was
once rich in mineral, gem and ore.”

“And rich in
craftsmen,” Caltian murmured.

Teighlar
smiled his pleasure. “Indeed.”

“Not so rich
in sharing,” Torrullin muttered.

“No,” Teighlar
admitted.

“The Senlu are
not alone in that. Universe over greed equates to strife.”

“Not the
Valleur,” Caltian said.

“Our greed was
for supremacy, privacy and land,” Torrullin said. “It brought ages
of war with the human race. We were not immune either.”

“Human and
Valleur coexist peacefully on Valaris,” Caltian pointed out.

“Now they
do.”

“I hear a
‘but’ in there,” Teighlar murmured.

Torrullin
grimaced. “I wonder how long it can last.”

“Is peace an
unnatural condition?”

“Gods, I hope
not,” Caltian said.

They entered a
chamber decorated with wind chimes, tiny crystal bells, stars,
suns, flowers, hanging off fine gold filigree. Teighlar ran a hand
through those nearest him, setting it in motion. The chamber filled
with melodies.

Torrullin’s
thoughts were elsewhere. “How did the Taliesman get here?”

“Ah, my
friend, can you not appreciate this?”

“I appreciate
it well, Emperor, but I dare not allow it to distract me. We have
come far for this purpose and to forget now would be the gravest of
errors.”

Caltian heard in there an unspoken reprimand.
Prepare yourself, Beast Breacher, or your destiny
will get the better of you.

Teighlar led
the way forward. “Sixteen thousand years ago four members of your
Creed came to Grinwallin and brought with them the Taliesman. They
knew the fearsome reputation of this place, and sought to use it to
their advantage. Here, they suspected, they could hide this device.
I sensed them arrive and the magic they carried, and chose to meet
them as they entered under the giant arch. One succumbed of a heart
attack, he was that frightened, and the other three told themselves
they made the right decision. Such fear was what they required to
protect the Taliesman. They assumed I was a ghost and walked on,
courage in hand, and made their way through the city to the Great
Hall. There I stopped them, fuming at being ignored, and
unfortunately another gave in and died.”

Teighlar shook
his head. “That kind of fear, that kills without a hand lifted? It
is a sobering sight and I eased off. I spoke to the remaining two
and drew the tale from them. It fit with my visions and thus I
agreed to hide the magical device. I swore to keep it hidden until
I could do naught else but reveal it to the host of the
creature.”

“They told you
to reveal it to the host?”

“They said it
would either be coercion or I would know the host as someone other
than the tales of fear surrounding him.”

“Well,”
Caltian said.

“The final two
Creed committed suicide by jumping off the plateau precipice.”

They went
on.

The inner city
was vast, level within level, layer upon layer, curve about curve,
and sometimes they climbed, sometimes they went deeper. From
somewhere fresh air circulated.

“Do you think
Senlu and Kallanon were connected?” Teighlar asked a while
later.

Torrullin
murmured, “Language and runes? That threw me as well. It connects
the Valleur also. Have you myths about Dragons in your past?”

“Not a
whiff.”

“Myth is
legend in disguise and legend is truth fantasised. If you have none
of Dragons, then there was no connection.”

“The Valleur
have myths?”

“Gods, yes,
and it began with this on my chest. Neolone made his presence felt
before the symbiosis, but how the Valleur and Kallanon speak the
same tongue, that is a mystery.”

“Like the
runes,” Teighlar murmured. “They seem to connect us, as if sitting
between.”

“Nemisin was a
rune-master. Could he have influenced or created parallels for us
to understand each other, make the connections easier? You speak
Valleur now.”

“Only if he
was a Walker of Realms.” Teighlar swung to face Torrullin behind
him. All he saw was shock. “Was he, by god?”

“He was not
immortal, he could not enter and exit.”

“But you are, by the Senlu,
you
are.
You
made the
connections.”

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