The Kallanon Scales (70 page)

“Vannis needed
me.”

“I am not
Vannis.”

“It is not
over,” Neolone hissed.

“It is. You
overestimated.”

Neolone
laughed and as he laughed blood pumped faster from his wound. “I
underestimated you, Torrullin, but I do enjoy a challenge, much as
you do. Come right here, and kill me. Let me see you try.”

Torrullin
smiled. Neolone could bleed to death. He would wait him out, if
need be. “And put the Taliesman within your reach? I think not.
Have you not been listening, Dragon? I am not your killer this
day.”

“I am!”
Caltian yelled and charged closer, his face white with fury. It was
not the best idea to attack in anger, every good swordsman knew
that, but on this day for this particular event, fury would sustain
and bear fruit where cool calm would result in hesitation.

Neolone
laughed. “You? Puny mortal?”

Torrullin
laughed as well. “You do not see it, or cannot. This puny mortal
has been waiting for this day, preparing for this kill, his entire
life, centuries, where I have merely carried you for twenty-six
years. Who, I ask, has the greater will in this?”

Neolone hissed
and his great head swung to watch Caltian, to discover the puny
mortal too close and, caught unprepared, he reacted after Caltian’s
sword rammed to the hilt in his chest.

He reared
back, roaring agony, rage and shock, and shrieked. Again, the
cavern shook, and Caltian turned to sprint out of reach.

“Heart
thrust,” Neolone wheezed, and came down gently, sitting down as if
at a picnic. “Well, well, well,” he laughed with great difficulty,
“taken out by a mortal. Who would have guessed?”

Caltian sat
with a thump beside the lifeless form of Teighlar. “It worked?

Torrullin
studied the Dragon. “He is dying.”

“I wish you
had chosen to join me, Torrullin,” Neolone panted. “Of all my hosts
you were the one, the only one, I revered.”

Torrullin
walked closer and stared into the filming eyes. “Had I been alone,
Neolone, without sons, I may well have chosen a different
path.”

“A pity,”
Neolone whispered.

“Yes,”
Torrullin murmured.

Neolone’s head
sank forward and he breathed his last.

Torrullin
shook as if with fever. Emptiness overcame him, a sense of
bereavement he had not expected. He swallowed and bore down on his
emotions, locking them away for later examination. He said in a
voice made hoarse by that barring, “It is done.”

Caltian drew
his knees up and rested his head on them. “Thank all goodness.”

“Thank the
Light.”

The great bulk
shifted under its immense weight and fell sideways and the
resultant impact shook the cavern. Cracks appeared along the walls,
ran across the floor, to disturb the indigo circle near the far
exit.

Magic restored
and the cavern found its equilibrium. The severe shaking ceased and
the cracks vanished one by one.

All stilled.
All was silent.

The Taliesman
was hot in a terrible grip.

Torrullin
could not move. His gaze fixated on the lifeless form of the great
creature. Beyond doubt, he would not have killed Neolone. Despite
his need to go after Margus, despite his intent to have done with
the Dragon saga, he knew that. It had nothing to do with the evil
of a dual nature; it had to do with respect and awe.

“My Lord?”

“Caltian, I
know now I could not have killed him. The Nine were right. Gods, I
would have released a great evil.”

There was
silence from behind and then, “It is over, my Lord. Let him
go.”

Torrullin
mentally shook himself free. “That will take time.”

“Teighlar
needs you now.”

Torrullin inhaled deeply and released. He pushed the
Taliesman into a pocket. It had power, he thought, as he drew his
hand away, and it was frightening.
Without
Neolone calling to it, it begins to call to me
. He took another breath and focused his attention to
Caltian. He saw anxiety and fear and shifted his gaze to Teighlar,
and knew fear as well.

The Light
retreated and extinguished.

He shrugged
off his tattered tunic, bundled it up in shaking hands, and kneeled
beside the lifeless form. After placing the tunic under Teighlar’s
head, he bent over his body. His fingers touched here, there, and
settled in Teighlar’s neck to find a pulse. Cold, he looked up.

“He is
dead.”

Caltian
nodded. “Yes.”

“I cannot heal
the dead.”

The hope in
the Valleur’s eyes went out. “I did not think so, but I hoped.”

Torrullin
stared down. “I dare not try, I am afraid of the consequences.”

Caltian
nodded. “That would be an unbearable burden, I think.” He reached
over and closed Teighlar’s widely staring eyes. “Now he will never
know his redemption.”

Torrullin’s
expression closed and he stood. “We are not to leave it like this.”
He bent to lift the Emperor into his arms. “Let us leave this
place.” He vanished with his burden.

Caltian rose and stood a while staring at the fallen Dragon.
He shuddered, knowing how close they came to losing the battle that
day, especially Torrullin, and Teighlar
had
lost. He walked over to the
creature towering over him even in sideways repose, and touched
it.

Dead.
Cold.

Drawing
breaths as the Vallorin had earlier, he reached in and drew his
sword free and watched the blood follow it sluggishly. He shuddered
again and went back to Torrullin’s discarded tunic and wiped the
blade clean on those remnants.

Then, without
looking back, he pushed the blade into its cover and vanished.

The chamber
darkened, sensing no life, and all light was gone.

Neolone, the
mighty Dragon, was no more.

The Timekeeper
had moved on.

“…
that
would be a great burden, I think …”

~ Caltian

Grinwallin

“
Q
uilla! I
need your help,” Torrullin said, appearing among the gathered in
the hall.

“Torrullin,
thank god!” Taranis said. “Oh, lord, Teighlar?”

“Not now.”
Torrullin laid Teighlar on the floor and stood, looking about for
the birdman. “Quilla!”

“My god, the
Dragon’s gone!” Vannis said as he came closer. He forced Torrullin
to face him. Where his urgent hand made contact with Torrullin’s
naked shoulder, trebac sparked.

“Later,
Vannis. Teighlar is dead.”

“Father!”

“I am fine,
Tris. Where is Quilla?”

“What happened
to the Emperor?” Tristamil whispered.

Torrullin
swore and then the birdman was there. “What took you so long?”

Quilla did not
bother to reply, bending to touch Teighlar. “How long has he been
dead?”

“Fifteen
minutes.”

Caltian
appeared grim and pale, and came to stand beside Torrullin. Both
watched Quilla examine the Emperor. Vannis tactfully kept the
others at a distance.

“His ribs,
lungs and heart have been crushed,” Quilla murmured. “His arms,
legs and pelvis are broken and internal organs have failed. The
brain is whole, but starved of oxygen.” Quilla looked up at
Torrullin. “You were too late?”

“Yes.”

Quilla nodded.
“How did this happen?”

“Neolone.”

“Massive
pressure. I am sorry, Torrullin - maybe if I had the vapour of the
Temple I could bring him back, but not like this.”

“You could
create it.”

“Too long.
Even if Phet and I were faster than ever, he would be cold and
therefore irretrievable.” Quilla stood decisively and shook his
head. “I am sorry, I cannot help him.”

Torrullin
looked away. “I asked that he trust me and this is the result. He
does not deserve this. I shall not accept this finality.”

“You have not
the power to raise the dead.”

“Are you sure,
birdman, or do you seek to keep that burden from me?”

Quilla touched
Torrullin’s arm, waiting until the grey eyes locked onto his. “I
swear to you, Enchanter, you cannot bring life back.”

Torrullin’s
shoulders slumped. “I do not know if I should be relieved or
angry.”

“Father,”
Tristamil whispered, “it is all right.”

“Torrullin,
let it go,” Taranis said.

“Taranis, look
at him! He saw a future when he could live again without guilt and
he prepared the way for others to see this new day with him. He
deserves a second chance, his redemption, he has waited long.”

“Was he there
for you and Caltian earlier?”

“Yes!”

“Is that not
his redemption?”

Torrullin
smacked palms together. “The redemption he sought was greater than
that. He wanted to see the Senlu rise again.”

“Enchanter,”
Quilla murmured, “there is nothing you can do.”

“Isn’t there?”
Torrullin snapped out. His body quieted to a point of paralysis and
sweat broke out upon his brow, He moved slowly, swinging in a
measured circle to look at everyone, although not seeing them. He
breathed swift shallow breaths by the time he again stopped.

“What is
wrong?” Tristamil blurted. “Father? Gods, you seem about to pass
out!” He hastened closer, but Torrullin’s hand lifted and halted
him.

The hand
descended to clasp his heart and he smiled. “I am terrified.”

Vannis let out
a breath. “Ah.”

Torrullin’s
eyelids flickered.

Cat nudged her
way through. “Sit down or you are going to fall down, for heaven’s
sake.”

He retreated
from her with a frown, holding his hand over his heart, and turned
his back. She stopped dead and Matt drew her into the crowd.

Tristamil
sighed.

“Enchanter,
Teighlar is beyond our reach,” Quilla said. “Let us accept that and
move on. Caltian, are you all right?”

Caltian
nodded, his gaze on the stricken Torrullin.

“Neolone?”
Abdiah grunted, following the emotions around her with
curiosity.

“Dead,”
Torrullin muttered. “Caltian was accurate.”

“Thank the
Goddess!” Key-ler shouted out.

“Amen,” Abdiah
and her court said in one voice.

“Make him
comfortable,” Torrullin said, looking at Teighlar, but he was
stared at as if insane, all but Vannis. Torrullin closed his eyes,
asked for calm, and then reopened them to find Cat. He stared at
her for a moment. “I was rude. Forgive me.”

“It’s
nothing.”

“Will you
please arrange a resting place for the Emperor?”

“Of course.”
She swallowed.

“Somewhere he
can awake in peace.”

She nodded
uncertainly.

Torrullin
smiled. “Thank you.”

Taranis
frowned.

His son walked
out of the Great Hall onto the terrace outside. He stood a while
breathing deeply and his hand still covered his heart. He surveyed
the plateau to find that nothing had changed, other than points of
light in the darkness below. He shivered in the cold air, realising
he was not wearing much.

His other hand
absently started stroking his chest and he looked down upon the
action as if from afar. Gone. The Dragon was gone. Fingers then
quested for the Taliesman in his pocket. But not the Dragon’s
power.

We came far
for this, much time has gone by since Nemisin, and he dies so
quickly.

An
anti-climax.

What did you
expect, idiot? Without Caltian, you would not now be standing here
pondering the how of it. You would be winging your way across the
skies on the Dragon’s back. Was that the climax you preferred, dear
god?

What of the
Light?

He barely used
it. Another anti-climax.

Teighlar will
live again, and perhaps that is a fitting climax, an appropriate
end to this chapter.

Vannis called
Taranis and Tristamil to him. “I am worried over this.”

Behind the
three, Cat spoke to Matt and then Krikian’s voice intruded. The
three lifted Teighlar and carried him into the shadows to the right
of the hall. Camot and two soldiers followed with a bed and
bedding. Vannis lifted his gaze from that proof of complicity -
they clearly humoured Torrullin - and studied Taranis and
Tristamil.

“Who do you
know that can breathe life into the dead?”

Taranis
watched his son, gradually paling.

Tristamil was
not privy to the revealing of Queen Abdiah. “I do not
understand.”

Quilla,
overhearing, heaved a sigh.

Then it
happened.

Taranis’ heart
raced.

Caltian put a
hand over his mouth in astonished understanding.

Tristamil’s
eyes filled with tears, thinking how wonderful a gesture his father
made, not knowing what it cost a husband.

Vannis went
cold.

Far back in
the hall, Cat dropped Teighlar and turned convulsively.

Every pair of
eyes swivelled towards the Enchanter’s pained shout.

“
Saska! I need your help! Please,
Lady of Life, will you aid me?”

Redemption is
something ephemeral. How dare you measure efficacy?

~ Wisdom of
Elders

The Great
Hall

T
he soldiers voluntarily kept watch
on the plateau, thankful to turn gazes from their restless
Vallorin.

Abdiah
tactfully withdrew her court left of the hall. Theirs was a deep
interest, for they wondered if the Lady could restore life.

Caltian
quietly related events in the magician’s cavern, but omitted where
the Taliesman was. Instinctively he knew the others would beset
Torrullin, to see it, to know it, to discuss it, to demand its
immediate destruction, to suggest it be used against the Murs, and
none of it would find Torrullin in an objective state. Fortunately
no one asked after it, not then, for their attention was divided,
although he suspected those close to Torrullin knew exactly where
it was.