The Kallanon Scales (77 page)

She ruffled
his hair with her free hand. “You are going to do so well, my Lord
Emperor.”

He
straightened. “I feel like a boy again!”

Saska laughed.
“It will not last, I warn you.” Then she was serious. “You and
Torrullin need to talk now.”

She inclined
her head and left, and the others followed, drawn like moths to
glory in her warmth.

“Emperor.”

“Vallorin.”

Both laughed
and embraced.

“We do not
need to rehash the cavern, Torrullin.”

“Then we speak
of the future.”

“Briefly,”
Teighlar smiled.

“Unfortunately
yes. What do you need to ensure peace for Grinwallin?”

“I no longer
claim Luvanor as mine. All I ask is a portion of the land to farm,
to ride … ah, my friend, when you return I shall take you hunting!
Horses, hounds, the smell of honest leather, the chase. You will
feel as if you have never lived before.”

“Deal. And you
will show me your wondrous city. I will make it official in a broad
document. We can thrash out details later.”

“Perfect.”

“Key-ler!”
Torrullin called, and the round Brother shuffled over. “I need you
to draw up a document for my mark to the effect that Grinwallin,
one hundred sals west of the plateau from north to south coast, as
well as the land to the east, belongs to the Senlu. They have
sovereignty forever. Details we get to later. Can you do that
now?”

“Of course,
Lord Vallorin.”

“And Key-ler,
I appoint you as official scribe in legal affairs. You will liaise
between the Senlu and Valleur until we formalise matters. Draw up
something to that effect as well.”

“Thank you, my
Lord!”

“One last
thing. In the interim, your Creed will continue their authority, I
want that on paper, and put in that under no circumstances will I
tolerate subjugation of sorcery. Do it now.”

“Yes, now.” A
harassed look overcame the Brother.

“Key-ler, the
library is through there.” Teighlar pointed to an elaborate arch
along the interior face of the Great Hall. “It should be back to
what it was.”

Key-ler bobbed
and scurried over. He peeked inside and turned a brilliant smile on
the two men. He vanished within and the light went on.

“I wish I had
the time to look through that collection,” Torrullin muttered.

“A man after
mine own heart,” Teighlar smiled. “Now, you have farewells to make.
I thank you for everything. Till we meet.” He sketched a formal bow
and disappeared up another elaborate feature, a stairway far to the
right curving up, up, losing definition quickly it was that high.
To the Imperial suite. He awaited the coming of dawn, and his
people.

“Till we
meet,” Torrullin said, and went to say his farewells elsewhere.

Vannis accosted
him as soon as he neared. “I go with.”

“Then I guess
you had better finish up with the Murs.”

Vannis nodded
once, and he and Bartholamu dragged their inert prisoner outside.
Inside they heard one scream - Tristamil and Cat flinched - and the
two returned.

“Well?”
Tristamil demanded, disgusted with the whole affair.

“Dead and
dematerialised,” Vannis said, folding his arms.

Bartholamu
added, “He was mercifully dealt with, young Tris.” Bartholamu
turned to Taranis, an air of finality about him. “My lord, I
request permission to reconvene the Dome. It is time to seek out
the Murs.”

“You have it,
Bartholamu.”

“Thank you.
Torrullin, I request permission to leave Atrudis and a release from
this mission.”

“Your mission
here is over, Siric leader. Go in peace.”

“I doubt that,
for I go to war, but I thank you.” Bartholamu lapsed into silence
and his pale eyes traversed the hall meeting each pair of eyes. “I
am glad I was a part of this.” He faced Torrullin again.
“Enchanter, be careful out there. May we meet again.” He
vanished.

Taranis
sighed. “He will be gone a long time.”

Torrullin
spoke to Krikian. “I place the welfare of the Xenians and Skye in
your capable hands. Those who wish to remain on Atrudis may do so
with my blessing and those who seek return to Valaris I ask that
you transport home. Take them to Caballa, she will organise them in
short order.”

Krikian bowed.
“Yes, my Lord Vallorin.”

“Torrullin,
can we not come with you?” Skye asked. “I feel as if I did
nothing.”

“Come here.”
He held her. “I am not again placing you in danger. Please go home
and help Caballa with our Xenian friends, all right?”

She kissed his
cheeks and held her hand out to Tristamil, who took it while
glancing warily at his father, and the two wandered off to say
their private farewells.

“Am I
imagining things?” Taranis said. “Tris and Skye?”

Torrullin’s
face was unreadable. “Seems to be.”

“You are not
going to interfere, are you?”

“Taranis, I am
not getting into this.”

“The Valla
blood,” Vannis muttered.

“As I said, I
am not getting into this.”

“Poor Skye,”
Cat murmured.

“Poor Tris,”
Saska said.

Torrullin gave
her a sidelong glance. He hunkered and called to Lowen. “Time to
part, wise one.”

Her incredible
blue eyes fixed on him. “I’m going back to Valaris.”

Torrullin
smiled. “Good.”

She leaned in
close and whispered in his ear, “You are hurting your pretty wife,
be nice to her.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and shuffled
away. For a moment he could not rise, mortified, shaking his head
with a wry expression.

He rose, and
Taranis was in his face. “You are nearly through the list, so
before you get to me allow me to save you the trouble. I go with
you and do not argue.” Taranis crossed his arms and braced his
legs.

“I never
thought otherwise.”

Taranis
deflated. “You said … ah, well, I am not going to argue
either.”

They grinned
at each other.

“My Lord! It
is done, a bit hurried, but readable.” Key-ler scrambled up, waving
paper. “I need your mark.”

“Good man.”
Torrullin took the sheaf of papers, read them, and nodded. “An
excellent job, Key-ler, thank you.” The Brother bobbed and then
drew a sharp breath when Torrullin extended the fingers of his
right hand to reveal a gold signet ring on his middle finger.

A tiny dragon
design nestled in the centre, a miniature replica of the one he
carried on his chest, he touched it to the papers and a reverse
image transferred of indelible gold ink. Under the tiny dragon,
letters read simply, ‘Valla’. Once he affixed the symbol to the
documents, he passed them to Key-ler, who could not remove his gaze
from the ring, and again flexed his fingers.

The ring
vanished.

“Thank you,
Key-ler,” he said pointedly when the Brother did not move.

“Um, yes.” An
awed Brother-become-scribe retreated.

Vannis
drawled, “Now where did you get that? Nemisin’s ring was buried
with him.”

“He gave it to
me.”

“You haven’t
used it before,” Saska said.

“I haven’t
needed to. Come, we waste time with these small issues.”

Saska shook
her head in exasperation - some things would never change - and
went about making her own farewells, as did Vannis, Taranis and a
sombre Tristamil.

Torrullin
spoke to Quilla and Phet. “Not this time, my friends. You go home
and get them ready. Margus is unpredictable.”

“Understood.”
Quilla gazed at Phet, who finally nodded.

That left
Caltian, Matt and Cat.

He used the
noise around him to speak to Cat. “Take care, hear?”

“Don’t fret,
I’ll be fine. In seeing her I do get it. You take care, too.” She
pecked him on his cheek and stood aside for Matt.

“Torrullin, I
was a spy, I see things others overlook. You have your entire
family with you and we know families are never objective. You need
someone like me to keep things honest,” Matt said.

“Jesus,
Matt!”

“Sis, this is
something I must do.”

“No!”

Matt
deliberately turned his back on his sister’s denial. “What say you,
Torrullin?”

Torrullin
studied the Xenian pilot and his gaze flicked to Caltian. “You,
too, I suppose?”

“Thought you
would never ask.”

Torrullin
studied both men intently. “You cannot possibly understand the
danger.”

Neither
replied.

Avoiding Cat’s
misery, he said, “Fine. Say your farewells.”

They were
ready.

All had basic
gear. All were dressed for confrontation.

“Where to?”
Vannis asked as they shouldered their burdens.

“Lucan first,
with obvious signature.” Torrullin checked his sword and scabbard.
Next to him, Saska tightened the belt of her breeches, having
changed from her gown.

“And then fate
rules?” Taranis murmured.

“Indeed.”

Together they
headed out onto the terrace. The snowfall had decreased, but was
not about to surrender. It no longer mattered, not to them. It was
dark and Grinwallin, in the act of arising, lay hidden. That
mattered.

With their
backs to the solemn few remaining in the Great Hall, they prepared
for the initial overt transport. Caltian took Matt’s arm, and they
were gone.

The Atrudis
War was over.

Time’s
Timekeeper was dead.

His mortal
remains were forever interred.

He lives
on.

N
emisin, First Father, stared
fixedly into the valley from the ledge.

His world was
dead, his people moved on.

The Valleur
were now the nomads he foresaw, going forth to find new ways in new
spaces. It began when the water trapped in the bowels of this world
ran out. It never did rain again.

Ghosts
wandered the valley and he wondered what they sought out there in
the emptiness.

He could not
speak to them and did not desire to. He was afraid they would
accuse him. He was afraid they would tell him he was a traitor.

They would be
right. He erred the day he accepted Neolone’s proposal, and now it
was eternally too late to alter the course of history.

He returned to
the cool of the mountain.

Hope now lay
in the form of the man who travelled to visit him across space and
time. Torrullin chose well. Torrullin chose love over power and
thus attained greater supremacy.

He froze.
Torrullin?

Why had he not
made the connection?

Torrullin, the
Enchanter who received his prophesied legacy, was also Torrullin,
nemesis. His enemy, a bane, a thorn he long sought to cut away,
until the day the man vanished from court with Elianas in tow.

Lord Sorcerer
and his Eternal Companion.

All gods, time
is a circle. An old enemy has returned to haunt my dreams.

The ghosts
vanished from the dead valley and Nemisin’s presence eventually
moved on as well, but the tale would begin anew one day, as it had
before.

A Timekeeper
cannot die.

~ The End
~

Lore of Reaume
continues in
The Nemisin
Star

Please take a
minute or two to leave a review for The Kallanon Scales. A few
words from you will be hugely appreciated!

Thank you!

Books by
Elaina J Davidson

Lore of
Arcana

The Infinity
Mantle

The Kinfire
Tree

The Drowned
Throne

The Dragon
Circle

Secret
Remedies

Lore of
Reaume

The Kallanon
Scales

The Nemisin
Star

The Sleeper
Sword

The Dreamer
Stones

Realm
Walker

Lore of Reaume
Omnibus

Lore of
Sanctum

The Nemesis
Blade

The Echolone
Mine

The Nowhere
Sphere

The Master
Mechanism

Novellas and
Short Stories

A Tear in the
Clouds

Ancient
Illumination

Our Friend
Thomas Henson

Town
Thomas

Latticework

FingerNale
Tales

The Tinsal
Deck

Non-Fiction

Justine’s
Journal

About the
Author

Elaina is a
galactic and universal traveller and dreamer. When writing she puts
into words her travels and dreams, because she believes there is
inspiration in even the most outrageous tale.

Elaina was
born in South Africa and grew up in the magical city and surrounds
of Cape Town. After studying Purchasing Management and working in
the formal sector as a buyer, she chose to raise and home-school
her children. She started writing novels around 2002, moving from
children’s stories, poetry and short stories to concentrate on
larger works. She lived with her family for some time in Ireland
and subsequently in New Zealand. Returned now to South Africa, she
realises the vibrancy of Africa has much to do with the
inspirational side of her work. Something happens daily, something
to shock, something to uplift … and the colours and diversity of
nature itself fires the imagination.

Come with her
and share a vision.

Connect with
Elaina

Elaina’s Writing
World

Facebook