Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (25 page)

“
Talisa.” The way she spoke, he guessed she was as much bemused by what had happened as he. “You took some risk there. How did you know you had to drink from the chalice and not the pool?”

“
I did not,” acceded Valdieron slowly. “Is there a difference? It all looks the same, does it not?”

“
Of course there is a difference, though not visible. The chalice offers protection against the liquid, which is pure essence. As it is, lucky you are Kay'taari, else you would not have survived it.” The way she looked at him made him realize she had not thought he was Kay'taari.

“
I have Elvin blood,” he muttered defensively, wondering why he felt he had to explain this to her. He did not know how any other could have gotten to where he was if he wasn't of Kay'taari blood, as she obviously was.

“
That would explain it," she mused with a wry smile, almost apologetic. “I had thought my father and I were the only ones left of our kind.”

“
Your father?” Valdieron remembered her having said she was waiting for her father, and a connection clicked within his mind. “You are Ka'Varel's daughter!”

Talisa gasped, clutching at him desperately and hissing as she spoke. “How do you know my father? Where is he? You must tell me!”

He did tell her, slowly, and not because she did not look as if she would let him go until he did. Having found he was not the only person of Kay'taari heritage, he felt a sudden bond between himself and this young woman. He knew Ka'Varel had been somehow different when they had met, given his knowledge of the Nexus Gates and the Ashar'an. His likeness to Astan-Valar was suddenly obvious. On thought of Astan-Valar, he peered about disconcertedly, not knowing what to think of the man he had thought was mad, but was really one of his ancient kinsmen and former wielder of the Dragonsword.

“
He was going to Lloreander when I last saw him, but that was when spring was new.”

Talisa's frown deepened as he spoke, and her grip relaxed on him, thankfully.

“
I am sure he is all right, though. I think there is much for him yet to do.” He did not know if she was aware of what was occurring with regards to the seals and Demons, but he assumed she had partaken of the fountain before, and knew at least that much. She did not answer or remark, however, as she turned to gaze into the surrounding grove, searching for her father.

Valdieron took the opportunity to rise, not that he was uncomfortable or displeased with the position he was in, yet he assumed there was still some part of the test remaining for him, else he would have returned to the Dragon's cave outside, or back to Kel'Valor.

Rising on sore muscles that were slow to respond, he carefully checked the injuries he had sustained at the hands of the Demons and found them all but gone, a faint pink scar all that remained of the worst of the cuts to his side, but it measured less than a finger's length and painless. He felt, however, as if he had just ridden for twenty days on end without rest or food.

Talisa was muttering to herself as he reached for his sword, and he took a sudden interest.

“
...would rescue me. He cannot be dead. My father must kill Zhak Lomar. He said he would rescue...” This was repeated almost as a litany as she turned slowly around, eyeing the glade, and there was unmasked fear and sorrow on her face. With a start he noticed she was only young, maybe as old as he was, but no older, though her height made her appear older.

“
What must he rescue you from?” he asked softly, not wanting to alarm her by his intervention, but her trance- like actions continued. He reached out to touch her then and found her skin fiery to the touch, though soft, but the contact did seem to have an affect as he repeated the question. Her emerald gaze locked on his, and there was pain beyond her years there, holding back the force of her willful youth like a dam holding a river to bursting point.

“
That is not important right now, Valdieron!”

The oddly familiar voice surprised him, for neither he nor Talisa had heard his approach. As Valdieron looked up at Astan-Valar, he felt Kel'Valor shift around him, and he was no longer in the grove. Instead, a dimly lit room of alien design surrounded him. His bare feet rested on smooth white stone, while yellow sandstone walls rose twenty feet to an arched ceiling of gold and white. Pilasters of these same hues supported the walls, all inset with silver sconces housing glowing orange globes.

Valdieron stood beneath the crystalline arch of a huge doorway, fifty feet wide and half again in height, its doors twin sections of dark wood bound with iron and marked with strange silvery sigils and runes. Beyond the doorway there was darkness, as if the room rested on the edge of nothing.

Astan-Valar stood at the far end of the room. His back was turned to Valdieron as he stood before a roaring hearth set into the wall, its reddish stones flickering with the light it produced. A Silver mantle rested above it, twenty feet across, on which a long lance was settled on golden stands. It was made of gold and silver, intertwined together in a seemingly abstract pattern, and a pale silver length three feet long was its tip, barbed and tied with chord of gold and white.

A large shield rose above it like a guard, shaped like a kite and slightly concave. A golden Dragon rose on it, its claws and teeth tiny diamonds and its eyes faceted rubies that seemed to glow with an inner life. It rested on a field of pale blue, like a clear spring morning sky.

A suit of armor rested on a stick- figure stand beside the hearth. Valdieron recognized it as he had recognized the lance from his visions, and could almost see the stains of blood he had seen marring it only minutes earlier when Astan-Valar had worn it in the visions. It was sparkling clean now, however. Golden cuirass rested over Mithril hauberk and leather underlay. Golden cuisses tassets and greaves were strapped in place, while the gilded silver helm with flaxen tassels was nestled over a wooden neck.

There was another golden weapon stand beside it that was empty, but at a glance, Valdieron knew what belonged there.

Astan-Valar wore plain white robes with the pale blue tabard of his house over it, and his feet wore white slippers of fine wool. His white- shot hair was tied back in a tail, and he wore the silver circlet and dragon  bracers he had worn when Valdieron had first met him.

Valdieron realized his attire had changed. He now wore long trousers of fine blue, tight and tucked into the top of dark leather boots that looked as if he had worn them a long time. A white silk shirt covered his torso, the sleeves lined with a thin line of symbols, a closer look revealing a line of gold dragons lined head to tail. The cuffs had the same pattern, only the dragons were of varying hue, and each of the buttons that ran up the chest and on the cuffs were flat gemstones, none two the same color. For a change, the Dragonsword rested at his side, its scabbard hooked with a silver chain clasped to his belt so as not to trail on the ground and trip his legs.

“
Welcome, Valdieron. Please, take a seat and be comfortable. I am sure you have many questions you would like answers to.”

He noticed a chair that had not been there moments before, off to his right. It was large and comfortable, with padded arms and headrest, its material a fine silk stitched with silver thread and golden studs. With a gasp of exasperation, Valdieron shifted to it and sat tentatively.

“
I want answers, not more riddles.” He tried to sound assertive, but his voice cracked slightly as he realized he was trying to be firm with a dead man in a place beyond his comprehension. He sensed Astan-Valar's smile, still facing away from Valdieron as he shifted silently to the suit of armor and inspected it as if Valdieron was not there.

“
What would you know?”

“
Who am I?”

Astan-Valar turned then, and he was indeed smiling, as if he had known what Valdieron would ask him, and he took several steps towards Valdieron where another chair 'appeared', and he sat wordlessly.

“
You do not know yet, though you must have some ideas? Well, it is an answer requiring some explanation, so I will first tell you how it is that I remained on Kil’Tar after the War of Ascension.”

Valdieron nodded slightly, for the visions he had witnessed had not shown what had happened to the Kay'taari after the battle. Astan-Valar's voice became softer, almost mellifluous as he began his tale. Valdieron rested back in the chair for comfort, sensing what Astan-Valar had to tell would take some time.

“
After the war of Ascension, Kil'Tar was not a place we Kay'taari would ever call our home. Although it was beautiful and the most abundant in Essence we have witnessed throughout our travels, the damage we had caused it and the memories of our past made us long to leave. Many worlds we had been to were compatible, and as yet unsettled, so it was decided to search for these again, despite our depleted strength and numbers.

A handful remained, knowing the Demons were not so easily dismissed from this planet. I was amongst this group.

I settled in the Dragonwing Mountains, what was once called the ‘Footsteps of the Stars’, the cavern system where you first saw me. There, I lived for a long time, alone, but frequently I would have some Dragon or another as guest, for we two races had much in common, despite our differences, and I learnt a great deal over the years. Those other Kay'taari who remained did not visit me there, but I saw them infrequently in Kel'Valor, where all Kay'taari spend much time.

I saw the coming and going of the War of Essence, which saw the return of the Demons from the void, but their numbers were weaker and the Loremasters were able to muster enough strength of numbers to drive them back and reset the seals. The Loremasters were the children of my people to the varied races, Elves, Humans and the like, less than their forebears but still capable of considerable power through their nature. They were the ones who brought magic to the land, but with it came complications.

The Seals we created to bar the travelling between this plane and the voids were creations of the Essence, pure and untainted. I found that Var Casgaroth, the entity created by the Unlife, slowly tainted these Seals with its presence and power, and the overuse of magic led to the augmentation of this disease, which acted like a canker, until finally the Portals were made accessible again.

The Seals were recreated after the banishment of the Demons for a second time, but the original Seal was broken so the process could not be reversed, and unfortunately, the Seals the Loremasters created second time around were inferior to the originals, both from lack of the original Seal and the power by which the Seals are made.”

Valdieron shifted as Astan-Valar paused, as if reflecting.

“
At this time, I was going through periods of depression and weariness brought about by age and loneliness, and years would pass for me in a trance- like state, in effect passing by the unnecessary years, for I knew I had a purpose.

After the Third Age began, I began searching the land once more. There were only one or two of my original brethren still living, one male to the North, and a woman far to the west on an island off the coast. I did not visit them, for like myself, they had their purpose, and it did not involve me first-hand. As it was, I became familiar with the building empires and the races, as well as the condition of the Seals, for over time, the Loremasters grew lax in their guardianship of these Seals, and now only a handful of locations are even known by them.”

There came a pause as Astan-Valar took another thoughtful breath, an almost rueful sigh escaping his pale lips, as if what he had to say was painful, but he continued quickly, not giving Valdieron time to dwell on it.

“
After I had travelled for many centuries, it was by chance that I met upon an Elvin woman who had been exiled from her homeland because of her power of prescience.” There was an edge of pain and bitterness in his voice now, though his hard eyes viewed Valdieron constantly and did not flicker. “She was living in a small village on the edge of the Great Eastern Desert, what we once called the 'Eye of Desolation'. Because of her peculiar abilities, she knew me for what I was, and we became partners, for she claimed she had been waiting for me her whole life.

We travelled together for many years, and eventually she bore a son, a day of great joy and fate for me, for I knew it was my destiny to do so, and all of my energies went into preparing this child for life. Even at an early age, he learnt of his heritage and his powers, lessened only slightly through the Elvin blood in his veins, but I was able to impart much of my own life's essence into his. This was as it was meant to be, though I made it look like I was dying, and eventually I had to leave. My powers have never been the same since that day.

My wife and child continued their travels, at first seeking to return to her homeland, but old memories die hard, even after the breeding of a new generation, and she was once again turned away. My son continued his training, but they remained together as he grew to manhood and continued to travel the land, searching for a haven.

My wife died many years later, leaving my son, who was now of considerable age also, to continue his travels. In due time, he came across a poor and destitute woman dying on the border of the Wastelands, far to the south, and they in turn became inseparable, and travelled together for some time. She, of course, gave birth to a Son after a few years, and during the birth, there were complications. My son, using his powers, used his own life force to keep her and his unborn son alive, the effort costing him his own life, but she and the baby survived.