The Kallanon Scales (15 page)

Undaunted by
danger real or imagined, Gren went on, “It’s a massive structure,
many solar systems, many galaxies, heavenly bodies, and much debris
as in rogue asteroids, broken spaceships, platforms, stations, the
majority destroyed by the Mysor. It moves continually and at
phenomenal speed. As far as I know, the Mysor inhabit a number of
worlds and strong forces are deployed at the outer perimeter to
prevent incursion. They don’t like intruders, are evil, but keep to
their system.” Gren looked to Bartholamu. “The Siric know
more.”

Bartholamu
said, “Llettynn went in alone.” Llettynn was the previous Siric
leader - a great sorcerer, a genius, his loss profound. “Llettynn
never left stones in place. He wanted to know and thus looked. He
captured the Mysor we tested with the transmutation ritual
twenty-odd years ago - none of us wanted to do so. He presented us
with graphic accounts.” Bartholamu smiled at Torrullin. “He
believed in sharing knowledge, as you know.”

Not with me,
not at
first.

“The Zone
worlds differ greatly,” Bartholamu went on. “Some are arid and
lifeless and others are paradise. Llettynn never mentioned a race
resident but Mysor, but it’s a huge space.”

“Tell us about
the Mysor,” Torrullin prompted.

“Soulless,
avaricious, always hungry.”

“What do they
look like? How do they move? What of sorcery? Star-travel?”

“They are arachnids.
Mysor
is a Siric word, it means
harvestmen.
A two-fold meaning in
that they constantly reap the bleaker - bulb, flower, stalk, juice
and seed - and they look like the innocuous daddy-long-legs spider.
Small bodies compared to their long legs, claw-like mouths, simple
eyes, no antenna. Some are dark brown, others are white and yet
others are near transparent. Your guess is as good as mine as to
pecking order. They have exoskeleton, hard as rock. They move
incredibly fast and spit gigantic webs. Although they have
destroyed ships, I do not think they thought to use or duplicate
them.”

“Why do you
think they remain isolated?”

The Siric
shrugged. “They can be killed, immobilised by tipping them over. As
nasty as they are they would be no match for concerted effort.”

“Why do we
allow them to flourish?”

“They leave us
alone, Torrullin. Only intruders are destroyed. There is no
threat.”

“There is
now,” Vannis said.

Bartholamu was
thoughtful. “We do not know that. Mysor could not commit these
murders, both recent and old. Not only are they too large and
different to hide by any means, but they certainly cannot wield the
weapons used.”

“They had
someone do it,” Vannis snapped.

“Someone
following their orders does not fit. I have no liking for them, but
it is possible they are pawns.”

Considering
what track they were on, Bartholamu’s thoughts were new. Torrullin
swore. “Now we have to look at it from a different angle. Caballa,
what see you in this?”

“Anything I
say would predispose you.”

“Anything you
say would help.”

“You will base
decisions on that and it will come to pass. No.”

Torrullin
snorted in irritation and focused on Galilan’s famous healer.
“Shep? Have you begun work on Aven’s papers?”

Shep was
abashed. He partied too long the night before.

“Go to it now,
please.”

Shep hurried
from the chamber.

“Gren, you are
done here.”

The Sagorin
sucked at his teeth, reluctant to leave.

“Unless you
are prepared to accompany us into the Zone, my friend, you cannot
stay to decipher the map. You have other priorities and they are
important.”

Gren inclined
his head. “Thank you for that. I will help poor Shep, I think, or
he will keel over from nervous guilt. Until the storm let’s up.”
The green giant left with a lopsided smile.

Bartholamu
folded his arms. “I am in. I shall deputise Declan, he is itching
for responsibility. Much of the Zone was once Siric, I can help
with that.”

“Good to have
you on board.” Torrullin glanced at Krikian.

“I’m in, too.”
No hesitation.

“Skye, last
chance.”

“I stay.” She
blushed as she said it, but her voice was firm. Caballa nodded
beside her.

“Before you
look my way, Enchanter,” Quilla said, “let me say that last time I
was a bystander. I shall not be on the side lines again.”

“Try and stop
me!” Phet declared.

Torrullin
looked at neither Vannis nor Taranis. To ask was to insult.

“The prophecy
is about us,” Tristamil forestalled. Tymall nodded.

Torrullin did
not say anything, simply looking at them. He sighed and turned to
Quilla. “The map?”

Scratch a few
lines on parchment and you have before you a map. Insert words at
random points and you have before you a destination. How you read
it and how you make it fit, is your fantasy.

~ Awl

The Keep

Q
uilla drew a rolled parchment from
under his wing.

He possessed a
sense for the dramatic, and created the map in the style of
Taranis’ dreams. It also served to underscore the serious nature of
the situation.

He proceeded
to unroll, laying it out on the ground before the dais. Torrullin
stepped off the Throne to kneel and, in various poses, the others
followed suit.

Quilla pointed
at the five arrows in the left corner. “These are the galaxies. The
mark in the centre is most likely the system that contains Tennet
and the rest are the pointers in finding the way to it. I put in
Dantian, but it is the only concrete name.”

Torrullin
raised a hand. “I found something at Kylan’s.” He dug into a
pocket, retrieved the scrap of paper and handed it over.

Moments
passed. “Enchanter, it is not legible.”

“It says
Dantian.”

Quilla
squinted at it. “Yes, because we know the name, but I would not
guess that without the knowing.”

“Give it
here.” Quilla was right. Dantian only because they knew. The other
names were too faded and smudged to make out. “I could swear it
wasn’t like this.”

Taranis took
the piece. “This is Valaris paper. It can be scanned. A good
forensic scientist could make these names legible.”

“Do you know
anyone?”

“Sure, but it
will take time.”

Torrullin
nodded and glanced at Krikian.

“She arrives
tomorrow. I have spoken to her on the com at the landing site, and
she is prepared to meet.”

Torrullin said
to Taranis, “If she cannot help, have that deciphered.” Taranis
nodded and put the scrap of paper into his tunic pocket.
“Quilla?”

“We have named
all but two of the worlds and miss one moon. This large circle is
Tennet.”

Bartholamu
stabbed at the map. “Karakan and its satellite Muriel. Llettynn
spoke of those and I recall he mentioned a hot sun. Karakan is a
huge planet, dry in some areas, verdant in others, much water. It
could sustain a lot of life.”

“And Urac?”
Taranis asked.

“A Siric word that means
birdsong
,” Bartholamu frowned. “You
know, there is a song in Siric of the lost birds of Urac.
The little black birds of Urac call forevermore
to the white of memory, lost we are.
” He
hummed softly. “It is one of those songs that always sound
threatening.” He paused there. “Why did I not realise it before?
Murs Siric! Black birds calling white! They would commit murder
without thought.”

“Explain,”
Torrullin barked.

“Earlier you spoke of our civil strife, but it was more than
that, and at the end of bloody war, there were twenty-two of us
left. By ‘us’ I mean Lumin Siric, and we won at great cost, and
banished what remained of the Murs Siric into the outer reaches. We
did not kill them, they were defeated, but there were males
and
females among those
exiles. The banished Murs were capable of the Immortal Birth. Here
we have a Zone, one that can speed across space - aids in hiding
them - and we have atrocities. I put to you the possibility there
are Murs in the Forbidden Zone.”

“It was a long
time back.”

“Does not matter and you must understand a Murs is born evil.
It is
all
they
are.”

“Lumin would
surely have been born also?”

“If you had
already fought the war to end all wars, you would not want to go
that route again. If I were Murs, I would kill them at birth.”

Torrullin
nodded. “It is possible they subjected the Mysor.”

Caballa’s eyes
abruptly rolled back. An instant later, she was back to normal.
“There are Valleur in the Forbidden Zone.”

Torrullin
locked gazes with Vannis.

Tymall said,
“Where there are subjugated Valleur, there we must go. Maybe they
need us, maybe that is why the prophecy is now. An Enchanter
Vallorin and his two sons who together duplicate what he is. This
is why fate played this hand.”

Tristamil
stared at his brother, as did the others. “Ty, for once you make
perfect sense.”

“Sadly, I
agree,” Quilla murmured. “Fate seems to have aimed you three into
trouble.”

“The blue
cylinder in the dream,” Caballa said, “is a symbol of star-travel.
If we enter the Zone, it must be via technology, not sorcery. If
there are Murs, they would sense us in our signatures. We have to
slip in or we bring doom to the Valleur there.”

“A starship?”
Torrullin said, torn between horror and amusement. “Oh, just
dandy.”

Tristamil
grinned.

“Let us return
to the map,” Quilla suggested. “I see the fires of adventure in
most of you, but we may still learn something. Concentrate. We
suspect there are Mysor on the outer perimeter, assume that
includes Tennet. These three small worlds,” and he pointed at three
small circles in a row to the right of the map, “are Plural, Kish
and Lucan, and could be inhabited by Mysor. If we slip in, we need
be aware of that. Look at these lines. They link to Mitrayl, which
suggests Mysor. Let us not go hurtling into trouble.”

“Urac has a
line to Karakan,” Taranis murmured, his finger on the map. “Could
be Siric.”

“Murs,”
Bartholamu corrected. “The only Siric there are now, are
Guardians.”

Taranis
nodded. Llettynn once said the same.

Torrullin
pointed at the two unnamed worlds in the bottom right of the map.
“I find this odd. It smacks of veiling. I suggest one or both these
worlds, maybe deliberately obscured in dream and memory, are the
Valleur worlds. If there was a division and a secret has been kept,
no one knows where they went. If by chance a map was uncovered, no
one was to find a name on it to reveal them either. This,” and he
tapped, “is where we must go.”

“Are you
thinking the Valleur use Mysor to hide them?” Taranis asked.

Bartholamu
muttered, “What would they hide?”

“Whatever they
need a dragon taliesman for,” Vannis said.

There are dragons in my future,
Torrullin thought unbidden.

Quilla looked at him sharply.
Torrullin, do not go chasing the spooks out.

It may be a
case of the spooks calling us out. What are you not telling me,
Q’li’qa’mz?

I cannot
answer.

“Plural,
Lucan, Muriel and Link are ancient Earth,” Bartholamu murmured.

Torrullin’s attention moved from Quilla’s obstinacy. “Are you
saying there may be
humans
?”

“There may
have been,” Bartholamu murmured. “There may be now, but the gods
help them if there are Murs in the region.”

Taranis loosed
a muttered oath, feeling the same urgency. “We need to go there,
and soon.”

Torrullin
smiled. “Welcome to the club, Taranis.”

“Kish is Q’lin’la,” Quilla said. “An easier way of
saying
Ki’t’sha
.”

“When were you
going to mention that?” Torrullin demanded. It was about time he
had Quilla under the spotlight.

“I just did,
Enchanter.”

“Karakan is Valleur,” Vannis said. “Kar Akan, the
all-plentiful.
”

“Valleur,
Siric, human, Mysor and Q’lin’la,” Tristamil murmured. “An
interesting mix.”

“Volatile is
the word, brother,” Tymall muttered.

“It doesn’t
necessarily mean anything,” Caballa spoke up. “Those names may be
what they were before the Mysor made it theirs. The arachnids
cannot manage the spoken word.”

“It may merely
be an old map and we must let it go?” Torrullin snapped, beginning
to lose patience with the twists and turns. “It doesn’t explain how
four people lost their lives. It doesn’t explain why two remain
hidden. Something is there, Valleur are there.” He fell silent and
pinched his nose. “Caballa, I am sorry. I mean not to lash
out.”

“You have
every right.”

He stared at
her. “You are tweaking.”

She stared at
him, appearing entirely sighted. “Only a farseer would know
that.”

He bit his
instinctive reply. “We can discuss it later.”

“As you say,
my Lord.”

Vannis stared
at Torrullin as the conversation moved on. Torrullin ignored him.
“Krikian, can your astronomer organise a ship for us and Camot’s
soldiers?”

Krikian
blanched. The soldiers were not for Valaris. “I have no idea.”

Torrullin rose. “We have done enough for now. Quilla, keep
the map safe.”
We need to talk, old
friend.

Quilla rolled the parchment and rose.
The time will come.