The Kallanon Scales (26 page)

“Come with
us.”

Dall Mossen
looked away, façade cracking. “It is too late for me. I cannot undo
what I have become. I can never atone.”

Matt shouted,
“Make him listen!”

“That is
exactly what I am doing. I thwart him at every turn and one day I
shall depose him, I swear. When I do, perhaps then I can leave
here, and leave this mess for his successor to clean up. My father
must be exposed with unequivocal proof. It makes me sound like an
idealist, doesn’t it? I am no idealist, I am a son seeking to
destroy his father and there is no glory in that.”

Matt stared
helplessly at Krikian, who shook his head. This was not his
business. The intricacies of family belonged to that family alone.
Matt swung back to his cousin.

“This is
unfair. I would have liked to know you.”

Dall Mossen
rose to stare blindly around the oval chamber, a dangerous man, but
vulnerable now. Blood was blood. “Thank you,” he said finally. “Who
knows, cousin, maybe one day we meet out there in the greatness of
space where none of this matters and we can then start afresh.”

“I would like
that.”

“As would I.”
Mossen drew breath and released it. “Now to the matter on hand.
Tell me who you want to crew and I will have them brought here.” He
reached into his robe and brought forth the two pouches. “I cannot
take your money.” He placed them on the low table and left the
room.

Matt
whispered, “I knew I had a cousin, but was told he left Xen years
ago. He isn’t a good man, Krik, but he once was.”

Strange how
blood calls, Krikian mused. “He can return, I think, but it must
come from him.”

An hour and two
cups of coffee later, Matt had a list of twelve names, pen and
paper courtesy of Jack. He underlined his eight preferences.

“Krik, are you
able to transport them along with that crate?”

“I will send
for assistance.” In the last hour, listening to Matt mutter back
and forth, Krikian found his eyes closing. On Valaris, dawn would
not be far off.

Mossen
entered, retrieved the list and studied it. Matt added last known
addresses, favourite hangouts. “These people have flown with you
before?”

“Yes, all are
good at what they do.”

“Then what are
they doing in this dome?”

“Currently
unemployed. Little choice then.”

“Our system is
unfair,” Mossen murmured. “I need to give this to someone. I went
to find him earlier.” He left the room, list in hand, returning
five minutes later. He wandered about the chamber and seemed to
have something on his mind.

“You both need
rest,” he said, coming to a halt behind the island of couches.

Krikian eyed
him. “You remind me of Torrullin. A man with a past that will not
leave him in peace.”

“You flatter
me.” Dall Mossen frowned. “This Dragon thing, surely that isn’t
real?”

“It is real.
The Darak Or pales in comparison.”

“A shattering
concept.”

“Unless you
live it and have it as part of your culture and history, how do you
regard it as reality? The trick, always, is to keep an open
mind.”

“Valarians
have open minds?”

“Now they
do.”

“Is it a
beautiful world?”

Krikian sucked at his teeth.
Here it
comes.
“I am biased. You should ask
Matt.”

“Unspoilt,
clean, fresh air, great spaces, magnificent ranges, huge blue
oceans,” Matt said.

“A good place
to start a new life?”

“It’s a
wonderful place to start anew, and be free, live, learn, love, grow
and be happy. What are you asking, cousin?”

“Shall I
leave?” Krikian asked.

“Stay, this
will affect your Vallorin,” Dall Mossen said. “You are right, I
need to ask something of you, but I owe you the full truth.” He
rounded the couch to sit and leaned forward.

“Fourteen
years ago I fell in love. She was married and we commenced an
affair. Dangerous, but it saved both of us. She fell pregnant and
that is how her husband found out. He was sterilised a number of
years before. Everything went wrong then and your father, Matt,
came to my rescue and took me under his protection. The husband
allowed his adulterous wife to bring the baby to term, nurse it,
love it, and when it could walk, he ripped the child from the
mother’s arms and sent it here.”

He paused to
swallow. “She lost her mind and I nearly lost mine. Your father
knew I would come anyway, thus gave his blessing for me to leave,
but it was also to keep me safe, and spying was the excuse he used.
My life was worth nothing and I would soon have been on the wrong
side of an assassin’s blade. As it is, the husband murdered his
wife the day I came in here, and I could not stop it and neither
could your father.”

“The girl, her
blue eyes, she is your daughter,” Matt murmured.

“I found her
in the quarantine facility beside the loading docks. They were told
she was a foundling off a ship, and they would have sent her on to
Beacon within the week, to enter an orphanage there.”

“Unclaimed,
she would have been sent to Pleses or Ymir.”

“Yes, Beacon
and its population control. She is the real reason I will take Reni
down or die trying.”

“Dear
God.”

“You begin to see. He is her grandfather and sent her here,
denied her the chance at a decent life and tried to deny her life
itself. I fell in love with my father’s third wife - he wed for
political reasons and she was broken by his inattention, his
callousness. She had no life to look forward to, no motherhood, and
no loving husband. I brought it upon myself, loving another man’s
wife, but what kind of
monster
sends his grandchild to what amounted to a death
sentence? As wrong as I was, I shall not forgive that
ever
. Reni could not
abide that his trophy looked to his son for the joy denied her and
thus punished all of us. I lost my protection when your father died
and suspected foul play, but he died a natural death, the one
relief in my dark world.” Mossen rose and commenced pacing his fury
into control, his mouth a white line.

“I am so
sorry, cousin.”

Mossen halted.
“Take my daughter with you. Allow her a chance at a proper life, a
new beginning, for I cannot do that for her here. Please.”

“Take her away
from you? She is your only good thing!”

“How right you
are, but what kind of life is this for her? She cannot go outside.
She lives the life of a recluse, in a gilded cage, to be sure, but
a cage. How can she ever fly? What becomes of her if I am murdered?
Where is the fairness in that? She deserves sunshine and happiness,
and you are her uncle, and Cat is her aunt, and that is indeed a
great gift after years of loneliness. I can go on here if I know
she is surrounded by love and care, able to blossom. I need to know
she will spread her wings one day, or I shall wither with her right
here and Reni will get away with everything. She is the reason I
stayed my hand until now. I am begging you to take her away.”

Matt did not
ask Krikian and the Valleur did not offer up thoughts. Torrullin
would not deny a young girl a chance at life.

“I’ll take
her,” Matt said, and there were tears in his eyes.

Mossen nodded,
unable to say more, and Matt rose and approached him. He placed a
comforting hand on his cousin’s tense shoulder.

“Mossen …”

His cousin
gripped Matt’s hand. “I am Le Moss Mar Dalrish.” He pulled his
cousin into an embrace, which Matt returned without
reservation.

Krikian
swallowed.

The two men
drew apart and Mossen laid long slender fingers against Matt’s
cheeks. “You are like your father. Bless you.” He drew Matt’s head
down and kissed him on the forehead, and let go to stride swiftly
away.

“Moss …”

“I go to
prepare her, cousin.”

“What is her
name?”

Mossen halted.
He did not look around. “She carries her mother’s name. One day
soon she will be as beautiful as her mother was.” He cleared his
throat. “Her name is Lowen Dalrish.”

He ran down
the stairs.

Stairs? Where?
We must find another way!

~ Old man to
his son

Northern
Valaris

The Tower of
Stairs

T
orrullin transported north the
afternoon before the others were expected.

Thundor
accompanied him. The Thinnings entertained the notion of entering
the Zone and made good argument.

After
surveying the massive arena that was the Tower of Stairs, Torrullin
and was satisfied. It was the best place for what would come next.
He cleared the vast floor of light snow and hopped up onto the
first tier to check the caverns hewn into the rock.

The caverns
were comfortable suites for the Valleur when they spent time here.
He reinstated the tradition of gathering at the amphitheatre for
winter and summer solstices. Twice a year the mountains thus
reverberated with celebration. The next solstice was a month and a
half away.

Torrullin
raised his gaze to the four peaks Mon, Shin, Rue and Bres,
permanently snow-capped, but free of cloud. Saska loved those
peaks, different to anything on her homeworld, watery Canimer.

Snow lay thick
around the edges of the arena, but conditions were acceptable under
the auspices of the site’s magic. There were five tiers and the
Vallorin’s suite was on the central level at the northern compass
point, and that was where Torrullin headed.

He did not go
in, swivelling instead before the entrance to view the fantastical
tower in the centre of the arena, rising to a height to rival that
of the four peaks.

Around this
spike a stairway wound, no handholds, no railing, ever tighter as
the diameter decreased with height, until it ended in a platform no
more than two hand spans in width.

At every
solstice gathering, they elected a solstice king and queen and
theirs was the challenge to mount the stairs and climb as high as
they dared, and thereafter others attempted to better them.

Thus far, only
Vannis attained the pinnacle, in another era.

During Margus’
unsavoury reign, Vannis and Taranis challenged each other. A year
later, in autumn, they made good on it. Those remaining after the
final battle with Margus came to witness; himself, Saska, Raken,
Lycea with the infant twins, Belun, Lanto, Kisha and Kylan, Quilla,
Phet and Shep Lore.

They came to
witness, but also to reunite. Fun they had, laughing hard when
Taranis ventured a third of the way to descend with dark mutterings
about it being impossible. He was Immortal, not stupid. Vannis
proved him wrong, ascending an additional third, but came down
without attempting the pinnacle. He wryly stated he no longer
possessed the same fearlessness, and Torrullin wondered if he lied
to spare Taranis. Vannis and Taranis could be competitive, were
often at odds.

He stared now
at the Tower. He had denied every challenge at the solstice
meetings. His gaze travelled the length of the spike, pausing
midway on a tiny speck. Thundor.

Now it was
him. And the Thinnings. A witness.

Torrullin
ambled across the arena floor, gathering missing willpower, and
wits. He needed to challenge and sharpen his human abilities.

He placed a
booted foot on the first step and looked up to find Thundor five
steps removed.

The Thinnings
raised an eyebrow. “With no Valleur in the vicinity? Does that not
defeat the purpose of the exercise?”

“If you have
been watching as closely as you suggest, you must know those
questions are immaterial.”

Thundor bowed.
“The Enchanter prefers privacy.”

For a moment
that put Torrullin off. “You believe it a fault?”

“For this, no.
I think the reason many fail in the climb is the pressure of
personalities watching.”

“Out of my
way.”

Thundor
scuttled aside as Torrullin passed him and began to climb
seriously.

One carefully
placed foot after the other, maintaining eye contact with the next
precarious step. He climbed slowly, halting every tenth to draw a
deep breath.

It was simple
at first, taking little energy, but gradually the gaps between the
stairs lessened and the width narrowed. He looked neither up nor
down, clamping down every natural instinct that would have him
check his progress, but his heart began to hammer and he wondered
belatedly if he should have removed his boots at the base, there
was barely enough room to place his foot.

Too soon, he
placed his feet on alternate steps, causing him to over-balance.
For the first time he put a steadying hand to the Tower itself and
retracted instantly when it felt as if it would toss him down. He
understood what others said about the Tower’s influence upon the
climb.

The stairs
became slippery, the air colder, and he knew he passed the
two-thirds level. He dared not check. There were his feet, the next
cautious placement and his hammering heart. Nothing to be afraid
of, for he could arrest his fall if he tumbled over, but he desired
to go as far as he was able to, and return to ground without a
humiliating tumble.

Resting to
draw deep breaths in the thin air, he released in a cloud of vapour
that nearly blinded him. He shallowed his breathing, through his
nose now, grit his teeth and took another step, every third
thereafter.

He lifted for
the next before he realised there were no more. With a silent oath
he sought to regain balance, standing swaying on his toes on the
tiny platform.

Long moments
passed and he had it, standing unmoving on the top of the world.
Without sorcery, it was all him. He wanted to shout, revel in the
achievement, and dared not. He needed to go down and according to
reports that was worse.