The Kallanon Scales (76 page)

Torrullin sat and held his head. “All I desire is a little
peace …
is that too much to
ask
?”

Saska
retreated to watch from a distance. He needed to take the time to
work it through, and they had little of that. She wished now she
forced him to discuss their relationship before this revelation,
but that would have done more damage. They had to find a way
through this reality and not begin it with pretence.

He stood,
snarling in his fury, and paced the small room, wearing a clean
path through old debris. He argued with himself and not once did he
look at her. She accepted that and watched that he did not lose
himself too far in anger. She saw how his mind operated at swift
pace; usually he kept his indecision well from sight.

He halted.
“You could have come last night.”

“The Murs were
here. Had I come, I would bring Teighlar, and he must start
fresh.”

“Do you know
about my sons?”

“I am aware of
the results. Tymall is Margus and vice versa. How it is, I don’t
know, but I assume the Darak Or entered Tymall’s unborn soul.
Tristamil is Priest of the Light, a good man.”

“A good man, yes, a man who must fight his twin, a.k.a.
Margus!
How can he win
?” Torrullin’s eyes were wild with worry.

“You
underestimate him.”

“Maybe,” he
said quietly after a time.

“He will not
be alone, will he?”

“No,” and
Torrullin smiled.

“Precisely,”
Saska said. “And we shall deal with that when the time comes. Now,
my husband, we must make our farewells and leave Grinwallin and
this world. We need not concern ourselves with succour; those seeds
I have already spread and the Valleur here will do extraordinarily
well, particularly with Teighlar nearby.”

Torrullin fury slipped away and its place there was numb
acceptance. “I would have liked to see this city arise.”
It feels like home.

“You intend to
return, do you not? These are your people now - have faith in your
future.”

Torrullin
studied his wife. “You are different.”

Saska said
nothing.

He came
closer. “How do I see and not touch you? How do I hate what you
offer and still love you? How do I walk away when I want you? How
do I forgive myself for the past and you for the future? Tell me,
my Lady, how do we cope without tearing each other apart?”

“Is that not
how it has always been for us? You and I, we need discord.”

“Not like
this.”

She brushed
past him, almost touching, and did not look back. He stood as she
left him and knew he now paid dearly for his past.

He
followed.

She is a
vision, may I be entranced into eternity!

~ Tattle’s
Blunt Adventures

Great Hall

C
at and Skye cleared the hall that
day and it was again uncluttered.

Conversation
rose and fell, with Taranis and company taking centre stage. The
sleeping gear moved in back, together for later warmth. Nearby a
fire was aflame to afford the same.

It was two
hours after dark and the snowfall intensified, the wind risen with
icy breath.

Torrullin’s
low murmur in the arches as he arrived drew attention.

Taranis
inhaled.

“Now the
fireworks start,” Vannis said.

“Saska,”
Tristamil breathed.

Cat’s nails
dug into Matt. This was Saska. “Matt,” she groaned. Saska was
beautiful, as few women could claim. Those eyes, that hair.

Different,
definitely not human, definitely not Valleur. An angel of
surpassing glory. Those eyes, dear God, what fire in those
eyes.

“Hush, little
sister,” Matt soothed, stroking her hand, but he was entranced. A
vision, that is what she was, one that would remain with him until
the end of his days.

He knew he
would do anything for her, for a smile, a kind word. The
infatuation he felt for Skye dropped away, dust to the wind, as he
transferred a maybe for a never.

They came to a
halt and seemed somehow above those gathered within, like a king
and queen, Cat thought, and knew why everyone warned her that
Torrullin would never turn from his wife.

Saska smiled
and the entire space lit like magic.

“Dear God,
Matt.”

“I know. Be
calm, Cat.”

“I am still
Saska,” Saska said with amusement.

Torrullin
glanced at her, and his face was unreadable.

Tristamil
broke from the spell first. He approached and halted before her. “I
do not know what to say to you.”

Matt saw
Vannis grip Taranis’ arm, the two men tense.

“Tristamil,”
Saska said, and a tear slid over her cheek. “I know you.”

Tristamil’s
face twisted. “I am very sorry.”

She laid her
hand on his cheek. “I would have loved you. I hope you can forgive
me.”

“There is
nothing to forgive,” he whispered. “I must ask …”

“Shh, Tris.
You saved my life many times.” Torrullin’s gaze sharpened as she
went on, “We both know, but that is the past. I would prefer to
grow a new future.”

“I would like
that.”

Saska clasped
him to her while Tristamil’s shoulders shook with the force of his
tears. It was redemption for both of them and neither was in the
least embarrassed by the public display of emotion.

They parted to
smile sheepishly.

“You all
right, Tris?” his father asked.

“Yes.”
Tristamil inhaled deeply. “Yes.”

Torrullin
gazed on Saska and his eyes said the words. She nodded and touched
his face.

“Enough
already!” Vannis said. “I want to kiss her! You are in my way,
Tris!”

She laughed
and whirled around to bounce into Vannis’ welcoming arms. They held
each other long, laughing all the time. True to his word, Vannis
gave her a resounding smack on the lips, an action that left quite
a few envious.

Caltian
accosted Krikian. “She is astonishing.”

Krikian
grinned. “Isn’t she?”

“Where is
Raken?” Saska asked, laughingly disengaging from Vannis, and saw
him change.

“Raken is
dead. Murdered.” Vannis walked away.

“Torrullin?”
She swung to him.

“Raken, Lycea,
Kisha and Kylan, all murdered.”

She stared at
him, and understood words of commiseration were out of place.

“The Murs sent
assassins,” Tristamil murmured.

Vannis shouted, “
Him
!” He pointed a finger at
Paularith, bound with bonds of light under Bartholamu’s watchful
gaze. Vannis face twisted into an ugly parody of his usual self and
he launched across the hall.

Tristamil
shouted.

“It is his
right, Tris. Leave it,” Torrullin said.

“I hate this!”
Tristamil hissed, and stalked in the other direction. Paularith
screamed, Bartholamu shouted and, above it, Vannis’ animalistic
snarl of rage. Tristamil covered his ears and continued
walking.

Skye followed
him.

Matt dragged
Cat in the same direction.

“Saska,”
Taranis said, standing before her. “It is good to have you with us,
but you surely know how to pick your times, my dear.”

She smiled and
his face relaxed, and the two embraced naturally. “Taranis, I am
glad to see you here in the thick of things, as always. I missed
you.”

“I missed you, too.” Taranis lifted his gaze to his son and
found no reproach there. “
We
missed you. Where did you go?”

“Pilan at
first, then everywhere,” Saska said. She noticed Torrullin striding
to the growing altercation between Vannis and Bartholamu. “Taranis,
what happened here?”

“I need more
than the five minutes you would be lucky to get to explain it. It
wasn’t pretty.”

Quilla was
there, and Phet, and she kissed them on their cheeks, giggling when
both blushed. Caltian and Key-ler hung nearby with a grinning
Krikian.

“All right,
Krikian, please introduce these two,” Saska smiled. Taranis was
right - not even a minute.

She would have
the details another time.

“Vannis,
Bartholamu, you are not meant to fight each other,” Torrullin said
with deceptive mildness, and stepped in to separate the two. “Your
prisoner is getting away.”

He lifted his
hand and, near the arches, having crept there unseen, Paularith
collapsed. Torrullin crooked his finger, and the Murs slithered
back, unconscious.

“Enchanter, I
shall deal with him.”

“He is mine!”
Vannis snarled.

“Bartholamu,
you have already delayed - what is the problem?” Torrullin
asked.

“One needs to
know where they came from after their exile and how they grew to
such numbers again, to hunt them down.”

Torrullin
nodded.

“He is mine,”
Vannis repeated.

“No.” The
Siric planted his feet in determination.

Torrullin
realised he should have foreseen this. “Bartholamu, this is the man
who sent assassins to Valaris.”

“And you
promised Vannis the killing stroke.”

“You heard
that?”

“I was
eavesdropping.” Bartholamu was unapologetic, and shifted to Vannis.
“I understand, but I cannot fathom why it took you this long to
make the connection.”

Vannis rubbed
his chin. “Seeing Saska, suddenly it was yesterday and the wounds
were raw. I am sorry I took it out on you.”

Bartholamu
shrugged. “Likewise.”

“You two will
compromise?” Torrullin interrupted, and when both gave an
affirmative, he returned to the gathering around Saska.

As he left, he heard Bartholamu say to Vannis, “His father
murdered my mother and he stood by and stopped nothing -
his
mother, Vannis. This
piece of dirt is my brother.”

“Ah,” Vannis
murmured, enlightened.

Torrullin
halted before the crowd around his wife enveloped him, watching
her.

She was
animated, answering and asking questions without embarrassment. Her
eyes were alight, cheeks flushed. She was lovely and again he felt
it deep in his gut and wondered how he would cope having her
near.

He wanted to
be alone with her, to agree with everything she said, accept all
she offered, and knew he would be subservient. Subservience did not
concern him, the destructive force he would be did. Despite the
grey areas ever-present in his life, he was not prepared to become
less, for it would be less.

Tearing his
gaze away, he found Cat far removed with her brother, but she was
too distant to discern expression. He did not need to read her face
to know how she felt.

Lowen, he
noticed, was alone, watching everything with her solemn gaze.
Lowen. His future nemesis.

He moved to
Saska’s side. “Saska, time is short.”

She sobered.
“Yes. Shall we?”

“What now?”
Taranis demanded.

“We are
leaving Atrudis in the next hour,” Torrullin said.

“Who are your
we
?” Taranis asked.

“Me, Saska,
Tris.”

“We must lure
Margus from Grinwallin,” Saska said. “Tonight.”

“Why so
fast?”

“Grinwallin
will arise by morning and Margus must not harm her. Teighlar will
never know lasting peace if his new reign begins with this
battle.”

“Teighlar is
dead,” Phet said.

“Teighlar is
alive!” the Emperor’s voice boomed and his ethereal form appeared
in their midst. “All Teighlar needs is to get back in his body!” He
looked around theatrically until he spied his form on a bed in the
shadows. “Ah, there I am! I thank you all for looking after me so
well!” He laughed at the astonished faces and floated there,
drawing everyone with him. “Come, Lady, suddenly I am impatient.
Did you see the walls? They are whole! The roofs near completion,
the fountains run! I saw new glazed tiles in one of the houses.”
Bemused, they tracked his garrulous form. “Hey, where are the
Kallanon?”

“Yes, where
are they?” Torrullin asked of Quilla.

“They did not
return from the plateau, Enchanter.”

“Teighlar, a moment.”
Abdiah?

We shall return, Vallorin, to you, when the time is right.
Farewell for now.
The brief contact was
broken.

“They have
gone.”

“We never
thanked then,” Key-ler blurted.

“They require
no thanks,” Quilla murmured. He perked up. “Emperor, you did not
leave us after all!”

“No, indeed!
Here I am raring to go! Have you noticed?” Teighlar pointed at the
pillars. “Look at the colours. Spring is alive in the
mountain.”

Thus it was.
Striking emerald, sunflower yellow, brilliant red, the faded vines
around the pillars had burst into life. The floor steadily changed
from lacklustre brown to glazed gold.

“Awesome,”
Matt breathed.

“Look,” and
Teighlar pointed. Opposite the centre arch a chair formed. A
throne. “Lady?”

“As you will,
Emperor.” Saska stood beside the body and gently placed her hands
on its chest.

Torrullin
forced himself to watch her be what she had become.

Cat gripped
Skye’s hand.

Saska’s eyes
closed and Teighlar’s chest began to move rhythmically. His
ethereal form faded apace until it vanished entirely, and then the
form on the bed opened its eyes.

Teighlar
grinned at them. “Magic.”

“Absolute
wow,” Matt said.

“Indeed,”
Quilla murmured.

Teighlar sat
up, moved limbs slowly, winced where circulation was tardy, and
stood. He listed a bit, but soon recovered, moving fingers and
toes. A smile lit his narrow face and he took Saska’s hand in his
to bend over it, kissing it formally. “My Lady, I am your servant
forever.”