The Kallanon Scales (9 page)

It was quieter,
the hubbub background murmurs.

Torrullin
preceded the boys around the east tower, where he opened the door
to retrieve folding chairs.

They sat, a
son on either side of their father, and propped long legs on the
battlement wall, facing the gentler east. There were people on the
road. Out of sight to the west, a large tent city arose for guests
present and expected. More would go up by nightfall and well into
the night.

Torrullin
closed his eyes to enjoy the warmth on his lids, detoxification of
body, mind and soul, however brief. Tristamil propped his head on
his right arm, leaning away to stare into the distance. His face
was devoid of expression and his left arm flopped. Tymall had both
arms behind his head and breathed deep, deliberate breaths to
release tension.

The silence
soothed, the warmth comforted and the camaraderie was real. It felt
good. It healed.

It could not
last.

Krikian
pounded along the walk with Shep huffing behind. Torrullin opened
an eye and sat up. Both men were ashen. Fingers clenched into
fists. The boys straightened.

Krikian drew
to a halt and could not utter a word. He heaved, mouth working, and
glanced at Shep, gesturing.

Shep gasped
exertion. His eyes were frantic. Shep saw something he would never
forget.

“What is it?”
Torrullin barked.

Shep’s eyes
began to well. “We found K-Kisha and Kylan at the clearing. They
…”

“Dead?”

Krikian
nodded, eyes wide, when Shep leaned on the battlement stone for
strength. The purple figure’s shoulders shook.

“How?” Torrullin asked, one hand lifting to his chest. His
friends. They had not deserved to die yet. They had
not
deserved
murder.

Krikian said,
“My Lord, they were …”

Torrullin held
a hand aloft. Vannis saw the women to the Palace ten, fifteen
minutes ago. He alerted the guards, true, and the Forest should
have protected Kisha and Kylan. The women were in danger.

“Vannis!” Torrullin’s voice pealed out. When Vannis did not
answer, delving ancient lore and deaf to everything, he threw his
voice over the entire Keep. “
Vannis
!” Below, activity
ceased.

Into the
silence, Vannis entered with a frown. “Yes?”

“You are sure
the women are safe?”

Tymall
whistled through clenched teeth.

“I saw to it
myself. What is this about?”

The
premonition remained. “Kisha and Kylan have been murdered.”

Vannis took an
involuntary step back. “When? How?”

“I cannot get Raken and Lycea out of my mind. Vannis,
go now.
”

Vannis
vanished.

Quilla,
Taranis, come.

They were
there. Torrullin had difficulty breathing and could not speak,
despite Taranis’ urgent demands. He leaned on the wall like to
Shep, seeking strength in an inanimate nothing when it could not
feel the pain, and Shep looked at him in understanding and
sympathy.

Tristamil
imparted the news and Taranis’ shocked gasp slid like a knife into
his heart. Quilla was angry, a rare condition for the birdman, and
cursed in Q’lin’la.

Torrullin
lifted his eyes to the round Valleur beside him. “How?”

Shep’s welled
anew. Krikian came to his rescue and Shep sagged.

“They were
strung from a tree.” Krikian’s voice was as neutral as he could
make it, but nothing could hide the underlying horror in his tone.
Krikian, dream expert, would have nightmares over this. Torrullin
closed his eyes on hearing those words. “They were tortured before
death released them,” Krikian added, and had to clear his throat
after uttering those dreadful words.

Taranis asked, “Who would
do
this?”

“We checked
for evidence, if superficially, and there were no marks in the
grass, not a blade bent, as if no one had been there. It was hard
to do, but we wanted to give a clear image of …” Krikian found
himself speared by his ruler’s grey gaze. He straightened. “Their
home is tidy; nothing seems disturbed. It wasn’t sorcery, the
torture was real. The rope used was the kind Kylan manufactured
from the strangler vines.”

“Are they
still there?” Torrullin asked.

“We cut them
down, my Lord,” Shep replied. His Vallorin seemed about to
shatter.

“We laid them
out, covered them, and checked the area for intruders,” Krikian
added.

“Where is
Vannis?” Taranis asked, not realising how loaded that question was.
When Tymall explained, he nodded sombrely.

Torrullin
twitched hard.

“Father?”
Tymall gasped.

Torrullin
turned a pallid face to his sons, to Taranis, but his eyes glazed.
Tristamil gripped his arm. “Vannis is screaming.” The words were
like brittle paper, shattering the world.

“
My god!
”
Taranis burst out, losing colour also.

Quilla covered
his cherubic face with tiny hands.

The twins were
transfixed.

Shep
sobbed.

Krikian
crossed his arms as if to protect from harm.

Vannis came
then, and Vannis was not sane.

“My Raken is
dead
! I shall disembowel the creature!
Who did this?”
Vannis grabbed
Torrullin. “
Do you
know?
”

Torrullin
side-stepped that murderous anger and manoeuvred behind the
flailing Valleur to get a grip on the man’s rigid shoulders. He
pressed and rendered Vannis paralysed, catching him as he crumbled.
He lifted the dead weight and placed him with exaggerated care in
one of the fold up chairs.

“I do not
know, Vannis, I swear, and we shall not rest until whoever did this
pays,” Torrullin said. He knelt before the catatonic man. “I am
with you, hear me? Do not surrender now. I cannot lose you.”

Vannis
blinked.

Torrullin
quested for Lycea.

Emptiness
returned.

Too late.

His head sank
to rest briefly on Vannis’ knees.

Taranis collapsed into a chair and was so pale Torrullin
thought his father was about to have a heart attack. He used it as
a diversion, or
he
would scream as Vannis had. A thin line of white sweat
surrounded Taranis’ lips. Grey eyes were blind in grief and shock.
Squashing for the moment the impotent fury within, Torrullin
returned his attention to Vannis.

“I cannot allow you to hurt yourself, you see that, don’t
you? You will not be rash now. Calm and coherent, Vannis,
and
we shall deal with
this.
” His voice caught, for he loved
Raken well, and Lycea.

The fire left
those yellow eyes and Vannis blinked as they transformed into blue.
Torrullin’s breathing dipped, feeling the immensity of Vannis
grief.

“Wrong, not
right, so wrong,” Taranis moaned. He slumped forward with a wail of
despair. Vannis flinched through his paralysis.

Torrullin’s
eyes darkened and he reeled back. There was too much grief and
anger now in this microcosm world. Vannis rage and sorrow
intertwined and became an entity. Taranis’ despair was a living
presence. Destroyer fed on that, Destroyer required it for
existence. How bad would it be when bodies lay accusing before
seeing eyes?

How would
Destroyer react to Lycea’s torture?

Torrullin managed to stand. He engaged the livid presence
inside, made more violent for seeking to hide it, fighting,
pushing, gods, he
wanted
to lash out, wanted the fury, for ferocity could
drive away pain.

Tristamil’s
hand on his shoulder.

Torrullin
forced himself to look at his son, hooding his eyes.

His father
barely coped.

Kisha, Kylan,
and now Raken. Gods, his mother.

“Father, sit.”
He assisted his father to the last chair, knelt there. “We must
find calm.”

“Help them
first.”

Tristamil
studied Vannis and Taranis, and spared a glance for Tymall
retreating to the tower wall. Krikian was further along the walk,
pacing aimlessly, and Shep sat frozen on the wall, his gaze to the
valley.

Taranis would be easier for a foray into healing. He lifted
his hand to Taranis’ brow. Tristamil glanced at his father, but his
father doubled over, head between knees. It frightened him, he
had
never
seen
his father debilitated.

Taranis rocked
back and forth. Taranis thought the world of Kylan and loved Kisha
like a daughter. He adored Raken, laughing most frequently with
her. Taranis honoured Lycea as the mother of his grandchildren.

I want my
mother to live, as I need my father to be strong.

He laid his
hand on Taranis’ brow, no words, merely sending warmth, comfort and
understanding. Taranis received the communication, responded to the
sincerity, and light returned to his dark places. He reached up to
clasp the hand at his brow.

“You are your
father’s son.”

“You
knew?”

“I know now.”
Taranis drew breath. “See to Vannis, he needs our help most.”

Tristamil
moved to Vannis. The Valleur’s eyes were blue, flicking as he
sought release from the paralysis. Tears coursed his face,
splashing onto his tunic. He loved Raken - the only other he loved
that much was Torrullin - and Tristamil realised the danger lay not
in Vannis’ anger causing him to hurt someone; it lay in his agony
causing him to follow his beloved to the grave. His father
incapacitated Vannis to prevent that.

He placed his
hands on Vannis’ wet cheeks and drew the pain unto himself, reeling
in the onset, and replaced it with detachment, a bearable inner
numbing where Vannis would be aware of his loss and cope with the
immediacy of the situation.

It was
temporary and, if Vannis chose, he could deny it, and it was
sorcery. Until he did it, Tristamil had not known he could, and
warmth suffused him.

I am my
father’s son.

Vannis’ eyes
dulled and reverted to yellow and Tristamil touched Vannis to
release the paralysis.

Vannis rose
and walked away. He did not repudiate the numbing.

Taranis
murmured, “He isn’t himself. Release what you drew out or it will
poison you as it nearly did him.”

Tristamil
opened his mind. “He really loved her.”

“He always
will. There will never be another for him.” Taranis glanced at
Torrullin hunched over. “Do you need help with your father? He will
not be easy to draw out.”

Tristamil
shook his head and approached, but Torrullin straightened and held
a hand aloft. “Do not touch me. You cannot help me. This is my
demon.”

His father
never denied him.

“Destroyer is
here,” Quilla said.

Tristamil
swallowed and his heart thudded. “Now?”

“Of course
now, brother,” Tymall drawled from the tower. “I felt him arrive
and you could not. How enlightening. Our father is angry beyond
rage and the darkness that is Destroyer thrives on that.”

“Your father
is often angry, Tymall,” Taranis said. “This is different.”

Tristamil
stared at Taranis. Often angry? He shifted to Tymall. “You say
nothing? You hope to see the darkness?”

Tymall
smiled.

Torrullin
paced away, fighting the battle.

“Ty! Do
something!” Tristamil said.

Torrullin
turned. “Not Ty!” His eyes were almost black.

“Do you not
realise, brother,” Tymall said, “that any connection to Destroyer
would worsen the dark inside me?”

“I suggest you
shut up, Tymall,” Torrullin ground out.

Vannis strode
back, face a mask. “It is not Destroyer I am worried about.” He
grabbed, caught Torrullin, and tore his tunic open to expose the
creature on his chest.

The Dragon
leapt out, almost separate. Vannis hissed and Quilla, somewhere,
gave a horrified gasp. Vannis gripped Torrullin’s shoulders, and
glared into those black eyes.

“I am the one
who wants to destroy worlds right now! How can you be so selfish?”
Torrullin stilled and his eyes narrowed in greater fury, and that
moment of stillness was what Vannis needed. He glowered at the
Dragon. It clawed out to reach him, to tear and maim. He yelled in
an ancient Valleur dialect, and the creature hesitated. It subsided
an instant later and took with it Destroyer.

Torrullin’s
eyes cleared. “I was not being selfish.”

“So you say.”
Vannis glared at him.

“Well, the Dragon
can
separate,” Tymall drawled.

“Shut up!”
Tristamil shouted.

Quilla was
speechless.

Torrullin drew
himself together and gripped Vannis’ arm. “Did you see Lycea?”

Vannis
slumped. “Forgive me, but Raken, the way I found her, I had not the
presence of mind to look.”

Tristamil
shuddered, drawing his father’s attention. Torrullin closed in and
stood a moment looking at him. “This has been your first trial, and
it does not get easier, but you did well. Now will you permit me to
help you?”

Always the
brothers asked him for help. Tristamil blinked. “Yes.”

Torrullin
placed one hand upon Tristamil’s cheek. “Calm, Tristamil, as
ephemeral as it is.”

Inside, a
settling of nerves. “Thank you.”

Tymall
swore.

Torrullin
moved to him. “I am able to do so for you.”

Tymall
squeezed his eyes shut and then, “I am fine.”

Torrullin
nodded and said, “Shep, call Krikian back.”

They gathered
around to hear him speak.