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Authors: Elaina J Davidson

Tags: #time travel, #apocalyptic, #otherworld, #realm travel

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BOOK: The Dreamer Stones
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“My wife and
the Lady of Life are good friends; a world can be restored.”

“Continue.”

“Nemisin’s
re-risen world, yours. As an Ancient you have the right to dispense
wisdom, you would be much visited, after I’m certain you return to
the Valla way.”

“Naturally.
And in return?”

“Only one
thing.”

“Send my army
back through the shift.”

“A small trade
for a lifetime of learning and gifting.”

“Nice,
Torrullin, very good. But, consider, if I win this little war I
shall have advantage. I could force that deal from you then, with
one minor change - Valaris in place of Nemisin’s world. Not so
far-fetched, the way the war goes.”

“Take it then.
Destroy the land. Kill every human. Drive the Valleur out. Win,
Agnimus! And you will be
nothing
. A sort of Darak Or, a kind
of darkling, a little Drinic, a bit Valleur, and not a soul will
come. You will be alone into eternity.”

“I shall take
my draithen to …”

“If people
come to you freely, you are more than you now dream of. Your Valla
blood desires that. Tell me I am wrong.”

“It is not
enough.”

“What is
enough?”

“I do not yet
know.”

“You will
never know, not unless you move in freedom, unencumbered by the
demands of a voracious host.” Torrullin swept his arms wide.
“Emptiness, Agnimus! A beautiful, thriving metropolis reduced to
emptiness. Is that good? Tell me you would not have the Golden walk
these streets again, perhaps discussing a visit to Nemisin’s world
to confer with the Ancient One. Golden heads bent together,
conferring on which of life’s truths they seek answer to.”

“A fantasy,
Elixir.”

“Within your
grasp.”

A long silence
and then, “They will not want to return to Digilan.”

“Agreed, but
if you get them to the shift we can do the rest,” Torrullin said,
trying to remain poker faced. Inside he was elated.

“I’ll think it
over.”

Torrullin
forced unconcern. “Do that.”

Agnimus
inclined his head.

“How about a
ceasefire until you make up your mind?” Lowen inserted, causing
Anton to jump and stare at her.

The draithen
leader bowed. “And why not? Shall we agree to non-aggression?”

“Six hours,”
Torrullin said.

Agnimus lifted
a brow. “Very well, six hours it is. If you remain in Menllik.”

Torrullin wet
his lips, knowing there was a catch, knowing he could not deny his
Valleur this rest. “Agreed.”

Agnimus bowed
and vanished.

“He can’t be
trusted,” Lowen murmured.

“No,”
Torrullin sighed. He spoke to Anton. “Get your family into Torrke;
Menllik is the battleground. No fear, my friend - the valley won’t
be touched again.”

Anton
swallowed. “He said …”

“I wouldn’t
trust him as far as I can spit,” Lowen said. “Get out while you
can.”

Nodding, the
human turned to run back to the studios. An hour later he, with his
wife and son, were safely within the valley’s embrace.

“What
now?”

“Like him, we
gather our forces,” Torrullin said.

“Agnimus is
Valla?”

“Nemisin’s
contrariness.”

“Lord above,
and what does that mean for you?”

“It means the
creature is safe. I’ll not be kinslayer again.” Shrugging,
Torrullin strode off, heading for Linir.

“Did he know
before he started this? That he is Valla.”

“No, and it’s
the only hold I have over him.”

“But he knew
he was Valleur in part.”

“Yes.”

“That’s why he
can control natural surroundings.”

Torrullin
swung around. “What are you getting at?”

Lowen stopped.
“I’m not sure, but something niggles. Has Agnimus travelled
realms?”

A frown
flitted across his features before Torrullin answered. “I don’t
think so, yet he has access to Digilan, must have, to ready the
draithen, to train them, teach them …” The claim of coincidence the
draithen leader made did not fit with the level of preparation.

“Either
someone in Digilan plays a discreet game, someone connected to
Valaris and you, or …”

“… someone is
traitor here.” Torrullin was sombre. “It explains the timing, the
knowledge Agnimus has.”

“Someone
versed in Reaume, Torrullin.”

He stared into
emptiness. “I know of no one fitting that category.”

“We do.”

He stared at
her.

“Krikian.”

“Impossible.
He is and has always been loyal.”

“He abandoned
the Golden to protect me; that is disloyalty.”

“Not to me,
not if he did it for me.”

“I’m not
accusing him. All I’m saying is he knows about realms,
theoretically. He was there with me, every time helping me
back.”

“He didn’t
travel?”

“Not that I’m
aware of, but …”

“… he knew
enough to do so. I see. I don’t believe him capable of
treachery.”

“I don’t
either,” she said, but in both minds the seeds of doubt had now
been sown.

Chapter
Seventy-Three

 

Most times, in
direct confrontation, it pays to keep silent. It forces the other
to say words that fill that silence, thereby revealing far more
than a dual conversation would.

General Arkans,
Excelsior

 

 

Two hours
later Menllik was ablaze with light and radiated warmth.

The Luvanese
host had been summoned.

Of the three
hundred thousand soldiers dispatched to Valaris, a hundred and
eighty thousand remained, of which thirty thousand were injured and
unable to bear arms.

Even Torrullin
had not the energy reserves to heal so many.

One hundred
and fifty thousand pitted against an estimated seven hundred
thousand - a bloodbath.

Unless Agnimus
could be swayed.

 

 

“Get to the
shift,” Torrullin whispered, bending over a healed Declan. “Hide
and be ready.”

“No problem,”
the Siric whispered back.

“It may take
longer than you anticipate.”

“The Lady will
keep me company.”

Torrullin
squeezed the Siric’s shoulder and watched him walk among the
Valleur crowds choking the streets.

Never had the
city been so hyped, and never had so much depended on one’s
reaction at a doorway.

 

 

“My Lord, you
sent for me?” Krikian ventured when Torrullin ignored him for a
full five minutes.

What he could
not know was that his Vallorin delved his psyche, after finding
deeper entry closed to him.

“Forgive me,
Krikian, I have too much on my mind.”

They were in
one of Menllik’s many parks and it was the only empty space in the
city, seeing as the Vallorin had commandeered it. The crowds began
at the perimeter, their voices a muted rumble.

Torrullin sat
on a bench alone, tray on his lap, the food untouched. The wine,
however, was long gone. Sighing, he placed the tray to the side and
then paused.

“Krik, hungry?
I find I’m quite unable to eat.”

“Thank you, my
lord, but I couldn’t either.” The Valleur smiled his thanks.

Torrullin
rose. “Walk with me. I sent for you to clear something up.”

“Anything I
can help with.”

“Have you
walked Reaume?” Torrullin threw out, silvery eyes intently on the
golden man at his side.

Krikian
started visibly and then shutters lowered over his face. “Why would
you ask that?”

“Why do you
hide, Elder?” Torrullin asked. He took his gaze elsewhere to rely
on other senses. Nothing, not even agitation.

Krikian
halted. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

His Vallorin
stopped a few paces away, turned. “I’m not accusing; I merely
ask.”

Krikian shook
his head. “Nothing is that simple with you.”

A wry smile.
“I guess not. Why don’t you tell me why I ask?”

“Digilan.
Somewhere there’s a connection between this reality and that.”

“Agnimus.”

“No, the
draithen leader hasn’t been outside of this plane of existence …
oh. All right, I’ve travelled when Lowen was beyond, but I swear on
my life I haven’t been near Digilan. My Lord, I’ll utter any oath
you desire …” Krikian was ashen and his psyche was an open
book.

“You are
relieved you can finally speak of this,” Torrullin murmured, “for
you suspect you did wrong in travelling beyond.
That
is your
only sense of wrong. It’s all right, Krikian, I’m not here to judge
you.”

The man’s
shoulders slumped. “It’s a relief. I feel I trespassed into your
territory.”

“It’s not
exclusive; many walk it, many have and many will. Lowen has.”

“No one does
it quite like you.”

“No.
Personally? One reality is more than enough.”

“I agree. It’s
scary out there.”

“Yes. A
connection between Digilan and our universe you said, why?”

“Agnimus
hasn’t been, yet had an army, two armies, ready. Someone there or
someone here as go-between.”

“That was
Lowen’s view as well.”

“She told you
about me? Did you suspect me of treachery, my Lord?” Krikian was so
horrified, any doubt on that score fled, leaving no trace in
Torrullin’s thought processes.

“I’d never
think that of you, my friend.”

A huge sigh.
“Thank you.”

“But you have
proved an insight I overlooked. Use it to find the traitor.”

Krikian
straightened with new purpose. “It will be a pleasure.”

I doubt
that; it is no pleasure to unmask a friend, if friend it is.
“Within the next three hours, Elder.”

Krikian issued
a whistle. “It has my undivided attention.”

“Tell no one.
Everyone is suspect.”

The Valleur
bowed and retreated. Leaving Torrullin wondering over the talent
the Elder possessed, the one that closed him off to external
probing.

The Valleur
were fanatical about inner privacy, but none had shown that kind of
mastery. Where exactly had Krikian gone to learn that, from whom,
and why?

Then he knew.
It was the person he found while in the coma state of Becoming
Elixir. The knowledge did not sit well. He also understood
Krikian’s reluctance to discuss his unsanctioned travels, as well
as the relief he sensed. The relief was for not being questioned
too closely.

The why
escaped him.

 

 

Where a group
of soldiers chatted in a public square, assuredly they were among
the less severely wounded and creating a smokescreen to hide the
watchful and wary in the vicinity.

Where a group
enjoyed a meal, assuredly the meal could last unto doomsday, the
repast for guarded and armed soldiers. And so forth; every apparent
innocent activity hid a more dangerous reality.

It was the
best they could do in a short time and may or may not fool Agnimus.
The hope was it would fool the soldier draithen into
complacency.

Precisely six
hours after their last meeting, Agnimus appeared to parry.
Torrullin waited in the park alone. Armed with the Valla card and
Krikian’s unconfirmed traitor, Torrullin faced the draithen
leader.

“Punctual,
Agnimus. How polite of you.”

“You brought
your host into the city.”

“As you have
yours surrounding us. Who has the upper hand?”

Agnimus
grinned in acknowledgement and said, “I can discern no additional
reinforcements, Elixir. Am I to assume this is the extent of your
defence? Are you telling me there’s no support for Valaris from
outside?”

“Support, yes;
turned down.”

“You are that
sure of yourself?”

“This is our
fight.”

“I’ll warrant
it’s the seal that worries you. You dare not lift it, in the event
of unholy defeat.”

“Do I need
defence, Agnimus? Will your army attack?”

“That depends
on what is said here.”

It was an
admission of willingness to deal further, not an outright answer.
“You are not certain of your decision,” Torrullin stated. “Did you
require ten hours?”

Agnimus
snorted. “You are too arrogant, Elixir.”

“Enchanter or
Vallorin; Elixir belongs outside of these skies.”

“Ah. How
enlightening.”

“An advantage
for you. I lay myself bare. Time to attain a state of one mind,
draithen.”

“As you
have?”

Torrullin
smiled. “Indeed. Finally.”

“You know what
it is you want, Enchanter? Really?”

“I do.”

“Well, in the
interest of transparency, do tell.”

A moment of
pondering, and then, “Tit for tat, Agnimus?”

A shrug. “Why
not?” He folded his arms into his dark cloak. One did not have to
be a sorcerer to know it as a gesture of defensiveness.

“I desire
Valaris unencumbered.”

“Including of
yourself? Are you prepared to leave your world behind?”

“Yes. Tit for
tat.”

“Ask
away.”

“Who revealed
your Valleur blood to you?”

“If you ask,
you already know.”

“Is it the
same one to act as go-between to your draithen in Digilan?”

“Yes. My
turn.”

“I need it
confirmed.”

Agnimus
smiled, a predatory thing. “Caballa.”

Krikian, after
questioning every Valleur to work in the Valla Palace out west for
Tannil and present now as part of the host, reluctantly reached the
conclusion it could only be Caballa. The beautiful, once blind
Caballa. Caballa who loved him, Caballa who was very special to
him. Caballa who left Valaris for places unknown.

“She’s gone;
it’s always convenient to blame someone in absentia.”

Agnimus
laughed. “Oh, that hurts, does it? Strike a nerve?” Agnimus shook
with continuing laughter and then spluttered back into control.
Serious, he said, “She did it unwittingly.”

BOOK: The Dreamer Stones
12.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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