The Nemisin Star (55 page)

“I am not
leaving.”

There was
instant tension in the room, which Dalrish studied with interest.
Apparently the Vallorin had a volatile temperament and was capable
of great anger. He ruled his sovereignty akin to an autocracy.

It would be
instructive to see how he handled insubordination, but then this
young man was his son.
He
had taken much from
his
daughter.

“I am not
asking that you remain there; only that you see to Mitrill’s
comfort,” Torrullin said, contrary to everyone’s expectations.

Tristamil
blinked at the unexpected boon, but he needed more. “Mitrill must
stay with me.”

“No.” It was
unequivocal. “I know where you intend to go with this and I tell
you, categorically, no.”

“Father …”

“Tristamil, I
shall
never
accept your offer.”

Mitrill rose
and laid a hand on her husband’s forearm. “Peace, Tris. Your father
is right. I must go where our people are.”

“Do you know
what you are saying? We have talked about this!”

“Do you know
what you ask when you require that I stay?”

“Enough!”
Vannis shouted. “Out with the plain truth! This is the last time we
shall be together!”

“Vannis,
quiet,” Torrullin said.

Vannis turned
in a wide circle in the centre of the room. “Torrullin, I am well
aware some nuances cannot be shared, but we are faced here with the
annihilation of this valley, the Valleur exiled to a bunch of
islands, and we are about to
die
, and …”

“What?” Cat
whispered, and it was echoed by Skye.

Dalrish’s
eyebrows shot up, but when his daughter left Cat’s side to clutch
at his hand, he knew with a sinking feeling that she earlier told
him only truth in her garbled and excited way. Dear God in
Aaru.

“Tact,
grandfather, was never your strong point,” Torrullin said. “Sit and
allow me to speak plainly as you say, although I have honestly had
it with words.”

“Torrullin?”
Skye whispered, eyes big as saucers.

Tristamil’s
heart went out to her.

“I am about to
explain. Without repeating the obvious; Torrke will be deliberately
destroyed, a collusion between the Darak Or and myself. We shall
die in that destruction and that is how it must be, for the final
battle will be fought in the invisible realms. It is the
only
way to prevent Margus revisiting this doom at a future
time.
Do not
present to me alternatives; I have investigated
many, so many that you cannot tell me anything new.

“Dalrish here
will aid Saska in returning Torrke to as close a copy of what it is
now - we shall speak more on that in a while. Quilla will move the
Lifesource, with Valleur help, to the Western Isles, a haven for my
dispossessed people. The Throne will be lifted from these ruins in
the future and it will go into the west. After Torrke is gone,
evacuees will return to Valaris. Mitrill,” and he paused to look at
her with compassion, “carries Tristamil’s heir.” He glanced at his
son, ignoring Skye’s gasp, although Tristamil flinched hearing it.
“She is to go into the safety of the west, for obvious
reasons.”

Torrullin drew
a breath before saying the next words. “It has been revealed to me
that my grandson will one day rule the remnant Valleur of Valaris
and the hosts of Luvanor. Tris, your son
will
be Vallorin
one day and he will do so in his
own
right. Do you
understand?” He paused again and nobody broke the silence, not even
his son.

Skye bit her
lips and Tristamil was pale.

Cat sat with
her head lowered into her hands. It was a true ending. Time had
expired for the valley; the city had already been evacuated.
Sweet Mother of God, I am going to lose him. Time has expired
for me also.

“Quilla, the
Q’lin’la will follow your lead.”

“We shall
await your return, Enchanter, among your people.”

“I thank you,
my friend. It gladdens my heart to know they will have the benefit
of your wise counsel.” Torrullin glanced at Lowen. “Lowen, you have
a future among our seers, but the decision is entirely yours.”

“Will my
father be welcome in the west?”

“Naturally.”

“Then we may
stay with the Valleur and wait for Matt to come back. Will my
father have to swear loyalty?”

“I believe one
Dalrish is adequate.”

She nodded and
whispered to her father that she would explain later.

Cat’s head
lifted. Her lips were bloodless. Dalrish was aghast by her temerity
until he noticed the clashing of wills in locked gazes, and
understood. Stupid woman, he thought, she should have known
better.

“One Dalrish
is adequate,” Cat mimicked. “How dare you?”

“Do what you
will,” Torrullin said and moved onto Skye. Cat’s fury went
unacknowledged. He wondered how long she would keep it in check.
“Skye, love …”

“Godfather,
you will leave us? And when you come back … how long? Everyone will
be gone. Who will welcome you back?”

The tales
of reincarnation are true,
Dalrish thought.

Torrullin gave
her a weary smile. “Do not concern yourself, sweetheart. I will not
be alone no matter how long it is. Quilla will still be around and
Teighlar, Belun, the Siric - many old friends.”

“How long are
you going? Those are all
Immortals
! What of your family,
your loved ones?”

“Even they.
Valleur live long, you know that.”

“How long?
Saska?”

“Hush,
sweetie. I aim to be around,” Saska said, managing not to swallow,
and thereby reveal her pain.

“Please don’t
go … Torrullin, please don’t go!” begged Skye.

Nearby,
Tristamil closed his eyes and his hand made a movement towards her,
but Saska stepped in front of him. He dropped it and looked away.
Mitrill’s expression did not change; her attention was wholly on
her father-in-law.

“Daughter of
my heart, this is the way it must be.”

“I knew you
were going to say that.” She glanced at Tristamil, the averted
face. No future there. She inhaled and squared her shoulders. “I’ll
be fine. I’m going back to Luan to help my people where I can
afterward.”

Torrullin did
not say anything for a few minutes, ruminating on the fact that she
chose the humans of Valaris, and that was good. He should not
regard it as a choice, for she was human like most Valarians.
Lately he was so preoccupied with the Valleur that he put aside
that other part of himself; Taranis would be furious over the
unconscious bias. Taranis would be furious, period, regarding this
etheric battle as a ploy only fools delved into. He smiled,
thinking of his father and his stubbornness, and looked at
Skye.

“You show me
where I err. They are my people, too, and they are blessed to have
you as their champion.”

She launched
across the room straight into his arms. “I’m going to miss you
until the day I die!” her muffled voice came from his chest. He
stroked her hair, and thought of Tymall.

Tristamil
swallowed.

Skye stood
proud before her godfather. “I will leave now, so I’m saying
goodbye. Now, before I go really wonky. I … oh, hell!” She
swallowed. “Can I ask Kismet to …?”

“I will take
you,” Tristamil interrupted.

She stiffened,
did not look at him. “Thank you.” She melted and threw her arms
around Torrullin again, embracing him. “I love you,” she whispered
and kissed his cheek, and then took his face in her hands and
kissed him on the mouth. “It has been an honour, Torrullin.” She
fled out onto the balcony … and Tristamil followed.

Mitrill said
not a word. Saska watched her, a frown marring her calm. How could
the woman not react?

Torrullin was
distraught. He out his back to the room, running a hand through his
hair.

Dalrish
silently commiserated, as did Vannis. Both knew well how hard it
was to say goodbye. Dalrish drew Lowen close and held her. He had
not expected to walk into an emotional hotbed; many secrets and
lives in microcosm before him. What they were to ask of him - and
he now knew what it was - would be easy in comparison.

Quilla cleared
his throat. “Vannis, shall we see to the Temple?” Nobody was aware
that Vannis too should be saying his farewells. His slip of the
tongue earlier had not been marked. He intended not to say more and
quickly agreed. The two left.

Kismet
approached his Vallorin. “My Lord?”

Torrullin
turned and was more in control. “Ah, Kismet, it would have been
easier had you left with the others yesterday.”

The Elder
rubbed his face and pinched his nose. “Maybe,” he admitted. “My
Lord, what of Tristamil?”

“His choice,
Pretora. The bloodline is secure. Take my daughter-in-law; it is
morning.”

Kismet
swallowed.

Mitrill closed
in and Torrullin looked past the Elder at her. She could not leave
yet. Something vital remained undone. She was aware of it as well -
the prompting was loud in her gaze.

“Elder, a
final service, if you will; please clear the room.”

With alacrity
Kismet did exactly that, shepherding everyone out. Only Saska
glanced over her shoulder. Lowen again bent her father’s ear. A
minute later Mitrill and Torrullin were alone.

For Mitrill
this was the beginning of her future. Her son’s future.

He lifted a
hand and the door closed on them.

“Come closer,”
he said and, when she was within touching distance, asked, “May I
reach out to him?”

This was
vital.

She showed
emotion for the first time. She took his hand and placed it on her
flat stomach, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Trebac
glinted.

“You know why
he was conceived, do you not? You understand why Tristamil married
so fast? And why you refuse to use him to receive you?”

“I did not
realise you knew.”

“I did not.
Until you spoke of return earlier.”

“Your reasons
were different.”

“I carry the
Valleur heir, my Lord. That was and is my duty.”

“I would
recognise him, Mitrill, for I do not think Tristamil will be given
the opportunity to do so formally.”

“I know,” she
whispered, and her face twisted. “I asked, but …”

“He could not
recognise a child he saw as a host.”

“My Lord, your
son needs find the Light soon.”

He realised
she carried the burden of secrets already. As mother to a Vallorin,
it would not be simplified for her.

Torrullin
knelt before his unborn grandson and spoke to the tiny embryo, his
mouth close to her stomach, hands spread across her abdomen. He
spoke of the magic of his blood, his people, his inheritance, and
told him who he was and that he was loved, needed and wanted. And
more … much more, but that would only become important in the
future.

Mitrill
smoothed his hair back, and cupped one hand behind his head and
with the other wiped at her tears. When he finally leaned back, she
brought her hand forward to lie against his cheek, her thumb
smudging his tears. Trebac shimmered, crackled.

He stood and
drew her into his arms. “I am sorry I treated you as an the enemy,
especially given the years of our connection,” he whispered,
soothing her in turn. “I was having trouble coping with Tris’
rebellion. He would not listen. Thank Aaru, hmm?”

“I
understood.”

“More than my
son, and I am glad. Take care of this child and of yourself.”

Mitrill took a
pace back and wiped ineffectually at her face. He kissed her on the
lips and then raised his mouth to her forehead.

“Do you know
that I have loved you since the day I first saw you?”

“I dared not
acknowledge it,” he said.

Her face
twisted again and she stepped in and raised her lips to his, her
gaze questioning. A moment elapsed, pregnant with thought and
emotion and consequences, and then he lowered his mouth to hers and
received a measure of what it must be like for his son to make love
with trebac in the bed with them. Electrifying … erotic.

He was
seriously shaken after. She withdrew, smiled wryly and mercifully
turned then to walked through the doorway; she had to wave the door
open, for he could not.

“Kismet, we
go!” she called out, in control once more.

The Elder
could be heard outside. “My Lady, the child is recognised?”

“Yes, Elder.
Say your farewell.” Her voice sounded brittle.

Kismet entered
and bowed low. “I am leaving now, my Lord Vallorin.”

“Go well, my
friend,” Torrullin said and gripped Kismet’s arm in ritual greeting
before briefly embracing him.

“And you, my
Lord,” Kismet managed, eyes misting. He backed out before emotion
overcame him completely.

Torrullin
watched him go to Mitrill, take her arm, and saw them move down the
balcony walk.

She did not
look back, and he was relieved.

Freedom is
more a state of mind than a condition of circumstances. Of course
there are factors that need be in place to ensure the process,
whether physical or emotional, and yet freedom is of and for the
soul first before all else. In darkness and confinement a soul can
yet experience freedom, although few will know ... and few will
agree. There is another type of freedom and it is flight. Free of
gravity a soul is also free of cares.

~ Book of
Sages

The Keep

A
few
minutes later Torrullin paced onto the balcony.

It was indeed
morning. Pre-dawn grey had entirely displaced the black of night.
Leaning over the low wall, he gazed into the courtyard. Laughter
had vanished from his Keep, the sounds of daily life, the footsteps
of his people. He built it for laughter and joy, a future of peace,
a tranquil existence, and much of the time there was that, and
there had been strife and pain and doubt, and yet the latter
elevated the former. The two sides, always. Life. Now the Keep was
empty and without soul.