The Nemisin Star (6 page)

He paced
there, renewing welcome sights. The barren Arrows to the south
sported a sprinkling of snow where eagles and hawks circled,
helping their fledglings take to wing before true winter set in. To
the east was the gap between the Arrows and the Morinnes, where the
valley’s magic began. It was indistinct in the distance, but the
road meandered from there to the Dragon doors below.

To the north
was the Morinnes, a great range with ledges large enough to found
cities upon - deep ravines, green and wonderful, also lightly
sprinkled. Turning west, he surveyed the road; it led to the
Valleur city outside the valley, that city of new beginning for a
persecuted people. A golden city.

He doubled
over as a vision came unbidden.

A golden
city.
Menllik.

That was the
point of reference. That coupled it to the scrying of names for
twin babies

A golden
city
. Menllik was
a city of light
, and within there was
a new sacred site. A
temple
where one night each year the
faint star that was Nemisin’s world could be viewed precisely
through the star-shaped aperture in the roof.

That was
reality.

Under the
opening, in the starlight, a
scroll
unfurled.

Taunting
eyes.

Ty knows the
sites. He knows that one in particular.

A
blue
sword
glinted in faint starlight and a
green blade
was
the counterpoint.

Tristamil,
Warrior Priest, and Tymall, the Skilful One.

Torrullin
straightened, shivering.

Two nights
hence Nemisin’s star would shine and Tymall would be waiting for
Tristamil.

He clutched at
the wall, staring west. There was nothing he could do to prevent
it. It was Tymall’s scrying and the brothers’ destiny.

Leaning
against the chilly stone, he inhaled the cold air. He had warning
and that was not to be wasted. For once, he had warning. He need
not enter blind this time. Time enough to prepare Tristamil.

He could
evacuate the city.

Torrullin
hurtled down the stairs, shouting for Pretora and Kismet.

Later he made
notes.

Blue sword and
green. That was seen in the scrying bowl, and came to pass. A wall
filled with runes before a multitude. Tristamil fulfilled every
nuance to become the Priest of his naming. The golden city in the
bowl had been built by the Valleur scatterlings from beyond the
Rift.

There was
more, but now the time arrived to deal with Tymall. As Tristamil
fathomed his brother at the wall with runes, chances were that
Tymall could fathom his brother at the temple. That potentially
meant disaster.

It could mean
he, Torrullin, was at the point of choice. The Murs dying on
Valaris before the mission to the Zone told him he would have to
choose one son, and Queen Abdiah pointed it out as well. It would
be the hardest thing he would ever have to do. Tymall dared not be
part of the future, and yet he loved his son.

His hand shook
on the paper; he crumpled and threw it from him. It was unlikely
organising thoughts on paper would make a difference.

Torrullin
wished fervently to talk to Saska. He knew, however, what she would
say. Tymall attempted to kill her many times.

Cat offered a
friendly ear on Atrudis, but he was too angry with his wife and
might do something stupid. It was safer to stay out of Cat’s
orbit.

Vannis and
Taranis were too subjective.

As always, he
was alone. There was no one to help him, there never had been,
there never would be … and an image of the dark-haired man floated
before him. He stared at it.

Elianas. I do
not know how long I can hold on.

He had not
attempted to speak to a vision before and thus did not expect an
answer.

Answer was
given.

Torrullin. Do
not surrender to despair. Not yet, my brother.

“Elianas?” A
hoarse whisper.

There was no
reply, but he had not imagined that.

Staring at the
books on the shelves in his study, he saw nothing.

My brother
.

What, in god’s
name, did that mean?

When the stars
swirl, mark them carefully

to gauge time
and distance.

~Druid Lore

Menllik

T
ristamil found his father in the temple.

Both men were
red-eyed from lack of sleep.

“I could not
find you last night,” Torrullin said.

“I did not
want to be found.”

“Skye avoids
me now.”

“Yes, well,
she knew better than I did how you would react,” said
Tristamil.

“Are you all
right?”

“No. You have
ordered the evacuation of Menllik. May I ask why?”

Tristamil was
in no state for confrontation, never mind a battle of blades. “Son,
hear me. You require equilibrium.”

“Why?”

“Tomorrow
night Nemisin’s star shines, and Tymall will come.”

Tristamil
stilled. “Why?”

“Destiny.”

It had come to
that. “How do you know this?”

“A
vision.”

“Caballa?”

Torrullin
lifted a shoulder. “Mine.”

“You are a
farseer?”

“Occasionally.”

“You never
said,” said Tristamil.

“I prefer not
to broadcast it.”

“What else do
you hide, father?”

Torrullin’s
eyes were unreadable. “Many things.”
Elianas.

“And you are
not going to tell me.”

“Some things
cannot be told, others cannot be shared.”

Tristamil
nodded and looked around. “You know this is to happen, and yet you
choose to uncloak the site. Here, right? You set the stage for
destiny. I thought you would change it.”

“Change the
future? I guess I have managed that, but this was scried a long
time ago. I did not see it until now. In both your and Ty’s scrying
there was a temple, a sword, a dark cloud and a throne. Common
threads. I believe I unconsciously had this temple built according
to what I saw.” Torrullin swore. “I can kick myself today. Vannis
always claims I am greater than prophecy, and I fell right into the
trap.”

Tristamil
sighed. “Thus creating the place for destiny.”

“Unfortunately.”

“And we have
been coming here all our lives. A familiar.”

“Exactly.”

“How do you
know he will come?”

“The vision
was of him unfurling a scroll in this place while the star shines
overhead. The scroll is his scrying, and I doubt he will wait a
whole year.”

Tristamil
thoughtfully paced the interior.

It was a
windowless octagonal building of white stone. The ceiling tapered
away unbroken to a star-like opening far overhead, and that was the
only source of light. During the day a beam travelled the interior,
moving as the sun moved, and at night either the moon or the stars
lit the inside faintly. Crystal globes ringed the perimeter, but
were rarely put to use. It was otherwise unadorned, but for the
floor.

The temple was
raised so that one climbed a number of stairs to enter from the
outside and the interior floor was laid out in a great pattern. A
pure white star in the centre was bordered by sapphire, then
emerald, then gold, silver and white again, and it repeated until
the radiating star vanished into the walls. One night out of every
year the star from above shone brightly onto the star below. The
temple was named Linir. The Place Where Stars Meet.

“What kind of
scroll?” Tristamil queried, coming to rest.

“I have no
idea.” Torrullin retreated to a wall.

“Will you be
here?”

“Do you want
me to be here?”

Tristamil’s
eyes widened, “Gods, yes.”

Torrullin
smiled. “Then I shall be. It is for you to do, however.”

“I realise
that.”

“Margus will
be here also.”

Tristamil
pondered that. “You speak as if they are no longer one.”

“By now they
are separate. For this first confrontation Margus will desire the
vanity of his form.”

“You never
mentioned the likelihood before.”

“We raced
across the universe Tris, in the hopes he would separate.”

“Ah, and thus
he held on. He knows you well.”

Torrullin
pushed away from the wall. “And I know him well.”

“It must be
perturbing.”

“In many ways
we are evenly matched.”

“Therefore the
advantage factor. It is a psychological battle more than anything
else.” Tristamil sucked at his teeth. “I can use the same tactics
on Tymall.”

Torrullin did
not respond. The young man’s mind began to discern ploys and plans.
A prepared mind could deal with a battle of blades.

“Are they
here? On Valaris?”

“Now they
are.”

“Can you find
them?”

Torrullin
wandered aimlessly, hands behind his back. “As Destroyer, yes, but
I am loathe to do so. The advantage becomes his.” He came to a
halt. “As Destroyer I can stop him.”

“Do so,”
Tristamil whispered. “No Dragon holds you back now.”

“If only it
was that simple. I have been given full support by the Lady of Life
to kill indiscriminately in order to stop this Darak Or. As
Destroyer I cut a swathe of death and destruction through the
living and murder the creature wherever I find him and it would be
over. The Lady’s task is to resurrect the deserving.”

“My god. That
is pure …”

“… evil?
Indeed. I cannot do it, as much as I desire to finish with
Margus.”

“Now I
understand why you and Saska are far apart, and why you refused to
take him on other worlds.”

“That is not
the only reason.” Torrullin ran a hand through his hair, mussing it
enough to appear vulnerable. “I do not want to murder my son.”

The other son
began to comprehend hidden demons. “Who do you turn to, father? You
must feel so alone.”

“I prefer
being alone.”

“Surely Saska
–”

Torrullin
barked a laugh. “Saska? How do I talk to my wife? I see her as the
Lady of Death. She has become the last person I can turn to.” His
face shuttered. “Now leave it alone.”

“I am here for
you.”

Torrullin
closed his eyes. “Thank you, but your heart will drive a wedge
between us soon.”

“Not on the
deep level, never.”

Torrullin
brought himself under control, although his eyes glittered when he
turned them back on his son. “I do so love you.”

“And I you,”
Tristamil said, wishing his father would trust him more.

“I trust you,
Tris. I trust Vannis and Quilla. I am blessed.”

“What of
Taranis?”

“I trust my
father, yes, but not with my feelings.”

“Why not?”
Tristamil was astonished.

“You are a
son; would you reveal to me your innermost feelings?”

Tristamil
pulled a face.

Torrullin
smiled. “The nature of man. We want to be like our fathers, yet we
are mortally afraid of finding it true and thus we hold back, delay
the moment, until one day … well, that day has not come for me, or
for you.”

Tristamil
shook his head. “I never thought about it.”

“You should
not have to, you are young yet.”

“You will
never be like Taranis, I think.”

“And I hope
you will never be like me.”

Western
Valaris

Luan

Tristamil
tracked Skye to Luan.

She left the
valley, prevailing on a Valleur to take her home. It hurt that she
left. He did not know how to make this right and doubted there was
an answer.

Skye was on
the beach, walking slowly, a million sals away. He caught up to her
and could only look. Her feet were covered in beach sand, red from
walking in the water, and he noticed she held a pretty shell. Her
eyes barely focused. He called repeatedly before she faced him,
jerking a little when she realised he was there.

What had she
been thinking to take her so far away?

“Skye, it’s
not safe here.”

“If it’s safe
for others, it is for me.” Her tone was determined.

She would be
obstinate and he had not the time to argue. “Tonight, Tymall and
myself battle it out in Linir. I would like to have you near, at
the Keep. I need to know you are safe. Please.”

Her eyes grew
round. “Tonight?”

“Nemisin’s
night. A vision was given.”

“Caballa?” she
asked.

He gave a
strange smile. No, not Caballa, but he was not about to discuss his
father. He bent towards her. “I should be practising swordplay, not
arguing with you here or begging you to come. I love you, but I
will not force you to do anything if you do not want it. I am
leaving now.”

“I’ll come,
Tris. I love you too.”

His heart
hammered. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, and then
kissed her again and again, until they were both breathless and
heated. “We will find a way,” he said when he drew back.

“I hope so.”
She swallowed. “I must lock up.”

He nodded and
waited for her on the sand, not daring to follow into a space where
he would not be able to keep his hands to himself.

The Keep

“The city is
empty, Lord Vallorin,” Pretora reported. “The majority are camped
in the valley and the rest have transferred to Two Town. We have
posted warning that no one is to enter until we declare it
clear.”

“Thank you,
Pretora. A job well done.” The Elder was dismissed.

Taranis
entered the study. “What is this about evacuating Menllik?” Matt
also entered. The two had visited many places during the day and
now returned for food and rest.

“Tymall is
expected in Linir tonight.” Torrullin rose decisively. “No one is
to enter Taranis,
no one
.”