The Nemisin Star (66 page)

He touched her
cheek. “Little or big, a sin is a sin. It cannot matter who is
guiltier.” Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on hers and
whispered. “I forgive all.” He smiled into her eyes. “I love
you.”

“It’s more
important that you forgive yourself.”

“I have let it
go.”

She closed her
eyes briefly in benediction to all gods and goddesses great and
small. “I love you, too,” she murmured when she reopened them.

His heart
skipped and he whispered in her ear, “Pity about our audience.”

She giggled
and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her icy nose into his
warmth. Holding her, he rose, and stood with her in his arms.
Always Saska.

“How did you
know?” she asked.

“Light and
Life, Enchanter and Lady; it began as we walked. Your calling,
mine, two hemispheres smoothed together to form worlds. That is how
it should be and I nearly overlooked it.” Torrullin threw his head
back and gazed up at the silver pricks of light. “The magic here
prompted and I saw what an idiot I was.” He lowered his head. “And
now, at last, I know how to recall it.”

Lifting his
right hand, he shifted it as if smoothing a pane of glass, and an
eerie glow formed - grey-green - trailing sparks as his fingers
moved on. He laughed and turned Saska to stand with her back
against him, taking her hands to present palms to the air; smiling,
she imitated his movements and underneath four hands raised to
nothingness, the glow appeared.

Nothing in a
vacuum. Torrke was Light and Life. He understood the parallel. It
was also a continuation; ancient magic made new in the One.

“Torrke has
returned,” Quilla stated with satisfaction, raising a tiny hand to
poke experimentally at the air, not feeling in the least foolish,
and a greenish dot glowed briefly. He clapped, grinning like a
boy.

Abdiah grunted
amusement and swished her tail to set alight a host of sparkles
behind her in the dark, and Vannis and Tristamil glanced at each
other again. A night of surprises, evidently.

Doom and gloom
evaporated and a mood of new buoyancy took its place, and
everything was otherwise.

How? It
mattered not. Smiling, the two Valla men raised palms and it
happened for them as well. Tristamil, Vannis noted, was
transformed. Inwardly, he breathed a voluble sigh of relief.
Balance was restored. The great spaces, and the little ones,
everywhere would know.

It remained
wet, but the air became balmy and sweet, and night sounds erupted,
an intricate song of celebration. They had not noticed its absence
and now recognised there had been a natural deficiency also. The
magic of the valley, beyond prehistoric antiquity, had shown its
face again, because the Enchanter recognised how to ask
properly.

Light and
Life.

Saska turned
in Torrullin’s arms. “I realise this won’t alter what tomorrow
brings.”

“It cannot,
but it will alter the how.” He drew her close, burying his face in
her neck.

Tristamil
said, “I feel Torrke is stronger now, but why would it return? It
doesn’t comprehend the coming event?”

Quilla
replied, “It knows. It never left; it hid. Your father needed to
ask it to return; that is the recognition of the morrow’s
gift.”

“He also
needed to know the Light,” Vannis murmured. “As you have.”

“Vannis is
right, young man. Your Light is back,” Quilla said.

Torrullin
focused on his son. They were on the mark. He smiled at Tristamil,
and was awarded with a brilliant grin. Shadows lurked in both
gazes, but something spectacular had been achieved.

The Light
is not lost,
Abdiah thought.
It is merely covered in the
layering of real life.

She sniffed. A
sound of pleasure for a Dragonne.

Vannis
laughed.

Torrullin and
Saska sat shoulder-to-shoulder, and warmed cold hands at the
fire.

The air was
balmy, but like to the land, they were soaked.

Transformation
could not halt destiny.

Torrullin said
to Abdiah and Quilla, “I am not stupid, despite your cleverness. At
every turn there is something that needs achieved. How convenient.
Your reasons for delay are the same reasons for attempting to
prevent what Tris calls the
event
.” Both were stoic. “Your
reasons will not end if I give in to you now; you will unearth
others until my mind is so trammelled I turn my back to this path.
I now state I intend to go ahead in the morning and nothing and no
one can stop me. Only Margus can do that now, and he wants this
more. Yes, allow me to say it. I want this. For sensible and
selfish reasons, and they coincide perfectly whether or not it is
compromise.”

He stared
intently at them. “I love my wife and our recent estrangement did
not change that, but that love will not hold me in place. I love my
son and he will not hold me here.” He paused to glance at Saska.
“Forgive me a last time, Saska, but leaving Tris is by far the
harder.”

Out of the
corner of his eye he noticed his son look away, his expression
unreadable.

Saska inclined
her head and touched the back of his hand in mute sympathy.

Torrullin
continued, facing again Abdiah and Quilla, the two sitting together
like conspirators, one tiny and the other bulky.

“Tomorrow is
written and I need not add there is power in that and yet I do, for
you need to realise we cannot now mess with it. I ask that you
forget your ploys and cease your nay-saying …”

“I have not
attempted to prevent this,” Quilla interrupted with some heat.

“Q’li’qa’mz, I
know you. You are supportive, helpful, and sympathetic. Admirable,
my friend. You heard the telling, you believed. I know that; you
eased the way and I thank you. But, you never argued, and therefore
I know you disagree.”

Quilla
subsided in a huff and glared at Abdiah. It was up to her.

“Her Majesty
will not change the course,” Torrullin remarked in amusement.

“We will see
about that.” Abdiah spoke for the first time.

“We will not.”
Torrullin rose, drawing Saska up with him. “This has been an
exceptional night and I thank you, Abdiah, for the wisdom in
bringing us out to it. There is much Light tonight and that is
excellent. Balance returns. Please do not undermine it with dire
warnings and predictions. Heed me well; I am not changing my mind.”
He gripped Saska’s hand. “I choose not to tamper with this concept
of time; how many hours do you want of me? I shall spend what is
left with my wife and Tris.”

“There are
matters that need attending to,” Abdiah said. “You are not giving
us time to do so. We must slow it, at the least.”

“You and
Quilla attend to those matters if they are important; I aim to
spend the final hours with my wife and son, and then with Vannis.
This
time. Quilla, do not dare change the flow in my stead.
I shall counter it the instant I sense you meddling and we both
know the results could be unpleasant.”

“You are
without doubt the most stubborn, pig-headed, crazy, narrow …”
Quilla clamped his mouth shut.

“Takes one to
know one.” Next to him Saska laughed. Torrullin stepped from the
circle of light thrown by the flickering fire, winking at
Tristamil. “I will see you in a while, son.”

Tristamil gave
a fair representation of a grin. “Go to it.”

“What of the
sword?” Abdiah uttered, halting him and Saska in mid-stride. “Will
you keep the blinkers on for that, Enchanter?”

Torrullin
released Saska’s hand. She knew then they would never leave the
fireside, not while it was night and there was still time. They
would leave it with the cold of dawn, when all time had ended. She
drew breath and stood on the edge of the flickering light.

“No,” he said,
looking at her.

“It’s fine, my
love. My heart knows you.”

“Saska?” It
was a plea.

“Whatever it
is, Torrullin, I don’t think you can escape it.”

He shifted to
the Kallanon ruler. “Why must you undo this night? Will you leave
me alone?”

“You cannot
deny this.”

“I have no
idea what you mean, Dragonne.”

She clambered
to her massive feet and stretched her neck to its impressive
height. Glowering and using her awful Dragonne voice, she issued
harshly, breathing smoke in her ire, “You know, Enchanter! I
thought you ignorant of this, but you have the binding tool! You
went white, Torrullin! You know!”

“I refuse to
speak of this!” Torrullin roared, throwing his voice to match her
in tone, anger and effect.

“I said
no
magic
!”

“You dare tell
me what to do?”

“You dare
ignore me?”

“
Is this
it
?” Tristamil cried, hurtling to his feet, face twisted in
half-perceived recognition. He drew the blue sword swiftly from its
scabbard and held it aloft, shaking with strain, with foreboding.
“Is this the piece of sorcery you speak of, Majesty? Do you
advocate my death?
Is that why my father denies you?
”

Vannis gripped
Tristamil’s arm. “Son, please,” he said, but Tristamil shook him
off and challenged the Kallanon Queen.

“Where is my
Light, you ask? My father is my Light! Must I give him the sword,
Majesty? Must I die to do so?”

Torrullin was
ashen. He made a pacifying gesture. “Tris, no, it is not like that
… please, I do not want it …”

Tristamil
swung at the sound of his father’s voice and responded to the naked
pain in it. “It is true,” he whispered. “I am to die … and you seek
to escape it.”

“Tris. Son
…”

“Hush. If that
is the way of it, I am happy to move on.” Tristamil leaned forward.
“Do you not understand yet? I cannot love as you do or feel for
eternity. There is nothing to hold me, there is nothing left
here.”

“Your son
…”

“Your
grandson. Love him as you have loved me and he will be an
extraordinary man.”

“You have the
Light,” Abdiah said.

“I may have
it, and it may even do everything Caballa told me it would, but it
is not enough for a life filled with emptiness.”

Naturally it
came to pass then. All the contrary laws governing the Enchanter’s
fate came into play at that moment. He had hoped and prayed and he
had begged the gods to escape it in time. He fooled himself. He
knew it the moment he discovered the diamond.

Torrullin
watched in horror as Tristamil’s weapon of the Light burst into
blue brilliance before he could adequately explain what he
suspected the Dragonne ruler meant by the sword. He watched the
consternation on his son’s face - he did not command it to
illuminate - and saw realisation dawn.

It felt as if
he were the one about to die.

Tris, Tris, my
son!

Abdiah sat
heavily, her great jaws gaping open. The time had come. She hoped
she had not hastened it by drawing attention to the cursed sword
the Enchanter required for his journey into the etheric. All gods,
it meant nothing would now hold the One in this realm.

Quilla’s
feathered head moved swiftly from Abdiah to Torrullin to Tristamil
- Tristamil was confounded by the bright blue blade in his hand.
Quilla raised a tiny fist to his mouth.

Tristamil
lowered the sword and laid it across the palm of his left hand,
stared at it and then lifted his gaze directly to his father, saw
there the ashen horror, and stepped back, a stumble of knowledge,
of denial, of a thousand things left too late. Words held no power
now; only their eyes spoke, a million thoughts.

Vannis rose.
“Fight him, Tris, for Goddess’ sake!” His voice urgent, taut.

Saska frowned,
uncertain, until she saw Torrullin’s face. Agony etched in stone.
She drew a shocked breath. “Go to him!” She pushed him hard to
rouse him from paralysis.

Torrullin
leapt across the fire, knocked the glowing weapon from his son’s
hands, and gripped him, pulled him close, and loosed all the
barriers to trebac to instil more life and urgency. He shook his
son. “Fight! You must live!”

The sword fell
unheeded next to the fire, where it continued to glow.

Vannis was
behind Tristamil and gripped him as well, and both men lent their
strength and channelled their power to the young man. “Tris, use us
to fight him.” He and Torrullin locked gazes and then both focused
their attention on Tristamil.

Tristamil
transformed into a ragdoll, a being without skeleton. He folded
down without a sound so quickly that he slid through the four arms
supporting him.

“NO!”
Torrullin roared, with Vannis echoing distress.

They caught
him before he hit the hard wet earth, lowering him gently the last
increment, laying him out as comfortably as they could, knees
slamming into the wetness beside him.

Saska started
crying.

“This is why
you acted strangely,” Tristamil whispered, lifting glazed eyes to
his father. “You knew this would happen. You did not want to see
this. Ty is dead … I feel it …”

Torrullin
swallowed the beginnings of a burning rage, pushing it aside for
later. “I wanted your last days to … I wanted you to
live
,
not go about wandering in the expectation of death. Not like me,
son. I love you too much.”

“Poor father,”
Tristamil returned, “but you needed the two-swords-become-one; you
could not escape this.”

“You knew?”
Torrullin asked in a hollow tone.

“I know it
now; the swords were never ours. I am glad you are here and I am
relieved I do not have to feel
you
pass beyond tomorrow. I
love you too much also.”

Torrullin drew
a shuddering breath.

“We were
bound, father, before I was born. You, Ty and me. It is only right
we leave this realm within hours of each other.”