The Sleeper Sword (63 page)

DREAMERS

Chapter
57

Tell everyone!
Tell them now!

~ Tattle

Nobody could
now claim ignorance.

The Electan’s
office came forth with warnings and on the National Day of
Registration when the annual census was held, every man and woman
was handed a survival manual and told to keep travel to a minimum.
A moratorium was placed on moving; nobody was to change address,
for in an aftermath those who changed location were impossible to
trace.

As summer
solstice approached and the days grew unbearable with the dry heat
of the season, so too did a sense of resignation prevail. It had
happened before, this situation of being in the forefront of
madness, this interminable waiting while putting normal life on
hold, this expectation of doom. Doom itself had visited and
revisited Valaris many times and now seemed about to again. Despite
that, Valaris hurtled around a sun, alive and well. Death was but a
new journey. Survivors would again wake to the brightness of
sunshine.

Old myths and
legends were aired anew and tall tales entertained children - and
prepared them - and the true history of the planet, disputed in the
past, was discussed frankly, laying ancient prejudice finally to
rest.

The Enchanter
was put to the test, time after time. A landslide in the Morinnes
threatened to engulf a train near Galilan. Tampering with the
sacred site near Saswan. A ship floundering on the rocks of Silas
Island, another on the Red Sandbar to the east of the
continent.

A locust swarm
over central Valaris. And more simple tests, a child with an
incurable disease; a bull goring; an underage couple so in love
they eloped to vanish without a trace; an old man wanted to commit
suicide because his new teeth made him ugly; a group of hikers
losing their way in the snow-capped Legend Mountains. Some tests
were engineered, while others were natural events and the results
of human nature.

Valarians
loved Torrullin. They revered him. He was welcome in every home,
every tavern, on every ship and along every path.

In the dark
they feared him.

They discussed
the tremendous power that created the Pillars of Fire when he
defeated the Darak Or Margus the first time. They whispered over
the destruction of the beautiful valley when he defeated Margus the
second time. They dared mention in passing the rumours heard from
travelling magicians of the fearsome renting of space when he
caused the annihilation of the Guardian Dome.

Some even
attributed the killing of the Guardians to him, but most discounted
that.

On television
they were warned of a threat, the Electan never relaxing his
vigilance in this duty. He allowed no one to forget. In city
squares town criers spoke at length about defence. Farspeakers,
Valleur and human, inveigled themselves around the continent and
spoke with quiet sincerity about their duties.

Self-defence
classes were instituted; survival courses aired on little screens.
More and more Valleur were found in the oddest places, by
invitation and without permission from the Electan’s office.

There was, for
example, the erecting of a barn in the Nor Peninsula, where the
farmer desired a building that would last generations and asked
Valleur help. It was given freely and after farmers and their
families were invited from sals around to hear the Golden speak of
themselves, their ancient history and, mostly, about their
Enchanter.

A fair in
Tetwan to celebrate the success of the peach harvest … and Valleur
winemakers were begged to share the secret of solé wine, it being
partly made from peaches.

It was not all
one-sided. Artists were invited to display their talents in a new
gallery opened in the Valleur city Menllik - despite travel
restrictions - and musicians asked to play for the Vallorin.
Ordinary folk were invited to dinner at Valleur tables to listen to
tales of long ago heroes, and told their own tales in turn. There
were, after all, a fair few human heroes, Taranis being one, once
Lord of the Guardians and the Enchanter’s father.

Yes, there was
resignation. It
had
happened before. There was tolerance
also and developing friendship between the two races. As Valleur
prepared Valarians for likely disaster, humans paved the way to
forgiving unnecessary prejudices. Valleur exile in the west was now
over, and it was time to accept. As the Golden expounded with great
sincerity on the necessity of togetherness, the humans taught them
to celebrate differences also.

It was a
period of frantic activity and a time to grow, understand, and
learn, like and to love.

It was,
indeed, the frenetic calm before an epic storm … and nobody ignored
it.

For Torrullin,
it was nine weeks of hell.

First there
was the interment of the Guardians, then strategy sessions with
Declan and Belun. There was the security of the Vallas, the
ensconcing of Tristan and Teroux and their mothers in Grinwallin
and volatile conversations with Teighlar and the Q’lin’la.

Tannil, a man
without purpose demanded explanations for matters that could not be
adequately explained … or would not be explained.

Through it
all, there was cold anger. His, Belun’s, Declan’s. Quilla’s grief,
Tannil’s continuing shock, Mitrill’s snappishness and Caltian’s
horror. The
Guardians
were dead.

There was the
contrariness of Marcus Campian, the shadow that was Lucan Dalrish -
with Cat behind him - and the sympathy that was Samuel.

Originating
with Tymall, there were calls for aid over a thousand issues, from
lost hikers to a man who did not like his teeth. Time fled by and
he had not a moment to rest. He could not find himself amid the
demands.

Tymall
continued to bait and taunt - it was only Saska’s ephemeral
presence that prevented him slaughtering anything evincing a
smidgeon of evil.

Darklings
teased elsewhere, disturbing peace and equilibrium. Twice he was
offworld to correct a darkling horror - once on Ceta where a vessel
crashed, no deaths, but four darklings were trapped - four
darklings who could be prevailed upon to reveal Tymall’s location.
Tymall got to them first. The other time was the poisoning of a
water source on Tremmen - a darkling tease. Dalrish reversed the
poison, but called on him to heal a young girl who drank in hasty
thirst.

Thus far only
the Guardians and Dinor had died due to darklings; it was a
situation, all were sure, that would not last.

Tymall was
elusive. He knew, as did his father, the more time given to
entrenching the Enchanter, the greater would be betrayal.

There was
Fay.

Torrullin
tried to change her mind, but the Guardians’ murders set it in
stone. She could not be argued with, reasoned with, bullied,
threatened, cajoled, begged or shouted at. She had made her choice.
He ceased badgering her and together they set the plan in motion
and baited the trap.

It was to Ren
Lake that Tymall came, calling to Fay. Fay answered the summons and
Torrullin, now aware his signature was hidden, witnessed.

Tymall
attempted to get into Fay’s mind, but she was so seductive he could
only watch her hungrily after the first minutes, while a father
watched a son as dispassionately as possible. If he stepped from
hiding Saska would be lost to him.

Fay was in
control, twisting Tymall’s thoughts through his desire, and then
she left when Tannil called. Tymall could have stopped her, but he
merely stood like a schoolboy embarked on his first crush and let
her go.

An
enlightening reaction for the witness; a heart almost knew pity
until it remembered what had been done to a family on a farm, and
to the Guardians.

How, in all
gods’ names, was he to reconcile this? How was Fay to convince
Tymall she could see beyond murder?

The next
assignation was engineered. Fay and Torrullin staged an epic
argument. He accused her of being untrustworthy, capable of
treachery and much else, and there was a measure of truth to his
accusations; she heard, for she fought back harder than the ruse
demanded. She taunted him until he was so furious it was no longer
pretence. She stormed out under false and real tears, hurt and
angry, and left for the Lake.

Ostensibly
Torrullin was so disappointed he refused to follow her, whatever
the danger. A blatant invite.

Tymall
materialised an instant later with words of comfort. He agreed with
her every accusation, each levelled at the Enchanter. He
commiserated and when she commented she would always be an
outsider, his glee was evident, if swiftly masked.

At the end of
the meeting Fay watched him depart with wide eyes and asked if she
could see him again. She sounded sincere.

There was a
chance a connection was made then, Torrullin thought, and sincerity
was real, particularly when triumph blazed forth from his son.
Tymall was not easily fooled.

Whatever the
circumstances, she had snared him, and for his part, Tymall thought
he had her.

Dear god. Fay
and Guilt.

There were
three more meetings and each drew Tymall further into Fay’s web.
She laughed with him, discussed matters without revealing anything
beyond what he was likely aware of, and she flirted with him. When
he attempted to touch her, she wheeled away playfully, whispering
there was always the danger of discovery, it was not safe. Never by
word or deed did she insinuate he should take her with him, yet it
hung in the air like a dangerously spiked gift, a wonder that could
be theirs if they dared brave the thorns. He came to accept her at
face value, to believe her pretty words and to trust her apparent
disillusion with the Vallas as a family, Torrullin in particular.
She addled his brain, for he could have taken her there and
protected himself had anyone stumbled upon them. He did nothing but
stare at the thorns, hunger growing.

Fay and
Fear.

From a
distance Torrullin watched and wondered how much was acting and how
much was real attraction. He suspected she enjoyed the power she
had over Tymall … and over him. He had to admit she was good. She
never faltered.

The day came
when both Fay and Torrullin knew it was time to spring the trap. He
confronted her and she admitted she was terrified; she feared, once
away from Valaris, Tymall would not be willing to play this game.
She feared also she would not deny him, for attraction had deepened
… truth that returned trust. It also brought a return to sanity. He
begged her to walk away, to go to the safety of Grinwallin, even as
his heart bled for Saska, but she was adamant. She loathed Tymall,
despite attraction, he lied to her, used her, and she would do all
in her power to protect Teroux and Tristan. She was resolute.

Fay and
Hell.

He was sending
her into the jaws of a shark.

She asked how
long it would be before he followed and he wanted to say a minute,
an hour, and knew it as unrealistic. A week, he promised, and she
paled. A week to relax Tymall’s guard. Tymall had to believe they
suspected Fay of recalcitrance - she
had
disappeared before.
If she saw either Saska or Margus she was to say nothing to them;
his son would sniff out expectation.

On the last
day of the ninth week after the murders of the Guardians there was
another staged confrontation, and this one was entirely staged, for
Fay was nervous, nerves easily explained, fortunately.

She stormed
from the Keep into the valley and Tymall called. She went, and he
asked her outright to come with him. She vacillated enough to
arouse no suspicion and then surrendered to him, giving in to
tears. He tried to offer his arms, but she sobbed she was not
beautiful and she needed a quiet place first.

He smiled, and
promised her that. He masked her in his signature and took her away
from Valaris.

Tymall
vanished from Torrullin’s tracking abilities the instant he left
the atmosphere, but he was able to track Fay with ease. The renewed
blood bond was fresh and Tymall’s cloaking was ineffectual.

It was exactly
as he hoped. Not only would her Valla blood now protect the Vallas,
but she left a signature nothing could mask at this point. She was
closed to him before; she no longer possessed that hideaway.

He knew, at
last, where to find Saska.

My wife, I
come.

Torrullin made
a show of searching for Fay, allaying their fears while suffering
recriminations from the family.

He told them
in the dining room two days later when he was certain they could
not find her. He informed them - Mitrill, Caltian, Tannil and
Samuel - Tymall took Fay with him and she went willingly.

Tannil
blurted, “You lie! She’d never betray us!”

“I didn’t say
she betrayed us. She duped him to discover where he hides.”

Mitrill was
icy. “Are you saying my daughter has been meeting your son in
secret?”

Caltian
growled, “That I can’t believe.”

Torrullin was
expressionless. “She met him in secret, at first.”

Tannil
understood first. “You used her!”

“With her
permission. In fact …”

Caltian
shouted, “What would Fay want with that thing?”

Torrullin’s
eyes hardened. “My son is not a thing.”

Caltian
exploded. “Oh, now he is your son, is he? And you give him my
daughter? I swear I’ll kill you!”

“Caltian!”
Tannil’s voice was a whiplash. “Do not make rash threats.”

Torrullin
rose. He leaned on the table to face them. “Listen to me now. Yes,
I used her, but it was upon her instigation. Yes, Caltian! Had I
not overseen this scheme, she’d now be at his mercy without the
hope of aid.”