The Sleeper Sword (15 page)

Buthos, bless
him, moved into the Palace to aid that, and Quilla stayed away from
the Temple.

They spoke,
argued also, and cried and laughed. And made love like
newlyweds.

Fay wandered
with a happy smile and Tannil and Teroux joked about as they had
not in a while. Even Vania was light-hearted and the Palace staff
in their element.

There was as
well a sense of sorrow, for the Valleur left for Luvanor in number.
A decision taken was one to be acted upon, and the emigration was
thus underway. Celebrations accompanied departure and aided the
farewells, instilling a sense of joy and release that covered most
of the sadness.

Luvanor was a
beautiful and spacious world.

Another
festival was currently in progress and the Palace was ablaze with
light, laughter filling every chamber. Valla Island was crowded and
noisy; it was the final emigration.

Of the three
hundred and sixty scatterlings to come through the Rift over two
thousand years ago, only three would remain on Valaris. Mitrill,
Caballa and Kismet. That three hundred and sixty had grown to a
thousand in the years under the Enchanter, and had then - despite
losses to battle and plague - grown to more than twelve thousand on
small tracts of land out in the west.

Five thousand
had already made Luvanor home with Tannil’s blessing, and now a
further six took their leave, all of them Valaris born.

Including the
Valla family and Palace staff, a mere thousand would remain in the
Western Isles.

“Do you think
Tannil will allow us to slip into Menllik to see the Star?” Fay
wondered.

Caltian smiled
at her. “Ask him.”

“Ask him
what?” Tannil enquired, joining them on the balcony overlooking the
gardens. “I take it him is me?”

Fay giggled.
“Yes, brother. I wondered whether it’s possible to slip into Linir
tomorrow night.”

“Perhaps.”

‘Perhaps’
meant he already entertained the idea.

“Hey, that’s
Belun!” Caltian exclaimed and, sure enough, the Centuar had
materialised in the garden, at first startling the celebrants. He
took on humanoid form and made his way through the jostling
crowd.

Caltian and
Fay moved towards the stairs, but Tannil sighed, turning to go down
more slowly.

Quilla and
Buthos were at the foot of those stairs waiting for him.

Tannil stopped
and said, “There isn’t a private place on the island tonight. Meet
Belun and bring him to Bird Island.” He vanished.

Buthos and
Quilla looked at each other and did as he bid.

Fay and
Caltian gazed upon each other in foreboding.

Bird Island
was exactly that.

A sanctuary
for birds.

It was a small
island comprising tussock rises and dips, a rocky shore perfect for
nesting seabirds, and a large freshwater dam, two hardy trees, but
not much else. Only the bird keepers came ashore with
regularity.

“Lord
Vallorin,” Belun said formally as the three joined Tannil on the
grassy bank beside the dam.

It was quiet,
with intermittent bird squawks. It was nesting season and parents
were alert to danger.

“Belun,”
Tannil murmured.

“It’s good to
see you again, Tannil,” Belun added with a friendly smile.

“Likewise, my
friend,” Tannil said and the two embraced. “Only, I’m afraid you
bring more bad news.”

The Centuar
inclined his head. “I’m sorry this is what brings me.”

“Tell us.”

“The Dalrish
have traced all signatures back to Valaris.”

Tannil sighed
as if receiving final confirmation. “We need to contact the
Electan.”

Quilla
agreed.

Tannil mused,
“I intend to visit Linir tomorrow night. After, I’ll sidestep to
Galilan.”

The Siric
straightened. “That’s dangerous. You shouldn’t place yourself in a
vulnerable position.”

“Then you’ll
be my bodyguard, Buthos.”

The Siric
inclined his head.

“Tannil, Lucan
Dalrish requests permission to come to Valaris,” Belun said.

Tannil and
Quilla glanced at each other and Tannil snorted a laugh. “Why not?
Is it come to that?”

Belun frowned
and met Buthos’s hooded gaze.

Tannil was
indecisive for a moment and paced the edge of the dam. To the
others it appeared he chose a way forward there. They saw him
square his shoulders.

Tannil turned
and his goldenness was surreal in the starlight.

“We are
gathering. Do you feel it? Look within and then deny you’d not have
come anyway, whatever the news or excuse. Here we are - Valleur,
Siric, Q’lin’la and Centuar. Next to come is a Dalrish sorcerer and
tomorrow we make contact, by choice, with the humans after nearly a
thousand years. Why is that so? Why do we gather now?” Tannil
paused to look directly at Belun. “We gather, for the time is near.
We gather, for the Enchanter is about to return to us.”

Buthos gave a
smile, an outwardly small gesture that did not begin to mirror
inner elation. Belun, however, had nothing calm about him; he
whooped joy, punching the air like an exuberant child.

Everyone
laughed and into that hilarity arrived Fay and Caltian.

“Having your
own party, are you?” Fay teased.

Belun lifted
Fay off her feet, to twirl her around before depositing her with a
grand flourish on moist earth. Flushed, she swatted him playfully.
“Gods, Belun, I’ve never seen you like this!”

The Centuar
bowed theatrically. “It’s not every day one hears such
extraordinarily welcome tidings, my dear!”

“And I thought
you brought bad news.”

The Centuar
straightened, his mirth gone.

“You told
them?” Caltian asked of Tannil.

“Yes.” Tannil
approached to lead Fay aside.

She swallowed.
“You’re scaring me, Tannil.”

“Look at
Belun; there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Torrullin?”

Tannil smiled.
“Quick as always.”

“Really?” She
put a hand to her breast. “Really?” she echoed herself, staring
with wide eyes at her brother. “Where is he?”

“Not where,
when. We expect him daily.”

“You’re happy
about this? Good god, Tannil, you know the stories! The ultimate
battle for the Light! War on Valaris! He is to return because only
he can counter the evil that will arise! Is there such a threat -
dear gods, that’s why you send our people to Luvanor!”

Tannil was
speechless. Barring Caltian, with his guilt, Fay was the only other
who reacted with negativity.

Caltian
approached. “Fay, don’t be frightened. One look at the Enchanter
and you’ll know him as your saviour.”

The three
Immortals turned to each other. Saviour?

The Enchanter
was Destroyer also.

The following
day Tannil called a gathering in the Throne-room after the last of
the expatriates were sent on their way.

He proceeded
to logically reveal the incidents that brought Quilla, Buthos and
now Belun to Valla Island. He explained their long-time allies, the
Dalrish clan, traced the signatures back to Valaris. When he
further revealed Lucan Dalrish was expected, the seriousness of the
situation became evident. He said they should consider the
incidents as a sign of worse to come, possibly of a life altering
nature. He added the first change was the majority of the Valleur
embracing Luvanor.

He ended the
gathering with the fact that he intended to call on the Electan
that very night, in Galilan. Astonished, those in the Throne-room
heard him dismiss them.

“No, Lord
Vallorin,” Caballa said. “That’s not all of it and you can’t drop
the Electan meeting on us without full explanation.”

Mitrill said,
“I second that, Tannil.”

Tannil stepped
away from the throne. “There is more, but until I confer with
Marcus Campian it’s difficult to judge how serious the situation on
the continent is. He needs be prepared in any event.” He shrugged,
knowing he adroitly avoided the real issue.

Kismet was not
about to put off. “And the Dalrish?”

“They’ve been
on the trail for weeks now. They know what to look for. And they’re
human - Lucan Dalrish will be more acceptable to the Electan,”
Tannil said with an edge to his voice. This should be obvious.

“You’re taking
a Dalrish to Galilan?” Caballa asked.

“No, but we
may require a negotiator in the near future. I’m saying no more at
this point,” Tannil forestalled and made to leave the chamber.

Caltian’s next
words halted him. “I understand your reluctance, but there’s a
threat and your calm telling doesn’t diffuse that. You’re keeping
the important facts close.”

Buthos, Quilla
and Belun were markedly silent.

Tannil was
likewise quiet for a time, staring over their heads.

It was a
glorious day outside. The sky was sapphire blue, the ocean still
and smooth, barely audible. There was not a suggestion of a breeze
to disturb the trees. This day was true spring and the air was
pleasantly warm and sweet.

“For long I’ve
been waiting. I feel as if I am Vallorin in name and blood only.
Why should it be only war proves a man’s worth? Still, now the
waiting is about to bear fruit, I find I’m wary of change. I prefer
the status quo.” Tannil paused, focused and continued, “On the one
hand I’ve been waiting for Torrullin all my life, thinking his
return would signify my standing forward to claim my place, and on
the other hand I’ve been dreaming the reason for his return, and
the latter filled me with such dread, such sorrow, I could never
recall the message in the morning, until I went to the Three
Gates.” Tannil looked to his mother. “I admit to reluctance, for in
saying it aloud I begin to make it reality.”

“Riddles,
Tannil,” Mitrill frowned, but was not unsympathetic.

“I know it
seems that way.”

Caballa
stepped forward. “What is known, Lord Vallorin?”

Kismet prodded
her. “Come, Caballa - we know.”

“We’re
guessing, Kismet, and I want it said, to hear it, so there is no
mistake.” She stared disconcertingly at Tannil with her sightless
eyes.

“Speak, son,”
Mitrill said, adding her support to Caballa.

Caltian
snapped. “This is about Torrullin!”

“That I
gathered,” Mitrill said.

“He is
expected.”

“Common
knowledge. We all live in expectation.”

“Now,” Tannil
stated. “Any day, any minute. No later than Teroux’s fifth
birthday.”

Caballa smiled
and Kismet’s hand settled onto her shoulder in support, and to
share elation.

“How can you
be sure?” Mitrill asked.

“I don’t want
to get into that here,” Tannil responded.

Mitrill
glanced from her son to her husband. “You knew, Caltian?”

“I was afraid
to tell you.”

“Even now,
husband?” She shook her head and Caltian was not sure whether it
was resignation or exasperation or disappointment. “We’ll discuss
it later. Tannil, if you know he returns, then we must regard these
incidents you speak of as unholy.” Quilla and Buthos nodded. “We’re
wasting time and talk in speculation; we should prepare for battle
and you should’ve been clearer at the start of this meeting.”
Mitrill was steadfast.

“It bodes
ill,” Fay muttered.

“You’re right,
but it appears the trouble foreruns Torrullin and we may soon thank
our lucky stars he is among us.”

“I hadn’t
thought of it like that.”

Mitrill smiled
and patted her daughter’s arm, and faced Tannil. “Gathering your
team is not preparation, Tannil.”

“It’s a start,
and I intend to recall the Throne.”

“How? We were
unsuccessful in the past.”

“To Torrke,
not Valla Island.”

She breathed
through clenched teeth. “You assume too much, I think.”

Tannil paced
forward and he was Vallorin then. “The Throne knows only one home
and you knew that, and never did you mention it.”

“I was young
and didn’t have the answers. I still don’t.”

“After five
hundred years of trying, youth fled away on the wind as an
excuse.”

“That’s
enough, Tannil,” Caltian said.

Tannil opened
his mouth to remonstrate and then thought better of it. “In
recalling the Throne to Torrke, we must acknowledge the valley as
its true home, and we need realise we’ll be staking renewed claim
to that portion of the continent, in itself a battle of wills,
probably with the Electan as the main protagonist. Yet it must be
done.”

“It’s a risk,”
Fay muttered.

“I believe the
risk in not recalling it could be the greater.”

“I second
that,” Kismet murmured.

“Besides, what
manner of battle do we prepare for? Trench war? Guerrilla tactics?
Sorcery? Immortal versus mortal? Human versus Valleur? All of the
above? None of the above? We don’t know enough to make our
choices.”

Tannil met
every gaze in the chamber.

“Linir
uncloaked will help. Conferring with the Electan will bring greater
clarity. Permitting Lucan Dalrish to investigate will eliminate
uncertainty. Recalling the Throne will gift me the power to see.
Gathering my team, as you put it, mother, places us in a state of
readiness. When my grandfather stands before me, it will be to find
we have not been idle, we heed the signs and we’re prepared to
stand with him. As he prophesied, this will be his battle, and
he’ll know the way and why of it. Don’t tell me I assume too much;
I have lived this moment my entire life.”

Mitrill
approached her son and laid a hand against his tense cheek. Very
like Vannis, this man. “Forgive me, I was presumptuous. I tend to
overlook you are Vallorin.”

He laid a hand
over hers and smiled. “We’ve had peace too long for me to have
proven my worth.”