The Presence (G of R)

Chapter Thirty

Gathering of Rain

They dispersed after the morning’s revelations, needing time away from discussion, debate and information, from knowledge. Thus, singly and in pairs, they dispersed.

It was not easy to put the game aside. Destiny’s noose tightened around all of them in one way or another and they would not emerge unchanged.

Kylan and Kisha disappeared together in search of herbs and potions to restock Kylan’s pouch. He was forced to throw what he had away; seawater ruined it. Kisha took the opportunity to find a hat to protect her northern skin against the southern sun. Both were amazed to discover that the coin for north and south had not changed. The few dians she had - the north relying on barter rather than money- could be happily spent in Actar. The two had fun amid the stalls and tiny shops, and laughed a great deal in those hours between. In quieter moments Kylan looked at this woman who had turned his life upside down and inside out. He asked her to give them all a chance. He did not say it, but he did not want to lose her, not yet. He did not say it, but she heard him anyway and smiled secretly. She prayed for the opportunity to discover something solid together. Kylan was a wonderful man; her father would have approved.

Aven dragged a chair onto the balcony and there he fell asleep, his thoughts swirling in the unconscious over Averroes, awaiting her return, praying for it. Taranis had promised to fetch her when night fell, signature be damned. The game was at a critical stage. He also had confusing thoughts about Rain. Always he had been able to read between the lines, see through and behind temper tantrums, into his argumentative nature, and now Rain was elusive. He worried and his dreams were not soothing. Mordan stayed with him, also falling asleep. Mordan, for his part, slept soundly.

Rain vanished alone, to find a moneylender…and to think.

His thoughts were not always pleasant.

Taranis told nobody where he was going.

His thoughts were far from soothing also.

Llettynn and Belun made it to the edge of town without being seen and there, far from prying eyes, took to the skies.

Glint went to a secluded eatery and, having explained to the credulous proprietor about the new skin dye he was testing for a fancy-dress party, proceeded to taste everything that came out of the kitchens. He placed a huge order to take back with him, much to the proprietor’s delight. How he would pay was anyone’s guess. Glint did not give the game thought. He already lived with destiny; he had seen many changes come and go- this was another and would play out one way or the other.

Samson and Cristi went sightseeing, entranced by the southern ways. They quietly discussed what they had heard. As the two youngest they often felt unable to contribute and thus forged strength simply by admitting their fears to each other.

Saska did not know what to do with her time and when McSee offered to take her out to the reef-lake, she readily agreed. They hired a small boat and sailed the heat of the day away amid cool ocean breezes. Neither mentioned the irony of being on calm water after so close a shave with death. McSee did ask about the Sylmer, but she did not want to talk about it and turned the flow of their conversation to his boyhood adventures, often laughing with delight. McSee had shadows in his eyes- did they not all have those now?- but he was interesting when not on the subject of magic and knew how to entertain.

Sometime during the day Rain reported the Calloway lost at sea to the local authorities, explaining the circumstances as best he could. He asked that word be sent to Betty at the Luannesse.

Night fell, and brought with it a presence.

Not the noise, the music, the colour, the revellers, although it brought that too.

McSee and Saska had just moored, pleasantly tired and absolutely ravenous, when they felt the air heave and shimmer. They stared at each other wordlessly and then began to run.

Samson and Cristi, laden with packages, stopped and looked at each other, feeling the sinister vibrations in the air, under their feet…they dared not move.

Glint was halfway up the stairs bearing a large tray covered with edible goodies, payment satisfactorily concluded, when the air became so dense he could barely breathe. He propped himself and the tray against the wall and waited it out.

Llettynn and Belun endured much enquiry as to where had they got those incredible wings, when they experienced a heave and suction, a tearing through the fabric that was air.

Aven woke up clutching at his throat, and Mordan prostrated himself on the floor in irrational fear.

Kisha and Kylan stumbled on the cobbles of a square and clutched each other, slowly looking skyward.

Rain rounded the final corner to their residence, when the air thickened and congealed about him. Taranis, coming from the other side, stood dead still, staring at Rain, but not seeing him, his throat constricted.

They were not alone in the terrifying experience.

The noise of Actar subsided as pleasure-seekers froze or fell or held onto each other. They clamped about trees, stuck to walls, cowered into benches, all in consternation, and eventually they too looked skyward, expecting a severe thunderstorm after the heat of the day, after heat of weeks. What else could possibly thicken air pressure dramatically…if not the precursor to an epic storm?

Consternation turned to fear when they saw nothing but darkening sky with stars winking brightly. The moon had not yet risen. Everything appeared normal…while the air grew ever thicker, heaved, shimmered, moved. Fear grew apace, yet not a body stirred, nor uttered a sound. Actar froze.

Breathless waiting.

Suffocating. Airless.

And then it was over.

The would-be revellers dispersed, the night’s pleasures over before they had properly begun. Fear remained tangible. The rumours about Farinwood, Infinity, strange glows and changeling children resurfaced, although words were barely shared. Now this, they seemed to say with their eyes.

That night, Valarians- for the strangeness was widespread- in private and in hushed tones, speculated about the coming war, darklings, and recalled the horror of Drasso and Infinity. The precedent for evil confrontation already existed in Valarian psyche, and they were awakening to the fact that their beloved world was changing beyond their control. Forces were at work. The sages among them said it was long overdue, but not even they understood the meaning of their words.

One by one they rushed back; Glint first with the food, having been nearest, and Saska and McSee last, having been the furthest.

‘What’s happening?’ Cristi asked, her voice quavering. She twisted the cord at her waist.

‘Shh, it’s over now,’ Samson murmured, comforting her in his arms.

‘No, I’m afraid it has just begun,’ Rain stated. He stood just within the door, his fair hair a tangled mess, grey eyes faraway. ‘What we just experienced is a signature. When a great feat of magic is in operation, there is a signature that can be felt by all magic-users. This one was the mother of a feat if everyone felt it.’

Aven said from where he sat rumpled on the couch: ‘Something like a forgotten lord readying for a revealing?’

There was dead silence.

Taranis said it. ‘Vannis.’

Rain nodded, still looking into far distances. ‘Yes, the Vallorin.’ His hand strayed to the Medaillon on his chest, and Taranis moved to thrust that questing hand aside.

‘No, we don’t know enough. It’s his.’

Focusing briefly, Rain brought his gaze to Taranis, eyes grey and so like his own, and then unfocused again, and his hand fell away. Taranis glanced over at Llettynn, who motioned for him to leave the mortal alone, to see what came next. Taranis stepped reluctantly away.

‘Vannis is almost free,’ Rain said in a disembodied voice. ‘He has been imprisoned for a long time, now seeks release. Averroes set him on that path a few minutes ago. That is what we experienced. She believes it a dream, and took a dream into new levels out of curiosity. He is beautiful, looks like us, golden skin…a dragon tattoo on his chest. His eyes are…mostly yellow, but changeable. He needs the Medaillon to complete the release, to remove the final barrier to his freedom…she was meant to have it, she is the bearer he was waiting for, she is the Changeling. He is Vannis, Vallorin of the Valleur, he tells her, he is furious, so close, thwarted…Averroes is…there is danger for her…’

Aven rose, sat down, and then rose again. He glared accusingly at Taranis, who was too intent on Rain to notice.

He is very good, Belun thought, his eyes also on Rain.

‘You’re in danger also!’ Taranis blurted, gripping Rain’s arm. ‘You have the Medaillon he needs. Pull back before he sees you!’ Taranis willed the man away, praying he would hear, and, to his relief, Rain focused on him. ‘Thank the Lady,’ Taranis muttered, and then said without turning away: ‘Belun, call the Eagles, all of them, to hell with signatures…and tell them to find Averroes, tell them to bring her here. We need to get her into protection immediately.’

Aven slumped as Belun began communicating with the Dome.

Taranis gave his undivided attention to Rain. He still held the man’s arm in a death-grip; with a muttered apology, he let go. ‘You’re more powerful than you know, Rain of the Mantle. You are now the key to his freedom, and he is going to sense that soon. You will be his main target.’

‘He incarcerated himself, Taranis,’ Rain said. ‘Deliberately, for this time.’

‘That’s a bloody long time to stew through,’ Glint muttered.

‘Do not use the Medaillon again,’ Taranis said. And then he frowned, realising Rain had not, in fact, touched it. More powerful than any of us suspect even now and that could be as dangerous as a freed, angry Vallorin. Breathing out, he retreated into the room, carefully schooling his face.

Llettynn sucked at his teeth, as expressionless as ever.

Saska stared at Rain, wondering who he was, what he was, and where he was going. She needed to know. She desperately desired to know.

And Rain- he withdrew. Inwardly he asked the same questions and that placed him on par with those around him, but his answers, if he had the courage to acknowledge them, put him somewhere else entirely. His time was approaching.

Destiny would force his hand.

****

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A multiverse flea market

Although the town was set in the dry western regions, it was more fortunate than most towns on the seaboard; it was situated within the bifurcation of the Mors River. The town was therefore on a natural island; sturdy stone bridges allowed pedestrians and wagons to enter and exit at will and in safety. Compared to the land beyond the two rivers, Linmoor was a little paradise.


Space was restricted; therefore buildings were three to five storeys high, narrow affairs with communal walls. The cobbled alleys were narrower still, permitting little natural light, but were clean and dry. Only at the harbour jutting into the ocean was space set aside- for informal trading. Here the population of Linmoor gathered to buy and sell at bright, gaudy stalls, anything and everything anyone could need, want and imagine. Here they came to socialise and seek the sun, and to gawk at visitors, for there were plenty of those at any given time, Linmoor being well known for its market.


The din was incredible. A babble of chaotic sound enveloped them instantly. Vannis almost grabbed at his head and Rain frowned. Saska took it in her stride. They left their skiff with a man who could have been the twin to the sailor in Mintor. Saska quietly gave him the same warning she had given the other, but was not sure whether he believed her.


Stepping off the jetty behind the two men, she stared open-mouthed at the wares on display. Despite the watering sun no one seemed inclined to pack up. She had never seen the like in her long life. As they threaded their way through the dense throng, even Vannis looked around with avid curiosity. There were clothes, bright and drab, catering to all tastes, pots and pans, jewellery, semi-precious and costume, vegetables ordinary and exotic, toys, quaint wooden bowls shaped like fish and swans, leather belts studded with semi-precious stones, knives for hunting, knives for eating, soaps, drying racks, candles in a variety of shapes and sizes, pot plants, alcohol, foods deliciously aromatic…and she was glad she was walking on two legs and not swimming in some far ocean. For once her hankering as a Sylmer for open water receded into the background.

We Immortals are too aloof from everyday life. Wistfully she looked at Rain’s retreating back. I’d have liked to enjoy this with him. She caught Vannis looking at her and mentally shook herself. He did not need to know what her weakness was. Or who. He had already referred to her relationship with Rain, if one could call it that, but he did not need to know how much it mattered.

HOUSE OF VALLA

Dialogue with Saska

Saska

(Recorded before Saska vanished for a time amid the Pilanese)

Blue: My lady, you appear sad. Why is that?

Saska: I’m sorry, Blue, I know of your work, but I really don’t think it’s anyone’s business. Besides, I have somewhere to be.

Blue: Just a few moments. You know I don’t have to write it down; it won’t take long.

Saska: Taranis has wondered how you’re able to remember everything so well.

Blue: I’m not being interviewed, am I?

Saska: Hmm. Someone should. But I don’t have the time.

Blue: I’m thinking it’s a man. Making you sad.

Saska: Loss makes us sad, friend, whether of a loved one, a way of life…hope, faith, health…many reasons.

Blue: It’s a man.

Saska: Not that I’ll tell you.

Blue: And now you run from him. Do you hope he won’t find you…or do you hope he’ll act with sufficient commitment to discover your hiding place?

Saska: Neither. Both. Argh, he drives me insane!

Blue: Who, my lady? Perhaps I could put him to the question.

Saska: Oh, good luck with that. He won’t talk.

Blue: I’m thinking now it can only be the one they are calling Enchanter who does this to you. I’m also thinking you should expect as much. An enchanter? That is a lonely calling. He will find it hard to commit to a personal relationship.  Not so?

Saska: What do you know about it?

Blue: And there you confirm my suspicion. They call him Torrullin, I hear, and his name means Lifegiver and Destroyer simultaneously. My lady, how do you hope to reach through to someone like that?

Saska: By loving him, damn it! Not that it matters! He has chosen another! She is….argh!

(Saska dematerialises at this point, her pain and anger causing her to flee. Blue is left wondering how she can create an opportunity to speak with Torrullin.)

Three Gates

In the friendly light the islands were softened, nestling into the calm ocean, slumbering before the heat of the day.

Three islands, close and visible to each other, rose sheer on all sides out of the sea as if pulled by an almighty force from the depths. The cliffs were a brilliant, sparkling white, smooth, with no handholds, impossible to scale, but carved into the side of each island there was a gentle meander of time-worn stairs rising from the deep ocean, here so like a lake, spiralling around the outcrops of land until they gently gave way to the plateaus above.

When she came with Vannis the day before the stairs were there, although substantially eroded, and the sea beat itself senseless against unforgiving grey cliffs. The land, though level, was black and brittle underfoot, as if scorched for ages. A harsh place, sustaining no life, not even a hardy seabird. Now, after the uncloaking, the plateaus were uniform emerald, grass cropped short as if a contented herd of horses had been a-grazing but moments ago. There were no horses, but there were birds; strange, little yellow creatures with long scarlet legs and sharply pointed blue beaks. They fluttered here and there and every time they moved their wings, the sound of mournful flutes filled the air. They walked with graceful, dainty steps and every time their small three-toed talons touched ground, the sound of tinkling bells was heard. Saska was entranced by the little creatures, and by the happy-sad melodies of their movements.

Yesterday Vannis whistled a short, complicated tune that brought them to him in greeting, their fluttering causing flute music to rise and fall in deliberate melody. Communication, she realised. She had never before experienced such complete serenity.

‘They are sky-born,’ Vannis whispered, tears in his eyes. ‘They are the very last of their kind, rescued from a far planet poisoned by darklings. They are almost sentient and would have achieved it if they continued undisturbed. The Valleur call them Ephnor, an ancient word for Heavenly Music.’

‘Why do they not fly away?’

‘This is their home.’

‘Vannis, has all the life around the sites been in stasis?’

‘Time has no meaning out there in the magical realms, Saska. For the Ephnor, for every blade of grass, it has been but a moment, a blink, a thought.’

Incredible. She looked at them now, the birds of music. How happy they seemed; how sad they had lost their sentient future.

She raised her eyes to the nearest arch, still amazed by it, by all of them. The birds had so taken her in yesterday that it was a time before she actually looked at the islands; aptly named little spits of land, for to any eye it was three gates. Upon each island there stood an iridescent blue arch, free-standing in splendid isolation, structures at least ten times higher than the average woman, seemingly sculpted from one solid block of stone. What stone it was, she could not comprehend, but she knew there were no joins; the surfaces were smooth and unblemished.

‘The Three Gates,’ Vannis said, rather obviously, causing her to smile. ‘The Gate of Forgotten Past,’ and he gestured to the arch left of them, ‘and the Gate of Remembered Future.’ He pointed right. ‘This one before us, sandwiched between Past and Future, is the Gate of Present Dreams.’ They had uncloaked from the central island. ‘Self-explanatory, I would think.’

House of Valla 

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The 'gods'

Herald, lift your bugle! The gods have come!

Using magic to travel via doorways through the spaces, insubstantial as a breath of wind, faster than any light, they materialized seconds apart in the clearing. Like to Drasso and his kind, when they sought entrance through the barrier of the space warp surrounding Valaris skies, it proved assailable then and it proved so now; the warp was no barrier to real magic, and thus not to them.

Belun of the Centuar arrived first and he grinned as he landed. Time for action! His golden tail was raised high in challenge and swished gracefully. When physical battles were enjoined Centuar plaited their tails in intricate patterns- the symbolism of war. Belun’s eyes were silver with dark blue pupils, the pupils contracting and expanding in light and dark. His glorious wings, folded now, glinted in the sunlight; a shimmering palette of gold and silver. He was a truly magnificent sight. Let it be said here a Centuar is not a Centaur, a confusion for those who don’t know the truth. A Centaur is a myth, a story, a tale, and may even be real in the back ends of time, for myth frequently has basis in reality, but a Centuar is of the universe, part of time and history and reality, a created legend that continues to breathe and function, think and act. Belun, if one dared query the distinction, would snap at one for confusing one with the other.

Glint of the Sagorin and Llettynn of the Siric arrived simultaneously. Llettynn was in his usual white attire, wings folded sedately. Glint, whose skin tone was a paler green than his companions, had divested himself of eye-catching amber to don shades of green that blended with the Forest; even his boots were green, which Belun smirked at, and only his hair relieved the severity of camouflage. It hung loose, long and enviably thick, the purest white.

Saska of the Sylmer appeared three seconds after, arriving closest to the Well. She complemented Glint in her green tones, but had swapped elven slippers for sturdy hiking boots and tinkling bracelets were missing. A broad leather strap adorned her left upper arm, studded with crimson, sapphire and saffron gems. This was more than adornment; it was a highly effective weapon.

Taranis, having ascertained his team’s safe arrival, came last, appearing at the edge of the clearing, his muscular form clad entirely in grey, the most effective colour of concealment.

He strode forward to meet up at the Well of Crystal Sound.

(using colour to illustrate the impact Guardians have on others)

Gathering of Rain

Ancient Akhavar

She sat up, propping herself on one arm while the other hand wiped inefficiently at the perspiration on her face. Hot was not the word. Hellfire furnace. Yes, that said it better. A stiff breeze sprang up, but just made unbearable conditions worse. A devil’s wind, his fiery breath. She rose lethargically to move into the shadow of one of the rock pillars stationed at the very edge of the plateau, dragging her water bottle into the shade with her.

Strange how the ancient sentinels remained, she mused, teetering on the brink of not only the plateau, but collapse, never quite reaching that point. How old were they- a billion years? Whoever fashioned them knew the art of building, for they were truly ancient. All signs of other structures had been scoured into obscurity by the devil winds and baked to blackened pebbles by the harsh sun. The pillars were a mute testament and perhaps that was why they held on. When they finally toppled there would be no more evidence.

She waited for the sun to arc its way behind the mountains at her back, not really thinking anything, just waiting. With the sun blocked by the incredible megaliths she would move about more easily. Hopefully. It would still be hot, but her skin would not blister upon the sun’s penetrating touch.

She no longer questioned the incessant prompting that drove her to this long dead world and no longer fought it. It would not help, she was here, and it was too damn hot to reflect too much. At first she thought it was due to her recent accomplishments on other sterile planets, renewals well done, but then knew it had to be something else. Her calling as Lady of Life had been passed to another and while that was not so long back, the promptings only began after.

Walker of Realms

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