Excerpt: The Nowhere Sphere – The Purity of the Unicorn

Frozen Forest

IT WAS EVEN COLDER when he headed out into the dark. Torrullin cursed as he stumbled over roots and branches, but dared not create light to ease his path. It took hours in the cold and dark to situate every trap in a wide perimeter and to draw the shield to encompass all, but eventually it was done, and he could head back. The lure of hot coffee was an all-consuming need.

As he approached the gate something new in the environment drew his attention. Until then the forest was filled with the usual night sounds – owls, scuttling creatures, a flap of wings, squeaks – and now everything was silent. That kind of quiet generally occurred when something new was in the region and the creatures waited to see whether it meant danger or something to be safely ignored. This silence went beyond what was there while he tramped around.

He could not see, but he could feel.

First came the silence, and he stood still.

Then came hot breath on his cheek.

He did not react, but his heart jerked wildly. He made no move.

Lorinin.

His heart thumped hard. Gods. “Who are you?”

What am I?

Fine. A game. What are you?

A slight glow appeared over his left shoulder. He turned with exaggerated care. The glow strengthened and took form. This time his heart threatened to burst from its confines.

You are surprised.

Torrullin placed a hand over his heart. More than words can describe.

It was a creature of myth and legend. The purity of goodness. The beauty of tireless strength. A unicorn. White, ethereal and incredibly beautiful. It made no sound as it moved to stand in his field of view, its hooves silvery and seeming to float above the forest floor. A horn of incredible simplicity glowed faintly blue from the centre of its forehead and long lashes swept over pale sad eyes as it studied Torrullin.

Many years ago, the little flower needed aid.

Rose. You created her citadel.

I could not feed her. I wish I could have fed her.

She survived. Today she is strong.

I am glad.

Is this your domain? Torrullin asked.

We do not claim domain, Lorinin. We are and we are not.

In a nowhere place, everything is possible.

 At the time of Tianoman Valla’s Naming, a blue sphere hovers in the scrying bowl, along with a silver cathron in an ebony floor. The time for that future is due, for beyond realms and the known universe, a mighty manipulation commences, and it assumes the form of blue spherical space.

 This is a Nowhere Sphere.

Tianoman is kidnapped by an enemy believed dead, and taken to the place where a silver cathron knocker lurks in the darkness of a polished surface, where also a crucible swirls in vapour, creating within an entity that cannot be permitted life.

An entire planet is vaporised, and souls scream for release in the aftermath. As Torrullin Valla’s memory returns after the event on Echolone, his ability to forgive is buried in the layers time has laid down, and now he needs to care, to feel again, to forgive. He must travel the void created by anti-matter to find not only Tianoman and the other Vallas, but also Elianas Danae, for he will suffer most.

In Nowhere, everything that moves in hearts, minds and souls will become the answers Torrullin requires to again known himself. It will also unmask the Danae.

THE NOWHERE SPHERE

Excerpt: The Drowned Throne – Volcanic Power

FERVENTLY TORRULLIN HOPED to see autumn again.

As Rayne he was entranced by the amazing spectacle of it, the many feasts as the harvest was brought in, culminating in the huge Harvest Festival of the month Haerfell. Reno, he recalled, loved it too, as had the boy Torrullin. Torrullin the man needed Valaris whole, for all reasons, not merely the majesty of autumn … and yet it called.

Shortly before dawn, he jerked upright, inadvertently tumbling Saska to the ground. She came awake grumbling. Briefly apologising, Torrullin vaulted to his feet.

“What do you sense?” Vannis whispered from the seat of power.

Taranis was already standing, sword to hand.

“Valleur sorcery. He is doing something.” The Enchanter’s eyes glazed in concentration.

Saska rose, looking up. The cloud cover had thickened and darkened during the preceding hours, all stars vanished. In the indistinct almost-light of pre-dawn, it appeared forbidding and dangerous. It was unbearably cold and quiet.

It would rain later.

Torrullin focused on them and his eyes glittered. “We had better pray for the mother of all storms in the next few minutes. Margus is unsealing the volcano in Gosa and has begun agitating the core.”

“Mother of all gods,” Vannis said, flinching. He straightened, his nakedness blue and goose-fleshed. “Gosa is too close for comfort. How much time do we have?”

“None,” Torrullin said.

“I thought the volcano was extinct,” Saska frowned.

“That will not stop him,” Taranis said in controlled fury. “Still, Gosa is a fair distance from here, with desert all around.”

“Agitating the core is unhealthy,” Vannis murmured.

Torrullin’s eyes glazed again. “The first gasses escape, the Horde has retreated to a safe distance. It will blow any second.” He focused on Vannis. “I believe they intend to direct the flow.”

“Into the Sound,” Vannis muttered. “Naturally.”

Torrullin faced west, staring over the treetops.

Taranis sighed, a hopeless sound, and Saska was rooted. No one, except Vannis, realised how potentially devastating the situation was. They did sense it on a more instinctive level.

“I can make it rain, like on Ardosia. Belun showed me,” Taranis offered.

Torrullin shook his head. “No heroics, Taranis. It takes time and when it blows you go with it.”

“Rain has never stopped lava,” Saska murmured. “Only big water … oh, I see, the Sound. The sea will go crazy and we will be in it … crap.”

“Exactly.” Vannis spat.

“Tremors,” Taranis whispered, staring at his feet.

It was the first shivers of a core at odds with itself after a long period of stability and dormancy, tremors that would swiftly become earthquakes, waves of motion to shake up entire regions.

The greyness began to glow then as if a giant cauldron had just had its lid lifted – precisely the case. Bright incandescent orange, not the dawn, no; that would materialise behind them in the east. A volcano preparing to erupt was unmistakable, even on Valaris where it had not happened in living or dead memory.

UNBEKNOWNST TO THEM, a number of the Horde left in pairs to wing their way across the continent. Two by two, not capable of total annihilation, but nonetheless able to cause certain damage, they laid waste to the empty and near-empty cities and towns; Galilan, Gasmoor, Tetwan, Saswan, Actar, Mintor, Linmoor, Winnish and Farinwood.

If Margus and his Horde were defeated, it would take Valaris centuries to return to former glory.

THE TREMORS WERE faint, but increasing in frequency.

As unmistakeable as a volcano preparing to erupt had been moments ago, thus it was with the actual eruption. They heard and felt a distant roaring, and the orange heavens in the west became a fireball, great and hot. The land shook in terror.

“Phet, investigate … cautiously,” Torrullin said.

The Falcon took to the air.

He returned quickly, tail and wingtips singed.

I could not get close, Enchanter, so I went high. There is a gigantic hole in the Gosa Mountains and it spews lava at a rate. I cannot adequately describe it. The sand burns, and already much land is covered in ash. Secondary eruptions are constant as gasses explode and there is no sign of anyone. Enchanter, they have engineered the main lava flow to head for the Sound opposite Aqua Islet and this one. It cannot be stopped.

“How soon before it hits the water?” Taranis asked.

Ten, twelve minutes – a guess only.

“Thank you, Phet,” Torrullin said. Time now to think, but not much of it available. “It is no isolated attempt at destruction. As with everything else, this too has purpose. If sufficient lava flows into the ocean, and let us assume that will be the case, Margus could engineer a land bridge to the mainland. The Sound will be left with only one outlet at Emleth.”

“The water level will rise,” Taranis followed, “although not significantly. I would suggest the problem lies in earthquakes, and the currents, naturally, will go haywire … god, tidal waves.”

“Yes,” Vannis said. “That is what this is about. He is challenging the island and, by inference, the Throne. Genius. Safe distance and a topographical alteration we are powerless against. Fine.” Vannis was grim, his eyes black. “The Throne is in danger. No magic can withstand changes of this nature to the terrain it requires to operate in. If this chair,” and he slapped the armrests, “is toppled, its power will be unleashed. It will be a disaster worse than a thousand volcanoes.”

An ancient seat has the power to destroy

From the cesspool of Silas Island into the underworld of Two Town, the battle continues. As epic storms batter the continent, men, women and children succumb to soltakin touch and darkling blade.

It is time to reveal the hidden half-race from under the sands of the Vall Peninsula; Valaris needs soldiers as much as she needs hope. It is time also to face Margus in his lair and throw down the gauntlet.

Arrayed against his might is the small team of defenders, among them Taranis of the Guardians, Vannis of the Valleur, and Torrullin, a man with a dual nature, who as often fights the darkness rising within as he fights to protect his world. Visions plague Torrullin; he struggles to find himself when fate appears omnipotent, and love ever beyond his reach.

The extinct Gosa volcano erupts as sacred sites implode, creating earthquakes and tidal waves. A monster surge races to the site of an epic confrontation before an ancient and powerful golden seat.

The Valleur Throne is about to assume ultimate status. Will it save or conquer their world?

THE DROWNED THRONE

Tower of Stairs (Excerpt & Real World proof)

Today I’m showcasing the Tower of Stairs, a sacred site in my Lore Universe. I wrote this many years ago, but only recently did I come across a real world place that actually mirrors what imagination conjured up. Here I’m including the excerpt from the Kallanon Scales (and AI image), as well as images of Ambuluwawa Tower in Kandy, Sri Lanka. Amazing, isn’t it?!

Northern Valaris

The Tower of Stairs

TORRULLIN TRANSPORTED north the afternoon before the others were expected. Thundor accompanied him. The Thinnings entertained the notion of entering the Zone and made good argument.

After surveying the massive arena that was the Tower of Stairs, Torrullin was satisfied. It was the best place for what would come next. He cleared the vast floor of light snow and hopped up onto the first tier to check the caverns hewn into the rock. The caverns were comfortable suites for the Valleur when they spent time here. He reinstated the tradition of gathering at the amphitheatre for winter and summer solstices. Twice a year the mountains thus reverberated with celebration. The next solstice was a month and a half away.

Torrullin raised his gaze to the four peaks, Mon, Shin, Rue and Bres, permanently snow-capped, but free of cloud. Saska loved those peaks, different to anything on her homeworld, watery Canimer.

Snow lay thick around the edges of the arena, but conditions were acceptable under the auspices of the site’s magic. There were five tiers and the Vallorin’s suite was on the central level at the northern compass point, and that was where Torrullin headed. He did not go in, swivelling instead before the entrance to view the fantastical tower in the centre of the arena, rising to a height to rival that of the four peaks. Around this spike a stairway wound, no handholds, no railing, ever tighter as the diameter decreased with height, until it ended in a platform no more than two hand spans in width.

At every solstice gathering, they elected a solstice king and queen and theirs was the challenge to mount the stairs and climb as high as they dared, and thereafter others attempted to better them. Thus far, only Vannis attained the pinnacle, in another era.

During Margus’ unsavoury reign, Vannis and Taranis challenged each other. A year later, in autumn, they made good on it. Those remaining after the final battle with Margus came to witness; himself, Saska, Raken, Lycea with the infant twins, Belun, Lanto, Kisha and Kylan, Quilla, Phet and Shep Lore.

They came to witness, but also to reunite. Fun they had, laughing hard when Taranis ventured a third of the way to descend with dark mutterings about it being impossible. He was immortal, but not stupid. Vannis proved him wrong, ascending an additional third, but came down without attempting the pinnacle. He wryly stated he no longer possessed the same fearlessness, and Torrullin wondered if he lied to spare Taranis. Vannis and Taranis could be competitive, were often at odds.

He stared now at the Tower. He had denied every challenge at the solstice meetings. His gaze travelled the length of the spike, pausing midway on a tiny speck. Thundor.

Now it was him. And the Thinnings. A witness.

Torrullin ambled across the arena floor, gathering missing willpower, and wits. He needed to challenge and sharpen his human abilities. He placed a booted foot on the first step and looked up to find Thundor five steps removed.

The Thinnings raised an eyebrow. “With no Valleur in the vicinity? Does that not defeat the purpose of the exercise?”

“If you have been watching as closely as you suggest, you must know those questions are immaterial.”

Thundor bowed. “The Enchanter prefers privacy.”

For a moment that put Torrullin off. “You believe it a fault?”

“For this, no. I think the reason many fail in the climb is the pressure of personalities watching.”

“Out of my way.”

Thundor scuttled aside as Torrullin passed him and began to climb. One carefully placed foot after the other, maintaining eye contact with the next precarious step. He climbed slowly, halting every tenth to draw a deep breath.

It was simple at first, taking little energy, but gradually the gaps between the stairs lessened and the width narrowed. He looked neither up nor down, clamping down every natural instinct that would have him check his progress, but his heart began to hammer, and he wondered belatedly if he should have removed his boots at the base; there was barely enough room to place his foot.

Too soon, he placed his feet on alternate steps, causing him to over-balance. For the first time he put a steadying hand to the Tower itself, and retracted instantly when it felt as if it would toss him down. He understood what others said about the Tower’s influence upon the climb.

The stairs became slippery, the air colder, and he knew he passed the two-thirds level. He dared not check. There were his feet, the next cautious placement, and his hammering heart. Nothing to be afraid of, for he could arrest his fall if he tumbled over, but he desired to go as far as he was able to, and return to ground without a humiliating tumble.

Resting to draw deep breaths in the thin air, he released in a cloud of vapour that nearly blinded him. He shallowed his breathing, through his nose now, grit his teeth and took another step, every third thereafter.

He lifted for the next before he realised there were no more. With a silent oath he sought to regain balance, standing swaying on his toes on the tiny platform.

Long moments passed and he had it, standing unmoving at the top of the world. Without sorcery, it was all him. He wanted to shout, revel in the achievement, and dared not. He needed to go down and, according to reports, that was worse.

He gazed around, not long, for he felt the pull of gravity, and looked upon Valaris without the Sight. What a wondrous planet, such incredible beauty and diversity. How he loved this world of his birth, through every change. He stared south in the direction of the Keep and could see and sense the activity there. He felt Torrke, the sentient presence, acknowledge his gaze. He drew breath, feeling lost. Torrke, a friend as no other, but not human, not Valleur, no tangible, beating heart.

Where are you, Saska?

He turned before loneliness overcame concentration, but had the presence of mind to do so in infinitesimal degrees until he faced the downward spiral. For an instant, his gaze fixed on the faraway arena floor, and he understood how the downward view influenced the descent.

Regaining control, he pasted his gaze to the stairs. He attempted to ignore his pounding heart, but that was not as easy with blood pulsing in his ears. He descended.

He could not do this with the entire Valleur nation hanging onto his every move; their expectations alone would debilitate. Thundor was right. He was certain Vannis achieved this feat in private. He would ask sometime.

Torrullin came to the point where the stairs took on every aspect of normality, and realised he had succeeded, the up and the murderous down, and ran to the bottom.

A tinny clapping of hands marked his remarkable achievement, and he laughed aloud. Thundor danced a merry jig on the arena floor.

“Very well done, Enchanter!”

Torrullin slapped the side of the Tower in glee. “Got your measure now!”

Thundor appeared on the step at eye level. “You have courage, Enchanter. The Thinnings revere that.”

Torrullin’s hands slid from the cold rock. “My little friend, courage isn’t everything.”

“I was not talking about courage alone,” Thundor demurred. “I meant we revere you.”

“I do not deserve it.”

“Humble also? It doesn’t suit you. It is as it is. Of course, the Thinnings do understand that your tale is yet to begin, but …”

“Begin?”

Thundor chewed at his lips. “Me and my big mouth.”

“There are Dragons, Thundor?”

The Thinnings looked at him sideways. “Is this a test?”

“I have no idea.”

“I hate tests,” Thundor muttered, looking everywhere but at Torrullin. “Every examiner seeks a difference answer. What are you looking for?”

“A simple yes or no will suffice.”

Thundor sighed deeply. “Yes, Enchanter, there are Dragons.”

“As I suspected.”

The Thinnings knew something was confirmed that had less to do with the actual existence of Dragons than an inner something.

Torrullin shrugged and paced away, his mind in renewed turmoil. It was time for Quilla to come clean. No more stalling. After a while, he began counting paces, realising what use it would be to Matt, and thus could set aside thoughts of Dragons. He set aside the achievement in ascending the Tower; it was not important. He did not set aside Thundor’s inadvertent comment about his journey having yet to begin.

THE KALLANON SCALES

An ancient map points the way …

 … as well as a strange prophecy, and anyone who dares speak of either, dies.

A new enemy enters the Valla arena, but this one is as old as time and seeks a forbidden place. The terrible source of Valla power is uncovered. As friends and family are murdered, Torrullin reveals the truth about the Valla Dragon. He hurtles into battle when his twin sons are kidnapped, and takes with him into danger a pilot, a navigator and an innocent girl – they are the Dalrish seeking escape from Xen III.

Another truth rears up, the tale of the Nine who fled into the Forbidden Zone with a strange taliesman in the shape of a dragon. Quilla knows who the fire creatures are; the Q’lin’la fled them in ancient time. They are the Kallanon, the Glittering Darkness.

“There are dragons in my future,” Torrullin once tells Quilla, and that future is now.

War erupts on a world no more than a circle on an ancient map. There Torrullin discovers who his sons really are, Taranis of the Guardians confronts his inner demons, Bartholamu of the Siric faces his arch-nemesis, Q’lin’la and Kallanon are thrown into the same melting pot, an ancient emperor speaks again, the new Lady of Life is born, the Dalrish have a profound effect on Torrullin, and Vannis seeks revenge.

The Kallanon Scales is an epic journey into the realms of time and legend, and forever alters the future.

Chapter 10: ECHO: Autumn of the Dragon

*spoiler alert*

Chapter 10 gives quite a bit away!

Seasons Series Book 1

CHAPTER 10

TIME PLAYS TRICKS

Knowledge is a powerful tool and also a burden.

~ Scroll of Wisdom ~

THE NEW DAY brought with it rain, torrents of it, so much that Kelby muttered about volcanoes snuffing forever. The water found every gap, running in rivulets under clothes. Within minutes of its beginning, all were thoroughly drenched and utterly dispirited.

Not bothering with a warm drink or food, they headed for the trees, hoping the canopy would offer some relief. It did, but it also heralded a different kind of tension. The band waiting in the forest was not small, and all were armed. Only Moira smiled something akin to welcome.

“Thought she said no real weapons,” Ilan grumbled from the rear.

Oreun had taken to wing as they vanished into the trees and could not rebut. Echo pressed his lips together and approached the woman. “You expecting us to give you trouble?” he asked, flicking a wrist at the nearest man, this one a dark-skinned muscle statue, hefting a mace able to slay a giant.

“Precaution only,” she said. “We know what you can do.”

“Then you must know even your fastest bowman will be slower than I am.”

“True, but what about your men? Can they defend themselves?”

She had a point, and wasn’t it his wet state causing his bad mood, not the situation under the trees. That, and his simmering anger towards a dragonne keeping secrets. “Lead on.”

Inclining her head, she did just that, heading deeper into the forest. The men and women with her encircled Echo and the seamen. He said not a word, simply picking up the pace to match hers. Walking might at least create warmth. An intriguing mixture of people, he noted, the result of many generations. Light and dark skins, eye colour ranged through the usual spectrum, excluding the yellow of Valleur, hair from fair to black, tall and average height, slim build to that one with his bulging biceps. Once they were Senlu and Airolan, today they were something new, much like humankind elsewhere with their range of features.

Moira soon fell back after indicating to someone to take the lead. She moved into step next to him. “You’re dissecting us.”

“Merely observing.”

“Valleur tend to regard others as lesser because they don’t have race traits.”

He huffed a laugh. “I think that’s your judgement, not mine.”

“But it is true that Valleur are golden haired and eyed.”

“For the most part, yes. Here on Luvanor that has changed somewhat.”

“Only somewhat. Because of the human influx at one stage.”

“Hmm, one could say you have human ancestors in your mix also. Senlu are largely red-haired and blue eyed, and it seems the Airolan were similar, and yet I see far more than that.”

She shrugged. “Might be. Does it matter?”

“Not to me.”

A sigh sounded. “You may be right. The judgement is mine.”

Echo gave her a skew smile. “The Valleur criticize themselves, too.”

The trees, he realised, had become thicker, larger, with more undergrowth prevalent. The evergreens now hosted orange and yellow foliaged boles, proving autumn was indeed the season. Varied birdsong abounded, obvious even over the drumming rain – the latter had mercifully lessened due to the thickened growth. They had clearly entered an older section, and he noticed they followed a narrow path, one well-trodden, forcing them into two abreast. This route was used frequently, probably for the fish in the lake. Also, it grew darker.

“Mountain shadow,” Moira offered.

He bit the inside of his cheek. She read his thoughts, or she was well-versed in body language and facial expressions. He carefully kept his expression neutral … only to hear her chuckle. Stopping, he folded his arms.

“I’m merely putting myself in your shoes,” she chortled, halting as well. “Right now, you’re wondering if I can read your thoughts. I can’t. I simply saw you frown at the trees as if speculating where the light went.”

“You read people well.”

She grimaced. “People watching. There’s not much to do here by way of entertainment. Especially in winter.”

The others stepped around them and went on. Watching that, Echo murmured, “You have status. They say nothing.”

“Seems you read people well, too.”

Shaking his head, he grunted, “Do you think you can give me a straight answer?”

“My parents are Arkwell’s current Pillars, which makes me de facto mouthpiece everywhere else.”

Pillars? Interesting choice. Echo said as much.

“When you see the town, you’ll understand why. Pillars abound,” Moira laughed. “Come. If we keep this pace, we can reach Lillivale by nightfall.” She strode on, throwing over her shoulder, “More ruins to tell more of our story.”

LILLIVALE, when they reached it, possessed another tower, although not as sprawling or tall as Malaya’s Folly. It reminded Echo of a space gantry, one where nature had reclaimed the structure. He pointed that out to Alain now keeping him company.

“This was to keep an eye out for fires,” the man responded. “The launch platform for the ships was to the east where the land is flat. Most of that is gone; an earthquake swallowed the buildings and broke the plateau. Marshland now.”

The edifice had been constructed on high terrain. Below, to the south, glints on water revealed another lake … and … Echo squinted in the growing dark. “Is that a wall?”

Alain nodded. “Water break when there was far more of it in the old days. Boats used to anchor in the calm behind it.” He pointed out various buildings and jetties above the subsided water line. “Folk came here to have fun, sail, you know, drink. We still use Lillivale to break our journey when the fish swim.”

“Yes, Echo, guess what? You’ll be sleeping dry tonight,” Moira said as she approached. “The cottages are in good repair. This remains a site for keeping the fire watch, so there’s always four residents on a rotational basis.”

“Good news,” he murmured.

Rolling her eyes, she told Alain to lead the seamen to a cottage, and then took Echo’s arm. “Come with me.”

Allowing her to tug him in her wake, noting a row of forest hued cottages on his right overlooking the lake, he wondered where Oreun had got to, and sent the thought into the ether. I shall be with you in the morning, was the reply. And no more. She shut him out without even a waft of apology. Why? Had Oreun chosen to allow the humanoids to connect first before becoming involved … or was she about some other secretive thing? His simmering anger became a strengthening glow of fury, but he schooled his face. Had to behave right now.

“Ooo, you’re clamping emotion down,” Moira said upon looking back. She slowed to walk next to him, hooking her arm through his. “What’s got you so mad? Don’t deny it. Your face doesn’t tell the tale, but your body does.” She briefly squeezed his upper arm.

“Oreun,” he said reluctantly.

“Ah. Keeper of Secrets, that one.”

The overgrown tower came into view. At ground level there was a deck serving as a viewing platform, currently unoccupied, and was that a telescope? Echo said not a word, leaving it up to his guide to inform him. She, in fact, led him to the device, gestured. Shrugging, he put his eye to the contraption … and reared back.

“What the hell?” he blurted.

“Technology and magic,” she murmured. “Look again.”

Warily, he did as bid. The land lit for him like to the noonday, to show every curve and dip, all of it in various shades of green and amber. The gadget employed the night vision principle, clearly, but the hues were a spell, had to be. Ingenious. And it meant these people were versed in sorcery. Huffing, he used the opportunity to gaze far, and saw in the distance a large light signature.

“That’s Arkwell.”

Ah. Swinging the device, he noted other tiny points of light. Villages, no doubt. He also saw an ominous shadow … “Mount Vassyn, I assume.”

“Indeed.”

“What is it you wish for me to discover with my own eyes?” he bit out. “A clue will help.”

Laughing under her breath, Moira said, “South and west, ground level.”

At first, he missed it, but on carefully shifting the eyepiece, well, there it was, except … what in all gods’ names was it? A circle of rotating light, sparking akin to electricity … oh. Oh. He reared up. “A portal?”

“Right first time,” Moira whispered. “And now you know why we came to meet you, Echayn Valla.”

“Does Oreun know of this?”

“Of course.”

Bloody hell. Fucking, bloody hell. “Oreun!” he hollered. “Get your arse here right now!”

Mere moments later a rainbow skittered in the air nearby, and then the dragonne landed in a flap of wings below the platform. She snorted a fire stream his way. Watch your manners!

“Fuck manners,” he snarled, vaulting over the railing to stride towards her. “You want my help, you start talking now.”

By the time he stood before the massive creature, all in Lillivale knew something was afoot, for they gathered in a semi-circle, including his men. Moira remained on the platform, leaning on her forearms.

“Where the fuck does that portal lead to?” Echo demanded.

“The Kallanon realm.”

Eyes narrowing, he whispered, “That’s how Neolone came to this universe?”

“No, he employed a rift the Q’lin’la created, one subsequently sealed. The portal here came much later, when the Kallanon uncovered the One prophecy and needed insight. They brought Neolone home as you have heard, but he did not know. He wasn’t lying about that. I was tasked with keeping the portal safe …”

“Because they found you when it opened. This is why you yet live.”

“The other reason is true also. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“Why does it remain open?” he demanded.

She inhaled a massive breath to release it as steam. “How do you think Nefilim came to your aid recently? It is the swiftest way to reach …”

“Torrullin.”

“The One, after all, not so? He is important to the Kallanon.”

Scrubbing at his face, Echo muttered, “And so a world sentience creates havoc here for reasons as stated, but also because, by god, one must with all one is fucking keep a portal from common view.”

“Just so.”

“You bloody evicted the Senlu! You did the same to the Airolan. Why, pray tell, have you between the two of you allowed these people to live here? Are they not a danger to your bloody tear in the fucking fabric?”

“Yes.”

He stared at her, and then twisted his head to peer up at Moira, saying, “You will be thrown off Senluar soon.”

“Which is why we need you,” she said quietly.

“Do you trust this dragonne?”

“We do. Oreun told us the day would come. The closer we are to magical transport, the more dangerous we are to this secret.”

Transport ability. Really. He swung back to the dragonne. “You dampen transport. You keep them back …”

“To save them, Echo.”

“Yes, fine, I understand that, but you will lift the veil now. I am going down to that portal forthwith.”

She stared at him.

He glared at her.

“It is lifted,” she eventually said.

Without further ado, Echo vacated the space he occupied. A thought swirled in the either, one he waved aside and then forgot about. Why was it that some of the gathered had looked at him as if he was insane … as if he spoke to himself, not the massive creature answering his questions?

ALONE, he squatted in shale and damp river sand. Water surrounded the portal, evidence of another lake. It meant, given the level had dropped exponentially since ancient time, the portal was once underwater, probably why no one knew of it. Senlu records certainly didn’t mention it. Man, Teighlar would have bent his ear had he known of its existence. Torrullin would have investigated already. His forte, after all.

A means for the Kallanon to enter Reaume. Clever.

A means, thus, for others to enter the Kallanon realm? Could it be done? Echo yanked at his hair in frustration. Only Torrullin could answer that question. Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

Oreun landed lightly nearby. “I have made oaths I cannot simply undo, Echo.”

All his anger bled away. He knew how it was to speak words of forever promise, and how keeping them bowed one. “I understand.”

“Thank you.”

He stood. “But now we need deal with this. It cannot be left unattended. You won’t be watching as closely as you have until now …”

“The Pillars of Arkwell watch also.”

“Glad to hear you have help, but they are not enough. The Kallanon are a force Reaume cannot deal with. Should some idiot decide to dive into that thing and wake them to a potential threat of invasion, they will act.”

“They will go to Lord Elixir first for clarity.”

Throwing his hands up, he growled, “You’re saying he needs to know. Did you not say he is too much for this misadventure?”

“He needs to know, Echo, but he doesn’t need to come here.”

“For Aaru’s sake, the instant I tell him, is also the instant he makes an appearance. This shit is what Torrullin does best. A bloody Walker of Realms, after all.”

“Therefore, the last person who should stand on the edge of this portal. Torrullin will enter, and what will that do to the Kallanon?”

Again, he yanked at his hair, pulling a handful free of the tie in the nape of his neck. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

“Karydor.”

Hmm. Yes, that could work. Tell Karydor, who would then impress on his son to stay put, that he, Echo, had it in hand. But … “I’m not calling Karydor into this mess. I will go to …”

“Leave Senluar now, and Rein will obliterate all sentient life here.”

His anger returned, full-blown. “What the fuck is wrong with everyone? And, damn it, I can’t properly communicate the nuances to Karydor across the spaces. It’ll take days to make him understand.”

Oreun lowered her head. “Write to him. I shall see it delivered.”

Right. Good idea. Logical. He huffed. “Fine.” Waving a hand, he summarily vanished, and did not hear the dragonne’s displeased grunt. Arriving back on the platform where Moira still stood, he said, “I need writing materials. Can you help?”

Reining in her astonishment, she nodded. “At the Watch. They keep records of fire sighting. Come with me.”

ECHO

Seasons Greetings from Torrullin Valla

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