Rainbows and Portals

by Elaina J Davidson

  “Interesting. Why?”

  “The Fire Guild wants to know before the fact who will wear a Wheel and where it will go.”

  “To know if effort will pay off?” Augin muttered.

  “One must assume it’s something along those lines.”

  They were again in a stone clearing, this one swept and in good repair. There were numerous such circles in the forests, apparently, convenient locations for soothsayers to gather.

  Torrullin, covertly studying the design, murmured, “Efur, you sound far more educated than your snatch and grab attempt would have us believe.”

  This time the Shadof smiled. “Ah, well, one has one’s ways.”

  Silence, and then both Torrullin and Augin burst out laughing.

  “And the common tongue?” Torrullin asked.

  “Most sponsors are from offworld. A necessity.”

  Augin, after glancing at his Vallorin, said, “Were you expecting us in that overgrown clearing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you expecting us?” Torrullin added.

  Efur clasped his hands over his abdominal sac. “I expected you.”

  “But?”

  “Prophecy isn’t an exact art. When I saw two of you, I thought I had it wrong. The others simply expected easy pickings.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Only a Valleur knows what my name translates as.”

  “So you’re not all ‘Efur’.”

  Another smile appeared. “We are all prophets, but, no, I alone am Efur.” The smile slid away. “My name is based on a telling from my mother. She said it is how the Enchanter will know me … and I will know the Enchanter.”

  “Ah. And how long ago did she speak this?”

  “Two centuries back.”

  “Really.” Torrullin’s tone was expressionless, his face blank. “And yet I only arise now. Your mother spoke words when all Valleur were forgotten by every sentient in this universe.”

  “Since when do prophecies follow what is known at a given time, Torrullin Valla?”

  “And you even know my name.”

  “And I know you seek to prevent the Champion’s claim to Guardianship. My telling is all about that.” Efur sighed. “I stole the golden medallion hoping for one of two results. One, I would have leverage to enter Hemna’s Cave, or, two, you would follow and I would then know I had seen true.”

  Augin shook his head. “Makes no sense, friend. You almost shook us from your trail.”

  Efur laughed then. “Not deliberately! You didn’t follow immediately, did you? I assumed I had obtained leverage and no more. I wasn’t aware that you followed!”

  Torrullin stared into the fire. “Why do you seek leverage for the cave?”

  Absolute silence ensued, and it stretched, forcing both Torrullin and Augin to abandon musing to stare at the Shadof soothsayer. What they saw on the man’s face clearly indicated an inner war.

  Efur abruptly shot to his feet and paced in a rapid sideways motion around the fire pit, passing once, twice and then three times behind the two Valleur in the darkness. Strange babbles sounded, this time as if two different personalities argued.

  “My Lord?” Augin whispered.

  “We wait. He is now soothsayer and man. One will win. One will give answer.”

  Eventually Efur halted at Torrullin’s shoulder. He touched once and then withdrew to circle back to his place. He sat … .and stared at the fire.

  “Well?” Augin demanded, but was silenced by a sharp gesture from Torrullin.

  They waited

  Efur looked up. “The life-wheel fashioned to confer immortality is unstable.” Torrullin nodded and it seemed to encourage the Shadof. “The soothsayer who saw what this Wheel could do and how it could be employed as a device to enter the Dome of the Guardians, saw something more, and the Fire Guild chose to ignore him. He was my brother.”

  “Was?” Torrullin inserted.

  “Dead. We buried him two weeks ago.”

  “You suspect foul play.”

  “Yes, I suspect foul play! He told them, didn’t he, and now he is dead!” A deep breath. “Forgive me. He told me when no one would listen … we were not close, you understand, and thus was his confidence of utmost value.” Efur lifted a hand. “I do not require sympathy.”

  “What did he see, Efur?”

  “The instability is dormant and will remain thus for some time. It will be quite safe for the Guardians to permit its wearer entry into the Dome at this time. It will build good relations between the Dome and Pendulim, and both will benefit from it initially. But,” and Efur pointed a visibly shaking hand at Torrullin, “a day comes when everything will be different and the life-wheel will cause great damage then.”

  “Different?”

  That shaking hand twisted into a claw and withdrew to Efur’s lap. “There will no more Guardians and your father Taranis …”

  “Stop!” Torrullin hurtled to his feet. “I do not want to hear this!”

  The soothsayer stood as well. “Well can I understand your reluctance and I shall honour your need for peace of mind by not saying more. But you must be forewarned. You must know in order to choose which future to strive for.”

  Torrullin almost moved to strangle the little man. “There are two futures?”

  “Dependent on how you choose, yes.”

  “A prophecy is no longer a prophecy if it is known.”

  “Nonsense. A prophecy is always exactly that. Perception is different for different people and fulfilment can be read a thousand different ways.”

  “It’s not an exact art,” Augin sighed.

  “Exactly, soldier. Forewarned, however, is forearmed. And your ruler needs to know.”

  “Many will disagree,” Augin said. “The Valleur believe the subject of the telling should not know of said telling.” He glanced significantly at Torrullin.

  “And I almost followed that directive, yes, but right now I choose with my heart and not my head. A time comes when the immortality life-wheel will implode and the act of sabotage - it will be sabotage, because it goes into the universe with its instability already known by its creators - will create a rift in time … time, Torrullin Valla. I’m not talking here about a gateway between realms.”

  “What does that mean?” Augin whispered.

  A shrug from the Shadof. “I do not know, but the Enchanter does.”

  “He does not,” Torrullin snapped.

  “But you will … soon.”

  Augin frowned. “If we leave the Wheel here on Pendulim to save the Dome …”

  “The rift will occur here, yes.”

  “We’re buggered every which way,” Augin pointed out.

  “Not necessarily. A time rift here could be contained, but a time rift emanating from a dome that depends entirely on magic could be catastrophic.”

  Torrullin slowly lowered back into a hunched position. “And what will be the signal in the Dome. How am I to be forewarned?”

  Efur studied him sadly. “When he who is pure energy enters.”

  Torrullin blinked.

  “You know of whom I speak.”

  Silence.

  “My Lord?”

  Blink. “A certain dark-haired man, Augin.” The statement was followed by a strangled sound.

  Augin moved his attention into the darkness, discomfited by the bleakness in Torrullin’s eyes. The dark-haired man his Vallorin was so wary of, watchful for, the man he, Augin, had once been mistaken for when he entered Torrullin’s presence disguised as a human with dark hair and eyes. He said nothing and only returned his attention to the fair man when he heard a small sigh of release. Whatever it meant, Torrullin decided to accept it.

  And then he straightened as if pulled on strings from above, for Torrullin said, “The only choice here is destruction. We must destroy the Wheel.”

  “IT WILL KILL THE CREATOR,” Augin said.

  “Creators,” Efur amended. “Two charmsmiths, one flame-wright, and the Guild
master. The soothsayer, as you now know, is already dead.”

  “Guildmaster?” Torrullin frowned.

  “Indeed. He desired to put his stamp on this particular Wheel. I assume to always be aware of it. He was once a renowned charmsmith himself, wears a fair few Wheels now to stave off old age.”

  “That kind of awareness will cause one to ignore warnings of destruction.”

  “Precisely.”

  “My Lord …”

  “You would prefer chaos, soldier? Four deaths, when set alongside a host, is collateral damage we can live with.”

  “I don’t think so … oh, I can, make no mistake, but I don’t think you are made that way.”

  “You have no idea what I’m capable of,” Torrullin said. “However, this isn’t about what I can or cannot do with clear or troubled conscience. I have to hark to …” and he glanced at Efur, frowned, and went on, “… the Dragon.”

  Efur sighed.

  And Torrullin’s attention narrowed to him with burning intensity. “Yes?”

  “It is said that a fire creature will come to Shyala. It is also said it will be curtailed by the state of souls. It is able to destroy only those who are on the darak path.” Efur stared at Torrullin, his slanted eyes strange and alien in the flickering light. “Even if you seek to end a life, for expediency, unless the one you seek to kill is evil, the fire creature won’t permit you to do so.”

  “Really?” Augin asked.

  ‘Really,” Torrullin echoed. “Every Vallorin throughout our long history has thus walked in the light and meted out death only to the deserving.”

  Augin’s brows shot up. “Then please explain Vannis’ campaign of human extermination.”

  A reluctant smile answered him first. “Clever, my friend. Vannis, however, was on the defensive in a mighty war … the exception. And, I suspect, Vannis managed to convince the Dragon humankind was evil personified.”

  “There is a way to change perception in state of souls,” Efur offered. He pulled one of the medallions from his sac. “An aspect that fools the fire creature into seeing only evil.”

  Both Valleur stared at him, one with interest, one with horror.

  “What of an aspect that changes perception of soul itself?” Torrullin said after a moment.

  “As in hiding the soul?” Efur squinted in the firelight. “Is that Darak Or building another army?”

  “You’re well informed.”

  “Nose to the forge, ear to the air, that’s me. Yes, it can be done.”

  “It takes twenty years to create a Wheel,” Torrullin pointed out.

  “If you desire it to be truly effective over time, yes. If you want it to work for an hour or two, it can be fashioned in a month.”

  “That’s well and good to fool the Dragon, but warding souls may need far more than an hour or two.”

  “Of course. Then you need a special medallion. One not conjured by enchanter’s tricks. But know this; both will be defunct after their allotted time, and the charmsmith will have to be underground and will charge an exorbitant sum.”

  “Do you know someone like that?”

  Efur shrugged. “I might.”

  “My Lord!” Augin shouted. “We cannot!”

  “We may have to. Efur, are there prophecies about a time rift?”

  Silence, and then, “There is one.”

  “How bad?”

  “Bad.”

  Torrullin waited.

  The Shadof lowered his head. “I’ll take you to the charmsmith tomorrow. You’re right. The lesser evil is to destroy the life-wheel now. All gods help us in the afterlife.”

  PENDULIM

  5

  IN THE MORNING it started to rain, great torrents of water that removed any sense of comfort and curtailed visibility to a few feet. Within minutes swift rivulets curled underfoot.

  “We need high ground,” Efur said, swallowing against intrusive drops as he spoke. “All low-lying regions will flood if this keeps up.”

  Torrullin nodded, hair plastered askew over his face. Grey eyes impaled Augin. “Do you know your history?”

  Augin, wet and miserable, muttered under his breath.

  “It occurs to me, soldier, that everything is connected.”

  “So? An obvious truth for a Valleur. What are you on about? Damn it, let’s get walking; it’s freezing.”

  Efur’s eyes flicked between the two men with interest. He appeared unaffected by the lousy weather.

  “That’s what I’m talking about. How Valleur guards dress, and bugger what the weather has to say about it.”

  Augin stared down at his sodden leather sandals.

  “You’re half naked,” Torrullin laughed.

  “So is he.” Augin flicked a wrist at Efur.

  “He’s local and well familiar with conditions.”

  “What is your point?”

  Torrullin snorted. “Did I somehow grant you permission to treat me as your younger, irritating brother? Do you always wake up pissed off?”

  Augin stared at him. And dropped to one knee. “Forgive me, Lord Vallorin.”

  Torrullin swore and hauled him up by one arm. “I don’t need subservience.” He pushed at Augin’s chest. “Here there’s no throne and no one is better than another. Gods, you’re moody, and that’s what I was commenting on.”

  “And you’re not? You switch all the time; it’s hard to keep up.” Augin glared defiance. A moment later he shoved at the wet hair on his face, again muttering under his breath.

  Torrullin spluttered into laughter. “See? Valleur discomfort! Other soldiers drag rain gear from a waterproof pack and arm themselves against the wet and they wear boots that handle all conditions. Ever heard of the Romans, my friend?”

  “Earth, a long time ago.”

  “A time of armies and conquering rulers. And guess what their soldiers wore? Sandals, leather skirt and jerkin over a flimsy tunic. Wonderful in summer; a complete disaster in winter.”

  A frown. “They copied us?”

  “We copied them.”

  “How is that likely?”

  Torrullin snapped his fingers and caught a rain cloak as it materialised. “Put this on and let’s get walking.”

  He pulled his own cloak close. As Augin fell into step beside him, swathed and waterproofed, and Efur took the lead, he said, “We tend to regard ourselves as leaders in every field - we were first, thus others copy us - but that is mind-set, not truth. Did you know the concept of towers and battlements for fortification is a Siric invention? The Valleur built using natural features, and only when we became nomadic as a people did that change. Swords? Apparently from an extinct race on Orb. Same with soldiers’ garb. We saw how the Romans were able to move unencumbered in minimal, yet protective dress and adopted the style.”

  “It’s not that protective today.”

  “A failing we have - we don’t readily move forward if we believe something works, or is regarded as tradition.”

  “I’ll agree with that. I also think you’ll change it.”

  A grin erupted. “Certain mind-sets need tweaking, yes.”

  Silence, and then, “Is that because you have human blood also?”

  More silence. Ahead, Efur glanced over his shoulder, his gaze filled with curiosity. Clearly the Shadof listened to every word … and it prompted Augin.

  “He understands Valleur.”

  Efur’s thin shoulders stiffened. He faced forward and lengthened his stride.

  Torrullin flicked a glance in his direction. “He cannot speak it.”

  Silence.

  “It’s not human blood that makes the difference,” Torrullin said eventually. “It does enable me to think in days, yes, not centuries, when making a choice or a decision, but that can be a drawback. Living in the present isn’t always wise.”

  Augin said not a word.

  “Tact can be criticism, did you know that?” Torrullin laughed. “You have tact, friend, but … never mind. The difference lies in the abilities of an
enchanter. I walk on the line between lumin and darak, and thus see all sides.”

  “I don’t understand that.”

  “Few do. Vannis does, if only because of the long years he spent at war.”

  “And Taranis, your father?”

  “No.”

  “Sounds as if you two have issues.”

  “It’s easier being Valleur and he won’t understand that.”

  “It’s hard being human?” Augin was disbelieving.

  “Very. Imagine having a mere handful of years to achieve goals, to know things, to feel, to love, to make the kind of mark the future will maybe remember. Everything is compressed. Humankind is extraordinary, because they have so little time. They invent and leap forward swiftly simply because they are forced to live in their present.”

  “Ha. Our Elders will have a hard time with that.”

  “No doubt!”

  Rain sluiced over them. Underfoot the earth was mud.

  Augin glanced down at his feet, spatters of dark earth up to his knees. “How about making a difference here, this very day?”

  Torrullin halted under the dripping branches of a massive tree. “I’ll supply the means, but you choose.”

  Augin stood before him. “Why?”

  “Time to think beyond tradition, soldier.”

  Silence, and then, “I have no idea what a soldier should or shouldn’t wear.”

  “And that is my point.”

  Torrullin reached out and drew the rain cloak from Augin’s shoulder. It plopped heavily into the sodden ground and rain drummed into it; a sound somehow threatening on an alien world. His fingers dug into Augin’s shoulder as he pulled him closer.

  “Choose as a man.”

  He released and stepped back. A moment later he whistled to draw Efur’s attention.

  “Appears rain brings out your philosophical side,” Augin muttered.

  A smile bloomed. “I regard this as good weather; it restores my humour.”

  Augin nodded. “Nemisin was like that, it’s said.”

  “How not? He was First Enchanter.”

  “Ha.” A huge frown marred the Valleur’s brow. “Fine. I want to dress like to you.”

  “Why?”

  “You seem comfortable.”

  “I wear the cloak because it’s tradition that adds status, not comfort. And I wear black because it’s simple … and because it suits the shadows I walk in. This is not a soldier’s uniform, my friend, although I do regard it as my armour. Choose with your head.”