Rainbows and Portals

by Elaina J Davidson

  NEMIS WAS PALE by the time his mother ceased talking, and then burst out, “I do not want this barbed gift! When it comes through the goddamn ether to me I will know he is dead!”

  Mantra stood, stared at him for a few beats and then started pacing. “That’s just it. Dead. I thought the Medaillon would come swiftly, no more than weeks after our arrival on Ardosia. They had no hope of overcoming the settlers; the war would be short … they would not survive it. I expected Vannis to die.” She halted and drew a shuddering breath. “I hoped for that closure with every fibre of my being. I hate this uncertainty.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She came to kneel before him, resting her hands on his knees. “Your father lives.”

  He swallowed.

  “But I won’t always be here for you, and thus you must understand what it means. The day that Medaillon pierces the Rift to come to you, you will know your father has passed on.”

  “It’s been more than two decades, mother … are they still fighting that bloody war?”

  She looked up at him, fingers clenching on his thighs. “We cannot know. He lives; that is the only certainty.”

  “Someone should go to Valaris!”

  “No. The Rift must now remain protected, and the best protection is to leave it sealed.”

  Nemis hurtled to his feet, nearly throwing his mother to the floor in the action. Muttering apology, he helped her stand and saw her settled before pacing like a madman.

  She watched him, knowing everything had now changed for him. She wondered what he would do with this knowledge. When he stopped to stare into nothingness, a dark and thoughtful frown on his face, to have it clear a moment later, she understood he would not tell her.

  Nemis, in those few moments, became a Vallorin in truth.

  ARDOSIA

  4

  THEY MADE A PACT, brother and sister. If the Maghdim Medaillon had not arrived by the time the Valla bloodline was secure for Ardosia’s future, Millanu would go to Valaris to find Vannis.

  They discussed it many months. Nemis did not like the thought of his sister returning alone to a possibly war-torn world, and Millanu wanted to leave immediately. Nemis thought and acted like a Vallorin when he made far-reaching decisions. Millanu finally bowed to his wishes … and thus they set in motion plans that would see it come to pass.

  It was a strange situation. Neither wanted the Medaillon to come, for it meant the death of their father, and yet both hoped it would, for that put an end to the plans to break through the Rift. That would cause upheaval among the Valleur.

  Meanwhile Millanu studied. She hunkered over the New Oracles for years, committing to memory every nuance pertinent to the Valleur past, and grew to love what the Golden stood for. In learning, she found purpose. She studied the battles with humankind and became versed in Ancient lore. She begged every scrap of information to be had, about Valaris, from those who were there. She discovered they were willing to talk, as if the act of sharing made the burden of guilt less. She used it well.

  She studied, in secret, Nemisin’s runes. The first Oracle contained his thoughts and enchantments and what was considered too dangerous for general Valleur consumption at that time, Nemisin penned for posterity in a strange runic language. The scribes of the New Oracles copied purely from memory, without understanding what they wrote. According to the Elders, when she first asked, the language was known only to the ruling Vallorin, and passed on to the succeeding ruler. How, exactly, they did not know. When she asked Nemis, in a roundabout manner, he intimated he could not read the runes. Nobody on Ardosia understood it was the Dragon symbiosis that enabled it, for the Dragon had not come to Nemis.

  Again she hunkered; at times no one was around to see what she was doing. They loved that she studied the Oracles; they would not love that she deciphered the runes. More years passed before she harked to the inherent pattern, and she managed to decipher the basics, enough to have an inkling of how he structured his strange language. She never quite grasped the whole.

  Having read what she had, she understood it was meant to remain obscure; what those runes hid was frightening.

  NEMIS WED WHEN HE neared his two thousand year Naming Day and it was cause for great celebration. Sufficient time had passed for the reality of what the Valleur had left behind to have faded into fond memory.

  Millanu entered the spirit of the times. While she continued her studies, she no longer suffered the drive of going to Valaris. The Medaillon had not come; Vannis was alive. Their father, it was whispered, had reached for immortality, and if that were so, he would be there when the time came for her to act.

  Mantra passed on a week before Nemis’ wife gave birth to the heir. When Daedalin successfully completed his Coming-of-Age, Nemis summoned his sister to audience. It was time, he said, for their pact to take effect. He, Nemis, preferred to die knowing the truth; he could no longer suffer the burden of uncertainty.

  ARDOSIA

  5

  THREE THOUSAND YEARS had passed since the second Rift opening.

  It took a further two years to convince the Elders. Eventually they agreed to open the Rift for single exit, and all parties further agreed on the period of waiting before they reopened it for her return to Ardosia. One year. They agreed to grant her only a year to find Vannis.

  Nemis railed against it, and demanded a second reopening should she not be there for the first. It was denied.

  Millanu took it in stride; she felt she would find her father swiftly. A year would be sufficient.

  Two weeks later Millanu left Ardosia.

  Nemis paced and often suffered depression while he waited.

  At the agreed time of Rift reopening, a large contingent of Valleur waited in the ether; most hoping to see Vannis.

  When neither Vannis nor Millanu were waiting for entry, disappointment was debilitating. Nemis nearly murdered the Elders in his rage. They steadfastly refused to allow another through, someone to find Millanu.

  Nemis died without discovering the truth.

  Millanu was believed dead.

  Daedalin became Vallorin.

  DAEDALIN RULED A WORLD growing in strength and beauty. Ardosia had come into her own and life was surpassingly good for the Golden. Daedalin erected a mighty Palace alongside the largest lake, a building that caused every Valleur to swell with pride.

  He married well and had two sons, Dantian and Dante.

  Dantian became Vallorin, but Dante, the younger, wed first and had a daughter, her name Varelie. Dantian was still a young man in Valleur terms, not yet a thousand years, and there was time enough for him to marry and further the bloodline.

  It never came to pass, for the dara-witch Infinity tore the Rift open.

  DANTIAN AND HIS GUARDS fought clear of the palace and fled directly to the rent in space between two dimensions. Ardosia, behind them, burned, and Valaris, a last hope, lay beyond the tear.

  It, too, was not to be. Soltakin swarmed into their path, killing his guards, and then formed an impenetrable barrier he could not pass through. Had his name lied? He was meant to exit; he had been waiting centuries. He had not expected it to be after the annihilation of his people, however; perhaps death would be a release from guilt. Dante’s death. Varelie, perhaps dead also.

  Suspended magically in space, he stared at the architect of Ardosia’s doom. He heard a hiss of acclaim, a soltakin saying this man’s name as a mark of respect.

  Margus.

  HE IGNORED MARGUS when he floated to a position behind him. It would be his final independent act.

  His robe was torn from him, his hair shoved aside. He should have moved then, but Dantian refused to give credence to the acts of insanity by an ignominious attempt at flight now. Weaving his fingers, Margus conjured a grey oblong disc inscribed in a language known only to him. Along the edge of the disc were hooked claws. He held the disc against the golden skin and on contact, the claws released and turned inward, burrowing deep into the man’s flesh. Dantian sc
reamed once, an agonized sound, when the metal claws dug into his back, and then was silent.

  When Margus turned him, his yellow eyes were lifeless, catatonic.

  Dantian passed through the Rift, a prisoner in stasis.

  The promise of Ardosia came to a brutal end.

  ARDOSIA

  6

  Far Reaches

  IT WAS SURPASSINGLY hard to survive with nothing, but the final three hundred to flee Ardosia endured.

  A council formed to decide whether or not to make their way to Valaris … to Vannis. All knew the tale of the Maghdim Medaillon; that it still had not come meant only one thing. Vannis had lived through the millennia passed. Valaris, however, was once again a battleground. Should they wait?

  Varelie, the last Valla of their realm, her identity known only to Elder Rillinon and Camot, war leader, began muttering in her sleep about the bloodline and it caused Rillinon immense disquiet. He spoke to Camot about his fears; he desired above all else to protect his adopted daughter.

  To that end a single Valleur was sent to Valaris, his mission to discover how safe Valaris was for the remnant, and to find Vannis. He also needed to confirm what had happened to Dantian … and who, exactly, Rayne was. Varelie murmured about him while under the influence of sleep.

  Augin returned with the news that Dantian was dead, that Vannis lived, that Valaris was about to explode into war, and revealed that Rayne was Torrullin. Torrullin would soon be Vallorin, the one who would unite all races.

  The Elders huddled, in absolute quandary.

  AS SECOND CHANCES GO, Ardosia was gifted borrowed time only. A desert world fulfilled the promise of the Valleur, and yet it remained a truth that birthright and heritage could not be denied. A man, a woman, a being, a race, a religion, a legacy, a bloodline always returned to the place that defined him, her, it. To really know, one had to come full circle.

  Yes, Ardosia lay at the point of a thinning in the spaces, a kind of fate, a kind of magic, and to deny it would warp truth … and yet Ardosia ever lay but steps removed from what the Valleur left behind.

  As if fate meant to lie before them the same choices of the past.

  Until they came full circle.

  The End of Ardosia’s Second Chance

  ARDOSIA

  Afterword

  THE HISTORY ABOVE was inserted into the Arcana series, but it became unnecessary to the story. Perhaps, with time, this brief history will become a fully fleshed tale.

  For now, though, know (if you haven’t yet read the actual series) that Millanu did not find her father, but she did find love with Taranis and gave birth to Torrullin, who is the focus of the entire LORE series.

  It is a mighty tale!

  Ardosia itself burned, but the Guardians of the Dome called for rain to douse the fires. They also asked the Gravedigger Guild to attend to the masses of bodies, those who had not become ash after Margus sent his soltakin in.

  For a few weeks the remnant Valleur returned, hiding out in the canyon system while awaiting word from Valaris. When summoned to return to Valaris, the Valleur abandoned Ardosia, never to return.

  Others settled the recovering world, a half-simian race, and they soon fought amongst themselves, but that tale is now an aside. We hope they learned to live together in peace.

  The Rift between two realms remains eternally open.

  THE

  WOLVES

  of

  V A L A R I S

  VALARIS

  Foreword

  THE STORY THAT FOLLOWS is indeed short, and yet it beautifully showcases Torrullin Valla’s dilemma over his twin sons … as well as his own inner demons.

  Originally this was how The Kallanon Scales began, and then it was taken out in favour of a more action laden beginning. It remains a favourite part of my Lore journey, however.

  TWENTY-FIVE YEARS PASS between the events that happened in Lore of Arcana and the first book that launches Lore of Reaume. Since the Darak Or succumbed to the Three Voices, his mortal remains given to the fires in the Corridor Mountains. Twenty-five years of nightmares for Torrullin, and soon he faces the duality present in his sons. His error of recognition (the Valleur recognise kin while still in the womb) is about to rise up and make of his nightmares mere simple dreams.

  Here, though, for this particular insert, only seven years have gone by …

  VALARIS

  Part 1

  TRISTAMIL AND TYMALL

  “WHY ARE THERE NO wolves on Valaris, father?” Tymall asked.

  Torrullin paused in his lecture on how the domestic dog was thought to have evolved from wolves. “Tell me why you ask.”

  Next to Tymall, Tristamil frowned; his twin invariably landed them on a divergent path. He raised his grey eyes heavenward and Tymall poked him in the ribs.

  “Tymall!”

  “Sorry, father.”

  “Continue, son.”

  “There are dogs on Valaris, but no wolves. Did we domesticate wolves or was there an evolution war dogs won?”

  Tristamil burst out laughing, setting his streaked hair a-wobble. The twins’ hair was an intriguing mixture of golden and auburn.

  Torrullin eyed his son. “Tristamil! We don’t laugh at another in the pursuit of knowledge and understanding.”

  “Sorry.” Tristamil controlled his mirth; their father’s temper was not to be trifled with.

  “You think you know, Tris?” Tymall challenged his brother.

  Tristamil nibbled at his bottom lip; Tymall smirked in self-satisfaction, which decided him. “There were never wolves here.”

  Torrullin blinked and Tristamil basked in a warm glow of pleasure. He adored being right, and loved even more showing his brother up. The only time he could do so safely was here, at lessons, in their father’s presence.

  Tymall burst out, “So how do you explain our dogs then?”

  “Easy.” Tristamil smirked in turn. “They were brought by the settlers.”

  Tymall was about to snort when Torrullin said, “You’re quite right, Tristamil. In fact, there were no predators of any kind on this world when the settlers came.”

  Tymall said, “Were there predators when the Valleur came?”

  “Very astute, son,” Torrullin smiled. “Yes, two and a half thousand years between Valleur and human settlement is quite a distinction, but there were no predators, ever.” Torrullin held a finger up. “Remember we don’t exterminate predators, for such a horror upsets the balances. There were no wolves here, no lions, no crocodiles and the like, and had there been we would have left them in peace.”

  “The cathron is a predator.” Tristamil said.

  “Ah, yes, the cathron, the mighty cat we swear we hear roaring in the mountains, and yet we’ve never seen this legendary creature.” Torrullin smiled again. “There were no cathrons either, not then, not now, and yet it’s a truth we’ve heard it call.”

  Both boys stared at him, hanging onto every word.

  Torrullin made them wait until they squirmed. “I believe we hear the magic of our valley, for is not all life precious to it?”

  Both boys sighed. It was an answer to relate to. Their magical valley was special.

  “Why were there no predators?” Tymall asked.

  “Valaris is ninety percent ocean, one smallish continent, thousands of tiny islands; I’d think, in Mother Nature’s grand scheme, there wasn’t space to sustain them.”

  Tymall asked, “Are there predators in the ocean?”

  “Oh, yes. That’s a completely different matter.”

  “Sharks?” Tristamil said.

  “Sharks and much else, but that’s for another day. I believe we were on the subject of dogs …”

  Rarely in agreement, both boys groaned. Sharks were interesting.

  “Come now, I’ve explained the advantages in completing a …” Torrullin paused there and stilled. “But enough for today. I have a visitor.”

  The brothers glanced at each other and then together ran to the window overl
ooking the central courtyard, jostling with jutting elbows. Even in their father’s presence they could not quite control their mutual dislike. They peered down, straining to see over the balcony wall flanking the walkway.

  “There’s no one,” Tristamil said.

  “Did I say my visitor would be arriving below?”

  “A transport?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Who?” Tymall asked, with his brother nodding.

  “Enough. I need you to leave now.” Torrullin rose from reclining cushions and pointed at the door.

  They knew better than to argue and left, albeit reluctantly. Again they jostled each other; one day all too soon their father’s presence would no longer contain their animosity.

  “Close the door!” their father reprimanded when they left it deliberately ajar.

  They wished to listen, but it was also a truth that their father would set a task that would take days to complete, as punishment. Something like listing all the bugs on Valaris.

  A young hand quickly reached in.

  The door snicked shut.

  Grimacing, Torrullin for a moment stared at the wooden expanse. Wolves were creatures of nature, neither good nor evil. They were, however, predators. One did not simply trust them, but one always respected them.

  He wondered which son deserved respect and which wariness. His boys were the wolves of Valaris in the present era, by all gods.

  VALARIS

  Part 2

  TORRULLIN AND QUILLA

  ALL CLEAR, TORRULLIN sent moments after the door had closed.