Rainbows and Portals

by Elaina J Davidson

  “Torrullin.”

  “Quilla, it’s good to see you.” Torrullin said as the Q’lin’la - a tiny birdman - materialised in his study.

  “And you, Enchanter.” Quilla went to the cheery fire behind the cushions, doing a rapid inventory of the thousands of books. Nothing new, a pity. “It is cold out.” He stretched petite hands to the blaze.

  Torrullin waved the cushions aside and brought two armchairs over.

  Quilla sighed, subsiding into one. He smiled his appreciation when Torrullin offered a goblet of solé wine, thereafter joining him at the fire.

  “Why is this visit to remain anonymous?”

  “Is it?” Quilla quirked an eyebrow.

  “Don’t play games, Quilla.”

  The little birdman sighed again. “No. Is the door locked?”

  “Yes.”

  Quilla was then silent, staring into the fire, sipping at the rich, sweet wine. He sighed for the third time, this time in pleasure. The Valleur made good wine and this one in particular could warm one on a blustery day.

  Cold it was, in truth, and winter continued to hold so many memories, memories most chose not to dwell on, but sometimes they were inescapable. Not enough time had passed for those memories to grow distant. The twins would be eight come summer, thus eight years since that terrible winter of the Darak Or.

  “Quilla,” Torrullin prompted. He sensed the birdman’s wandering thoughts. It was a time he cared not to recall either. His nightmares were more than sufficient reminders; he did not require thoughts in daylight also.

  “Apologies, Enchanter. How are the boys?”

  “At war as always.”

  Quilla murmured noncommittally. He studied Torrullin and shook his head. Still dons the black and there is his sword, to hand as ever. Why can he never relax?

  “Because I saw their futures. There will be war for them.”

  The birdman huffed. No hiding from the Enchanter. “It could be millennia.”

  “And it could be today.”

  Quilla nodded. And it could be the war between identical brothers, and that would be far worse, especially for their father.

  He cleared his throat. “Torrullin, I spoke to Vannis earlier and I came anonymously because he does not yet extend hate towards me …”

  “Who?”

  “Now you are playing games, Torrullin.”

  Torrullin’s eyes grew distant. He knew what Quilla referred to, but which one was responsible? His internal strife, the inescapable which one. Tristamil or Tymall?

  “So much power and insight, Quilla, and yet I have not the ability to distinguish between them. I simply cannot read those untrained minds. One lies to me continually, while I hurt the other in not exposing those lies. Do you know what my greatest fear is? I fear he too will hate me eventually … if he doesn’t already.”

  Quilla clucked. “Follow your heart, Enchanter.”

  “I cannot trust that. I love both.”

  “What happened here? Vannis was vague.” Quilla waited pointedly for Torrullin to answer, knowing it would force a response from him.

  Indeed, that was the question seeking answer. What had happened? Or, more accurately, who?

  He raced downstairs yesterday, a father running for the kitchens upon hearing terrified screams. Scullery maids lined the passage to the kitchen area, hands over their mouths, tears running, ashen - petrified. He discovered Nessie, the Keep’s much-loved cook, a mother figure to many on the premises, including the twins, in a pool of blood, a knife protruding from her lower back, whimpering, and so white he thought her dead at first. And more maids, three in all, scared witless, unable to halt the two fighting boys.

  Tristamil and Tymall battled it out on the blood spattered tiles, doing so with every intent to harm each other, even - he realised - to kill each other, grunting like rabid wolves.

  Perhaps that was why he chose the subject for lessons this day.

  He waded in and hauled them apart, hollering his ire, demanding the truth, but neither answered. Heaving, they glanced at each other, then studied Nessie, and did not move or speak until he banished them to their rooms. They ran then.

  Later, confronting them individually, he made no headway.

  They appeared for lessons earlier as if nothing had come to pass. He probed them upon arrival, but their blankness stymied him.

  “Nessie refused one of them a treat before lunch and he took offence. But,” and Torrullin shook his head, “the girls couldn’t say which twin wielded the knife and which charged in to end it.”

  “And after they blamed each other.”

  “As ever. Fortunately Nessie could be healed, but she left the Keep within hours. I was forced, again, to make a settlement and apologise. No one is brave enough to bring charges against my boys … or me. This isn’t the first incident, but it’s the worst. I pray this doesn’t mean an escalation in severity and tactics. By all gods, they are only seven!”

  “What did you do to them?”

  “Questions, lectures, separation, threats, and yet, in the end, nothing. The kind of punishment I’d have to mete out…one of the two is innocent, Quilla. I couldn’t do that to him.”

  “And the other learns he can get away with anything.”

  Torrullin growled and rose to pace. “Do you think I don’t know this? They hide their hate of each other from me and act like two boys in friendly rivalry, and when they’re with me I treat them the same, for not to do so is to lose the love of the one …”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you? I love them, Quilla. If I ever recognise which harbours hate, am I capable of denying him?” Torrullin came to rest before the birdman, sinking to his haunches to look Quilla in the eyes. “I am Destroyer also, Q’li’qa’mz. I may feel an affinity to him I’ll not have the strength to turn from.”

  The birdman gazed sadly at him. There was little he could do to help.

  VALARIS

  Part 3

  TORRULLIN

  AM I AT ALL BIASED? For Tymall … because he is to be Vallorin? Or for Tristamil … because he was first recognised at the Naming Ceremony?

  After Quilla left, Torrullin searched his store of memories and concluded he had treated both the same, taught them equally and had spent time alone with each to the same degree.

  I have been a good father, in truth. My only failing lies in not knowing who harbours evil within. And perhaps that is as it should be. My fate is my choice and I chose this route knowingly. I have proven to him and myself that I love him and thus give him every opportunity to recant.

  He had not erred in that; to love was not a sin, ever. However, he admitted the other might feel betrayed by the lack of distinction. Gods forbid, but it was entirely likely they had, along the way, reversed roles. The one drew in love, surrendering hate; the other discovered hate in remaining unacknowledged.

  In unmasking, would he know the truth?

  On the day of their Coming-of-Age he would have to face it. Torrullin closed his eyes. Eighteen more years. In all likelihood he would be insane by then.

  Eighteen more years of watching wolf pups grow into adult predators. Which would be the alpha?

  VALARIS

  Afterword

  INDEED, IN THE DAYS just before the twins’ Coming-of-Age, the truth does come to light. One is Lumin Kindred, the other Darak Fallen.

  Torrullin Valla discovers what it means to suffer true agony. I am sure you will bleed with me as this father battles the truth about his beloved boys.

  THE

  TOWER

  of

  S T A I R S

  TOWER

  Foreword

  FOR THE MISSION to the Forbidden Zone, undertaken in The Kallanon Scales, the team gathers in the north of Valaris at the Tower of Stairs. This is a sacred site consisting of a giant arena set into the earth with a massive tower in the centre of the space created.

  Torrullin Valla chose the location due to its isolation, but it is a fact that it is ever cold t
here and requires endurance. Still, needs must; the mission is important and the fewer who know about it the better.

  Three women, while Torrullin and the crew needed for the space traveller they wish to steal are away to Ceta, gather in the calm his absence has created.

  Skye is the shy one, and she is Torrullin’s goddaughter.

  Caballa is a blind Valleur seer.

  And Cat, Cat is Catalina Dalrish from Xen III, the navigator for the ship about to be stolen.

  The discussion is about men, most particularly the Valla men.

  TOWER

  1

  ON THE FOURTH MORNING after Torrullin and the others left for Ceta, Caballa came to Cat’s door, carefully negotiating the stone tiers of the amphitheatre to reach that point.

  Lowen, Cat’s young niece, emerged first, yawning, and Caballa told her Skye had created a games room on the second tier and would she like to go and see?

  Lowen did and ran out without bothering to brush her hair or throw on less rumpled clothes. The girl had already begun to blossom, filling out quickly in the fresh air and wholesome food. There were twin spots of colour on her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. She was a favourite among the soldiers - all taking time out to tell her a tale or two - and her laughter was heard more and more. Gradually she began to talk of her own accord and Caballa attributed much of the change to Skye’s gentle ministrations. Skye was herself a shy person and could relate to the young girl.

  “Caballa?” Cat said, still sleepy, coming into the reception room, her dark hair as rumpled as Lowen’s.

  “Forgive me; I think I misjudged the early hour.”

  “That’s okay, I have to get up …” Cat stifled a huge yawn.

  “I need to speak with you.” Yes, she did. Cat needed to know more about bloody Torrullin before she hurt herself.

  “Well, sure. Come into the kitchen, I’m going to make some coffee. Want some?”

  “Not for me, thank you,” Caballa murmured, and followed the Xenian into the tiny kitchen area.

  “Damn, I have to light this …” A small wood-burning box stood in a corner with a single stove plate atop it. “The joys of technology are sometimes taken for granted,” Cat muttered while attempting to strike a match.

  “Allow me.” Caballa snapped her fingers and the wood ignited.

  “Hell, and there Skye and I battle the stoves below! Can you teach me that?”

  Caballa smiled. One had to like the Xenian, unaffected and capable of innocent wonder. “Yes, it’s a simple sorcery.”

  “Fantastic.”

  Caballa laughed and retreated for Cat to reach the coffee and her mug. The Xenian set the pot to boil and followed Caballa into the larger room. She made to help a blind woman to a seat, but Caballa held a hand aloft.

  “Not to worry; I can find it.”

  “How did you know?”

  “I heard the rustle of your sleeve. My ears are my eyes.”

  “You’re pretty independent.”

  “I am completely independent.”

  “Do you miss seeing?” Cat scratched at her untidy hair. “Sorry, that’s rude.”

  “It’s honest, nothing wrong with that. I’ve always been blind; therefore I cannot really comprehend sight. I see enough with the other kind; I am content.”

  “The other kind?” Cat echoed, perching on a nearby bench.

  “Psychic sight, as in visions, dreams, foretelling, and sorcerically, as in looking at an event taking place elsewhere. The latter is highly stressful for me and can on occasion be painful. I prefer not to use it.”

  “Technology is pretty limited, after all.”

  “Ah, you see it. Good, then lighting a fire with a snap of your fingers should be a simple thing.” Caballa paused and smiled. “Your water is boiling.”

  With an oath Cat went into the kitchen nook and emerged moments later with a steaming mug. She sat opposite Caballa. “Is there a problem?” She sipped carefully, wary of the temperature of her brew.

  “I find I do like you, Cat, and that makes this hard. I admit I tried not to like you.”

  “Oh, dear.” The mug went down to the table and was abandoned there. “Why?”

  “Torrullin.” Caballa listened carefully and heard the almost inaudible indrawn breath.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Of course she didn’t. This woman grew up on a world of domes, every day filled with technology. She knew the darker side of people too, having brushed shoulders with the criminals and the desperate of Xen III. Her life had been both easier and more difficult than the common Valarian’s. Despite that, Catalina Dalrish remained an innocent … at least to the ways of a race of sorcerers and a man who had already lived far longer than she could even imagine.

  Cat needed to understand.

  TOWER

  2

  “MOST WOMEN ARE attracted to Torrullin, Cat, the moment they meet him, old, young and all in between, so it’s not unnatural to feel slightly enamoured of him, as you are. However, I also sense your attraction to him deepened fairly rapidly. Are you going to deny this?”

  Cat inhaled and exhaled. “No, but I don’t see why you feel you need to talk to me about it.”

  “I’m not here to hurt you; I want to warn you.”

  “Warn me?”

  There was a silence in which the Valleur woman debated how much to say, and then she opted for transparency. “I have similar feelings …”

  “Ah.”

  “You misunderstand. I really must warn you, as I warned myself.”

  Pulling a face, Cat said, “And?”

  “He is married …”

  “I know.”

  “He loves her, my dear.”

  “She left him, Caballa …”

  Caballa leaned over and unerringly reached for Cat’s hand. Her sightless eyes bored deep into Cat’s dark ones. “Listen to me. It has only been a matter of weeks since she left and he has a long way to go in knowing how to cope with his feelings.”

  “Weeks?” Cat whispered. She paled.

  “Not long at all and he’s deeply hurt, although he doesn’t show it. For Torrullin losing Saska has been a kind of death …”

  “Saska is Torrullin’s wife? Then who is Lycea?”

  Caballa released Cat’s hand and sat back with a sigh. “You’ve really entered the fray blindly, haven’t you? Torrullin’s wife and the mother of his sons is not the same woman. The boys’ mother, Lycea, was murdered the same day as Raken, Vannis’ beloved and adored wife … a wonder the poor man is coping. I guess revenge drives him now.” She waved a hand. “No matter …”

  “These are the murders we were told about,” Cat murmured. This mission, obviously, was personal also. “How terrible. Those poor boys.” She drew breath. “Is that why Saska left? The danger?”

  “She left before, fleeing another kind of danger, likely the greater. Her life was at stake and Torrullin knows that, knows she did what she had to. No, I cannot tell you what it is she fled from; that is her story. He feels abandoned, though, despite understanding her situation, but he loves her above all else, as she loves him. Lack of love is not the issue between them. When this crusade of his is done with, he will go and find her. He cannot be too long without her. Torrullin will make it safe and he will bring her home.”

  Cat stared at her, thinking she was unaware of the glare. Caballa took no offense, however, understanding the Xenian’s emotions.

  “She may find someone else, Caballa. It happens.”

  “As he may, possibly in you?” Caballa said, and then shook her head. “Forget that notion.”

  “He-he slept with me … surely …?”

  “Goddess. You need your mind read, girl! It’s sex, pure and simple. Has he said he cares for you? Does he even acknowledge your feelings?”

  “No,” Cat whispered.

  “You have Saska’s obstinacy … you remind him of her. That is decidedly unhealthy for both of you. Stand aside now, while you’re able to be dispassionate, and see it as
sex. I have, and it has worked for me. I’m able to view him as a friend now, beyond him being my Vallorin. If you make it clear to him, he may back off as well. Gods, I cannot believe he was so stupid! But then, he is in denial, and typical man hasn’t foreseen the consequences. Soon he’ll know that inner churning that allows no peace, and you’ll be standing right in it; get away right now … or get hurt.”

  Cat stared at her again, but this time it was without heat. Good, the woman was at least hearing her. Whether she would act upon it was another matter.

  “What do I do, Caballa?”

  “My dear, be the strong one. Walk away.”

  Cat said no more, reclaiming her mug to sip repeatedly.

  TOWER

  3

  SKYE WAS RELIEVED not to be a part of the journey through space. Torrullin had made it clear she was to stay behind.

  She admitted without embarrassment that she was too shy and frightened of the little things to be of use. Too petrified of the big things. Still, her dream had been specific. Torrullin would need her as he once needed her father, and it was a conundrum.

  If she remained at home and her contribution was here on this mother earth, then she was content. She had someone to care for again. Lowen was as shy and a good person; together the two of them would find their way forward and dear Caballa would help. It was enough for her, but what of Torrullin? What was it he needed from her?

  She watched the Xenian girl lose herself in a board game. Lowen had challenged one of the soldiers and was proving a formidable opponent, bright blue eyes sparkling with glee.

  Lowen would be fine, but was at present her responsibility. What did that mean for Torrullin? Was she, Skye, to turn her back on a dream’s message … or was she to shirk responsibility to a young girl?

  She wandered outside, leaving Lowen to her game, and walked the tiers. She would move heaven and earth to go with had Tymall been aboard. Was she that selfish? Did her actions depend on the proximity of a foolish daydream?