Elaina J. Davidson's Blog, page 143
November 11, 2022
Chapter 1: The Nemisin Star
Destiny stalks the twins
Margus and Torrullin are the two faces of a coin. No matter how opposite they are, they remain equal, except Margus has no qualms in using Torrullin's twin sons against him; an agenda he knows causes his enemy suffering. To negate their destiny, desperately seeking release from their symbiosis, Tymall and Tristamil must fight until only one remains standing.
The Forbidden Zone is behind them; the wars of attrition return to Valaris. In a golden city waits a temple raised from a vision, and one night in every year a star shines through the aperture overhead. This is a connection to the world of Nemisin, the first homeworld. In this place where stars meet Torrullin must choose life and death for his sons. The scythe, however, forever silences someone dear to him; is he paying for his choice in the temple?
As the universe searches for the Light in all its brilliance, seeking peace, Torrullin begins to see himself as a prince among demons and therefore decides to change the rules. Death, after all, is not an end.
Too many lives have been lost.
Too many hearts have been broken.
Sometimes the only way to find peace is to lose oneself.
Chapter 1
Cold is pretty. Ice forms lace and the air is so clear it heralds angels. Leave me here; I am happy.
~Aris, Druid of Akanth
Valaris
Torrke - The Keep
26thday of Dormire
CLOSE ON SIX months had passed since the stolen ship left Valaris airspace on a mission to deal with Neolone and the Dragon Taliesman. Leaving in high summer, they returned as the first month of winter drew to a close. Snow had not yet fallen, the land was dormant and the air cold, animals were in hibernation and rains had swollen rivers and filled lakes.
Torrke, seat of Keep and Throne, was quiet. Like to the rest of the continent, the valley awaited the first snowfall. The Keep was ready for winter; roof tiles were replaced, gutters cleared, general repairs affected, and food and fuel stocks laid in. From the courtyard delicate potted plants moved indoors and the mosaic pool’s pump was off.
Into this courtyard the marauders alighted, doing so during the midday meal on a sunny day. Staff and Elders ate al fresco, and akin to avenging angels they appeared. A maid dropped her tray of dishes and went screaming back to the kitchens.
Torrullin dragged his headgear off, throwing it to the paving underfoot, and his fair hair was a beacon. It grew over the past months to coil untidily in his neck, a fringe flopping over his familiar forehead.
“Lord Vallorin!” Pretora gasped, recovering from shock.
“If I had not been who I am, Elder, this Keep would now be seized. Are you not on war footing?”
A dark cloud passed before the sun to snuff daylight. To a Valleur that was an omen, and Pretora was no different in his perceptions. He blanched, stared at his lord, and knew serious trouble had landed.
“Of course, my Lord.”
Torrullin strode forward, his companions following more slowly, with Caltian wide-eyed. The Atrudisin had wondered what Valaris would be like and admitted to curiosity over the Valleur Throne.
“Triple your efforts,” Torrullin said, and entered the Throne-room. He set muddy boots to the blue aisle carpet and paced towards his Throne.
Caltian stared at the golden seat. So long was Atrudis isolated that ages had passed since a Valleur from the Forbidden Zone had seen it. It was a simple seat, and it was imposing; dear Aaru. He wanted to run his hands over it, but the warning spoken about its effect on those not known to it was now imprinted. He dared not touch it. He could lose his life if he did.
Outside, dishes were whisked away, most with food on them, and tables and chairs vanished with alacrity, and so, too, the retainers. Their Vallorin had moods to be avoided.
Grim of face, the others arrayed to the sides of the seat. Torrullin sat, gripping the armrests as power infused him. He welcomed the infusion. He needed the infusion, although the thought was unformed.
Pretora was hesitant as he approached, and behind him Kismet was hasty as he entered. Kismet caught up, slowed him.
“What, Pretora?”
“A face like thunder? We are in for it, Kismet. Quiet now.”
Both men glanced at Caltian, a stranger from another world, and searchingly at Saska, but were themselves under scrutiny and did not react. Whatever emotion lay behind those faces, all of it spelled trouble.
“My Lord,” Pretora murmured, bowing. Kismet wordlessly did the same.
“Pretora, did Camot return from Atrudis?” said Torrullin.
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Send for him. Where are the Q’lin’la?”
“At the Temple, my Lord.”
I am on my way, Enchanter, Quilla sent before he could be contacted.
Torrullin grimaced. All gods, he wanted to sleep forever.
“Lord Vallorin?” Kismet said.
Torrullin looked at him.
“My Lord, there are Dragons here.”
Torrullin leaned forward, eyes sparking. “Yes?”
“They arrived on the cargo traveller with many Thinnings aboard.”
“They were guised as Xenians,” Pretora added.
“Where are they?” Torrullin asked.
Pretora put his hands together. “We have incarcerated them.”
“Goddess!” Torrullin snarled. Alongside him heads were shaken. “Did you not tell Quilla or Krikian? Release them immediately.”
He rubbed his eyes and drew breath. Her Majesty Abdiah, Kallanon ruler, Dragonne Queen, would have a few succinct words about this. Fortunately, she harked to diplomacy.
“Abdiah planned ahead,” Vannis muttered nearby, his voice on the edge of amusement.
She clearly sent the two Dragons as forerunners, suspecting the battle for the Light would come to Valaris. Abdiah, as Torrullin once remarked, was her own advisor.
Kismet ran out, leaving Pretora clutching his robe.
“Thundor was successful, thank Aaru,” Taranis murmured. “If duped.”
Thundor saved the Thinnings in the Forbidden Zone from Murs annihilation. Great foresight, but he might have brought his brethren to new disaster here.
Torrullin did not respond.
“Lord Vallorin, what is wrong? We thought you were able to end …” Pretora’s voice petered out when his ruler swung a silvery gaze to him.
Quilla appeared and instantly read the situation. He frowned at Pretora. “Leave, Elder; all will be explained. Prepare the bedchambers and order up …” He glanced at the bunch around the Throne. “… food and wine.”
“We have no time to drink, birdman!” Vannis snapped.
Quilla ignored him. “Go, Pretora, and better put some sedatives in the food.”
The Elder stared at him in horror and then noticed twinkling eyes. He made himself scarce, relieved. The birdman had a calming influence on the Vallorin.
Quilla swung back serenely to the group of marauders; their reputation had reached Valarian ears also. He had not believed a word of it and now wondered if he was wrong. He looked them over critically and his gaze fixed on Torrullin.
“You had a hard time of it, obviously, but there is no call to frighten your Elders and retainers. You need them.”
“They have been lax.”
“They have not. We ourselves only returned two weeks ago. We found Valaris secure, as you will no doubt recognise when you open your eyes. They do not know the full tale and are unaware of new dangers, but they are prepared as if mindful of every facet.”
“But they know the Dragon is gone.”
“That was, after all, the point.”
Caltian swallowed. He killed the creature and thus fulfilled his destiny.
“Where have you been?” Torrullin asked.
The birdman studied him calmly as he said, “We were on Atrudis. Much fear arose with the re-emergence of Emperor Teighlar and, despite the documents you prepared, insufficient Valleur believed in you to take you at your word. We stayed to smooth matters and that took some doing. Eventually the charisma of the Emperor himself won hearts, but it meant we were delayed in returning. What would you have us do, Enchanter? Leave that world to a different war. A civil war?”
Torrullin rubbed his eyes again. “You did well, and I am sorry.”
Quilla smiled.
“Grinwallin?” Saska whispered.
Grinwallin was a mighty city in the eastern region of Atrudis’ Tunin continent; a city built of stone set atop a great plateau. It delved the mountain behind it as well as stepping in tiers down to the plateau. Grinwallin, when they attained it in search of the Taliesman, was in ruin, but the ruins were odd for a city ninety million years abandoned; it seemed as if it fell into disrepair a mere century before. Magic kept the spirit of a fair city alive, proven when its resident Emperor, Teighlar, rose from ghostly form to become real.
Teighlar and Grinwallin were gifted a second chance. The team left the city before it arose in splendour, before Teighlar’s people, the Senlu, awakened with him.
The birdman gazed up with wonder upon his angelic face. “I am not one for cities and many people, but I would happily change my ways for Grinwallin. She is beautiful, simply entrancing.”
In leaving, they gifted the Senlu their second chance without the strife a Darak Or would unleash. It was decidedly a point of light.
Saska smiled.
Quilla transferred his gaze to Torrullin. “Her architect was a genius. Grinwallin was conceived with heart and soul. You would–”
“What?” It came out as a warning.
Quilla heard it and sighed inwardly. Perhaps the Enchanter knew the truth about Grinwallin. “… be proud, Torrullin.”
“Why would Ibe proud?”
“We were part of her renewal, Enchanter. We should all be proud.”
Torrullin’s silvery gaze moved away.
Quilla prompted, “Is he here?” He meant Margus.
“We think so,” Taranis replied when his son did not. “We lost him out there and there are no longer traces.”
“Full circle,” Quilla murmured. “We deal with it. For the present, you bathe and rest, eat. Leave the rest to me. I shall see the sites cloaked immediately and that Camot is ready.” He quirked his head. “You are home and amongst your own, and we shall aid in carrying this burden. Take some time to find your good humour before you speak again.”
The birdman swung around and exited the chamber.
“A breath of sanity, our Quilla,” Taranis murmured.
“Yes,” Vannis agreed, and left. Back home now, the death of his beloved Raken was again new.
Tristamil, his face expressionless, followed. He wanted desperately to see Skye, and knew it would be hard for them.
“Well, we are a cohesive unit,” Taranis said, and strode the carpet into the courtyard. He ignored the few curious retainers outside and bounded up the outer stairs to the suites.
“Matt, show Caltian to the guest area.” Torrullin waved after Taranis, and the two left without a word.
“I assume I may still claim a place in our suite, husband?” Saska asked. Her emerald eyes were cold and simultaneously challenging.
He stared at her. “You are my wife.”
“I am a stranger to you.”
“Gods, I cannot do this now. The suite is yours; I will find somewhere else.”
Saska stood before him. “You have sucked all the joy from me and treated me like the enemy. Do not humiliate me as well. It is our suite, and you will join me in it.”
“As you will, my Lady.”
She nodded and left.
TORRULLIN SAT FOR many hours. A gentle prompting from Kismet to eat went unheard and Quilla came and went, but he merely left the Enchanter to his thoughts. None of them realised it was more than introspection, more than strategies that kept him there, although those were factors.
The Throne held him, asking questions, receiving answers, without conscious thought. A communion, for the ancient sentient seat needed to know what was new and what was changed. One day the sentience would gift the kind of answers that would completely destroy Torrullin of the present, to remake him, but that day had not yet arrived. For now, the communion was mutual and satisfying. It, more than anything else, told him he was home.
It was dusk when he finally stirred, standing like an old man. He felt old. He felt guilty.
He wanted to sleep forever.
SASKA WAS UPSTAIRS and had arranged food and drink for him. He looked at her, silently sat, and ate slowly. He did not speak, and she did not interrupt. She watched, waiting for a sign of something more than enmity, but he revealed nothing. He was far away. He was also clearly drained.
“I have drawn you a bath,” she said, when he eventually pushed his plate aside.
Nodding, he entered the bathroom, closing the door. Sighing, she sat on the bed.
He eventually emerged bathed and shaven, wearing a dark blue robe, and halted in the doorway. There was a spark in his eyes and her heart tripped. Whatever it was, it would be better than cold anger.
“This is my fault, Saska. How do I deal with this?”
“I have no answer, Torrullin.”
He came to sit beside her. He smoothed her hair from her face, the first tender action since she appeared to him on Atrudis, and then dropped his hand and looked away. “Forgive me.”
She gazed towards the window, taking a breath. “Sleep. I shall keep watch.”
“There are many watching. Come, sleep as well.” He peeled the covers back. “We need to rest now.”
She studied him a while and moved to her side. Together they climbed in, lying stiffly until she turned to lay her head on his shoulder, pushing her hand through the flaps of his gown to lie upon the skin of his chest. He stiffened and then drew her close.
Gradually they relaxed, and sleep came.
They were home.
THE NEMISIN STAR
November 10, 2022
LIVE: Ancient Terra OMNIBUS
Free with KU!
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At the end of the Lore Series, Torrullin Valla and Elianas Danae vanish into the mists with their homeworld Avaelyn, but the story doesn’t end there. What happens to Tristan Skyler Valla, for example, about to embark on a Timekeeper journey with Alusin Algheri? Where is Karydor Danae, the reincarnate father Torrullin has yet to meet?
In EURUE: The Forgotten World, a century later, we find out about Tristan and Alusin’s future as they pit their talents against a man half-dead, half-alive lying in a hidden casket somewhere on Eurue. Gabryl embarks on a campaign to rouse the realms to Eurue’s forgotten status, using the strange spinning orbs known as daetal to further his ambitions.
In FAROCHIN: The Terraformed World, we meet Karydor as he wakes up to memory loss on Farochin ages before Torrullin has ever stepped forward as the power he will become. Karydor and Echayn Valla, his brother-in-law, soon find themselves racing to save Farochin from Felix of the Murs, who seeks to undo the terraform in order to become a god. Karydor seeks to atone before he meets his son.
In LYKANDIR: The Measured World, two kings look up to see a world on approach. King Androdin in the south and King Drakan in the north understand that it will lead to chaos, utter change. As clansmen, watchmakers and wer-men scramble for solutions, the kings find themselves face to face with the men from that world, led by Torrullin Valla and Elianas Danae. It seems Lykandir and Avaelyn seek to occupy the same space in the realm Avaelyn vanished into.
In AVAELYN: The Enshrouded World, the timelines align once more. A thousand years have passed, and Avaelyn returns to her designated place. However, many wish to keep Torrullin and Elianas at bay, and thus is their world wrapped in a shroud that blinds all to their presence. Meanwhile, the children of Reaume suffer to keep it that way, and that is simply unacceptable.
In AVIOR: The Mythical World, the true enemy is revealed, an Ancient Valla who seems hellbent on creating a seat of tyrannical power. To the world Avior, which most regard as a myth, all forces are summoned. The entire Valla family strides into battle, for only the Vallas can stop this Valla. What they discover below the surface is heart-breaking.
From the realms of time to the reality of lost souls, through hope and cruelty, we reconnect with familiar characters, and meet a host of new ones. An old sword with an agenda reappears, while a new talisman is forged from desperation … and so much more. An epic adventure, indeed!
Which do you think is correct?
I'm with the British on this!
November 9, 2022
2 new covers (Fantasy & Dystopian)
Details on Pre-made Covers page
November 8, 2022
Chapter 1: 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 1
We are formed in our present, actively and emotionally. And we are formed of our pasts, personal and historical.
~ Malin Drew
Valaris
The Valley of Torrullin’s Keep
Graveyard
SUMMER’S HEAT HAD sprinkled layers of fine sediment upon the fawn stone of the ancient crypts. Saska traced an arrow into the dusty deposits beside the arch of an empty chamber, and entered the mote-filled space. A marker perhaps, to call to her husband Torrullin, to declare I am here.
Her thoughts being on Torrullin, distracting her, she thus did not see him until it was too late. His shadow loomed inward, and she whirled, blood pounding. In her introspection she had placed her life into his hands.
She trapped herself.
A perfect situation for a psychopathic sorcerer.
His striking face ugly with hate, he laughed like a devil from a child’s horror nightmare. His expression and his actions rooted her, paralysed all thought and action. The next moment was the one that would mark her death. No, he would kill her, but the next moment was meant first for utter degradation. She realised how aroused he was.
She had to defend now. Lifting her hands, she swiftly cast a shield of protection, but he countered easily, his face twisting in delight. He wanted her to fight, she understood. She staggered back into cold stone, fingers spread in desperate resistance, but she possessed no magic able to stop him, or anything to distract him long enough for her to flee.
He lifted a slim black whip, shook it in cold calculation, and then cleaved it to her repeatedly, spittle flying. She screamed once before placing her energy into surviving instead. Her gown split. She stumbled. Blood flowed, dripping to the sandy floor, and he thrust her viciously down, the whip’s handle hot at her throat. His free hand clawed at her bodice. She fought him with nail and tooth, causing him to laugh anew.
As he kneed her legs roughly open, his twin hurtled into the speckled space with murder in his eyes. Without saying a word, he attacked his brother, tearing at his hair, splitting his lip. Dragging him out, he struck him repeatedly, and hurled him against the crypt stone.
The brothers fought for long silent minutes, without quarter, coming within a breath of death.
Despite her relief, and a desire to see her tormentor dead, Saska whispered enough, thinking more of the agony Torrullin would suffer than her own, and they ceased. Heaving, beaten and bruised, they glared at each other.
She crawled slowly into sunlight.
Looking up at her persecutor and her saviour, she realised he had already altered his appearance to fit that of his twin. She could not tell them apart. She could not win, not then, not now, not ever. She knew the next encounter would be even more brutal, and he would engineer it for when his twin was absent. Neither brother apologised, for there could be no words.
Torrullin’s Keep
SHE HAD TO LEAVE or die here. Their love would die. She hated it here now, and thus spent her time elsewhere when the boys were in residence. They pretended respect for their father’s wife, but one was a liar and the other desired her dead.
At age five it was a deadly scorpion, a week later a lethal snake. At six, her horse spooked riding the ridges of the Arrows. Immortal she might be, but she could survive only to a point. The twins turned seven, a bad year. Poison, crossbow, and an attempt on her body while her mind roamed. At eight, after stabbing Nessie the cook, they left her alone for a while. No, he left her alone.
Quilla advocated years ago that she absent herself when they were in the vicinity, exactly when Torrullin needed her most. Now she did precisely that and it drove a wedge between her and her husband.
Yesterday’s terror made her decision final.
Saska went to Quilla at the Lifesource Temple for healing. His reconstruction was not as complete as Torrullin’s could be, for red welts remained on her arms, but no matter. Quilla, dear friend, had been sad. She saw the brothers earlier, both healed. What tale they spun their father she could not know, but Torrullin took pity again.
A screech filled the air and she looked up in time to see a hawk capture a smaller bird in mid-flight.
I am that little bird.
“Saska!”
She leaned over the battlements and saw Torrullin in the courtyard below. She waved, and then moved out of view. When she looked again, he strode through the great Dragon doors together with his sons Tristamil and Tymall. It was Millanu’s Naming Day and they were on their way to the Graveyard to pay their respects.
The last place she desired to be.
Wandering to the north-western side, she watched them and had to admit they looked good together. Three lean and fit men, the one fair, the other two with gold and auburn streaks. The Vallas. Glorious in their beauty, terrible in their power.
Torrullin looked back, angling his head upward, and she discerned disquiet. He knewsomething brewed, but he also chose to go on walking.
She lifted her gaze to the next rise, to the Graveyard. She noted Vannis’ stance in the distance, and Raken, his wife. Lycea, the twins’ mother, was there also. Both women had aged in the twenty-five years since she met them. Unlike me. I do not age. Yet today I feel truly old.
The boys lived at the White Palace with Lycea, occupying their own wing in Vannis and Raken’s home. Raken quietly informed Vannis the first time something happened between her and one of the boys, and Vannis gave both such a beating she dared not say anything thereafter. Vannis respected her silence, knowing how close he came to losing himself in violence.
Poor Torrullin, Saska thought. A virtual recluse, afraid of accusations he imagines in the eyes of friends and family. He is particularly shy of Vannis lately, Vannis, who at their birth twenty-five years ago told him to ensure the unrecognised babe did not take a first breath.
Going below, she wandered the Keep, recalling happier times. There were many. Making love anywhere, as the mood took them. Their wedding. Filling the empty rooms of the newly built Keep with treasures … yes, for a while they were truly happy.
Then the boys turned three and remembered their time in their mother’s womb. Valleur babies were aware before birth and thus the father needed to cradle, speak and sing to the unborn. Recognition and commitment entrenched before birth. Unfortunately, Lycea carried twins and one babe hid behind the other, and therefore remained unrecognised until labour commenced. He entered his world with hate infusing every atom, and only his brother knew him. They even sounded the same.
Inhaling a sense of grief, for happy times were no longer a sufficient foundation to build a future on, she went upstairs next.
Their personal suite comprised of a small sitting room, Torrullin’s select library, a bathroom and their bedroom. The whole was a haven as life after the Darak Or progressed into parenthood and rulership. Recently it became Torrullin’s retreat as he withdrew from social graces. To her it was a prison, the walls enclosing, and conversely it was also the only place she felt safe. No retainers were permitted, and neither were her stepsons. Torrullin found their bed slashed to ribbons one night, and instituted the rule the following morning.
Nothing I want here; too many memories.
She lay down, gaze touching on the little wooden Buddha from Beacon, the large jade shell from Canimer, her homeworld, and other arresting items on display. Too many memories indeed.
Shifting her gaze, she watched the pale woven hangings move in the breeze …
TORRULLIN’S TREAD ON the stairs awakened her. She started dragging a sleeved tunic on to cover the welts, and jumped from her skin when his warm hand arrested her attempt at concealment. She emerged from the item to look into his grey eyes.
Panic. Hers, and his.
Tossing the garment aside, she went to the window, staring blindly over the beautiful valley.
“Saska?” Torrullin’s voice was behind her, close. “Is this why you didn’t come?”
He took her hand and ran his fingers up her arm, his breath in her neck. She snatched it back. He would want to heal the evidence away and she did not wish him to. She needed the motivation.
“What happened?” he asked. “Why could you not come to me for help?”
“It doesn’t matter, Torrullin. It is done.”
He moved away then and she turned to see him sit heavily on the bed. A troubled gaze speared her.
“The boys?”
No, one boy. One man. “I am fine, do not worry.”
If he knew which son, Saska doubted not the young man would beg for his life this night. It was in his eyes, the need to punish.
“How?” He undoubtedly realised her injuries lay behind the beating they inflicted on each other yesterday. “What did he use?”
“A whip.” She swallowed and went to him when he paled, kneeling on the carpet to take his hands. “My love, leave it.”
“He will kill you.” It was the first time he admitted it aloud. “I will send them away.” He meant it, but his expression was bleak.
“That will solve nothing.” Saska took a steadying breath and loaded it with all the courage and conviction she could muster. Tightening her grip on his hands, she said, “Torrullin, look at me.” His expression was distant, in retreat, but he focused. “I shall be leaving.”
“I am accustomed to that now.”
A knife twisted in her heart. “I am leaving permanently.”
He yanked his hands free to clench them into fists. “Saska, no, I will not allow him to drive you from your home, from me. We can get past this.”
She placed her hand on his knee. “As we got past others? The next one may be my swansong.”
He inhaled. “They will be gone in two weeks.”
She stood with determination and returned to the window. “This marriage has suffered enough.” Silence answered that statement, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. “I deserve never to look over my shoulder. Please understand.”
“You are not coming back … ever?”
She swung around, and froze. It was as if someone bled life and colour from him.
“I will fight this,” he whispered.
Her heart lurched, gladdened by his willingness, but it was now far beyond that. Her voice failed her, and she swallowed and tried again.
“I leave because I fear for us.” She crossed the space once more and drew him close. “I love you more than life, you know that.”
He held her to him, face hidden in her chest. “Don’t go.”
All his power, and yet this he could not change. That power was hers alone. “I must do this.”
Torrullin released her and stood. He paced, and each step brought anger closer. His eyes darkened with every step. She did not want him angry, but maybe that would make this parting easier.
“I cannot do this alone!” he blurted.
“You already are. No one can help you with those boys. They drive what is good away from you. Soon there will be no place for me.”
“Never!” He came to a halt.
“You’re lying to yourself. Do you want me to say I will return when you have dealt with the twins? Do you want an ultimatum? How long do I wait? I love you too much to ruin what is left.”
They faced each other, breathing hard.
“Just like that?” he demanded, disbelieving.
“No, not just like that. I thought long and delayed this moment many times.” She reached up to touch his face.
He flinched, and then hauled her into his arms. “When?”
“Now.”
A shudder passed through his entire body. “Goddess, not now. You have thought; I am shattered in moments. Please, my love, not thismoment. One more night. You and me against the world.”
His hold tightened and his heart thudded against her cheek.
A minute longer made leaving harder. A whole night might undo her completely.
“Give us a chance to say good-bye. I am begging, by god.”
It would change nothing, except to hurt more, but she could accept added pain, yes, to say farewell. Tears coursed over her cheeks. It was all right now to let him see them. They had one more night.
“One more night,” she whispered into his ear.
He sagged with relief, in hope, and pulled her even closer.
SASKA LEFT AT dawn, leaving Torrullin in dreamless sleep, her last sight of him a man peaceful, the lines of strain smoothed over, a small smile on his lips. He thought to hold her longer, but the tenderness and connection of the night would change nothing in the days to come.
She abandoned the Keep for another life, somewhere else.
November 7, 2022
Going live this week: Ancient Terra Omnibus Edition
At the end of the Lore Series, Torrullin Valla and Elianas Danae vanish into the mists with their homeworld Avaelyn, but the story doesn’t end there. What happens to Tristan Skyler Valla, for example, about to embark on a Timekeeper journey with Alusin Algheri? Where is Karydor Danae, the reincarnate father Torrullin has yet to meet?
In EURUE: The Forgotten World, a century later, we find out about Tristan and Alusin’s future as they pit their talents against a man half-dead, half-alive lying in a hidden casket somewhere on Eurue. Gabryl embarks on a campaign to rouse the realms to Eurue’s forgotten status, using the strange spinning orbs known as daetal to further his ambitions.
In FAROCHIN: The Terraformed World, we meet Karydor as he wakes up to memory loss on Farochin ages before Torrullin has ever stepped forward as the power he will become. Karydor and Echayn Valla, his brother-in-law, soon find themselves racing to save Farochin from Felix of the Murs, who seeks to undo the terraform in order to become a god. Karydor seeks to atone before he meets his son.
In LYKANDIR: The Measured World, two kings look up to see a world on approach. King Androdin in the south and King Drakan in the north understand that it will lead to chaos, utter change. As clansmen, watchmakers and wer-men scramble for solutions, the kings find themselves face to face with the men from that world, led by Torrullin Valla and Elianas Danae. It seems Lykandir and Avaelyn seek to occupy the same space in the realm Avaelyn vanished into.
In AVAELYN: The Enshrouded World, the timelines align once more. A thousand years have passed, and Avaelyn returns to her designated place. However, many wish to keep Torrullin and Elianas at bay, and thus is their world wrapped in a shroud that blinds all to their presence. Meanwhile, the children of Reaume suffer to keep it that way, and that is simply unacceptable.
In AVIOR: The Mythical World, the true enemy is revealed, an Ancient Valla who seems hellbent on creating a seat of tyrannical power. To the world Avior, which most regard as a myth, all forces are summoned. The entire Valla family strides into battle, for only the Vallas can stop this Valla. What they discover below the surface is heart-breaking.
From the realms of time to the reality of lost souls, through hope and cruelty, we reconnect with familiar characters, and meet a host of new ones. An old sword with an agenda reappears, while a new talisman is forged from desperation … and so much more. An epic adventure, indeed!
