Rainbows and Portals Read online

  He did look very different … very inspiring, and very dangerous. Of course, if there was to be a confrontation, the Pilanese would not want to miss a word, but their silence would not last long, they could not help themselves.

  What had they called him? He had been given the name of a God, she knew, but had not been paying attention.

  She noticed the way his eyes flicked over her nakedness, the flare of his nostrils. His jaw clenched. She was gratified to realise she still had that effect on him, but wished for her clothes, feeling more naked before him alone than she had among many.

  He halted a few feet from her, in the rain, and held her gaze. Rain sluiced over his face, but he did not blink. The city was silent but for the irrepressible jungle sounds.

  They had called him Pill. The God of Light.

  What a tale this would become by nightfall - a God and a Goddess among ordinary folk. This city would take on immense importance in the years to come, blessed as they had been by two deities.

  When he continued to stand there silent, she realised he did not know how to begin. It gave power to her, she knew, and he was aware of it, but she felt vulnerable without her clothes in his presence.

  “Would you lend me your cloak?” Her voice was no more than a whisper.

  For a second he was confused as if he misheard her, and then he understood. He understood also why she asked. It gave power to him, but he betrayed it not at all. He undid the clasp at his neck, shrugged it off, and made to bring it to her.

  She whispered fiercely, “Don’t come closer!” Don’t come near me or I shall be lost. “Just throw it here. Please.”

  His cheeks became hollows of restraint and he threw it at her feet. She knelt and picked it up, swung it around her, wondering what the sudden movement of her breasts did to him, but did not dare to look. She hugged it closed, arms hidden, smelling him.

  “Thank you.”

  I want to touch you.

  Her eyes flew to his face. She had forgotten how he could read her thoughts.

  No. You made your choice. Let me be.

  He continued to stand without moving. Gradually sound began to rise anew as the Pilanese realised the confrontation would not be violent. They were abuzz with questions, asking it of each other, for they dared not question their deities. The kids began shouting and jostling as was their wont.

  Yes, I made a choice.

  “Go away, Enchanter. Here is nothing for you,” Saska said aloud, her chin raised. Under his cloak she trembled, her hands clenched.

  “You are here,” he spoke then, and the sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine.

  She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, he was close, very close, one hand holding his sword quiet.

  “You are my choice, Saska. I made it in loving you and that did not go away. Please give me a chance to explain …”

  “Explain what?” She refused to move back, yet trembled more. “Explain that you and I began before there was even a Darak Or? When you were Rayne? That even Rayne was curiously drawn to the waif-like Averroes, despite what was building between us? And then Averroes became the self-assured and fiery Lycea. Boy, what a lure. And do not lay that damned Valleur prophecy down as a reason for mindless fate. You made love to her despite your commitment to me in the valley that day, and it had nothing to do with prophecy. No, there is your choice. If you are to be a man, live by it. And go, please.”

  He did not move when she pushed at him on her last words. His eyes darkened when she snatched her hand back; she could feel his warmth even through the wetness of his tunic.

  The Pilanese were still watching. A monkey swung overhead, chattering. The rain ceased then as suddenly as it could come, and the sun emerged, brightening the jungle with glory.

  Torrullin’s eyes rose in wonder, drawn to the splendour of rainbows both gigantic and nestling between leaves. The city transformed into a world of colour and song as the pixie people exuberantly joined in to celebrate the miracle of light.

  Saska’s heart filled, watching him. Despite all that had happened to him, he appreciated beauty and could lose himself in wonder like an innocent child. Unlike the Darak Or, it was not something he sought to control; no, each tiny event was to him a gift, a miracle to be treasured.

  “Oh, Torrullin,” she breathed, and then stepped away quickly.

  His eyes lowered to hers immediately, darkening, responding to the emotion in hers. She could not know that the sight of the rainbows had brought to mind the pond where he first recognised his son; for him it was like a sign, and he could do nothing less than follow the road it had opened in his mind.

  “Saska …”

  She shook her head. “You shouldn’t have run.”

  “You did.”

  “I was betrayed.” Her tone remained level. “No. Your son deserves all of you. I cannot stand between you. Please leave me alone.”

  His eyes closed and he took a deep breath … as if he had just reached a vital decision. When he opened them, his eyes were so intense - it told her truth was about to be torn from him.

  She shivered.

  PILAN

  5

  “SASKA, HEAR ME, please. A man is the last part of who I am, but the man unfortunately makes the most mistakes. My son will have that part of me that is father, and twenty different women in my life cannot affect that. I am more than a father, however, and more than a man. Saska, I am you … and I shall forsake even my son if you ask it of me.”

  “No!” She stared at him wild-eyed. “Are you mad? I would not ask that!”

  “I know, yet I need you to understand I would turn my back on everything Valleur … Vannis, Lycea, the Vallorinship, the bloody prophecy, and my son, for you. This you must know, now.”

  “Dear god, Torrullin, and then? You’d hate me.”

  He stared at her. “Yes. Yet I would do it.”

  She swallowed, her entire body straining for him, only her mind holding her back. His eyes flickered, as aware of her as she was of him.

  “I do not ask it. Not now, not ever. Know that, now.”

  “Where does that leave us? I would give you everything … wealth, privacy, isolation, crowds if you prefer … a world just for you … I would make any promise, break every bond …”

  She had to interrupt, or she would hit him. For thinking that was what she wanted, and for being prepared to do it. She believed every word, and it scared the hell out of her.

  “Does Vannis know how you feel?”

  He was silent.

  “He does.” She sighed. “You shocked him.”

  A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Again.”

  “You can’t do these things, Torrullin. It wouldn’t be right. You shouldn’t even be offering this.”

  “What is right is not the issue here.”

  She licked her lips, hands clawing at the fabric of the cloak. “We have a destructive relationship, Enchanter.” She deliberately put space between them by using his title. “Maybe it’s safer to stay apart …”

  “Safer?” Savagely.

  A hot streak of lust shot through her. “Yes!”

  He snatched breath, furious, and his eyes told her he knew where she was. His hands clenched tight to his scabbard to prevent himself from reaching out, consequences be damned. He forced calm.

  “We are not done, you and I.”

  She denied that truth by shaking her head. “There is nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  Oh, god, she would come undone. “I am not committing.”

  He stared at her with lifted brows, and she had to look away. The silence then was loaded, and when she looked back he was another step closer. She could feel his heat; feel his breath on her cheek …

  “Torrullin, get away from me, or I’m going to run far this time and you won’t find me again.”

  He stared down at her, and then gave a nod. Eyes narrowed and he stepped away. “Very well; I shall say no more, for now.”

  “Thank you.�
�

  He fingered his scabbard as if he wanted to say more despite his words, and then shook his head. He looked to the Pilanese, eyes silvery and alien to them, and when he looked back she could see he had imposed control, even if thread-thin. She desperately wanted to snap it.

  “You have to return to the Dome, Saska.”

  She studied him. “Belun told you. In the Dome. You’ve been to the Dome.”

  “Oh, yes; through the fourteenth ogive.” His face twisted.

  She paled. “You’re the Dragon?” So fatidic; what chance at normality would he ever have? “I’m sorry.”

  “One more. Will you come?”

  “Final Days?”

  “It seems so.”

  Clutching at his cloak, smelling him, wanting him, she looked out from under the awning to the singing, laughing and chattering Pilanese. Her eyes followed the path of a flock of parrots and rested on a rainbow.

  The interlude was over. It was time to leave. As a Goddess she did not have to explain her abrupt arrival, or her abrupt departure, but her heart constricted at the happy innocence around her, at having to leave it, and leave without explaining … they were the lucky ones. In their believed isolation they did not have to grapple with the ugliness out there. Universal answers were not debated here and could not cause strife, for they could not conceive of the questions.

  It was not over; he was right. Every moment in his presence was a fight to stay away from him. He would forsake his son for her, sweet god. She would not ever want him to do that, but it proved how much of an obsession they had for each other. And if she returned to him, then one day she would find herself in this hell of pain again. It was the nature of their relationship. Intense, hurtful, dangerous … and that was the fire.

  She looked at him, knowing he could see, locking onto those silvery orbs. “Go away.”

  He smiled.

  She looked away. “I’ll come to the Dome, but I have to stop for clothes.”

  He wanted to say something, and then thought better of it. He wanted to stop for clothes with her, and knew she would not resist the instant he touched her. But it was too soon to make that kind of advance; if they were to have a chance, he had to exercise patience. He was not a patient man. She read all that in the subtle play of emotions upon his face.

  He said something else. “Is this the kind of place you would be happy in?”

  She stared at him. “Could you live like this?”

  “No.”

  She was furious then. “Too innocent, Enchanter?”

  He stared deep into her eyes. “Too wet, my love. Too unchanging. There is no fire. You wouldn’t be happy here either; you and I, we need change all the time.”

  She swallowed. He knew her. “Perhaps.”

  His hand was at her cheek, and the fingers curled as if about to twist into her hair. She could see the intent in his eyes, the desire to pull her close, to lock his mouth onto hers, to take, to pillage every defence … she strained towards him … and then he swore and dropped his hand.

  “In the Dome, then.”

  He stepped back swiftly and turned and a moment later had vanished to shouts of “Pill! Pill!” as the Pilanese chanted and clapped their hands in rhythm.

  She shook. She would not have stopped him. In fact, she was furious he had drawn back.

  PILAN

  6

  SASKA SMILED THEN. Sometime she would tell him here he was the God of Light, as he was to others out there.

  She allowed the cloak to fall open, but only so far as to reveal her breasts - which told every Pilanese near enough to see how aroused she was - and raised her hands.

  When she had a measure of quiet, she said simply, “Thank you, people of Pilan, for your welcome and hospitality. It is time for me to leave …”

  My God has called me.

  “… but one day I shall return.”

  To nods and clapping, shouts and whistles, to “Leath! Leath!” and squealing monkeys, squawking parrots, and with rainbows in her eyes, Saska turned and vanished. She would return, one day.

  What a tale the Pilanese now had to pass from generation to generation, of how the God of Light had summoned the Goddess of Water, and how they were witness to it.

  End of Pilan Interlude

  PILAN

  Afterword

  SASKA DOES RETURN to the Dome, and the Final Days on Valaris commence. Death stalks her. Death stalks many. But for love of the God of Light, she enters the fray, hoping love will not only be victorious, but also that it would keep her warm in the ice and snow awaiting her …

  THE

  LIFE-WHEELS

  of

  P E N D U L I M

  PENDULIM

  Foreword

  DUE TO THE CONSTRAINTS of storytelling, I removed Torrullin Valla’s original mission to Pendulim from The Dragon Circle. There are, however, a few interesting ‘facts’ about this particular offworld jaunt I thought to share with you.

  Here, therefore, the original inclusion.

  This entirely goes into a different direction from what happens in the final version of The Dragon Circle. Therefore, read as something separate to the larger design, and enjoy!

  Brief Backstory

  HAVING BETRAYED SASKA and having been caught out, the agony of loss forces Torrullin Valla into seeking something to engage his mind in order for him to ignore his heart.

  It has become clear that Margus, the Darak Or, is soul-snatching on Valaris, killing innocents and reaping their souls in order to grow an army of soltakin, killers of the Light.

  Torrullin therefore leaves Valaris for Pendulim, a world of flame-wrights, makers of amulets. He seeks a device able to ward Valarian souls against Margus’ horrific campaign, but there is also a rumour about a Champion of Pendulim being prepared to become a Guardian in the Dome. The Guardians are against it. Pendulim is not to be trusted.

  At Torrullin’s side is Augin, a palace guard from Ardosia …

  PENDULIM

  1

  THE TORRULLIN OF PREVIOUS reincarnations travelled widely and was therefore aware of many worlds and nations.

  The Torrullin of the present had not yet been offworld. As Rayne he went with Vannis to Ardosia to defend against the soltakin invasion, arriving too late to be of help, but Rayne was one facet of his personality. Torrullin possessed a broader perspective; he was certain not much had changed out there in the thirty-four years as Rayne.

  Xen III with its domes was a waste of time, if he sought real diversion, which he did. Too tame and too contained.

  Beacon, that giant city-world, was too human for his liking, and too technological. In his current frame of mind, he would probably cause trouble, hating the conservative society … and have Beaconite warships parked in Valaris orbit in no time. Beacon was not known for patience, and his world did not need another enemy. Beacon had already come to Valarian aid; to trample that was worse than selfish.

  Ceta was militaristic and Excelsior regimented; nothing there for diversion.

  Belun’s words returned to him as Augin asked where they were going. A decision regarding destination made in the blink of an eye.

  Pendulim.

  Shadof territory.

  No doubt he would interfere in Guardian business, and would regret it later. He simply did not care. Shadof Wheels would prove adequate diversion.

  PENDULIM AS WORLD was a giant, one of four in the Lithia Galaxy. Four massive continents were separated by oceans so vast it took thousands of years to even comprehend something lay on the other side of the depths. The continents compared in size to worlds elsewhere; the spirit of broader adventure was thus quelled by landmass alone for a long time.

  Shyala was the largest, and the genesis of Pendulim’s widespread population- a forested land that remained the most viable habitat. Where the other continents were desert, ice-bound and rock strewn, and made comfortable life hard to maintain, Shyala’s diversity hosted the greatest percentage of the population.

  Suc
h territory made it difficult to find the flame-wrights he sought.

  Decidedly a diversion.

  AUGIN, HAVING FOLLOWED the signature to Pendulim, found Torrullin standing hands on hips in a glade, overgrown and clearly abandoned a long time ago. The place stank of ancient rot. A clear statement of how large Shyala was, if this fertility was overlooked. Nothing was ever overlooked on Ardosia.

  It appeared deserted also, but the stealthy sound of rapid breathing somewhere in the undergrowth - as if chance gifted a watcher or two new prey - revealed Torrullin had been marked, and so too Augin.

  “My Lord, why here?”

  Torrullin fixed an expressionless gaze on him. “Do the Valleur of Ardosia know of the Dragon, Augin?”

  “Of course. The mark of rulership.”

  “Really. Dantian never had such a mark.”

  “Because Vannis had the greater claim.”

  Torrullin gave a hollow laugh. “Indeed.” He swung around, drawing his sword in a swift, accomplished movement, and pointed the sharp length of folded steel at the scruffy creature that had used the sound of his voice to creep up behind him.

  “Do you want to die?”

  His assailant turned and fled.

  Holding his sword casually, Torrullin turned back. “I bear the mark of rulership, Augin, and I’ll let you in on a little secret about this Dragon …” He lifted his tunic roughly to expose the creature on his chest. “It’s alive. It is able to kill. But, you know what? It curtails me!” He jerked the material down and stood with his hand pressed against his stomach. “More accurately, it curtails Destroyer.”

  “My Lord?” Augin felt out of his depth.

  “Never mind. Ignore me. I’m contrary right now. Just lost the woman I love.” Torrullin closed his eyes and pinched his nose. “Gods, I’m a mess. And selfish. Losing a woman doesn’t quite stand alongside the losses on Ardosia and Valaris.”