Read Online The Dreamer Stones by Elaina J Davidson - Free Book Online

gone. A sigh escaped her, and then
she was gone.
    He left by
another door and wandered the remaining dark hours up on the
battlements.
     
     
    There were
dark rings under Lowen’s eyes in the morning and Torrullin was
impatient with everything.
    Krikian looked
from one to the other, and told them to find a private place each
to renew for the coming trial. Neither argued; both left in
different directions. Krikian, watching them go, saw clearly what
lay between them.
    Two women lay
there, stood there, walked there. One was a ghost known as Cat and
the other was a flesh and blood woman called Saska.
    Remove them,
which was unlikely, and nothing would keep those two apart.
     
     
    Nightfall.
    Fire lit. A
gathering of three. Strained supper.
    Lowen looked
up. “Say when, Enchanter.”
    He looked past
her to Krikian. “If anything happens to us in there, tell them.” He
drew breath. “Tell Saska first.” Krikian nodded. “Tell her I love
her and I shall be back.”
    Krikian said,
“It will be so, my Lord.”
    Torrullin
glanced at Lowen. “When.”
    She nodded and
rose, went to her carpetbag and removed objects. These she inserted
about her clothing. A pocket-knife went into a breast pocket, a
flashlight into a hip pocket, a small vial, a lighter, a tiny
cosmetic bag, a ring dangling from a chain and an ancient rosary
went into various other pockets.
    “I need my
hands free,” she explained, noticing the two men watching her. “I
refuse to be unprepared.”
    That
translated as the way ahead was rough.
    Torrullin rose
and checked himself over. In the black as ever, sword against his
right thigh, Medaillon against the warmth of his chest under his
tunic. He needed nothing else.
    “What comes
next?”
    Lowen found
the ring on its chain, held it aloft. “This draws the doorway.”
    It was old,
beaten gold, a broad band with a dusky garnet setting, a man’s
ring. He knew it from old prophecy books, realised Krikian had to
be in possession of its twin, the connection that would call them
back to this time.
    He wondered
where she found them.
    “Those are
dangerous tools.”
    “You know
them,” Lowen said. “They are of Cèlaver, used in reincarnation
ceremonies. Fell into disuse a long time ago, when it was thought
death itself should determine the realm.”
    “They are
older than Cèlaver. They are from Earth’s sages. Cèlaver, it
appears, did have a close connection to the first humans.”
    Lowen stared
at the ring. “How could those people have known?”
    “Magic is
almost as old as time,” Krikian murmured. “Humans forgot, Valleur
did not.”
    Lowen’s eyes
flicked back to Torrullin, and they narrowed. “Do you need to
destroy them afterward?”
    She did not
like it, he understood. “No.”
    Then she was
suspicious. “Why not?”
    “They can do
no harm.” He meant to say something else, hesitating at the last
second.
    She must have
heard it and she said nothing.
    “No harm, yet
you call them dangerous tools.” Krikian did not have the same
ability to understand as the Xenian seer.
    “Dangerous in
the wrong hands. I think you and Lowen may be entrusted with their
care.”
    Krikian
smiled, pleased.
    “It is time to
go, Lowen.”
    She put the
ring on her finger. It was over large for her slim digit, the chain
hanging from the curve underneath; she curled her fingers over the
slack and drew the chain into her palm. Then, looking significantly
at Krikian, she stretched her fist before her.
    The Valleur
touched the area around his neck; his ring lay there waiting. The
two smiled at each other, both strained.
    The rings
worked when one believed they would. Mind over matter. It made them
dangerous, yes, for belief could accomplish much; in themselves
they were harmless and without power. They did not require
destruction, for they were not intrinsically magic, and few knew of
their existence.
    Had he said
that to the two intent people who spent long years training for
this, he negated their belief in the