Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  “Count on it,” Teighlar said. “I will not be full of shit after, promise.”

  Torrullin grinned, knowing that was a mistruth, and took Teroux to him, saying, “Rose will be good for you. Keep your eyes open wide, okay?”

  Numb, Teroux nodded.

  Tianoman was next. “You will be a great Vallorin, Tianoman,” Torrullin whispered in his ear and let go.

  “Really?” Tianoman’s eyes were big.

  “Really.” A smile, and then he moved to Maple. “Digilan has released you. Go make your peace with Tymall, then go home, my friend. Lily will know you.”

  Maple swallowed. “Thank you, my Lord.”

  Elianas and Lowen were speaking farewells also, as were Tristan, Caballa and Quilla, and Torrullin stood before Declan. “Hold the fort and light a candle in the window.”

  Declan, Siric, bowed and flared his wings out in homage. “Safe journey.”

  Torrullin nodded, clasped Rose’s face, and then said to Teighlar, “When you are free, go to Saska. Talk to her, please, and make her understand.”

  “I shall. Go in friendship and love.”

  It was time.

  “How?” Quilla whispered.

  “Jump,” Torrullin laughed, and jumped.

  Chapter 58

  Thought is matter. A void, therefore, cannot ever be empty.

  ~ Book of Sages

  The Void

  TWENTY-SIX YEARS AGO Torrullin and Lowen stood at the lip of an abyss and entered to find below the Syllvan, Gatekeepers of Reaume.

  Questions and answers there opened new paths.

  This void was different.

  A longer time ago Torrullin and Elianas speculated that to enter was never to leave. It was akin to being eternally lost, and free.

  It was not like that.

  They fell through Eternity, and at first it was dark.

  Then there was colour.

  Parallel rings of an artist’s palette flashed and dimmed as accompaniment where they hurtled through. They went too fast to hold onto specifics, yet enough burned into retinas to prove those rings were snatches of parallel dimensions, alternate worlds, times and universes … and realms. There was life, marvellous and terrible life, to each.

  In the depths of the corridor worlds floated, worlds swallowed or failed or forgotten, worlds yet to be born. Bright stars curved in patterns with red giants and blue dwarfs. The fabric of cosmic mastery. So much, and yet in the vastness it was empty.

  In such immensity they were minute, a skip in memory, and memory would not light an atom in this eternity. All that they were and would be was stripped from them until only pure soul remained. All that was physical was immaterial and although they made contact in the flashing dark, they felt nothing of each other, and felt everything.

  They passed through the anti-matter pull of black holes, were tossed beyond the reaches of imploding stars and swirled in vacuum, crushed in gravity, and felt nothing. A wormhole flicked an errant tail, asteroids and comets played to silent music, and heat blasted while cold froze.

  Then, for a moment, but a moment, all slowed … and ceased.

  A crossroad in eternity.

  They were blind and at the mercy of something boundless; no understanding would ever be.

  In the next micron of time and nothingness, they were forcibly pushed, breath-sucking death, into white light.

  All consciousness fled, and sentience became another’s memory.

  BLACKNESS

  Cold.

  Sensation

  Sound … sound.

  “Tristan?”

  Fingers searched, found, held.

  “I am here, Caballa.”

  A cough, a splutter.

  “Quilla?”

  “Still alive, yes.”

  A moan. “Where are we?” Lowen’s voice, scratchy, barely there.

  “No idea,” Tristan whispered.

  “Torrullin?” Lowen called, but there was no answer. “Elianas?” He was silent also.

  Time stood still and they forgot they had awakened.

  LIGHT.

  Heat.

  Sensation.

  Music … music.

  Torrullin opened his eyes. Flutes and blue stars, pink sky. He was on his back, staring up. A sigh near him and he turned his head.

  Elianas’ eyes flickered wide.

  “Elianas.”

  Dark eyes found him. A great, shuddering sigh.

  Time locked them away, and they forgot they had awakened.

  Chapter 59

  Events make up a life. Events, therefore, mark time.

  Awl

  Grinwallin

  TEIGHLAR STARED UP AT Grinwallin’s mountain from the plateau.

  That was his mountain.

  He lowered his gaze to bright pennants and winging birds.

  And there was his city.

  Thank all the gods of the universe, he was home. A smile broke out upon his face. Yes, now it was true home.

  “My Lord Emperor!”

  His smile widened, seeing Dechend on the mighty stairway. Dancing a little, he met his Elder halfway, and they clasped arms as friends do, rather than ruler and subject.

  Then, embarrassed, Dechend withdrew his arm and murmured, “Welcome back.”

  “Glad I am to be back.”

  “Where are the others?”

  Teighlar glanced over his shoulder. “We decided to scatter to see if all is well in our various places of the heart. Everyone is fine, have no fear.” He frowned. “How long were we away?”

  Dechend gave a sigh. “Time is very strange, my lord. I was gone from Grinwallin four months, and it has been a further eight for you. I guess it feels more like days.”

  “We were away almost a year? Yes, how strange that days can be measured … never mind.” Teighlar gripped Dechend’s shoulder. “I am in need of a proper bath, a shave and the best red we can find!”

  Grinning together, they happily went up the stairs and into Grinwallin proper.

  Minea

  MAPLE TRUDGED UP THE path to the cave where Lily, the Lady of Life, had made her home.

  Torrullin said he would find welcome here, but would he? Maple’s heart beat an unnatural rhythm, and yet he would not now back away.

  He saw a young woman bent over a cauldron, stirring slowly with a worn wooden pole. He smiled inwardly. Many would call the image presented as witchery.

  She looked up and squinted. “Is that you, Maple?”

  Clearing his throat, he managed to say yes.

  Lily smiled, her whiteless eyes exactly like his. “You have been redeemed. How wonderful.”

  Maple’s knees thudded into the dust and he lifted his arms to the heavens. Hallelujah. He had been redeemed indeed.

  Valaris

  SABIAN DREW DEEP OF Galilan’s cosmopolitan city air.

  The choice was his. He had sole control over what form his future would now assume. As a darkling once, never had the thought of choice entered his subconscious. As Agnimus, draithen, a creature of body and melded soul, the agony of his past had forced him into less than savoury decisions.

  Sabian the soul had emerged victorious from all that, and Torrullin Valla gifted him true freedom.

  Finally choice was his alone.

  He wandered amid bright stalls and bought a meat pastry. Eating, he meandered onward. He had heard tell of Linmoor’s great market. It might be nice to pay it a visit. Then again, the new Maze in the Vall Peninsula was worth a stopover also. Maybe Menllik’s theatres …

  Smiling, Sabian licked his fingers.

  To everyone he appeared human, a Valarian. If he visited Xen III, folk there would think him Xenian. He was, point of fact, anonymous. He could go anywhere and no one would stop him.

  He halted to purchase a cold ale, slugging the brew back with gusto.

  There was no rush to choose one place.

  Sightseeing was his new motto.

  The Dome

  DECLAN PACED.

  A year had el
apsed upon a finger click, damn it, when they were in the realm of time. Another year had now gone by and still there was no sign or word of the six in the Void.

  Swinging to the Kaval in the Dome, the Siric muttered, “Any disturbances?”

  Chaim rose from a seat at the slab. “Siric, calm yourself. All is well. Elixir will return soon enough.”

  Declan frowned, swinging away again to pace along the ogives. All was well, yes. The Lax situation had been satisfactorily diffused, Excelsior had been rapped soundly upon the knuckles, and everywhere there was peace. Folk murmured about a peace akin to the two millennia of equanimity all now spoke of in hushed and reverent tones.

  It was too quiet for his liking.

  ANOTHER YEAR PASSED.

  Frustration bit at the Siric, but he kept the proverbial lamps burning.

  There was something amiss with this ‘peace’, in his opinion, but only Torrullin would hark to his suspicions.

  When would the bloody man reappear?

  Valaris

  TIANOMAN GRINNED FROM THE dais as sound erupted around him, threatening to lift the heavens under which they all celebrated.

  Behind him, the golden Valleur Throne had made it known without doubt who it now regarded as Vallorin. It had glowed, and then a pair of eagles flitted overhead.

  The Valleur were ecstatic and made certain everyone heard them.

  Yiddin and Vanar thumped the dais in rapturous accompaniment, tears flowing freely over their faces. The Valleur future had been secured without question in these last few minutes.

  “Hail Tianoman Valla!” Yiddin roared, and punched the air in bliss.

  They roared with him.

  Tianoman, giddy with happiness, noticed a familiar face in the crowd. Aislinn? Aislinn! He winked at her.

  To his delight, she winked back.

  Xen III

  ROSE TOOK TEROUX ON a tour of the Farspeaker enclave.

  In the dimmed spaces they discovered each other, speaking from their hearts about the traumas of their youth.

  When Teroux tentatively kissed her, Rose smiled at him and quietly led him to a private place.

  There were no games involved in their union.

  Both felt as if they head reached a safe haven.

  Akhavar

  SASKA ALTERNATIVELY CURSED Torrullin, and longed for him.

  She cursed Elianas continuously.

  Time went by and she found some measure of distraction in dealing with the Elders of Akhavar. Stores were laid in and farms commissioned in fertile zones. Slowly Valleur from Valaris and Luvanor began coming in to take up residence in the mountain abode and out in the open air.

  There was much to organise, including a proclamation about the sensitive state of Akhavar’s natural order.

  Saska was frequently busy, but her entire being waited for Torrullin to return.

  Digilan

  WARLOCK TYMALL LEANED ON his hands, staring at a map of the mists of Digilan.

  How anyone could figure this was a map, made no sense to him, for curling lines did not prove direction or destination here at all.

  Not that he saw any of it. His attention focused on inner thoughts. Dilemmas.

  He suspected Elianas was the nemesis his name implied. The dark man was not a benign figure from the past, no mere apprentice. He possessed power the realms needed to be made aware of swiftly.

  Tymall’s fingers curled into fists.

  Elianas would undo his father. Torrullin Valla would soon become someone else entirely.

  A fist smashed down.

  The dark man would not take his father from him.

  Chapter 60

  Peace, friend, only peace.

  Unknown

  Place of Peace

  SHE OPENED HER EYES to find a tiny blue bird perched on her chest.

  Entranced, she lay unmoving. Blue feathers, little contours of green and misty red. It was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. And the most serene. It lifted into the air and was gone, and tears ran over her cheeks over the loss. Such loss.

  “Lowen, it’s all right.” Tristan’s voice.

  She realised she lay on grass and above her an oak tree rustled. Ancient grandfather.

  “Where are we?” she managed, surprised she had voice.

  “We don’t know,” Caballa murmured. “Sit up and stretch slowly. You will feel stiff at first.”

  Lowen sat up and felt the painful resistance in her muscles. As bid, she stretched carefully until pain eased. Then she looked around.

  Tristan and Caballa sat with arms wrapped around each other, and seemed at ease together. In the dark they had discovered completeness. How lucky they were, she thought.

  Quilla lay curled into a tiny ball at the base of the tree, his body moving rhythmically in sleep. An innocent face and an innocent soul, despite the long length of his years. He was lucky, too.

  She lifted her gaze.

  Two tree trunk creatures rested immobile a distance away.

  “The Syllvan are here?”

  “So that’s what they are,” Tristan murmured. “We wondered.”

  Lowen drew a breath and looked beyond them. Green hills, sparkling river. Blue sky, birdsong. A benign place, welcoming after a difficult journey.

  She looked the other way and then the other.

  “They are not here,” Caballa said.

  Lowen stood, stretched some more, and ambled over to the two Syllvan. She stood before them and cleared her throat.

  A shake and a shudder, branch arms shivered, and they looked at her.

  She bowed. “I am honoured to see you again.”

  “We welcome you, Lowen Dalrish. We know you,” one boomed.

  She knew how it worked. A question would beget an answer, but she could ask only two, one to each, and she had a host of questions.

  Torrullin once stood in similar quandary - what to ask when so much needed answered?

  She closed her eyes and thought.

  “How did we get here?”

  The one who spoke welcome shook with laughter. “A question that forces a long answer, and thus answers other questions. Clever. Very well. You entered the void and the Gatekeepers always watch the void. We saw you, we tracked you, and yet you fell so far and so fast we were powerless to intervene, until you stopped. We plucked you from that place to this, for this is a place of peace, a place to recover, to choose, to think, to know. And - this is an added reply, lady seer, for you are not to waste a question - your missing companions have been found and are being brought here. They will be with you soon.”

  Lowen put her hand over her heart. “Thank you.” She wanted to ask how long, but that did not matter as much. Not yet.

  “My pleasure.”

  She gazed at the second Syllvan. “You know what I speak of when I ask - did we succeed?”

  A wheeze of laughter erupted from the tree. “Clever. She does not ask do we know the point of this foolish journey through the void, does she? For we do know. Yes, my lady, you have succeeded. All is as you hoped and your companions have returned to their lives. Time has passed for them and they say nothing of what almost happened. They trust you will return whole, although lack of a definitive answer causes underlying anxiety, particularly for the two Vallas. The Tracloc - we like him - has discovered true welcome among his kin and works with the Lady of Life as need arises, and Sabian has become indispensable in Menllik, although the Valleur do not know his history or true identity. His choice.”

  The Syllvan paused. “Time has passed beyond here, sufficient for all to be as it should be, but not so much that it will be strange for you upon your return. Tianoman is Vallorin of the Valleur and has wed. Teroux and Rose have declared their intentions, but must wait for the Valla heir to be born before they may formally marry. We believe they require blessing from Elixir as well. The Dome is in orbit around Sanctuary and the Kaval function successfully with Declan as undisputed leader. He keeps a light on, as bid. The Siric is the purest soul, but that is
of no matter right now.

  “The Senlu Emperor is a happy man and has begun to travel, but has not said anything about their true heritage. We believe he awaits Elixir before speaking out. Dechend is his most trusted advisor and Grinwallin is at peace. As for the rest, Ymir is strictly monitored, in the event. Lax has been pulled apart and is in the process of complete renewal. Beacon is more diplomatic than in the past and the Dalrish of Xen III go from strength to strength. As for Saska - she waits on Akhavar. Akhavar is in the process of calm resettlement and is proving quite self-sufficient. And that is all I have to say - more than you asked, I believe.”

  Lowen bowed. “Thank you. My God, it feels like yesterday.”

  The Syllvan said no more.

  She glanced behind her.

  Quilla was awake and had obviously listened intently. He was thoughtful, and Caballa and Tristan were wordless.

  “They come,” the first Syllvan boomed.

  A moment after that it seemed as if two mighty trunks sprouted into old age in an instant. Two more Syllvan had arrived, and each carried a burden.

  Lowen rushed forward, but Tristan beat her.

  “I WILL TAKE THEM,” Tristan said, and lifted the unconscious form of Torrullin from two branch limbs to lie him down.

  Lowen bent over him while Tristan retrieved Elianas from the other. He brought him over and placed him beside Torrullin.

  He straightened. “Thank you.”

  The one who carried Torrullin said, “Keep them together. They belong together.”

  Lowen looked up with stark eyes.

  Tristan gazed back at the creature. “Why were they separated from us?”