Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  “You’re saying it’s all very platonic. A family connection, brothers-in-arms, fellow sorcerers - please, spare me.”

  Lowen wandered through to the kitchen, found a kettle for the hearth and brought it back filled with water. She hung it from the hook to heat and went back to the kitchen and busied herself finding coffee makings.

  “Somewhere along the line you chose immortality,” she called out.

  Elianas leaned in the doorway, arms crossed. “Yes.”

  “How did that happen?”

  Elianas remained silent.

  She turned, two mugs in hand. Pointing at him, she said, “Please tell me. I think you know why I did it; I would like to hear your story.”

  Elianas pushed away from the jamb to head for the cupboard. He took a jar of coffee out, sugar. Then he leaned on the counter, away from her.

  “I found him one night and he was thoroughly mad. Made no sense. I had been to court to see Nemisin and my wife and when I returned it was dark, storming, and it was cold. Gods, it was so cold. Torrullin had been drinking and he was railing against his fates. He saw me and shouted about years being too long, the road was lonely and that no one cared, no one knew, no one saw. Of course I asked and he told me everything. I believed him, but I also realised he never would have said anything had he not lost control. It was his first cycle, you see, and he had not yet discovered understanding.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was angry after that. He blamed me for coming back too soon, for his drinking, and he threw my terrible marriage in my face. He even called me a spy. I took it for days and then exploded. I was his age by then, as tall, as strong, and as angry, and we fought hard. Words, recriminations, fists, brawls that tore us open. At the end of it I told him I desired immortality also, I would prove I cared about him first before the others, and he looked at me and told me that was not why I would do it.” Elianas shrugged. “He was right. I wanted to live forever, for me.”

  Lowen reached behind him and retrieved the coffee and sugar. She measured off into the mugs and carried them through to the fire.

  Elianas followed. “I was as accomplished as he was at sorcery, so the Ritual was soon taught, soon mastered. I did it and he was my witness. After, he told me to go back to my wife.”

  Lowen poured the water, stirred and handed a mug to him. “Did you?”

  “Briefly. We had one daughter already; the other was conceived then.”

  “And Torrullin?”

  “Came to court, flaunted woman after woman.”

  “It hurt.”

  “Like hell, yes.”

  “When did that start?”

  “I adored him the moment I laid eyes on him, a youth just becoming aware of his sexuality. I said nothing, did nothing, and hoped he would see nothing.”

  “He saw.”

  “Of course.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing. He allowed me to live my life according to my choices. Even when I told him I was getting married, he said nothing. He looked at me and told me he hoped I would happy. I thought he suspected nothing. All those years, and I thought I had him duped. Nothing, nothing, nothing, what a terrible word.” A sigh erupted. “Years passed and life went on. After the Ritual we drifted apart for a time. I heard he had a son and he sent a gift when my second daughter was born.”

  “I don’t get that. You were immortal and yet there were children?”

  “That was then, Lowen. Magic was new, raw, untamed, and anything was possible.”

  Lowen nodded. “How did you discover he knew?”

  “Why am I telling you this?”

  “Because I am listening.”

  Elianas grimaced. “He will not like it.”

  “He wants to dance, so let him dance,” she muttered.

  He smiled at that. “We were never lovers, know that.”

  “Fine.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Elianas, you don’t have to sleep with someone to be a lover.”

  A long silence ensued. “Nemisin insisted I go back to Torrullin; a new spell, he said, ask about a new spell. Torrullin was making waves and Nemisin was worried. I went, of course.”

  He fell silent again and then frowned. He set his mug down and flung into a rickety armchair.

  Memory returned, with every detail.

  Torrullin sat on the ledge drawing the storm’s power unto him, as he was wont to. His hair was cropped short.

  “You cut your hair,” Elianas said.

  “Why not? I am about to go into battle.”

  It was a reply that made no sense and Elianas dropped down beside him. “Battle?”

  Torrullin’s grey eyes were silvery. “Have you come to fuck me over for Nemisin, or for your own satisfaction?”

  In the armchair Elianas closed his eyes and forgot Lowen was there.

  Elianas hit him and watched his lip burst open. The blood drew him like a magnet. Torrullin did not even lick it away; he watched Elianas’ face. Elianas could not stop himself - he leaned in to lick it off, shaking as if in a fever. Torrullin halted him before he could get there, taking Elianas’ head gently between his hands and then threading his hands into the long, dark silkiness.

  “I know you, Elianas. I have always known you. Stop fighting.”

  “Elianas?” Lowen’s voice sounded insistent.

  Eyes opened. “He did not trust my motives for being there and we fought. The truth came out then,” he muttered. “I do not want to talk about it, please. It was a strange time.”

  Torrullin released him. Tentatively, Elianas ran a finger over Torrullin’s back, tracing a line down his spine. His back was wet from the storm, and a finger became a hand, spreading the droplets, and Torrullin did not move. Elianas leaned forward to lick and still he did not move.

  Lick transformed into nibble, and Torrullin said, “This is the furthest it will ever go, understood?”

  For the most part that was the furthest it went. Every time it stormed.

  Lowen was anxious. Elianas sat with his head bowed, hands clenched. Gods, what now?

  “Leave, Lowen. Already I have said too much.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I want to be alone.”

  She stared at him. She came to chase him away or tell him where she thought he stood and now she felt sorry for him. Damn it, not good.

  Lowen rose. Memory had triggered buried feelings; she knew, exactly, how destructive it could be. She also knew he was beyond her help.

  She let herself out and transported across the lake to Torrullin’s villa. Torrullin was not there and she had not expected to find him, but for the present she had nowhere else to go.

  ELIANAS FLUNG OUT INTO the cold.

  Self-control; he had exercised immense self-control - where was it now?

  He stood at the edge of the cliff. Just once, goddamn it, just once he would like to feel Torrullin’s hands on him.

  Chapter 63

  Future is objective.

  ~ Truth?

  Valaris

  The Keep

  TIANOMAN WAS IN LOVE.

  He was in love with life, with challenge and with his wife. Married now for two years, he could not get enough of Aislinn. He rolled over, kissed her naked shoulder and smiled at her.

  Now he was also in love with the child growing inside her. His son.

  Suddenly he whooped out, “Today is going to be the best day!”

  Aislinn smiled. Who would have thought a childhood dream would become reality? She loved her husband as much as he did her. She basked in his love, was secure in it, and now she would give him something that would complete him. A baby would complete both of them.

  “The sun is high, Tian,” she murmured. “It’s time to show your face, perhaps?”

  He grinned. “Bugger that - come here.”

  “My Lord, my Lord!”

  Tianoman halted his amorous adventure. “Now what?”

  “Sounds like Sirlasin,” Aislinn murmured, st
roking his arm.

  There was a scuffle outside their door and then a theatrical shushing …

  Tianoman sat up in bed staring at that door, “My god, I think it …” Then he was in motion, scattering bedcovers Aislinn saved to cover herself, when the door burst inward.

  “I heard you got married, cousin!” Tristan called out as he strode in, grey eyes alight with laughter.

  “Tris!” Then they were hugging, laughing and crying simultaneously.

  Aislinn sat up in bed covered to her throat with untidy bedclothes and smiled widely. Now Tianoman would cease his fretting.

  Tristan grinned at her. “Aislinn, I thought he would pick you.”

  “I picked him,” she said, laughing.

  Tianoman found clothes, shoved into them and then gave his wife a smacking kiss. “See you later, all right?”

  “Go, go!” she laughed, shooing him away.

  Tianoman smiled, gripped Tristan by the shoulder and walked him out. “I want to hear everything.”

  The cousins vanished around the door, and then Tianoman’s head popped back around. “Sorry, I’ll close the door - love you!”

  Aislinn laughed again as the door was rather roughly shut. She sank back down into the bed to sleep more.

  Being pregnant was so tiring.

  THE KEEP WAS IN UPROAR by the time they reached the courtyard.

  Tianoman grinned and called out, “Celebration tonight!”

  “Aye, Lord Vallorin!” Sirlasin shouted back. “Already on it!”

  Tianoman smiled and drew Tristan through the Dragon doors and into the valley. “Where are the others?”

  “Caballa is in Menllik bending Vanar and Yiddin’s ears; Quilla is at the Lifesource, but the others? Who knows?” Tristan took deep breaths of Valaris air. It was cold, but so familiar he loved it. “It is good to be back. How long were we gone?”

  “The whole lot of us were away about a year, and you were gone another three.”

  Tristan was expressionless. Three years to a void second? Good god. Aloud he said, “Four years? Hell, feels like two weeks. Amazing.”

  “How did it go?”

  “It was a bit rough, but …” and Tristan threw his arms wide, “… we obviously succeeded!”

  “Yes, and mighty relieved the rest of us were, I can tell you.”

  “Where’s Teroux?”

  “Xen, with Rose. They are about to tie the knot.”

  Tristan smiled. “Torrullin said it would happen. He was right. He also said they weren’t permitted to wed until you had an heir.” He gave his cousin a sidelong glance.

  Tianoman grinned. “Oh, is that right? Then I guess you found me out.”

  “Really?” Tristan shouted and punched the air. “Awesome!” He gripped Tian to him and kissed him soundly on both cheeks. “Congratulations!”

  “Shh, man, we haven’t told anyone yet. We have a few months to plan a decent wedding for Teroux and Rose and I think Teroux is secretly relieved. He loves Rose, but is sceptical about commitment. Of course, once they know of the baby …”

  “Rose will start hounding him,” Tristan laughed. “It’s great to think of normal things again, I must admit.”

  “The first weeks were odd, very stressful. We kept expecting everything to vanish or wobble or something. The fading Sabian mentioned and all that.”

  “I can imagine. So, how soon were you Vallorin?”

  “Six months. Vanar put her foot down.”

  “Difficult?”

  “No. Smooth as silk.”

  “How is it being Vallorin?”

  Tianoman stared ahead. “The addiction of the Throne is real, trust me. I do not recommend it.”

  Tristan nodded. “What Torrullin said.”

  Tianoman looked him over. “You are almost forty, or do the years between not add up?”

  “No, for us it would be two weeks.”

  “Come, cousin, spit it out. You are different.”

  “Immortal.”

  Tianoman nodded and looked away. “I suspected. One can sense it - ha, didn’t know that before. Interesting. And?”

  “I found out a few hours ago. No ‘and’ yet. I don’t quite know what to think. Or feel.” Tristan frowned as he recalled the conundrum in the Syllvan grotto. How bad could longevity be?

  “So asking what you plan to do …”

  “… will get you no answer.”

  “Will you tell me about the void?” Tianoman entered thoughtful mode.

  “No.”

  Tianoman stared over the landscape. “And thus you confirm my suspicions. Bad. Never mind, I won’t push.”

  “I can tell you of the Syllvan.”

  “Yes, really?” A swift smile. “Well, come on, start talking, I’m all ears …”

  They were off, catching up.

  THAT NIGHT THE KEEP threw a party.

  Teroux came with Rose, Aislinn danced merrily with Tianoman, and Tristan and Caballa made no secret of their burgeoning relationship.

  Quilla came also and decided to forget cares for a time; he got quite tipsy and told really tall stories.

  Vanar and Yiddin wiped away tears of happiness and relief, and Valleur were invited from all three worlds, and humans swirled among the dancers as welcome as the Golden. Sabian danced up a storm. He was considered Valarian - one day, perhaps, it would change.

  A good time was had by all.

  A cliché many would later recall and use with fondness … and wistfulness.

  Elsewhere

  ELSEWHERE, ON MARINER ISLAND, Elianas wandered the windswept cliffs.

  He could not see the future. The way ahead was clouded in darkness. He wondered if that was a good state.

  At the villa Lowen sat staring into the fire and then started to weep, great gasping sobs she could not stop once the flood breeched her walls.

  Teighlar, invited to Valaris for the celebration, declined. In Grinwallin, he waited upon Torrullin. A few matters needed to be squared away before the real political dealing with Valaris’ new Vallorin could commence. He wandered the Great Hall in silence. He often saw Grinwallin in ruin, unable to wipe the memory of it away, and would then stop and shudder.

  On Akhavar Saska rode her horse across the plain, galloping away from pain and disappointment. She was invited also, and said no. First there was Torrullin to deal with. No celebration could have meaning until she knew where she stood.

  She wondered whether it was Lowen or Elianas that kept him away.

  In the Dome the Kaval gathered. They waited also.

  That proverbial light did not go out or waver for an instant.

  Chapter 64

  Sometimes you have to start over, friend. Sometimes it is the best way forward.

  ~ Awl

  Somewhere

  HIGH ON A MOUNTAINTOP above the cloud line, Torrullin sat. He was relaxed and, although his behind was numb from the long sit, found the silence too precious to consider moving.

  There was little to see beyond the swirling vapours. It suited him. Mighty views were often mighty problems.

  By slow degree he set aside recent happenings and the years before that. He set aside the trauma of return from the Plane, Tymall’s return to Digilan, Margus’ death, the deaths of other Vallas and the separation from Saska.

  He dealt with the stresses of the Kaval, the years of automatic functioning. He dealt with the flurry of activity before the latest realm journey, the deaths of Curin and Samuel, the visit to Digilan, the actual journey, the changes, the void, the Syllvan, the dreams, visions, Teighlar, Saska and even the reality of seeing Nemisin face to face again. He accepted who Sabian was, where Teroux would go in the future and Tianoman’s rise to Vallorin.

  Much else came and went and none of it affected his relaxation. These were matters that could not now be regretted or altered.

  Then he went further back, and the tension came. The time before, he now realised, contained more, as in meaning, emotion, sense of place. It was reality; recent history was th
e dream. That was unsettling, he discovered.

  He first became aware in a populated universe; Elianas did so in a time when the Valleur had an empire, but were essentially alone. It was the one, great difference between them. Always, the time came when Elianas vanished, the time when Torrullin underwent change of state. Long, long ages together; longer apart. Until now. They orchestrated this being together in a time neither had shared with the other before. The terror of Kalgaia brought this on. Betrayal brought this on. Too much senseless killing brought this on. They were forced into hiding eventually - one via forgetting, the other via the Throne - to come out of it at this time, when Nemisin’s crimes began to stir, when their own crimes stirred the balance of the future.

  And the void. Had they known this would happen? Did Elianas realise?

  Torrullin shifted for the first time, his hands clenched. The void removed the need for change of state, his and Elianas’. The Curve would elongate so far out and away not even eternity would take them back to Nemisin’s time.

  The future, suddenly, was new. It was also dark, clouded over, unreadable, indecipherable and beyond prophesy. Whatever happened now had not happened before and would not again. Almost, by virtue of great distance, time had become linear. Going back had brought them forward. There was no going back.

  He rose then, rubbing his behind vigorously to restore blood flow.

  There was no going back. Ever.

  How strange. New, it was all new.

  The Valleur were secure. The Vallas were secure. The Kaval did stellar work. Many races flourished largely in peace and co-operation.

  If he took it further, the only conclusion to be drawn was that the universe had no need of an Animated Spirit or his Eternal Companion. Someone else could take charge of the Dome, another could head Sanctuary, and it meant he, Torrullin, was free of responsibility and obligation for the first time.

  The sacred spaces of the past had proven profane, yet now even profane had become sacred, for they were in memory only and could no longer affect reality.