Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  “No banishment.” He took a step forward. “This way, Cassy.”

  The form was skeletal, naked, hair in patches. A gold pendant swung crazily, bumping against breastbone. It came nearer.

  Elianas gave a small and appalled gasp, and then stepped forward with majestic control. The form saw him and stopped.

  They stared at each other.

  Flesh grew over bones and swelled. Hair started growing at an insane pace. Elianas’ right hand settled on the hilt of his sword and for one crazy moment Saska thought he would use it to lob Cassiopin’s head off.

  She would never know what entered his mind then. Or what changed it.

  Fingers flexed and a hand stretched out.

  “Come, Cassy, let me help you.” His voice was even, a trace of pity underlying concern.

  Flesh had taken on normality and by the time Cassiopin took the offered hand she was a woman in perfect health.

  Elianas drew her nearer and put his other hand over the clasp. Saska removed the thin outer garment she had donned over her dress and presented it to the naked women. Cassiopin dragged golden eyes from her husband and took her hands away as well. Smiling sweetly, she accepted the offered garment and shrugged it on, crossing her arms over her breasts.

  “It is cold,” she murmured.

  It nearly undid Elianas. He twitched and closed his eyes.

  “It is warmer outside,” Saska said. “Come with me.”

  “Who are you?”

  Saska smiled and put an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “I am Saska and I am a friend. Come, let me help you. Husbands are notoriously ill-equipped to handle these situations, don’t you think?”

  A throaty laugh. “True.” She allowed Saska to lead her away.

  Elianas followed, everything inside him chaos.

  TORRULLIN INHALED WHEN he saw Saska leading the woman out, and Lowen whimpered. His gaze, however, focused on Elianas, and cold invaded him.

  Saska stopped. “Everyone, meet Cassiopin.”

  “Cassy, my name is Cassy.” She was a lovely woman. Petite, fine bone structure, long and curling gold hair, full, pink lips. Valleur eyes. She smiled. White teeth, dimples in both cheeks.

  “Welcome, Cassy,” Torrullin managed, his voice like glass.

  Her eyes settled on him and her smile vanished. “You.”

  Saska intervened. “Cassy, first you need to wash, hmm? Eat, sleep a while. Then we can deal with who has come to greet you.”

  Cassy looked at her and another sweet smile came. “You are my friend?”

  “I am.”

  “Then I shall do as you suggest. I must be perfect for my husband.”

  Saska smiled at her. “Yes.” She glanced at Lowen. “Lowen, will you please take Cassy to my quarters and help her. Lowen?”

  Lowen blinked. She rose. “I am Lowen,” she said, her voice steady. “I find I am need of a wash also. Let the men finish their duties and we shall join them later.”

  Cassy’s large eyes swung from Lowen to Saska. “Is she my friend?”

  “Yes. Go with her. We need to clean up here.”

  Cassy allowed herself to be steered away.

  IN THE FOLLOWING silence Saska stared at the two men. They were looking at each other as if dying inside.

  “She is mad.” Elianas’ voice shook.

  “Askew, Elianas. The Lifesource of Valaris will reverse the damage.” Torrullin’s voice was emotionless.

  Elianas groaned and Torrullin caught him as he slumped. “I thought I could do this.” His face buried into Torrullin’s neck.

  “We will do it together.”

  Elianas lifted his head. “Promise?”

  “God help us, yes.”

  Elianas separated himself, nodding. “I will need your strength.”

  “And now I need yours. I cannot do Nemisin alone.”

  Elianas stilled and a wry look flitted across his face. “I would rather deal with Nemisin than Cassy.”

  “Are you with me?”

  Elianas twisted his neck this way and that and flexed his fingers. “I am with you.”

  Saska faced the chamber. “Then let us get this over with.”

  THE NATURE OF the chamber shocked Torrullin.

  “I cannot function in this. Wait.”

  Saska frowned. “They are not waking for you.”

  He looked to Nemisin’s bier covered in ancient dust after the explosions. “Neolone.”

  “The others too?” Elianas whispered.

  “The ones who don’t want to move on,” Saska understood.

  “Well,” Torrullin murmured, “surprise.” He drew a breath. “First we clear away.”

  He walked boldly forward. Dust, wood and plaster vanished. Remains of biers disappeared. The half-light gave way to the usual internal glows.

  “Help me pile the bones.” He bent to retrieve a skeleton, his face impassive, and carried it to a corner far removed from Nemisin’s bier.

  After a moment Saska and Elianas helped him.

  They worked at it for an hour.

  After, the chamber was different. Most niches were now empty, each space sterile. The dark floor shone like a mirror, Nemisin’s bier stood in splendid isolation, with twelve niches occupied in the opposite wall.

  In a corner, a terrible pile of bones.

  “Now we do this,” Torrullin murmured. “Now I can see him.”

  He looked upon the bier. His reflection stretched behind him in the polished floor. He studied the engraved likeness and gave a grimace. It was Nemisin all right. He read the flowing Valleur script, name and epitaph.

  “… may our beloved rest in eternal peace.”

  Torrullin snorted. How could they have known? He sensed Elianas beside him and pointed at it.

  Elianas gave a similarly ironic grunt.

  The dates were correct. Epoch of the Dancing Suns. What an idiot to lie here waiting so long. Torrullin and Elianas looked at each other and both gave strange smiles. They understood the concept of waiting long.

  Below the epitaph, Neolone’s scribble. “Here lies the man of power who gave power to his descendants in a mighty symbiosis. Revere his name as you will revere the One to come.” The stylised ‘N’ was an arrogant afterthought.

  “What was he thinking?” Elianas whispered.

  “Thank the gods he was thinking,” Torrullin replied. “Neolone did us a favour.”

  “How do you want to do this?” Saska asked.

  “When I erase Neolone’s markings, Heart of Darkness will have the upper hand,” Torrullin said. “But …” and he looked up at the twelve untouched biers. “I shall keep Nemisin contained until you banish the others. That way he cannot use them to distract me.”

  Saska nodded.

  “Can you do them alone?”

  “I will start the chant now.” She began the low rhythmic words she used earlier with Lowen.

  Torrullin, with a manic grin, sat on Nemisin’s bier. “Elianas, you may have to hold us down.”

  Elianas went one further. He clambered up to stand legs spread on the tomb. “He will not get out. Erase Neolone.”

  Torrullin grinned at him and then slid his hand over Neolone’s markings. They vanished letter by letter … and twelve biers exploded. The one under the two men bucked, but did not disintegrate.

  Skeletal forms fell and clambered from dust-ridden niches to converge in hissing fury on Nemisin’s remains. They were all men and filled out faster than the others had.

  Saska’s voice rose, an edge of desperation to it, and she chanted faster. The twelve men glanced at her and ignored her.

  “It’s not working,” Elianas muttered, and his eyes narrowed. He listened a moment and then joined Saska, matching her word for word, intonation for intonation.

  She glanced at him, astonished, and smiled around her words. Together they built the chant, and the twelve began to falter.

  A hiss of fury, and one fell as skeleton to the floor. Another followed, and another, but nine surged forward.r />
  Torrullin weaved a different chant around the one in progress, his tones complementing and jarring at the same time. Three voices. Somewhere in there was a parallel. Death and death, with Three Voices.

  Nine skeletons fell to the floor.

  Torrullin lifted a hand to send twelve sets of bones skittering into the corner with the others.

  Saska fell silent, breathing hard, and Elianas doubled over to draw in air.

  The bier bucked.

  Elianas jumped off.

  One end of the lid lifted and dust streamed out.

  He and Saska retreated.

  Torrullin climbed off and drew his sword. He heard Elianas’ slide out as well.

  The lid exploded outward to fall with dull thunder. The floor cracked.

  A man sat up, hand at his throat, taking great gulps of air.

  Nemisin. Fair of face, golden hair, yellow eyes.

  Torrullin gestured and Saska commenced the chanting. Elianas joined his voice to hers.

  Nemisin’s head swivelled. Not for him the skeletal exit, a stumbling gait until flesh found bone. He was perfect. He could have been sleeping in that perfection for all the years passed.

  Yellow eyes bored into Saska, and she gargled and fell to her knees. “That will not work on me.” He lifted his gaze to Elianas. “Please stop, beautiful boy, before I have to silence you also.”

  Elianas ceased, glared his hatred across the space, and bent to Saska. He lifted her, helped her away, but neither left.

  Nemisin faced Torrullin. He laughed. “Try anything, Lord Sorcerer, and we shall both be swerving through the realms of eternity.”

  Torrullin’s hand was bloodless on the hilt of his sword. Out manoeuvred. “Why do you not get to your feet, my Lord Vallorin?”

  “Ah, yes. Thank you.” Nemisin rose, splendid in his nakedness and stretched out. He gracefully left the bier. “So confining.” He gazed around. “You have sent the others away - better, I think. A new time requires new blood. Not so?” He glanced at Elianas. “Dear boy, will you not come here and clothe me as you have in the past?”

  Elianas stared back and did not move.

  Nemisin laughed and returned his gaze to Torrullin. “I am unarmed. Are you to raise your blade to an unarmed man? Come, clothe me.”

  Torrullin sheathed his sword. “Clothe yourself.”

  Nemisin shrugged, murmured, and was dressed in flowing blue robes. “Now we can dance, you and I.”

  Torrullin sauntered nearer. “I wanted to simply send you on your way, then I meant to ask the why of this farce, but I am no longer interested.” He commenced a chant …

  … and Nemisin burst into great peals of laughter. “Please, Torrullin, you know me better! Two ways of getting out of the bier, many ways of protecting myself once out. Chant all you like, use any spell you desire, and know only failure. The worst that will happen is you and I shall dance elsewhere, never quite done with the choices between us.”

  Elianas left Saska’s side and strolled nearer. “Can you hold against two?”

  Nemisin threw arms theatrically into the air. “A host, dear boy!”

  “Is he telling the truth?” Elianas asked of Torrullin.

  “I am afraid so,” Torrullin muttered.

  Nemisin swirled around. He wandered the chamber and stood before Saska. “My, you are lovely. What race claims you?”

  She had courage. “I am Sylmer, my Lord.”

  “And how many races are there, lovely Sylmer?”

  “Countless, my Lord.”

  “Ah, I was right.” He swung back to Torrullin and Elianas. “What happened to my Valleur?”

  Torrullin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Guilt has no place here for you, Nemisin. You did right by your people. The Throne continues in splendour and the Dragon symbiosis ensured the hereditary longevity you desired. A Valla sits on the seat of power as we speak, and the Valleur flourish. We have three worlds, we have power, we have respect and we live among others in peace and harmony. You did not fail your people. You succeeded beyond your wildest dreams. This is the absolute truth.”

  Nemisin stared at him. “What of Orb?”

  “Orb is a world that is sanctuary to many and the Diluvans continue under a new name on a new world. The ancient crime has been forgiven.”

  “How?” Nemisin whispered.

  Torrullin paced forward and stood before him. “I am no longer Lord Sorcerer and I am also not the Darak Or of your time. I am Elixir and I have put to rights the wrongs.”

  Nemisin shouted, “How can you be the One? Gods, you were ever a thorn in my side! You subverted my nobles, you threw your power around with impunity, you took from my daughter her husband and you caused scandal among the Valla ranks! You forced me into Neolone’s embrace, you conceived of the Throne … for yourself! You murdered twenty million Valleur; you betrayed Kalgaia and the empire! How can you possibly be the One?”

  “And how could you desire to be the One?” Torrullin yelled in return “You massacred the Diluvans, you created the darkling race that has plagued the universe for ages, and you instilled in the Valleur such arrogance we have suffered ages of war. We even left this universe in order to survive! I was no saint, I am no saint, but, by god, neither are you.”

  They glared at each other.

  Nemisin smiled. “Full circle, Torrullin. It seems we did our worst, and you are the One, and I want to be. You made right, as I want to make right.”

  Torrullin sighed. “This is not your time, Nemisin.”

  “It is yours?” Nemisin lifted a brow.

  “Yes. Finally, I am in the right time.”

  “Fine, but I am not leaving.”

  “You are,” another voice said.

  Sabian, Master Historian, entered, strolling casually as if to find a place to picnic. His fair hair was scraped back to reveal his intent blue gaze.

  “I felt you enter this time and thought I would pay my respects.”

  “Who are you?” Nemisin demanded.

  “I am Sabian, and you created me. I am the ancient darkling from whom all darklings and draithen were formed. You, my Lord Nemisin, showed me the meaning of hell, agony, suffering and true evil. I have come to exact my dues.”

  “I do not know you,” Nemisin said dismissively.

  “But you will, my Lord,” Sabian whispered. “You will know me well before long.”

  “Sabian,” Torrullin snapped.

  The fair man glanced at him. “We had our fight, Elixir, and you won. It was a fair encounter and I do not hold it against you.” He closed in. “You treated me as sentience with soul, when no other saw it, not even your son. You attempted to treat with me, when nobody else would have, and you accepted my transformation without insult, and granted my freedom when no one else trusted me.” Sabian bowed low. “You have given me honour, my Lord, and I shall honour you until the end of all things. My fight now is not with you, or the Valleur, nobody. My fight is with Nemisin.”

  Torrullin drew breath. “Sabian, this is your time also, a new future. Will you throw it away for a fight you cannot win?”

  Sabian smiled. “I do not need to fight him, Torrullin, merely take him to a place he cannot escape.”

  Torrullin was silenced.

  Elianas asked, “How?”

  Sabian smiled, looking at Nemisin. “A little glitch in the net his daughter created.”

  Nemisin paled.

  “You see, I have Heart of Darkness also.”

  “No,” Nemisin whispered and backed away, looking around wildly.

  Somewhere Saska sighed in understanding.

  “What does that mean?” Torrullin asked.

  “You and Elianas have expended yours, Torrullin,” Sabian murmured. “It has no power. However, if another enters with the Heart soon after the Heart has raised, it cancels the raising. Nemisin can fight, rail, and throw magic, but it will avail him nothing. He does not die; no, he is bound for Reaume, never to leave, never. I am going with him and I shall tell all truths, go
od and bad, and he will know soon enough he was better served to die when his time claimed him.”

  Elianas sat on the edge of the open bier. “Gods.”

  Nemisin retreated, and Sabian tracked him with his gaze.

  “Flee if you must, Nemisin, but the minutes tick by swiftly.”

  “Sabian, he is Vallorin,” Torrullin said. “He remains the historical figure the Valleur revere; First Father, Enchanter, Valla. I may not like him, but he is a king. We do not kill kings.”

  “I am not killing him. There is no place for him here. This time cannot cope with two contrary Vallas; it will undo everything you have worked towards.”

  “How long has he?”

  “A few minutes more.”

  “Did you plan this?”

  “Opportunity presented itself.”

  “This is revenge?”

  “Revenge is futile and the realm would be dark. Torrullin, this is justice.”

  “Justice, Sabian? Where, then, is my justice?”

  “You earn it every time you right a wrong. Cease questioning. We are all guilty here.” Sabian smiled. “And we have all changed, except him.”

  “Should he not be given the chance?”

  Nemisin strode closer. “Yes, should I not be given the chance?”

  “Hearts have collided,” Sabian said.

  “It cannot be stopped,” Saska said.

  Nemisin glared at Torrullin. “You can stop it.”

  “I do not think so.”

  Elianas was markedly silent. There was a way to stop it, yes, but he would cut his tongue out before saying so. He glared daggers into Nemisin’s back.

  Sabian shuddered. “It is time.”

  “No!” Nemisin screeched.

  “My Lord Vallorin,” Torrullin said, “go with dignity. Reaume has the space you require to begin anew.”

  Nemisin shuddered as well. “Gods, this was not how it was meant to be.” He straightened and calm overcame him. He bowed. “I submit to your superiority, Torrullin. Do not fail our people.”

  “I will not.”

  “One matter; who is Vallorin?”

  “Tianoman. My grandson.”

  “You were Vallorin?”

  “For a long time, yes.”

  Nemisin gave a wry smile. “That was the one state I hoped to deny you. Farewell, my Lord Torrullin.”