Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  Torrullin said, “I investigated your father’s disappearance upon Valeri’s command, and that, I believe, was when Nemisin’s true enmity of me began. The stupid man thought I was trying to seduce his wife. Nemisin, while stupid in love, was not so in other areas. He covered his tracks well. There was no proof of murder.”

  Elianas said, “So much of what came after was based on what I thought you did to my father, and to me.”

  “Why did you not accuse me? We could have stopped the cycle of violence before it began.”

  “I loved you before I hated you.” Elianas put a hand to his chest. “I thought I would have to walk away.”

  Torrullin turned aside.

  Elianas went cold. “Torrullin, forgive me.”

  “It is too late, Elianas. I am aware the real bastard is Nemisin, but if you loved before you hated you should have known different. I understand more clearly now why certain events followed, but they cannot be undone. Forgiveness will not undo ages. I have now lost a whole piece of you. Let me deal with it.”

  “What is the true justice in this?” Elianas shouted at the Syllvan.

  “It has already begun,” one said. “Inside. You are now changed.”

  Elianas breathed in, out. “How does that help Torrullin?”

  “It helps you, and you must help him. Build the bridge, Elianas Danae.”

  “The bridge is built with the stones of truth,” the fourth Syllvan added.

  “Huh,” Torrullin muttered. “Bullshit.”

  Elianas stilled. “Truth?”

  Torrullin’s head swivelled.

  “You carry a truth, Elianas, which would set you free,” a Syllvan said. “Torrullin carries a truth that will release him. This dual secrecy is the basis for brinkmanship and yet you know vengeance was manufactured by another, and you must know the duty has fallen to you to speak first. In that, you then help yourself, and it could force admittance from Elixir. This is where justice prevails.”

  Elianas looked to Torrullin.

  Another Syllvan spoke. “Be warned. Lethe subverts truth. If both desire a lasting solution to your battle, do not speak truth in this place between. Keep it for when there is quiet, when you are not required to fight for others. Wait until you know the moment is real. Unfortunately, much lies between this moment and that.”

  Torrullin paced forward. “We are being selfish. There are greater issues at hand. Tell us what you know of the Dryads.”

  Elianas swung blindly away. Even Tristan could tell Torrullin distanced himself from even the possibility of forgiving Elianas.

  Torrullin, finally, had found a focus for ages of anger.

  “ARIANN ENCOMPASSES twelve universes and eighty-nine realms,” the ‘central’ Syllvan began.

  “This is a tiny figure compared to the responsibility of Reaume, but Reaume is older, more settled, and has greater governance. A long time ago we balanced the scales and found a way to look forward and back to understand and know. Ariann is growing at a greater pace and its gatekeepers flounder in the confusion of time.

  “We were once vines also. We understand their confusion and we realise their immaturity. We know they must look outward before they are able to find the foundations that are the roots from which trees may grow mighty and patient. We found our patience over many eons; they are still too young. In their youth they are impetuous, selfish, greedy, impatient, and they do not see they are the new Syllvan. This is our dilemma. Not only do we have to protect Reaume from them, but we cannot afford to kill them, for they are our future brethren. Ariann is the nursery in which Syllvan are grown.”

  “Hell.” Torrullin paced more.

  “Like all children they test the boundaries,” another murmured. “When we asked whether Elianas had inadvertently fallen into Ariann from the Path of Shades, we accidentally reminded them they have power. We also gave them impetus. The children have not tested the boundaries in a long time.”

  “Tell them who they will be,” Tristan frowned.

  “That is not how a Syllvan is grown. Telling a thing is not the same as knowing a thing.”

  “But they are killing you. How can you accept that?”

  “It is time for renewal, young lord. As we die, thus they grow and, as they age, thus more vines sprout.”

  “What happens to you?”

  “There is no death. We become for a brief period bipedal, a short learning interlude, and we walk among the broad normality that is sentience. Few see us, but we see you, and then, when the music soars, we meander onto a different plane. There is peace and there we shape the seeds that are sown anew in Ariann.”

  “Light beings,” Torrullin whispered. “Taranis saw you as a young boy.”

  A ponderous nodding. “Taranis had extraordinary sight. Your father not only saw us at the Well of Crystal Sound, but he heard the music that set us free. It shaped his future. It gave life to you, Torrullin.”

  “The music?”

  Elianas’ hands clenched under his armpits as the Syllvan replied, “Indeed, my friend. The music.”

  Torrullin stilled, staring at them. “Vannis claimed he helped your kind go free when the settlers desired to destroy you.”

  “Vannis Lorinin Valla is revered among the Syllvan.”

  “Lorinin?” Torrullin whispered.

  “Yes, my friend. Vannis held the keys. He always held the keys.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “In your heart. You are Lorinin also.”

  Elianas doubled over, hyperventilating. The Syllvan gazed at him in mute understanding. “You are Lorinin?” Elianas questioned from that bent position. “Gods, I am so blind. I was so blind.”

  Torrullin strode over. “Talk to me.”

  Elianas straightened. As Torrullin neared, he stepped deliberately away. “No, Torrullin, not here, not now, not among witnesses. I know you are angry now, but I am asking that you trust me. Please.”

  Torrullin came to a stop, his expression unreadable.

  “The Danae is right,” a Syllvan murmured. “This is not the place.”

  “The issue at hand is how to strike a balance between us and the Dryads, without forcing either into extinction,” another said. “Let us set aside personal issues.”

  Torrullin turned from Elianas. “What of Lethe? Who controls this place, and can we negotiate with them? Is there anyone here able to broker a ceasefire?”

  “This, my friend, is a place hard to grasp. We know, in order for it to be, there has to be a controlling body, and yet there has been no sign.”

  “What of those fur balls and snakes we found at the portal?” Tristan enquired.

  “Toys,” came the dismissive answer. “Torrullin, you were meant to keep Elixir out of Reaume …”

  “Technically, that still holds.”

  “… yet you came. No doubt aware the sentinels are failing. Despite the danger of using your power in here, Elixir is the only one now able to discover the controlling influences of Lethe. Find them, agitate them, and perhaps they will be sufficient as a barrier between Ariann and Reaume.”

  “I doubt a barrier will be enough,” Elianas said. “They are angered beyond a request after my presence in Ariann; we saw fury on the plain. Something drives them, yet it isn’t power or an opportunity for dominance over Reaume. Does it not follow if you know they are part of you, they are aware of the link also? Something else is at work here.”

  “They are unlikely to be aware of the link with us,” the main Syllvan murmured.

  “Forgive me, but sentience knows every time.”

  “Elianas is right,” Torrullin said. “In an intrinsic manner, they know. I further agree using Lethe as a barrier will not hold them back.” He paced around the clearing. “I heard laughter. Who would laugh here?”

  “Laughter?” Tristan frowned.

  Elianas’ eyes narrowed.

  All four Syllvan heaved a sigh simultaneously. One said, “We have heard it also, but have no more to add. Elixir, that laughter has a voice.
Here.”

  Torrullin nodded. “We shall track it. In the meantime, will you be safe? Can you withdraw from all confrontation until we have a solution? In other words, vanish, and thereby enforce a ceasefire?”

  The Syllvan conferred.

  Elianas approached Torrullin. “Laughter?”

  “Faintly. I am not sure it means anything.”

  “Torrullin, we must …”

  “We must nothing, Elianas. Circumstances will dictate.”

  “I understand your reluctance …”

  “You understand anger, my brother. Leave it, or we go head to head right now.”

  Tristan called their attention back to the Syllvan. The tree-like creatures were in the process of rising and as they rose they grew in height and girth. It was quite a sight.

  “We shall now enter a trance state permitting long periods of hiding. For that time we shall appear as like to any tree, and our voices will be stilled until you call, Elixir. This, as you suggest, may force a temporary truce; the Dryads will not find us. However, beware leaving us too long hidden, for they will attempt to cross Lethe into Reaume; you must throw a barrier up as soon as you are able.

  “Keep it stable, and keep it in place long enough to discourage them from returning at a later date, whatever form this barrier takes, and whatever drives the Dryads. Torrullin, Elianas, Tristan, we thank you for coming, aware the decision to do so was not easily made. We have come to a point where we realize we cannot succeed alone.”

  There was a rustling sound, a shift in the air and a sigh through the leaves, a shiver through the grass underfoot, and four tall trees were imbedded as if they had been there since seedpods. They were perfectly camouflaged; in fact, had the three men not seen it themselves, they would not have known the difference.

  Torrullin called out via his mind. He was relieved to hear no echo; the Syllvan had entirely retreated.

  “We return to the forest where we were caged. We start over.”

  Chapter 62

  Coma can mimic oblivion, but this is rare. Degeneration of brain tissue heralds oblivion, a physical enforcing. Forgetting is oblivion.

  ~ Book of Sages

  Lethe

  THE FOREST WAS restored.

  There was no sign of the Syllvan-induced earthquake, no flattened trees, and no depressions in the earth to give evidence of a tearing through the forest floor. Even the leaves seemed undisturbed. In fact, as Tristan remarked, the leaves appeared artificial. The forest itself was far more manufactured than was previously evident.

  “Now we know Lethe has intelligence,” Torrullin murmured.

  They wandered for a time, searching for the smashed cage, finding nothing, and then headed back to the plain where the Syllvan was in battle with three Dryads, and found a lake where before there was churned turf. This water, when they went to it, was like to the emerald water in the caldera; there was no reflection.

  Elianas dipped a hand in, brought some of the liquid to his mouth to smell and taste. “It certainly smells normal.”

  As he was about to taste, Torrullin sank in utter silence down to his haunches beside him. He caught a wrist, and pointed into the depths.

  “What is that?” Tristan asked softly from behind them.

  Torrullin put a finger to his lips; then rose pulling Elianas up with him. He motioned, and they wandered into the trees.

  Just inside the tree line, Torrullin said, “The water is filled with nano-creatures that absorb reflections. Now I am convinced something greater is at work here. Lethe itself has been altered.”

  Elianas wandered, clearly deep in thought. Tristan found himself watching the dark man rather than concentrating on what Torrullin said.

  Elianas discovered a new lie this day to upset his idea of self. It altered everything for him, which included past and present. Only the future could still be shaped. How would he now shape it?

  Torrullin drew a breath, saying, “You two are not concentrating.”

  Tristan remarked, “I feel like the proverbial third wheel anyway; I follow your lead right now.”

  Elianas continued pacing aimlessly.

  Torrullin asked, “Would you give us a few minutes of privacy, please? But, Tris, remain within sight.”

  Tristan inclined his head and moved where he could see and not hear.

  Torrullin approached Elianas, who for once seemed unaware. Eventually he leaned against a tree and waited until sufficient focus returned. Tristan watched curiously, yet knew to be circumspect.

  Elianas surprised again. He swung around to encompass Tristan also in his statement.

  “It occurs to me we are being used by Syllvan, Dryad and whoever the hell thinks it has control here. In fact, were I to wager, I would suggest to you Elixir was purposefully warned, because it would bring about the notice required. Why? I do not yet know, but let us assume nothing in this place and, by the way, I am thinking we should get away from here. This make-believe forest gives me the creeps.”

  Tristan shared his gaze between both men. They said the same things in different ways and they acted the same for different reasons. Torrullin and Elianas were headed towards a major confrontation, and be warned anyone standing in the way when it came to pass.

  Of course, he could be that one, and hopefully he would be the one between them when the blow-out was due; he also hoped he would be strong enough. Tristan drew breath, for it was time to earn his due; the two men duplicated thoughts and actions because they were not listening to each other.

  “Elianas, you have just said what Torrullin said a few minutes ago.”

  “Did I? Well, then there is no doubt, is there?”

  Torrullin shook his head. “Tristan, obviously you are more objective. What do you suggest we do next?”

  Tristan paced forward. “First, we must leave here, and I would suggest we make our way to the opposite side of that strange lake. Why? If nano-creatures can suck reflection, they can transmit also. In other words, they watch. They hear. We need to find out how the cards flutter when we are beyond this artificiality. Thereafter you two need to stand still long enough to at least agree to work together. This absolutely is not the kind of place to lay ghosts and lies to rest, not if you desire a lasting solution. Agreed?”

  Torrullin nodded.

  Elianas sucked at his teeth, flicking Torrullin a glance. “Tristan determines the route. We decide how to operate in the frames he creates.”

  “Agreed.”

  “What? I wasn’t asking to lead,” Tristan snapped. “Elianas, you twist what I say.”

  “No, he sees what I see,” Torrullin said. “You see both of us; you see we are not hearing each other. Besides, your lead would probably be the better choice; it leaves us free to choose an action in a situation faster and with greater objectivity. Thus, Tristan, lead us on.”

  “Go for it, brother,” Elianas grinned.

  “Gods, how do I get myself into these idiotic situations?” Tristan muttered, and set off.

  Whoever did the leading did not matter. He needed to get out from under the trees. He was sure they were constituted of the tiny creatures also, therefore watching every move and listening to every word and probably aware of the undercurrents. The latter was unsettling. Torrullin and Elianas could be set-up to do their worst and he dared not mention it.

  Perhaps, yes, it was better he led for a time. He would be alert. Gods, he hoped he would see it coming before they did. He walked out with firm, decisive steps, and all three felt less oppressed once the trees were left behind.

  THEY GAVE THE LAKE a wide berth and hiked around to the opposite curve. It took them approximately six hours, and in those hours nothing changed. The light remained constant, the temperature, and the curious lack of sound. As if there was no time. Had the artificial forest not gradually shifted around the curve of the equally artificial lake, they would have thought they walked on the spot also.

  When they got there, they were at the top of a steep rise.

  Below la
y patchwork colours of material they could only guess at. The strangest was, after six hours hiking, they felt as if they had walked no more than six steps. No one was winded and no one was sweaty or thirsty or hungry. Not tired, not footsore.

  It felt, Tristan thought, much like the last hours had not happened. It felt, he realized, akin to oblivion, and thus he began to comprehend the true dangers they faced, and further understood the Syllvan could not escape it either.

  A workable solution had to be found fast.

  He glanced at the other two, then shrugged and set off down the slope. It was firm underfoot and they made swift progress. At the foot of the rise they discovered a path. Whether manufactured or not, it led somewhere and thus they set to it and wandered along its curves between the patchwork quilt of colours.

  Still there was no sound, no sense of time, no smell. He thought there should be smell; even an empty vessel had a smell. This lack of everything began to work on his nerves. He said as much.

  “This is pissing me off.”

  “Likewise,” Elianas muttered.

  “Just go on,” Torrullin said.

  They went on.

  FOUR OR FIVE hours of purposeless wandering ensued before sense of change came, a sense only, for the landscape remained unaltered.

  First it revealed in feeling, the sensing of emotion at the edge of perception; next came the connections made when the three of them suddenly looked at each other, and in doing so established the altering.