Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  Elianas’ heart thumped and threatened to tear from his chest. “Yes. You are ill. Come with me. You will remember tomorrow.”

  Torrullin frowned. “Something is undone, I feel. I must stay until it is finished.”

  Elianas closed his eyes and then opened them. He moved to Torrullin’s side and took up position there. “Will you know when it is done?”

  “I believe so.”

  “We stay until then,” Elianas said. He moved so that his shoulder slotted in behind Torrullin’s, and took the man’s uncertainty as a weight, supporting him without seeming to. He glanced at Yiddin. “Get it done, Elder, so we may leave this place.”

  Yiddin, swallowing, his gaze stark, nodded and moved back to his position as witness. His tawny gaze continually flicked back to the pair and the two grandsons frozen nearby.

  Tristan animated. “Tian, get ready.”

  Tianoman was unmoving.

  Tristan shook him. “Do not let that bastard win by default.”

  Tianoman said, “Whoever wins now, wins by default.”

  Tristan swore. “Then do not allow this sacrifice to go unmarked, Lord Vallorin. Claim your birthright and tell the entire universe who is ruler of the Valleur.”

  Tianoman stared at him, and at Torrullin, and then his gaze shifted to Elianas. “You had no choice.”

  The dark man sighed. “This is the way of it.”

  “Do not blame yourself.”

  Elianas stared back at him. “Even when there is little or no choice, one cannot help feeling responsible.”

  Tianoman moved in closer. “I begin to see behind the corners of curves.”

  A blink. “Exactly how a Vallorin must see.”

  Tianoman nodded. “Yes.” He moved even closer. “I forgive you for my father.”

  Elianas inclined his head. “Now I need forgive myself.”

  “Take care of him, Elianas.”

  “As long as it takes, Lord Vallorin.”

  Tianoman nodded. He gestured at Yiddin, who called for Nemisin.

  NEMISIN, SMILING BROADLY, stepped in.

  The Throne did not react.

  Nemisin called.

  Nothing happened.

  He swore and stalked closer. Cassy rushed in to drag him aside, admonishing him, he swiped at her, the gathered Valleur hissed with one breath, and then Sabian was there. He gripped both of them, and all three vanished.

  There was bedlam in the Valleur host.

  Tianoman paced forward and raised his voice. “One final entreaty of the Throne, Valleur, and then we deal with the aftermath!”

  Silence was instant.

  Tianoman walked to the Throne and sat. It glowed to envelop him, welcoming him, and told the universe who was the ruler of the Valleur. Whether it was default or something else, did not matter then, for this was the only choice it could now make. It was also the right one.

  The Valleur raised a full-throated roar of acclaim.

  Shamans and Kaval started murmuring the words Torrullin had shared. The host appeared accepting of the situation, but how long before questions about validity and manipulation altered that? Right now it was better served to err of the side of caution. Soon caution paid dividends.

  A few mutters of dissatisfaction were heard, but already large chunks of Valleur were absenting from the field as the chant bade them return home.

  Tianoman sat on and was aware of what happened in the gathering, and silently thanked his grandfather for his forethought.

  Ten minutes later only Echolone’s people and a few Beaconites remained beyond the ring of fire. Swiftly the shamans shepherded even those witnesses away.

  In the resultant silence, Yiddin moved to Tianoman. He bowed low. “My Lord Vallorin, we need bring the Throne to safety again.”

  “Call all Elders to the Keep for the chant.”

  Another bow. “It is already done.”

  A moment of silence ensued. “I need speak to him, Yiddin, before I leave here.”

  Yiddin sighed profoundly. “My Lord, he will not know the difference now. Your priority is your people.”

  “How did it come to this?” Tianoman whispered.

  “This is what happens when gods and titans are at war, my Lord. It is better to leave their orbit for a time, I believe.” Yiddin glanced back. “Elianas will be there for him.”

  “You do not know anything about Elianas.”

  “A man who would confront the Throne to save the soul of our fair lord is a man unique. I do not need to know more.”

  Tianoman sighed. “You are right. And Elianas is now the only god and titan remaining with the power to restore Torrullin. We must leave them to it, and wait for the tomorrow that re-establishes normality.”

  “What is normality, my Lord?”

  A smile. “Touché, Yiddin. Let us go home.”

  Tianoman, Yiddin and the Throne were gone, and so too the Elders remaining on the site of confrontation.

  “IT IS FINISHED,” Torrullin said.

  “Yes,” Elianas murmured.

  Tristan faced the two. “I shall wait here for a time, see if Sabian returns, and settle the land, the furies of this night. Go.”

  Elianas nodded, and then, “Brother, are you ready to go home?”

  “Where is home?”

  “I will show you,” and Elianas placed an arm around Torrullin’s shoulders and took him to Avaelyn.

  Tristan waited for an hour, two, and it became clear to him Sabian would not return.

  Neither would Nemisin and Cassiopin.

  Avior’s door

  NEMISIN SCREAMED MURDER when Sabian dumped the man and his daughter before the ancient Avior door.

  He ignored him, held Nemisin with one hand and placed the other as Torrullin directed on the symbols of sword and dragon in swift succession, and pushed.

  The door pivoted wide. Thank the gods; it had opened.

  Nemisin shut up.

  Cassy whispered, “A portal?”

  Sabian crossed his arms. “Yes. We go in.”

  “Where does it lead?”

  “Away from here,” Sabian said. “Your father cannot remain longer.”

  She glanced at him and said, “He disgraced himself before the Throne and the Valleur. As you say, he must leave.”

  “You as well.”

  She glared at him. “I did nothing wrong.”

  “It might be semantics, Cassy, but you will not cause further trouble for Torrullin or Elianas.”

  “The draithen is so loyal.”

  “I give my loyalty to Torrullin, yes. Walk through the door.”

  “And if I do not?”

  “It will swallow you. It might be better for you to enter of your own will.”

  Nemisin sidled away, his lips moving.

  Sabian laughed. “Magic will not help you here, Enchanter. The door swallows all. The only way out now is beyond.” He unfolded his arms. “There is a time limit. In seconds the door will begin to close and you, Cassy and I will be trapped in this rock space without recourse to rescue, and we shall remain here into eternity, living death. The entire region has been enchanted to allow no escape.”

  Nemisin hissed, “Torrullin set this up.”

  Sabina laughed. “The Lord Sorcerer sees far ahead, Enchanter. The choice is yours. You are not immortal and neither is Cassy. Death will come to you here and I will have to watch. I would really avoid that.”

  The door groaned, and started to swivel.

  Cassy, wide-eyed, ran through to the other side. “Father! We take our chances. There is always a way out, but there has to be space to manoeuvre in.”

  The door moved more. “What lies on that side?”

  “Darkness, but it has to change when the door is shut. The air smells fresh enough and there is a draught coming from somewhere.”

  Nemisin glared at Sabian, and stepped through.

  Sabian moved.

  He shoved the door shut, and laughed and laughed manically in the small rock space.

 
Beyond the mighty Avior door Nemisin and Cassiopin started searching for a means to make light, having discovered they retained no magical power.

  Sabian sat in the dusty space.

  He had other choices now to make.

  Sabian sat a long time, and eventually, above, Tristan left.

  Chapter 81

  Tomorrow is a new day. It might be different. We go forth in hope.

  ~ Tingast to Elianas, Era of the Dancing Suns

  Avaelyn

  AFTER THE DARK and firelight of Echolone the sunlight was disorientating. It was early morning and a breeze was fresh off the ocean. It smelled of salt and promise.

  Elianas brought them to the grassy area above the cliffs. The dwelling was in darkness. He would lead Torrullin in slowly, giving him time to accustom himself to a new environment.

  All other concerns were now as nothing.

  Sabian would have dealt with Nemisin and Cassiopin, Tianoman would be ensuring the Throne’s safety and immovability for the future, and Tristan and the Kaval would mark trouble and be there to sort it out. His world now narrowed to focus on one man.

  Nothing else mattered.

  He would seek a new tomorrow for both of them.

  “Who am I?” Torrullin asked as he gazed first over the ocean and then at the dwelling.

  It was time to begin the rebuild. “You are Rayne.”

  “Rain. Cool water. It’s a nice name.”

  Elianas smiled. “Yes, it is.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I am your brother, Rayne. You call me Elianas.”

  Torrullin nodded, accepting that. “What happened? I woke to firelight and people as shadows in the darkness beyond, and there was a golden seat. I had to wait for it to be done, but I don’t know why, and there’s a void behind my awakening. I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything.”

  “There was an accident. I will tell you about it when you have rested.” Elianas held his hand out. “Come with me; our house is not far.” He pointed his free hand at the dwelling on the hillside.

  Torrullin took that hand and moved stiffly. “Will you help me remember?”

  Elianas laid a hand on his cheek. “We have always been there for each other, Rayne.”

  Quilla arrived then and he stood there in wordless shock.

  “Who is he?” Torrullin asked. “How did he appear out of nowhere?”

  Elianas glanced at the birdman. “A friend. He is concerned, for he was there when you had an accident.” He paused. “Go on; I will thank him for coming from the both of us, and send him away so you can rest. Rayne, I am right behind you.”

  Torrullin nodded, smiled at Quilla, and went on walking. Quilla’s heart broke; Torrullin, clearly, had become a trusting child. He raised his eyes to Elianas when the dark man halted before him.

  “You lied to him.”

  “And I shall go on lying, Q’li’qa’mz.” Elianas leaned closer, eyes blazing. “He is mine now. Stay away from us if you value your life and his sanity.”

  “You called him Rayne.”

  “The persona that was Rayne resides inside, and is easier to speak to. He was there before Destroyer and Enchanter and Elixir and all the rest of the shit. Leave us be.”

  “I can help.”

  “No one can, Quilla. Tell them to stay away. Every time one of you comes it will set him back years.”

  Quilla sighed. “How long?”

  “As long as it takes.” Elianas swung away and increased his pace to catch up to the wandering fair man.

  Quilla, wise one, did not follow.

  EPILOGUE

  HE TOLD HIM of Rayne.

  Rayne was adopted by a couple in Galilan on Valaris and grew up with a sister called Rees.

  At a young age it was discovered Rayne had talent for magic, and thus studies commenced under the tutorship of Aven, an old man self-proclaimed as a sorcerer. Rayne found a sword in the archives under Galilan - yes, Trezond, brother, the one you wear at your hip even now. Let us put the blade away until you feel well enough.

  Rayne became Lord of the Mantle, an organisation born of necessity to protect the Maghdim Medaillon - the pendant you wear, brother. Wear it always, for it will help you remember. It is the reason you are now on another world and call me brother.

  He gave details of Rayne’s life as leader of the Mantle, brother to Rees, and the city he was raised in, describing the colours and vibrancy until his mind accepted it as a true memory.

  When he asked how they came to know each other, he explained about possessing magic also, and Rayne found him on the streets of Galilan and took him on as an apprentice, teaching him everything he knew.

  We are immortal now, Rayne, thus we appear closer in age than we were as apprentice and master. Everyone we knew on Valaris has now passed on, and we chose to make this private place our home. It is easier on others if immortals are not seen too often.

  What is our purpose, Elianas?

  To be there for the weak. We shall assume that task once more, I promise, when you are healed.

  When I remember.

  Elianas swallowed. Yes. When Torrullin did remember, would he forgive the lies and subterfuge? Would he understand that memory returned heralded the next day?

  Do I have family, Elianas?

  No, brother. We are each other’s family now.

  Torrullin smiled, and Elianas prayed to the gods for understanding.

  THE NOWHERE SPHERE

  Lore of Sanctum III

  PROLOGUE

  HEXAGONAL SQUARES of luminosity.

  Hexagonal squares, for perception was ever subjective in a dreamscape. What the eye perceived was not necessarily what belonged. Some concepts, objects and emotions would never fit. Any kind of belonging was as relative as perception.

  He, as witness, as participant also, drew a breath, testing the vapours surrounding him, and smiled when the casual action dragged a gust of cold air through the space to audibly rustle leaves in the vicinity.

  Breath was sound also.

  When he released it, the silence deafened.

  He smiled again.

  It appeared, in this scape of the imagination, all was in sequence and he was prepared at last. If breath was movement and sound, and perception could be anything, here, it would translate as master manipulation elsewhere.

  Instruction in the ways had been … lengthy. Every nuance was hard won. Seeing beyond the corners in curves almost led to insanity.

  No more.

  Now there were hexagonal squares of luminosity, and he understood why.

  He was a timedancer, as Ixion had once been, and Ixion’s companion, Adagin. As Tarlinn still was, and Neolone, Kallanon Dragon, aspired to.

  They were all dead, of course, except Tarlinn, but Tarlinn had been curtailed in a golden seat of power and possessed little influence. There was thus little to fear.

  It was time to begin. It was time to stand before the current age’s timedancer aspirants, to disavow their powers. The time had arrived to assume the mantle of the master manipulator.

  They would call him the Timekeeper. Torrullin would name his thus, he who was also Elixir, and Elianas, he who was also Alhazen.

  Timekeeper was merely a title, and yet they would speak it as if it conferred personality. It was easier, after all. Would they dare to recognise his true name, to utter it aloud in the spaces?

  One’s true name gifted absolute freedom.

  The ancient dance of Time itself was about to commence.

  Finally.

  Part I

  AWAKENING

  Chapter 1

  Purple cups pointed skyward, filled with morning dew. Already the early risers buzzed, waiting for the moisture to lift. It would be a spectacular day in the natural world. It would be a day of reckoning in the supernatural.

  ~ Universal Prophet ~

  Avaelyn

  HIS EYES WERE SHUT.

  His mouth was dry. His heart beat erratically.

  These were the signs
of fear.

  Rayne, however, was entirely unaware that fear existed. He knew not the concept, the emotion or the reality of it. It had never factored and, therefore, went unrecognized.

  Yet he comprehended something was different, otherwise, alien … new. He could not give it a name, but he understood, once he grasped this difference, change would follow in its wake. He wondered, only briefly, if change was welcome or something to be shunned. He had no premise upon which to base judgement.

  Why was that?

  For the first time since the accident that removed from his mind all memory of his past, he wondered why it felt as if he was two-dimensional. In fact, he wondered why he never asked questions of any kind. Had he been living in a vacuum? Or was that vacuum the sum total of life and its experiences?

  Surely not?

  Rayne forced his eyelids open. For a moment he was disorientated, his surroundings strange, and then sunlight picked at his pupils and, a moment after, daylight flooded over him.

  A dream?

  He drew breath, then another and another until his heartbeat evened out and his clammy skin normalised. He licked his lips and found that the dryness was only in his imagination, in the moment between oblivious sleep and near-wakefulness. All was well in his world.

  Breathing out a last forceful breath, he gave a rueful groan and pushed up. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he clawed his way to the new day, and rose slowly. A stretch came next and a luxurious yawn. He rolled his neck and headed for the bathroom.

  Halfway there, he came to a halt.

  Dream?

  He did not dream. Night after night he slept the sleep of the dead because day after day everything was the same. Only experience encouraged images in the dark, the prompts of a mind reworking what it saw, felt or heard in wakefulness.

  Only experience encourages … his heart thumped. Where does that thought come from? What is wrong with me?