Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  Elianas moved to head back to the dwelling, and then paused. “I will get that oath from you.” A moment later he moved away.

  I think you will, yes. Gods help us.

  YEARS FOLLOWED AND Elianas became more than an apprentice.

  He became a friend, a brother, someone missed when gone and welcomed back unreservedly upon return. Hero worship grew into something far deeper and far more profound, but neither remarked upon it, not even in passing.

  In those years Elianas came to understand Torrullin was not an innocent, and also gradually understood the man possessed a dual nature. He saw how shadows and shades could hide … and also reveal.

  Meanwhile Nemisin grew ever more jealous of Tingast Danae, and the day arrived when Tingast vanished without a trace.

  Elianas was in a rage for weeks after and did everything in his power to find his father, and Torrullin exerted his own influence privately to uncover the truth. He thought Nemisin was behind it, and believed Tingast was murdered, but could not find a shred of proof.

  Then grief manifested and Elianas lost all interest in life.

  Valeri summoned him to court upon Torrullin’s instigation and proceeded to mother him, although covertly. She won through eventually and it was during that period of adjustment Nemisin started taking new interest in his future son-in-law, and Elianas was swiftly the bright light of the court.

  Looking back years later, both Torrullin and Elianas would understand that was when he set his plan into action. He wanted Elianas to spy on Lord Sorcerer, although he was not so crude as to put it in quite those terms, and when Elianas was not as forthcoming over the years following as he would have liked, he understood, better than anyone, why that was.

  Elianas loved Lord Sorcerer. That, naturally, was huge leverage also.

  Then Elianas came of age and four years later Cassiopin was ready for marriage. Elianas was almost thirty and no longer an apprentice. He still spent most of his time on Avaelyn.

  Nemisin summoned him to court to prepare for the wedding.

  “ELIANAS, CONCENTRATE,” Torrullin snapped.

  They worked a new enchantment for gravity flows in the mountain city of Akhavar. Water needed to rise from the underground reservoirs without interruptions to the flow - the level had dropped below previous margins. Akhavar was drying out.

  The dark man smacked the table. “Let the bloody place die.” He strode off.

  Torrullin followed. “What has bitten you?”

  “I am getting married,” Elianas flung over his shoulder. “I have been summoned to prepare.”

  Ah.

  “What, nothing to say?”

  “You are betrothed since seven, Elianas. You knew this day would come.”

  Elianas turned and stopped. He nodded. “The day has come.” Dark eyes bored into Torrullin’s.

  Gods, what was he supposed to say? Do not marry Cassy because you do not love her? Do not marry her because you love me? Marry her because it will lay this spectre of hope you carry to rest?

  “I am sure it will be a grand affair. Perhaps I should attend,” Torrullin said.

  Elianas swirled his tongue in his mouth. “Suit yourself. You will have to finish the enchantment; I am leaving within the hour.” He vanished into the dimness of the dwelling.

  Perhaps he should have said something that day; perhaps it would have prevented some of the heartache to follow.

  HE DID NOT ATTEND the wedding, and Elianas stayed away even after the honeymoon period ended.

  Torrullin went to court then and played the field with women who thought they could trap Lord Sorcerer into commitment.

  Elianas ignored him; Elianas was completely different. In another age he would understand why - he killed a man before his nuptials and the event was hidden with Nemisin’s aid. In that age he wanted to shake the man he considered a brother from his withdrawal, but nothing worked.

  Torrullin returned to Avaelyn in a fury.

  Nemisin put his plan into action. He convinced his son-in-law to spy on Lord Sorcerer, and thus Elianas returned.

  He discovered Torrullin in a drunken state and full of accusation, and was accusatory in turn. Words led to an ugly brawl and after they had bloodied each other, Torrullin, not guarding his tongue, let slip about cycles and immortality.

  It changed everything.

  It led to the true identity of Lord Sorcerer. He was not just Torrullin Agripson, he was Torrullin Agripson Valla, and he had travelled the great curve from his future time to this. He was immortal, and he had seen the slow extinction of the Valleur. He sought to change it, and that was why he continually drove Nemisin. He did conceive of the Throne and allowed Nemisin to steal the design to enforce the Vallorinship, and he ensured Nemisin built the mountain city with jealousy over Avaelyn; that and more, much more. He loved the Danae more than the Lorin, and he was the architect of Kalgaia.

  And he hated fucking spies.

  They fought again, and in the aftermath Elianas demanded the knowledge to immortality, if only to prove where his loyalties lay. He was not a spy. He returned to Avaelyn because he could not stay away, and Nemisin’s machinations were the excuses he needed.

  Torrullin was horrified. Immortality was no light undertaking.

  That future, however, was then set in stone.

  Chapter 31

  The blood stilled signifies rebirth.

  ~ Kalgaia idiom ~

  Akhavar

  City of Kalgaia

  Era of the Dancing Suns

  Another cycle

  TINGAST DANAE LOOKED up from the ledger when he noticed his son hovering in the doorway.

  “Elianas? What is it?”

  The young lad entered diffidently. “Father, I need to ask you something.”

  Tingast pushed the ledger aside. “Have you been dreaming again?”

  Elianas glanced over his shoulder.

  “Shall we go for a walk?” his father offered.

  Elianas nodded and Tingast rose from behind his desk, secretly glad he could set calculations aside for a time. Managing a guild was no easy task. He was also concerned. His son was frightening sometimes, wise and knowing beyond his years. He smiled as he approached and laid a hand on Elianas’ shoulder, steering him out before him.

  “I believe the swans need feeding.”

  “That would be nice, yes.”

  They left the dimness of the guild hall and entered into bright sunlight. Tingast looked up. A clear day in Kalgaia; what better way to spend it than feeding swans with his son? They wandered along the tree-lined street greeting friends, but did not stop to converse and neither approached the subject that brought them out into sunshine. Around a corner they passed through the vegetable market, ever rowdy, and greeted more friends along the way, stopped to buy a loaf at a stall and then finally the crossed the common and headed to the smaller lakes where the swans were regal in their attitude and plumage. Four males patrolled, while six females bit and fluffed feathers further in.

  Elianas started tearing the loaf into bits and it was not long before the mighty birds were pedalling in his direction.

  Tingast sat on the grass to watch fondly. He smiled as he thought on the birthday present he had procured on the sly for his son; Elianas would love it - every ten year old would love it. Just a week more to wait for the special expression that was a father’s true appreciation.

  A few minutes later the loaf was done for, and the swans slowly returned to the centre of the lake. Elianas flopped down onto his stomach beside his father, staring at them.

  “I wonder if they understand the concept of kin.”

  Tingast looked down.

  Elianas sat up. “How do we recognise kin, father? The Vallas have trebac. What do we have?”

  “We are not royalty, son.”

  “The Danae are the oldest family. We formed the first guild and Kalgaia was built long before the mountain city. I would say we are more royal than the Vallas.”

  Tingast glanced around. Nobo
dy near enough to hear that, thank the gods. “Be that as it may, repeating it is considered sedition.”

  The boy made a sound of frustration in his throat. He knew so much and could not say anything; his father simply would not understand. “How do we recognise kin?”

  A sigh sounded from his father. “If I tell you, I admit we are royalty.”

  “Should I not know? I am not your heir?”

  Tingast drew breath. “You are the Danae heir, Elianas. Your cousins are next in line.”

  Silence for a beat, and then, “So it is true.”

  “I believe you already knew. I think you needed me to confirm it.”

  Elianas shook his head. “I wanted you to hear yourself say it.”

  “Gods … how old are you really?” Tingast burst out, staring at his son.

  Another of those unfathomable looks. “I am almost ten.”

  Physically, yes, but Tingast doubted his son’s soul was a mere decade old. He could not understand the complications, and he did not dare voice his suspicions or his son would hang from a Lorin tree somewhere long before his time was due.

  “Your son will be the Danae heir, and thus you must possess this knowledge to pass it on, but I had hoped you would be older before we had this conversation. I thought I would need to convince you.”

  “The only convincing I need is the recognition of kin.”

  Tingast nodded. “Yes, that is how it works.” He held his arm out. “Say vicl manna vann and mean it. It means I am able and releases kin boundaries for recognition.”

  Elianas clasped his arm saying those words in a whisper.

  And reeled back.

  His father held his arm tight. “What do you hear?”

  “A list of names.”

  “The Danae hereditary line,” Tingast murmured.

  “Fennen Danae, Andori, Menlore …”

  “Fennen is the first noble of all Valleur, and the first royal Danae.”

  “… your name,” Elianas whispered, “and mine …” Then he froze and his eyes glazed over. His fingers dug into his father’s arm.

  “Son?” Tingast whispered. “What?”

  Elianas released. “Overload,” he muttered. “I am fine.”

  “It can be overwhelming and there is more to tell …”

  Elianas stood, his expression shuttered. “I need to think.” He turned on the spot as if uncertain, and then simply walked away, leaving his father to stare after him.

  He walked swiftly as if running from demons, but did not want anyone to realise his terror. Almost ten, yes, but older inside and awaiting the time to step forward and claim his place anew. Awaiting the time he would commence studies with Torrullin, as he knew Lord Sorcerer waited for him.

  Tingast Danae, Elianas Danae … and others after. Leading to Taranis Danae …

  And then, gods help them, Torrullin Valla.

  The Valla who was also Danae.

  Lord Sorcerer was kin.

  Did he know?

  Five years later

  LORD SORCERER LET IT BE known he would take on an apprentice and chose Elianas to fulfil that role.

  This time there was not much he needed to teach, and they thus delved into new enchantments from the beginning, and were soon a force to be reckoned with.

  Before he was brought to Avaelyn, Elianas confronted his father in Kalgaia. This time they were in the guild hall alone, and the place echoed with silence. Testing was complete and the hall was shutting down for two weeks.

  “What is Lorinin?”

  Tingast paled. “Gods, boy, where did you hear that?”

  “Kin list,” Elianas said.

  “Impossible. There is no Lorinin among the Danae.”

  “Then I dreamt it in the list, father, and by your reaction it has terrible meaning. What is it?”

  Tingast’s footsteps echoed as he paced the hall in agitation.

  “There are many foretellings, son. There will be two enchanters, one of them the One, and there will be a mighty symbol of a mythical creature that defines the Valleur, the Danae will be rulers, the Danae will be extinct in a generation, and the tale of two mighty forces to come, Elixir and Alhazen, the Throne is sentient, a Lumin Sword, a magical Medaillon, a rift, a magical dome …” He paused and ceased pacing. “And the Lorinin.”

  Elianas waited.

  “The Song of the Spaces, son.”

  Elianas blinked. “What?”

  His father smiled. “And for once I have you stumped.”

  “What does that mean?” Elianas whispered.

  “I do not know,” Tingast whispered back. “All I know is it is a terrible burden.”

  “Who knows?”

  “Sages and seers, and they say little. Nemisin probably has some idea. This legend is whispered behind hands. I heard it thus.”

  “Would Lord Sorcerer,” and Elianas swallowed, “know?”

  “Perhaps you can ask him, with time.”

  ELIANAS DID, YEARS LATER, when he returned to Avaelyn after the birth of his first daughter.

  On the ledge, in an intense moment as a storm thundered overhead and Elianas’ hands shook as he attempted to contain what he felt, he put the question.

  Torrullin moved to face him, grey eyes unreadable. “It is a legend with no substance.”

  “And folk whisper behind their hands about it. What is Lorinin?”

  “A tree is letter, a stone is number, the molecule of water is word and the wind is harmony. Together they sing and dance and it is the Song of the Spaces. Lorinin is someone who knows the sacred geometry in everything.”

  Elianas frowned. “Why would that be a terrible burden?”

  “You have spoken to someone about this before.”

  “My father.”

  “Ah. The burden lies in knowing too much.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Torrullin shifted in irritation. “Imagine touching a stone, and then imagine hearing its tale, its music. Although we do it now, go further and imagine you can feel its entire history, its components, and its feelings, its dreams, its idea of self, its kernel of sentience. Imagine that stone as a flower, a mug of coffee, a goddamned cloud in the sky … or a soul, Elianas. Imagine knowing too much about a soul.”

  “Gods.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Is there such a one? Has there been someone like that?”

  Torrullin turned away. “Not that I know of. I told you it is a legend without substance.”

  “Then why whisper behind hands?”

  “Because every one of us wants it.” Grey eyes swivelled to mark the dark man’s reaction. “Imagine me touching you and knowing … everything.”

  Elianas flinched and then his expression closed over. “Do you? Can you?”

  A tight smile answered him before words did. “I know enough to sense what you battle right now while this storm rages, but not everything. I am not Lorinin.”

  “Swear it,” Elianas whispered.

  Torrullin smiled strangely and presented his back. “Put your hands on me and stop thinking so much.”

  Elianas breathed in and out, closed his eyes, and then could not help himself.

  He placed his hands on Torrullin’s wet skin … and forgot to insist on an oath.

  THEY MOVED ON FROM there into other times and events, until they were set adrift by the realm of Time into the same space together in a new era.

  Everything was different. Torrullin was Lorinin, the state confirmed by the Syllvan, Gatekeepers of Reaume, and he no longer knew what it meant. He quelled much in the years of amnesia, and in continuing ignorance had not accidentally discovered it anew.

  Elianas knew; he had not forgotten the explanation on the ledge.

  He carefully avoided Torrullin’s touch - afraid accident would herald a revealing - for Torrullin needed to understand with his mind before he employed the force that unmasked ages of brinkmanship.

  To know everything about one’s Eternal Companion one needed to be prepared.

 
; Part III

  CASTLES AND CITADELS

  Chapter 32

  “I saw a blue, clouded sphere in his future. I have to wonder what that means.”

  ~ Torrullin to Elianas

  On the subject of Tianoman’s Naming Day ~

  Dungeon

  THERE WAS NO LIGHT in the space around him, but there was sound.

  Water dripped with irritating regularity onto the stone floor, a puddle in which he sat and shivered. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious and hated the loss of time; it meant he had no basis with which to calculate possible variables.

  How far had he come? How much trace would remain of his capture? How far had Torrullin tracked him?

  Elianas’ jaw clenched. He was not bound hand and foot, but he may as well have been. This stone chamber of darkness would bind him into eternity if he did not find the chink in the magic that constituted it. He abhorred small spaces.

  He was alone and nobody had come since he awakened. Scuffles and low moans, however, revealed his was not the only chamber and they were occupied also.

  As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he noticed the iron bars. A cell. A dungeon of some sort, but where? How long before his terror of enclosed space drove him insane?

  How far? How deep? And who exactly sat in isolation along with him, shivering in the dampness, fearful of the utter lightlessness?

  Were Tianoman and Aislinn caught in this misery also?

  Where had that creature got to?

  Elianas risked a call. “Who is out there?”

  Silence greeted the echo of his voice, and then, “Elianas?”

  Teroux. Bloody hell. “Teroux, are you alone?”

  “Someone is in the cell next to me, but still unconscious. I don’t know who it is.”

  “Me,” Teighlar’s voice grunted. “Awake and pissed off.”

  “I am here as well,” Tristan sighed somewhere.