Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  “If you are up to it.”

  “I am now.”

  They headed for the ogive.

  “Goddamn, it is too dangerous!” Lowen shouted. She ran after them. “If you are going …”

  Elianas looked back. “No, Lowen, not this.”

  “Stay here, for Aaru’s sake,” Torrullin snapped. “You are not immortal anymore, remember?” He stepped through the ogive and Elianas followed.

  Tristan brushed past her. “Keep them calm, Lowen,” he said, and followed the two men. “Give Teroux added attention. Man, I would like to hit him, but he isn’t really at fault.”

  Chapter 50

  A surprise is often revelation also.

  ~ Awl ~

  The Common

  ANDOR BANNERMAN WAS of the opinion he was a politician with incredible power. Worlds bowed at his behest. Had he not forced Ymir to bow to his ‘request’ for a ringed city in the desert, a citadel to withstand every siege, including that of a magical nature? Did Excelsior not ignore the ban on the manufacture of nuclear weapons? And were his soldiers not fed on foodstuffs that negated sorcery?

  General Horatio had sworn allegiance, but it was also true the man would do anything for a good battle. Perhaps his ‘allegiance’ would last only as long as the confrontation. He would use Horatio as long as he remained effective.

  He could also call on the might of the Warlock of Digilan.

  That was the fly in his soup of mastery. Despite careful planning, years of back-slapping on the sly, years of appropriating funds for the venture, control had now slipped beyond his grasp. All for naught.

  Tymall Valla, Warlock, was also Torrullin Valla’s son, and look where the battle between father and son had now dumped him. In a space that was beyond every iota of understanding he possessed.

  Yes, he had agreed to the kidnapping of Tianoman, and then Teroux and Tristan Valla, along with anyone entrapped on Excelsior before it vaporised, but he had not envisioned Torrullin would answer injury with insult. Torrullin took his son Mikhail. The lad was weak; he would bow to Torrullin’s demands and undermine years of labour. His dream of instituting a hereditary line of presidents for Beacon now drifted away in the mists of this hell-hole. Eventually he could have manipulated Beaconites into accepting the Bannerman line as akin to royalty - from there a short step to calling himself King.

  Tymall, however, cared for none of that. He desired only to bring his father to a fall. Yet, and how this stuck in Bannerman’s throat, Tymall might have the answers that would see his kingship come to pass.

  Swearing under his breath, he hastened to the fort where the Warlock had ensconced himself. At least this goddamn circle crap placed goddamned Tymall within reach.

  Horatio had no choice but to stretch his shorter legs.

  Palisade

  “HE USED WINGS FOR the devices,” Elianas muttered as they ran.

  Tristan caught up. “Why not let the Palisade go? That leaves us the Dome to defend.”

  “Mighty nuances are in place. Tymall’s strength will increase if we simply surrender it,” Torrullin said. “And there is something of extraordinary value at the palisade that must be saved.”

  They were at the path’s end and had to force their way through the host of soldiers until they managed to find the one to the wooden stockade. That path was deserted and at the end of it drifts of snow were piled high as if creating a barrier. There was no sign of the fallen soldiers or the toppled rocker launcher. It was as if no skirmish had taken place.

  Torrullin and Elianas glanced at each other. They clambered over the snow barrier.

  The unicorn was waiting.

  “Wow,” Tristan whispered, utterly astonished.

  Elianas shivered. “It’s cold.”

  The creature was a glow of shaped light and paced forward gracefully to greet them. It dipped its head, the horn flashing briefly.

  Welcome back. Have no fear; the energy twist is unravelled. Alhazen, it is a pleasure.

  The mystical creature moved closer and it stared into Elianas’ eyes.

  You are able to employ a similar twist, but I must warm you to do so only as last resort. It is safer to destroy whatever the young Valla carries with him. Wings of Mist cannot withstand this manipulation of energy for long. Will you heed the warning?

  Elianas bowed. I heed.

  Excellent.

  “I do not understand,” Tristan murmured. “How is any of this possible?”

  Torrullin closed in on the wooden fence. “Some matters are not meant to be understood. Just listen.”

  “He will hear secrets,” Elianas laughed.

  A shrug. “It’s Tristan. We trust him.”

  Elianas nodded. “Yes.” He gripped Tristan’s shoulder and prompted him to move after Torrullin. The unicorn followed, understanding the need for privacy.

  Enter the centre. I shall follow.

  They passed beyond the gate and then beyond the door into a dim interior. When the unicorn entered, the dimness gave way to silvery glows. It appeared incongruous in the man-made structure.

  Nobody will hear what is said here. Please shut the door for completion.

  Tristan shut the door.

  Shadow Wing Fort

  TIANOMAN VALLA WAS AT the great gates, waiting for them. He, Bannerman, received an expressionless stare, and then the boy gestured him and the general through.

  “My father is expecting you.”

  Bannerman glanced at Horatio, but the fool did not hark to the control that implied. “Lead on, young Valla.”

  “It is Vallorin, Bannerman,” Tianoman said, his face stiff. “Remember there will be a winner and a loser in this confrontation. You may want to see your bases covered.”

  Cold washed over him. The boy was right. God, he really hated that the upstart youth was right. And he wished Mikhail was more like him.

  He inclined his head. “Of course, my Lord Vallorin.”

  Tianoman gave a tight smile and turned on his heel to lead them towards an ornate door set in the wall opposite the great gates.

  Tymall paced an empty chamber lit in dirty grey and white hues beyond those doors. His footsteps echoed in the space. He did not cease his pacing; instead he spoke through it. “My son has more power than you can ever hope for, Bannerman. Tread lightly.”

  Horatio spluttered and Bannerman was forced to hiss at the fool to shut up. “I meant your son no insult.”

  Tianoman, meanwhile, glared at his father. “You do not need to run interference for me.”

  Tymall came to a stop and lifted a shoulder. “See, Bannerman, what the dynamics of family achieve? Here I am, about to confront my father, and my son is thoroughly displeased with me.” He glanced at Tianoman. “I have his oath, but it seems I no longer have his undivided loyalty.”

  Bannerman, wisely, said not a word.

  “Loyalty, father?” Tianoman leaned against the stone wall to the right of the entrance. “Torrullin has always had my undivided loyalty, you know that.”

  A muscle ticked in Tymall’s jaw, and then he ignored his son. “Bannerman, flooding the common is useless. In fact, too many soldiers translates into too many voices, and we need to hear when our enemies speak. Words there may render a change in our fortunes. Take them back to the citadel. They are powerless anyway.”

  Horatio spluttered again, and again Bannerman was forced to curtail him. “Words as a change in fortune?”

  “Yes! Nuances! Gods, why am I plagued with stupidity?”

  Bannerman shook his head. “That is not good enough. How long do we wait for words to bear fruit?”

  A sly smile from Tymall. “Did I say we would sit around and wait and listen?” He punctuated the air with one finger. “As you and the fat general there wandered in la-la land to my gates, the Dome suffered explosions. I had hoped for vaporisation, but it is the Dome we are talking here. It is, however, severely debilitated.”

  Horatio, about to give vent to his ire, swallowed it and stared at the Warlock. “How
did you manage that?”

  Tianoman made a disgusted sound. “He sent my cousin Teroux out with energy devices. Teroux, who would first be welcomed back, if caught, before he suffered suspicion.”

  “Clever,” Bannerman murmured.

  “How do these energy devices work?” Horatio demanded.

  Tymall sighed. “Too late now to use them again.”

  “Christ, we must take that bloody Dome down,” Bannerman muttered. He inadvertently moved his head and caught and noted the expression on the Vallorin’s face, and frowned. Clearly the boy did not think the Dome could be destroyed, or … wait … he swung back to study Tymall. And was enlightened. “You are afraid of what the Dome could do.”

  A beat of silence ensued, and then the Warlock admitted, “I am, and you should be as well.”

  “Why?”

  “More stupidity,” Tymall muttered. “Let me put it like this; the Dome is constructed of magic and energy and is ages old. It has survived even Elixir …”

  “No, Torrullin destroyed it,” Tianoman interrupted, “but he also restored it. What my father is saying is that it does not matter what we do; Torrullin is able bring the Dome back and he will do so time after time because it is greater than time and magic, and deployed as a weapon is as powerful as the Valleur Throne.” Tianoman pushed away from the wall. “It would be simpler to take the battle to the common, if you seek to herd your opponents into one arena, and then stare at each other.”

  “You seek to anger me?” Tymall roared.

  Tianoman remained calm and Bannerman marvelled at the boy’s fortitude. Maybe not such a boy, at that.

  “I gave my oath to do what you ask, father. I did not promise to keep my mouth shut as well.”

  “Then I ask, in view of your oath, that you say no more!”

  The Vallorin strode forward. “And if I am to relay a message to your opponents on your behalf, how do I then speak? Ask silence, and I shall give you silence - you, father.”

  Tymall started laughing. “How you have astonished me, Tian. Fine, say what you will; perhaps we shall learn from your words.” He shifted to Bannerman. “Get from my sight. And clear the common forthwith.”

  “We need more help than words, Warlock.”

  “I am aware of that. Tian, see our guests out.”

  A minute later Bannerman found himself shoved onto the path with Horatio.

  A minute after that the general exploded. “I am not fat!”

  Chapter 51

  Music binds ages.

  ~ Bard of Mon Unon ~

  Palisade

  TORRULLIN SAT AT THE table, angling his body to face the mystical creature. Do you have a name?

  I do. In the multiverse I am known as Aria, but here I am called Adagin. I have other names in other realms.

  I need the name that frees you.

  Elixir, that is not wise.

  Torrullin shifted in his seat. He glanced at Elianas pacing in the shadows. The man seemed slightly ethereal; he still suffered a rebuild of energy. Tristan sat in the central grouping of couches, his gaze moving between them.

  I am able to find it; I prefer you name yourself.

  I have a duty, Elixir, which requires this binding.

  I gather so, and yet this place is outside of all, even the multiverse. Here you are able to take your place at a table.

  Elianas approached with narrowed eyes. “What are you up to?”

  “I was told to bring you, Elianas, and to ask questions long burning in memory and ages. You have answers. You will not speak them to a legend.”

  Ah. Elixir, you are wiser than the situation of the present demands.

  Elianas sat at the table beside Torrullin. Really?

  He speaks a truth, Alhazen, fortunately one that cannot influence the nuances. I therefore choose to bow to his wisdom.

  Torrullin is not near wisdom, Adagin.

  He has his moments. A chuckle sounded in all three minds.

  Elianas smiled, and said, “Wiser than the situation of the present demands. In other words, this confrontation requires less complexity than we have assigned it.”

  Indeed. Neither technology nor swords are required. Magic is less here. I shall explain.

  In form, Adagin. Torrullin leaned back in his chair.

  Moment after moment elapsed before a decision came. I am Adagin Ferryman. That is my true name.

  Elianas glanced at Torrullin, who murmured, “Adagin Ferryman.”

  One’s true name set one free, a universal truth, but when Elixir spoke a true name it became a force. What was hidden was uncovered, or a legend was made real. The unicorn dimmed briefly and thereafter its glow intensified to the point of blindness. When it dimmed once more it was no longer a creature of legend.

  An old man leaning on a hooked staff shuffled slowly towards the table. “I was once a man of realms, a long time ago. Upon my death I transcended into a creature of myth and legend. I am also the ferryman men speak of in tales. The boatman, ferrying souls across the river between life and death. In that guise my appearance is somewhat different.”

  Before he sat in the chair Tristan pulled out for him, he leaned over to gently touch his staff to the back of Elianas’ one hand. “An aid to hasten strength.”

  Elianas blinked and seemed to solidify.

  Smiling his appreciation at Tristan, Adagin sat. Tristan, full of questions and in awe, rounded the table to sit on Elianas’ other side.

  “Thank you,” Elianas murmured.

  “You choose a form of infirmity,” Torrullin frowned.

  “This is how I was before death, Torrullin. Why deny it? I seek not youth and supple bones and muscles now; wisdom and knowledge resides in the mind, not form.”

  “How long ago did you die?” Elianas asked.

  “Longer than the One has been alive,” Adagin smiled. He laid his staff on the table and leaned back. “It has been a long while since I have been tactile.” Fingers smoothed in a curious pattern on the table’s surface.

  Tristan’s eyes narrowed as something occurred to him. “Did you know Ixion?”

  Elianas’ eyebrows lifted.

  Torrullin sighed.

  Adagin chuckled. “Very good, young Valla. Indeed, Ixion and I were companions for a fair while. We were once known as Timekeepers. Some would say timedancers. This universe is as old as you suspect, but the multiverse is far older. Ixion and I experienced many ages as a team and then a choice was before us. Another was coming, one with the power to lead time into an indivisible ring, and that we foresaw as extremely dangerous. Time is a ring, a circle, a wheel, call it what you will, and when you travel it long enough it takes you back to the beginning eventually, all of which is highly relative. And a closed circle is static.”

  He pointed a gnarled finger at Torrullin. “The past was cast adrift after the Time journey you undertook and the sliver of Ixion explained to you,” and he pointed at Tristan, “how expansion is finite, although time and space operates beyond the foreseen contraction. The circle has been opened. Ixion chose slivers of self, hoping one would last long enough to reveal this truth, and I chose a creature of myth. In this way I ensured I would meet with you in the fullness of time. And here we are.”

  “And we are at war,” Elianas said.

  “It is a small battle, Elianas Danae, a truly small battle. I suggested bringing the combatants to this place created by the evil of a human leader and a Valleur Warlock, but Torrullin intensified the field with the Dome and I now bow to that wisdom, for it could not function otherwise. Certain magical nuances have altered since my time, and I bow to the wisdom of youth.”

  “Youth?” Elianas snorted.

  “From where I sit,” Adagin smiled.

  “A small battle?” Tristan murmured.

  “Indeed, young one, indeed. There will be a winner and a loser soon enough and the universe beyond will be safe whatever the outcome. If they are by some happenstance victorious they cannot escape here. And thus is victory in another form ass
ured. No, the real battle here is about truth and acknowledgement.” The old man leaned forward. “The new Timekeeper is coming soon, Elixir, and you must be ready. It requires truth. It is your noble purpose.”

  “That is close to what Tarlinn said,” Elianas murmured when Torrullin did not react.

  “The seat of power is correct in most matters. Listen to him when there is no one else to ask. In a sense he is a Timekeeper also.”

  “Who leads the Valleur?” Torrullin asked.

  “It is of no matter. There are greater issues at stake.”

  Elianas glanced at Torrullin and then murmured, “It may be of no matter to you, Adagin, but we do live in this present and we care about our people and their future.”

  “And yet you must step away from it to see ahead once more. Mark that; the point of moving away approaches. However, as you say, your present still rules you. This, then; Tarlinn is Vallorin. He has always been Vallorin. Whoever sits in his embrace is but the face of the time.”

  “What of Tianoman?” Tristan whispered.

  “The lad is strong. With every passing moment he grows in that strength and he has not in any way bowed to the evil of his father. His heart is pure and will remain pure, and he will not betray those he loves.”

  “He loves his father,” Tristan pointed out.

  “He loves the ideal. He is not stupid and he is not blind and despite his oath he will do what is right. He will deny his father.”

  Torrullin pinched the bridge of his nose. “How does he survive it?”

  Adagin smiled. “That surprise I shall allow to develop. Trust he will again assume the Throne and Tarlinn will welcome him. Tianoman Valla is extraordinarily good for the Valleur.” He tapped the table. “He will rule a long time.”

  Tristan grinned and Torrullin and Elianas glanced at each other with relief.

  Torrullin murmured, “Tarlinn said Elianas must be Vallorin.”

  “Excuse me?” Tristan blurted.

  “Leave it, Torrullin,” Elianas said.

  “If the Alhazen desires the seat, Tianoman is disenfranchised, but he does not want it, does he? Tarlinn accepts Tianoman for the future,” Adagin said.