A final prompt; hark to sacred space. It is denser than the strongest stone, it bleeds profusely. It reveals only truth.
And now I am done.
TORRULLIN’S HAND LIFTED TO his chest.
Sacred space. The heart. Seat of all emotion.
As the final boy crumpled, he bent his head to stare at the bright earth. Elianas. Sacred space. Witness. Hope or despair?
He looked up when Quilla cleared his throat.
“Can you tell me, Enchanter?”
A shake of his head ensued. Not yet. Maybe never.
An explosive breath erupted from the birdman, and then an arresting arm wave followed. “Look, Torrullin, at how they lie. They collapsed in such a way as to form a word. Do you see it?”
He could not care, for too much roiled in his mind, but he rose to stand beside the birdman and studied the forms. Yes, he supposed one could read their twists as glyphs, but why be bothered? Only an anal mind would seek such depth of nuance … and one could not call Quilla anal. The birdman noticed portents because it was his speciality; because he could see, he thus did.
“What word do you perceive?”
Quilla frowned up at him. “You do not see it?”
“I have not the energy for unravelling, Quilla. Just tell me.”
“It says Rivalen.”
Torrullin stared at the forms anew. Yes, that was what their twists suggested. “What does it mean?”
“The Square of Round.”
A laugh erupted from his dry throat. “Nonsensical.”
“Unless a Timekeeper seeks a name.”
Torrullin’s head jerked downward.
Quilla smiled up. “Sounds a bit like the mathematics of an ancient clock, does it not? Rivalen, the round square.”
Torrullin’s attention snapped back to the row of inanimate boys. Gods, there was the true message. If he named the Timekeeper, freedom would be his.
Did that mean freedom from Elianas also?
He stared down at Quilla again. “You should not have told me. I do not want this information.”
A frown flitted across those innocent features. “I do not understand.”
“Never mind.”
“Torrullin, do you not see? This is why I was summoned here. To read the name.”
“If name it is,” Torrullin muttered. “Where are we exactly?”
“Here,” and Quilla waved and vanished.
Chapter 2
Find a path through the maze or you are eternally lost.
~ Awl ~
Sanctuary
The Villa
ROSE SAT OUTSIDE IN the manor garden with Teroux, her thoughts far away.
His golden hair moved in the breeze, occasionally brushing her cheek. She held his hand, absently stroking. Clouds moved in the higher wind, but the lake was smooth. Birdsong sounded both near and far off. Beyond the periodic flash of feathers, not much else was active. Her thoughts roamed ever further.
“This is our home, right?” Teroux asked, his tawny eyes uncertain.
It shook her, for it was the first independent thought he had offered. For days now she had been at his side continuously, praying for a spark to show, for a sign he knew her still. His memory loss was encompassing, according to the best healers at the Mariner facility, and yet she hoped he would recognise her.
She focused immediately, her free hand tucking strands of her fair hair away behind her ear. “Yes, this is our home.”
“And we are married, you say.”
Rose drew breath. Maybe this time he would understand what it meant.
He did not. “What is married?”
Lowen answered for her, to her relief, as she approached from behind them with a loaded tray, having heard Teroux’s question. Ice clinked in crystal goblets.
“Married, Teroux, is holding Rose’s hand and feeling comfortable while doing so.”
He blinked owlishly at her. “If I hold your hand are we married also?”
“No. We would not be comfortable.” Lowen set the tray down on the low garden table.
When she straightened, Teroux held his hand out to her. It was steady, his fingers slightly curled.
This was another independent act.
It boded well.
“Take it,” Rose said in a strangled voice.
Drawing breath, Lowen lowered to sit beside Teroux on the bench they shared, and gently took his hand. She offered no words and did not attempt to stroke the way Rose had been doing. She merely waited for him to react. Rose waited also, her expression guarded.
After a few moments Teroux withdrew his hand, and said, “It does not feel right.”
Rose shifted to him with a hopeful gaze.
Teroux smiled.
Perhaps something of what lay between them from before everything changed was now returning. Tears hovered on Rose’s lashes as she took her husband’s face in her warm hands.
Lowen left them to it and wandered down to the lake.
BRIGHT SPARKLES, SILVERY FISHES.
Reeds flecked green and brown reached up to the heavens, sawing in the light wind, and insects flitted amongst them in winged silence. It was a good day on Sanctuary, neither too warm nor too cold.
Lowen glanced over her shoulder once to see Rose and Teroux with their heads together; excellent, a new start there. She had expected it to take much longer for their connection to return. She wandered further on to sit on a trunk where she would not be visible to them.
There her thoughts fractured. She recently discovered it was difficult to hold onto a thought long enough for it to lead to an internal discussion, even if that ‘discussion’ led to trouble. The chatterbox inside her head that she sometimes was forced to deal strenuously with when under stress was too silent.
There were simply too many decisions to make for any single one to take root. Yet it needed to begin, this process. She could not hide at the villa forever in the guise of helping Rose and Teroux.
One by one, then.
Do I need to separate Torrullin and Elianas?
Yes.
Why?
Because I am the only one able to do so.
No, Lowen. Why must you separate them?
They need to function as individuals.
Why?
I do not know!
Did not Tarlinn tell them they need to function as a team?
Yes! And yet …
How will you separate them?
Sex?
Not enough. You need …
But she knew what she needed. She hoped she had made the right choice, chatterbox or not. Lowen scrubbed at her face. By all gods, who had given her judgement in this?
Many would be hurt if she followed this path, including herself.
Luvanor
Grinwallin
ALIK BENT OVER MASSIVE tomes, every muscle aching from sitting too long at a desk.
Building page by page alongside her right hand were her study notes. She hoped Mikhail on Sanctuary had time to concentrate on studying also, but his situation could not be her focus at this point.
She looked up, bleary-eyed, when a shadow fell over her.
“I did knock,” Lowen smiled.
“I wouldn’t hear a thunderbolt right now. Thirsty? I could use a drink.” Grinning, Alik stood up with a groan, stretched - her joints cracked audibly - and led Lowen to the kitchen.
She was comfortable in her mother’s house now, and had made her peace with her mother’s death, but she missed that Kylis, the man who investigated the circumstances of her mother’s passing, could no longer visit. He became a good friend and now he too was gone. Kylis was on another journey, probably still tracking royalty. She smiled to herself as she thought that. Kylis probably tracked ancient Luvan royalty in the realms out there.
Retrieving colourful tumblers and a decanter of amber liquid from a cabinet, she headed to the table where Lowen already sat. She poured. Drank. Poured again.
“So it’s like that, is it?” Lowen laughed.
“Yes. Every word on those pages begin to transform into inky worms. Need a break, my brain is about to explode.” Alik sipped more decorously and scrutinised Lowen, noting her dark hair was somewhat windblown. “Why are you here?”
Lowen shrugged and focused her incredibly blue eyes. “I’m merely checking in. Teroux and Rose have finally made a connection and do not need me around right now.” She offered a sheepish smile. “I guess I simply needed a friendly ear.”
“Is Teroux’s memory coming back already?” Alik frowned. “Lowen, I doubt it is possible and especially not yet. He needs months of therapy and still there is no guarantee.”
“Alik the doctor,’ Lowen smiled, and then spread her hands. “It’s not memory; it is more that he begins to act like himself, feel the way he did before. At this point they are mere glimmers, but Rose needs something, however small, to go on hoping.”
Alik nodded her agreement. “Have you seen Mikhail on Mariner Island? Is he studying, do you know?”
Mikhail Bannerman and Alik Sirdann were medical students together at the Thisseldrum campus, but both were removed from there before they were able to sit for their finals. A special dispensation from the dean allowed them to do so in a few days, hence Alik’s punishing study regime.
“From what I have seen of that young man, he will do extraordinarily well in his finals. He is doing fine, Alik,” Lowen murmured, “and so are you.”
“That’s good. I miss him. We studied better as a team.”
“Would you like to work on Sanctuary with him?”
Red tresses flicked as Alik shook her head. “I would like to open a Healers House here in Grinwallin. Besides, Mikhail loves me; better for him to go forward without seeing me every day.”
Lowen nodded, asking, “Do you love him?”
“Once I did, maybe, on Thisseldrum, but even then I knew longevity would be a problem in a relationship. I can probably deal with it, but Mikhail will eventually become disillusioned when he can no longer keep pace with me.” Alik shrugged. “Longevity is a problem, period.”
Lowen sighed. “I hear you.”
Alik stared at her, hands clasped around her drink. “Is that why you chose to accept a return to mortality when given the chance?”
“In a nutshell.”
“Do you regret it?”
Lowen lowered her head to the table and murmured, “I regret it, yes.” It was the first time she had admitted it to anyone, especially herself.
Alik remained unaware of the greater nuances that had shaped so many lives before she entered the arena. “You know great sorcerers, Lowen.”
“I do not dare approach them with this.” They will know I am again immortal and they might grasp how it came to pass. This secret needed to be kept; not her renewed status, rather the method to attaining it.
“Why not?” Alik asked. “If you regret it and they are able to help …”
“It’s complicated, Alik,” Lowen interrupted.
“Well, then ask Elianas and Torrullin to help you.”
Lowen did not respond. To speak of those two was to admit they had gifted her the return to immortality. A shiver raised the hairs on her arms.
Alik frowned, attempting to understand. “Or are they too close to this?”
Ha. One reason. “Yes.”
“Which one do you love, Lowen? I saw you on Sanctuary with Torrullin - some kiss that was. And thereafter the incident with Elianas at the Palisade, when he kissed you. It confuses me.”
“Love? Both. Neither. It’s complicated, as I said.” Lowen studied the younger woman. “I have seen how you look at Elianas and who can blame you? The man is perfectly edible. Stay away from both of them. Firstly, I will really take issue with you over Torrullin …”
“Sounds like a choice.”
“Maybe. Torrullin will use you, Alik, beware. Elianas is kinder, but he cannot give his heart.”
“Why not?”
“Complicated.”
“Elianas isn’t kinder, Lowen. I thought you understood that.”
Silence followed those words. It was an insightful remark.
“Are you innocent, Alik?” Lowen finally asked, having realised Alik was correct. Elianas smiled more, but he certainly was not kinder. It was the kind of insight an innocent would garner.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Soul, heart, spirit.”
“Depends on your criteria.” Alik rose abruptly, a peculiar look in her eyes, something akin to mistrust. “I need to rest now to be fresh for tomorrow’s stint at the books. It seems you could do with downtime also. You are most welcome to stay and we can talk more tomorrow.”
Swirling her tongue over her teeth, Lowen nodded. Rose and Teroux needed more time alone.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
The Dome of the Kaval
TRISTAN SKYLER VALLA STOOD at the console of lights in the Dome, one hand resting upon Knowledge.
He attempted to gather a sense of the information Elianas received and subsequently imparted to the console upon the man’s first visit to the Dome’s Gatherers’ Circle.
Belun, in Centuar guise after sleeping upstairs, ambled over. He transformed into his humanoid form as he moved, in order to utilise his speaking voice. “There is nothing to find; I have checked.”
Tristan pulled a face and stepped away from the dais.
Belun continued, “When the Dome was damaged in the place of confrontation, I sensed energy was leeched and energy was also loosed to repair the breech. Tristan, I am a creature of sorcery and that makes me part energy, correct? I used that connection to read Elianas as he expended his vitality in the repair.”
The Centuar wandered to the ogives and ambled along the perimeter, halting at every arch to look upward. He meandered back to the pristine white floor that was the Gatherers’ Circle, and stood there staring up at the generic ceiling of the present. Due to the quarters installed overhead for the Kaval, yesteryear’s mosaic artistry would be hidden from view had it still existed.
Tristan waited him out, sensing the Centuar needed to make a point, something relevant.
“Before the mosaics of Taranis’ time there was transparency overhead, much like it is now for the accommodations up there. Now it is crystal, but then it was leaded panes of obsidian.” When Tristan lifted an eyebrow, he added, “The glass substance created by swiftly cooled surface magma.” Tristan nodded and Belun went on. “Despite the dark aspect, one could clearly see the stars when looking up. My point, though; the entire Dome is constructed of igneous rock, the building materials of Elianas’ time. He may claim he erected this Dome for Torrullin, but he built also something lasting because he needed to endure, like to the pyramids on Earth, the great sundial on Mon Unon, the Valleur sacred sites …”
“You are saying Elianas is the Dome.”
“No, Tris. I am saying the Dome is a manifestation of Elianas. Perhaps a failsafe, in order to endure.”
Tristan frowned. “Perhaps, but why is it relevant?”
The Centuar eyeballed him. “You tell me, Kaval leader.”
Valaris
Menllik
HIS NAME WAS HALON and he was sworn in as one of three new Elders during the conclave at the Keep the day before.
Him, Artorin and Khy. Artorin hailed from Akhavar’s ranks, Khy from Luvanor, but he, Halon, had been visiting Galilan - Valaris’ capital city - when Menllik was utterly annihilated. He was thus the sole survivor of a city wholly destroyed, the sole choice of an Elder from Valaris to fill the required fourteen for this world.
Halon stood at the edge of the enormous black scar in the earth where once a city rang with noise and music and laughter, where once buildings of great beauty embraced a golden nation.
Here, alive now in memory only, he was born. Here he had been taught by his elders and the Elders, and here he had played pranks on his friends and generally made mischief as he grew to adulthood. Here, too, he had fallen in love. And here he had lost the onl
y person in the entire universe who mattered to him.
Her name was Sunling and she would never again cast light into darkness with her extraordinary smile.
Life was not worth living.
Why, then, had he accepted the duty of Elder?
Because, all gods help him, it gifted him the power to seek justice.
Behind and around him a tent city squatted on the edges of the destruction. A low murmur of many voices sounded, along with the occasional exclamation. For the most part, scientists from Xen III were encamped here, come to aid the stricken Valleur.
Halon grimaced. They sought to heal this land, to create anew the fertility that would allow the Valleur to raise a new city. Noble of them indeed, but in his opinion this scar should remain, a mute and continuing accusation to the reality of the power plays between those who did not give a damn for others.
The powerful included Bannerman of Beacon, General Horatio, and Torrullin Valla. Two of those were now dead. President Bannerman died in a nowhere realm, as did his psychopathic general. It meant the one remaining needed to stand as proxy when justice was served.
Torrullin Valla was as guilty of this atrocity as were those who sought to manipulate the weak to their own ends. Torrullin Valla had to be made to see the error of his ways.
Halon gazed up at the blue, cloudless sky overhead, allowing his thoughts to find freedom in the beauty and space there.
He would ensure Torrullin Valla stood as proxy.
Careful planning, that was what was needed.
HUNKERED IN THE SHADOW of a tent at the western edge of the encampment, another watched the lone figure standing where the poison in the earth began.
He knew of the conclave and thus the man’s risen status.
Valleur were fortunate, he mused, in possessing added biology that permitted them to breathe less than wholesome air. The ability came to that figure’s aid now, as it did to him here in the shadows.
The humans from Xen III were forced to wear strange gear to cope with the atmosphere of this region. It would not be long, though, before it changed; he overheard the scientists discussing a time frame and the efficacy of their chemicals. A day, two, and the air would be clear enough for Valaris’ human leaders to enter with offers of aid also.
Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 188
