Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  Tarlinn had fallen silent, his prompting achieved, and Caballa moved on.

  Which two Elders?

  Artorin would be a good choice. Since they left Valaris, there were too many Elders, and Artorin would see Avaelyn as an adventure. He probably would fall in love with the wilderness there.

  Halon, disgraced due to his involvement with Rivalen, sought a second chance. He would no doubt grasp this opportunity with both hands, although Avaelyn’s isolation might not be to his long term liking. Too bad. Halon did not deserve the silver spoon pardon, did he? Torrullin saved his life the night of conclave. By rights, he should be dead, marked as traitor. Halon owed Torrullin.

  Nodding to herself, Caballa walked on.

  Artorin and Halon.

  Yes.

  EMEREN WAS AWAKE AND Caballa took the Elder completely into her confidence.

  She revealed her vision regarding Avaelyn, as well as Elianas’ confirmation, and then spoke of what Tarlinn had shared. Wide-eyed shocked, Emeren promised to keep the secret. When she asked why Caballa chose to tell her, when Caballa could herself reveal this nuance to a grieving nation, Caballa simply said it was always easier to bear a secret when another understood the dynamics. Emeren had to be happy with that.

  She would understand soon enough.

  Still alert after leaving Emeren, Caballa decided to track down Artorin.

  It seemed no one slept too well in the mountain city, for Artorin was awake, reading. He committed immediately, all fired up with challenge. Although Caballa did not tell him about the portal situation to come, she did tell him to ensure he took with him sufficient writing materials. Many designs, she murmured, much to remember when erecting new sites.

  His eyes gleaming, Artorin promised.

  Caballa headed thereafter down to a lower level.

  Many called this a secondary abode, but the reality was, it was as well-appointed as the upper level, merely less travelled. As the population in Linard increased, it would soon lose the label ‘secondary’.

  Halon had a suite near the upper aqueduct entrance and was at this time still under guard. Until his psychological evaluation was completed, he would not be released to the general habitat.

  Apparently he accepted the restriction without a murmur to the contrary. It boded well for his future, but Caballa doubted he would be reinstated as Elder.

  Avaelyn, in fact, was a better proposition for him.

  She greeted the guards and knocked on the door. It was soon opened. Halon, clearly, could not find rest this night either.

  He squinted at her. “Caballa?”

  “Hello, Halon. May I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  He stood aside and she entered an attractive space. It was airy with a neutral palette. Potted plants created freshness. She knew the bachelor suites possessed each a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and sitting area, while family suites had more bedrooms and often a small library or study as well.

  Halon’s sitting area was not large, but it was comfortable.

  He asked her to sit. “Why are you here?”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “Oh? Would you like something to drink?”

  “I am fine, thank you.” Caballa perched on the edge of an armchair, somehow feeling disconcerted despite the welcome and the comfort around her. “Halon, you must be aware you will not be reinstated as Elder here.”

  He nodded slowly, yellow eyes fixed on her.

  It made her uncomfortable, but she went on. “If you were to request that you be included with the team of builders to go to Avaelyn, I am able to secure your status as Elder.”

  “Builders?”

  “They are to help erect Avaelyn’s fourteen sites.”

  He blinked at her. “I will go as an Elder?”

  “Yes. Torrullin cannot yet recognise the need for Elders on Avaelyn and thus we think it best to keep your presence there, as Elder, understated. You will ask to join the team, because you seek to learn and wish to prove your commitment to your duties. We shall know, of course, and when Torrullin is ready you simply request a place on Avaelyn.”

  Halon lowered his golden head to stare at his hands. “The only way to retain my status is as an Elder for Avaelyn?”

  “Exactly.”

  He looked up. “I must accept less?”

  Caballa shuddered, recognising what Rivalen saw in this man. He was ambitious; he knew how to play the game, and used emotions and situations to his advantage. Why had no one seen it before? Despite all the testing?

  She stood. “Perhaps you are not ready yet. I shall return tomorrow …”

  “No, you will not,” Halon said, standing also. “You merely seek to leave with a brush off excuse.”

  She stared at him. “Halon, I came here with every good intention …”

  “For you, the Valleur, the Elders seeking to get rid of me, maybe, but you are not here for me.’

  Caballa shook her head. Arguing with him would be fruitless. She moved to leave.

  “I will take the position as offered.”

  She swung back. “I no longer believe it would suit you. Forgive me for disturbing your rest.”

  His tawny eyes flattened. “Put your offer in writing.”

  Caballa headed to the door.

  He grabbed her from behind. “I am not about to rot in this place! Give me what you offered and I will let you go. You need never see me again.”

  She struggled in his arms. “You are not suited to this duty. I will not unleash you on Avaelyn.”

  “On Torrullin, you mean.” He drew her towards the bedroom.

  “Gods, Halon, there are guards outside. They know I am here. Whatever it is you intend, it will not help your situation.”

  He threw her onto his bed. “You should learn to look closer. Those guards are in my employ and have been for months.”

  All gods, the Valleur really did have a few unsavoury types in the ranks as well. Caballa shunted off the bed.

  He hit her, hard. As she sprawled backwards in shock, he jerked a drawer open and withdrew parchment, quill and ink. Setting it on the surface of the narrow counter, he said, “Write it. Do it before I am forced to hurt you.”

  She screamed.

  Shaking his head, Halon slapped her. “No one can hear you down here.” He rested one knee on the bed. “I am always careful. My Sunling, rest her departed soul, knew never to scream.”

  Caballa stared at him. By god. He was a monster.

  “If you are thinking to summon help magically, please know that no sound or sending will leave this space. It is especially shielded against such … irritations.”

  Her heart beat wildly, her skin was clammy. Fear. This was fear. Caballa swallowed. “I shall write what you want.”

  Halon stood back and made a sweeping gesture to where the parchment awaited her words.

  On shaking legs, Caballa moved there. Her hands shook so much, however, she dared not insert the quill into the ink.

  He gripped her hair from behind, pulling it tight. “Write,” he hissed into her ear.

  She tried, but all she managed were spidery scrawls.

  He snarled his rage at her. “Women! Easily cowed, easily broken, and incredibly useless!” He pulled another sheet of parchment out, a blank one. “Sign it. I will write the rest.”

  She signed, but he could not know it was something other than her usual signature. She understood now he would not let her live, not Caballa the seer, or Caballa, a Valla due to the love Tristan bore her. Well, she would not allow him to get away with either her death or his decreed presence on Avaelyn.

  They should have hung him as traitor the night of conclave.

  “Why do you now want this?” she asked. “Earlier it was accepting less.”

  “It occurred to me it was my way out. Less can become much more.” He blew on her signature until the ink dried and then carefully set the piece of parchment aside.

  “What happened to you, Halon?”

&nb
sp; “Torrullin Valla happened. I lost my entire family when Tymall and Margus unleashed the Dinor on Menllik. I lost both my boys when Tymall sent his minions in a year ago. That Valla spawn should have been drowned at birth, but the Valla was too cowardly to do so. Then, also due to Torrullin’s cowardice, Menllik was nuked and my Sunling left me. What do I have left?”

  He would make Torrullin’s life a misery of suspicion, for he was clever enough never to act overtly. He would put a word in an ear here and whisper malcontent there.

  “None of it is Torrullin’s fault.”

  “Says a Valla whore,” he sneered.

  She drew herself up. Her shaking stopped. “May I leave now?”

  He smiled coldly. “What do you think?”

  “So this is how I die. Very well. I accept my fate.” Caballa smashed her fists into his face. “You will be marked, Halon, and all will know your treachery.”

  As he stared at her in shock, she scratched at his face and then bit into his nose. He howled, and hit her. She flew into him again with teeth and nails, shredding his skin.

  Screaming fury, he hit her again. He kicked her. The monster surfaced and unleashed the memory of every slight upon her body.

  Caballa slumped into oblivion.

  Chapter 66

  Read the signs

  ~ Tracker Lore ~

  Avaelyn

  Emerald Tower

  TORRULLIN SAT CROSS-LEGGED on feathery bedding.

  Candles flickered their amber glows around the perimeter of the circular space. He wore breeches, and nothing more.

  Elianas entered wearing a silken blue robe. He halted to study the candles, the softness upon the floor, the fair man waiting for him.

  “You are overdressed,” he murmured.

  “Certain parts of me require containing this night,” Torrullin said. “You are the one overdressed.”

  Elianas stepped onto downy invitation and lowered to sit cross-legged as well. “Torrullin, you look at me and you see me. It is as if I do not exist until you see me.” He lifted a hand to Torrullin’s cheek. “Because you see me, I am real.”

  Torrullin captured that hand and pressed his lips into the palm. “Who is meant to be seducing whom?”

  A twisted smile. “I need to say this. I knew you before I saw you and now I am ever afraid this is the dream. I am afraid someone will interfere. If that happens, Torrullin, do not let me wake up, please do not let me wake up.”

  Torrullin placed a finger on the man’s lips. “Hush. I swear I am not going anywhere. This is my dream as well. And, Elianas, you need to trust me.”

  A sigh. “I do trust you.”

  Torrullin smiled. “Good. Give me your hands and say the words of sacred infusion with me.”

  To bring a sacred site into life, to insert it into the natural energy lines of a world, required voice, intent and unqualified concentration. It was great sorcery, the feat sorcerers sought to master.

  A layman would speak of immortality as being greatest, but discovering the means to longevity was simpler to master than instilling sacredness into the strands of the natural order.

  In the seeking to do so, the sorcerers were open to judgement. In the moments of questing the sentience of a world judged whether the request was worthy, if the sorcerers were benevolent and whether the new strand of magic would enhance what was already in place.

  The Valleur had mastered the talent many ages ago and only once had a sacred infusion been denied. It was situated in the wrong place and when moved, the site was accepted.

  Neither Torrullin nor Elianas had yet attempted to insert a strand. They were open to judgement.

  Torrullin recalled once remarking to Vannis in days gone by how close ‘sacred’ was to ‘scared’. A matter of spelling, or a matter of belief? Vannis had nodded sagely, smiled, and did not refute any of it. Vannis, of course, had infused fourteen sites on Valaris. He understood what lay behind it. Torrullin now wished Vannis was with them for this. He wished Vannis and his Raken could join them on Avaelyn into eternity.

  The chant commenced. It was about the words, words ancient and unknowable, and it was also about the tone in delivery. This was a request, never a command. It was a wish, and not ever a manipulation. Thus was tone about penitence and compassion, about atonement and empathy, and also about sincerity and love.

  Threads of emotion formed an integral part of the request, emotions found only in hearts cognisant of the lumin glows in all time and space.

  Tears coursed over Elianas’ planed cheeks as the beauty of those moments opened his most sacred space to the light of the multiverse. Torrullin’s eyes silvered to near transparency as his soul heard the first notes of the great Song.

  Still linked, they lifted from the floor to float inside of time and outside of reality. Translucent blue light displaced the emerald glows surrounding them, and golden sparks flashed as if tiny stars birthed with every beat of their hearts, with every breath taken.

  There was no judgement.

  What there was, was gratitude.

  The multiverse thanked them for choosing to enhance what was already in place.

  Music soared out, a host of instruments, a grand master conductor, the most inspiring symphony, one able to transcend every barrier, heard everywhere, always.

  The Song of the Spaces.

  Silence and emerald normality gradually resumed, leaving two men frozen in ecstasy upon a downy blanket. Neither moved but for tears creating shining streams upon entranced cheeks.

  A flutter of wings caused the first animation. Both men shifted and gradually emerged from trance.

  Somewhere above, perhaps perched upon the emerald outside, an owl loosed its distinctive call to the night. The symbol for femininity and fertility; the multiverse blessed them with both presence and sound. It was also the sign for ancient wisdom, which underscored both the response to their request this night, as well as serving to validate who they were to the spaces.

  The lonely whoo-hoo inveigled into the Song to form part of the symphony.

  Torrullin’s eyes darkened to a more usual sheen as he stared at the man before him. The Song transcended every barrier. Sabian was on the mark; the longer future awaited. There was no escaping into eternal obscurity.

  Elianas lowered lids over dark orbs, his lashes creating a feathered latticework of shadows upon his wet cheeks. “We are blessed this night,” he murmured.

  Releasing the man’s hands, Torrullin swiped his face with both hands to spread his tears as balm for his golden skin. “Avaelyn too is sanctified.”

  Elianas looked up, smiling. “Indeed.” He gazed upward at the emerald overhead. “Our Palace, Torrullin.”

  “Truly our home.”

  Dark eyes lowered. “And how does one celebrate the gift of hearth and home?”

  Torrullin’s eyes glittered. “With love.”

  Curling fingers around the Medaillon, he drew Elianas closer.

  Chapter 67

  Trust the signs

  ~ Tracker Lore ~

  Akhavar

  Linard

  A BOY AND HIS LITTLE sister discovered Caballa floating in a pond of still, deep water beyond the kitchen region.

  While still on the first city level, it was on the opposite side of the mountain abode. When Akhavar as world was renewed, this region became the heart of habitation for Saska and Caballa. They would meet and greet newcomers over a pot of stew and relax in the comfortable sitting area beyond the kitchen after a hard day’s work.

  Still ponds containing filtered water allowed for cooking and washing, and for watering the herb and vegetable gardens tucked into a maze of sunny nooks.

  All knew the royal suites possessed no kitchen facilities and thus Caballa, it was whispered, made her way to a place she was familiar with. Maybe she sought a cup of tea. After, she wandered a bit, and perhaps tripped to fall into the pond. Maybe she hit her head. There was a marked bruise on her forehead.

  The boy and his sister were quite traumatise
d, and were taken to their suite. A young Valleur man was dispatched to inform the Vallorin.

  TIANOMAN SAT WITH LUNIK on his lap.

  His son was a handful, but he adored spending time with him. On the throw Aislinn laid on the dais for them were his favourite playthings. Lunik, however, preferred pulling his father’s ear at the moment, crowing delight when his father pulled a face at him every time he tweaked it.

  Hearing someone clear his throat, Tianoman looked up. The young man was barely out of boyhood, a few years before his Coming-of-Age.

  “Yes?”

  “Forgive the interruption, my Lord Vallorin, but I have tidings.”

  Tianoman blinked, his attention captured by the young man’s seriousness. “Wait,” he murmured, and rose with Lunik in his arms.

  Looking around, he discovered the boy’s minder talking to a guard nearby and called her over. Blushing at having been caught derelict in her attention to her charge, or perhaps for having her interest in a particular guard uncovered, she swiftly drew near.

  “Take him back, Bethtil. I need to attend to something.”

  “Of course, my lord.” Smiling, she gently removed Lunik from his father’s arms and started chatting away when he threatened to cry. Fortunately it distracted him. “I will come back for those,” she said over her shoulder as she left, indicating the array of toys.

  Tianoman smiled and nodded and then faced the young Valleur. “Tell me.”

  “My lord, we found Caballa in the kitchen region.”

  Tianoman frowned. Caballa frequently went there.

  “She is dead, my lord.”

  He froze, his gaze locking onto the bearer of this news. Did the man just say ‘dead’? “I am sorry, did you say …?”

  The youth simply nodded, his gaze filled with sympathy.

  For the life of him, Tianoman did not know what to do next. Never had he expected to hear this. Caballa? People died, yes, and had since he became Vallorin, but Caballa?