Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  Torrullin eyed it. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “The five stones, yes.”

  “We nearly came to blows over them.”

  “And they sang, did they not? Perhaps they will sing again.”

  “Ah, I understand. Perhaps they will. Thank you.” Torrullin lifted the pouch and secreted it about his person.

  Teighlar grinned. “Good. Now tell me about the Void. What do I need to do to keep it quiescent?”

  Elianas said, “It will be a long time, but if it comes, someone needs to cross it via the stones of truth we used and return by jumping in. That will take courage.”

  Teighlar licked his lips. “We shall keep it in mind.”

  Sabian appeared then on the portico steps. Teighlar gestured him closer.

  “Sabian?” Torrullin frowned. “Sit. Drink. What is it?”

  The Master Historian sat and accepted a glass. “Something I read in that bloody book caused me to stumble into something new.”

  “Ha, not liking the sound of that,” Torrullin muttered.

  Sabian sipped from his wine. “There are five Ancients in this present time. You, Elianas, me, Teighlar and Quilla. Four of us are leaving this realm in four days.”

  Teighlar’s face wiped clear of expression. “And as the one tasked to remain I must know the secret you discovered in the book? I do not want it.”

  “It is not a secret, Emperor, but it is knowledge someone should remain aware of. You are the perfect choice.”

  “Why?” Teighlar demanded.

  “Because you know reincarnation.”

  Teighlar leaned forward. “We are talking a reincarnate here?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Sabian,” Torrullin interrupted. “Start from the beginning.”

  The fair man inhaled and calmed himself. “I cannot understand why this makes me so skittish,” he muttered, and swallowed mouthfuls of wine. Then, hands flat on the table, he told them of the Lineage Wall on Ardosia and how his Agnimus persona once saw something extra.

  Elianas leaned back, sighing. “The true father of the Vallas, I assume, was recorded there for an Ancient to read.”

  Sabian glanced at him. “You are quick. Indeed, one added name before Nemisin’s.”

  “Why call him a reincarnate? Oh.” Torrullin stared at Sabian. “I do not think I want to know.”

  “Well, now I do,” Teighlar muttered. “Why, however, assume this personage is a reincarnate?”

  “Elianas said it. The true father of the Vallas. He would come first, although neither history or race memories reveal his name. Another may look at that wall and see it begin with Nemisin.” Sabian glanced at the silent Torrullin opposite him. “And yet logic dictates Nemisin was not first. Someone other was the genesis, someone who went forward in time and cycles to gift the means that led to the birth of The Valla.”

  Teighlar lifted a finger. “Are you saying Taranis your father was reincarnate? You never told me, Torrullin.”

  “I found out recently,” the man muttered in response.

  “Was he not Danae?”

  Torrullin’s eyes silvered. “Yes.”

  Teighlar’s eyebrows shot up. “Well then, no wonder his original self is not known. Too much Danae for the august Vallas.”

  Torrullin closed his eyes.

  Elianas slapped at the table. All there twitched in reaction. “Cease the supposition. Torrullin, Sabian is saying this is the name of your original father. This man abandoned you, sought to have you killed at birth. If you do not want to know his name, Sabian will in a moment forget he ever read it on a fucking wall. I shall ensure it.”

  As Torrullin opened his mouth to speak, Teighlar hurtled into the breach. “Now just wait a minute here. If we are talking reincarnation, this man may come forth in the future. Who knows what such an event will create. Sabian is right; someone needs to know. A man able to kill his infant son? Such a man, re-risen, needs watching for.”

  Torrullin grinned at Elianas. “Thank you for being prepared to go into battle for me.”

  The dark man muttered under his breath, and said, “But now you have to know. I understand.”

  Sabian waited until Torrullin lifted an eyebrow in his direction. “Karydor.”

  “Excuse me?” Elianas blurted immediately.

  Torrullin stood, toppling his chair. “Teighlar, I will be back to say farewell.” He vanished untidily then.

  “Fuck,” Elianas said, closing his eyes.

  “You have to explain,” Teighlar said.

  “We knew fucking Karydor, that is what, in a cycle.”

  Sabian puffed up his cheeks. “Bad?”

  “No,” Elianas sighed. “One of the best. A Danae Guild Master.”

  “Then I do not understand,” Teighlar said.

  “Consider how much it hurts now to know he knew his father in some way, a man who protected even the tiniest creature, but commanded the death of his only son.”

  All three men sighed.

  Elianas rose. “I too shall return before we leave.”

  Teighlar nodded. “Go. We understand.”

  Elianas vanished, and Teighlar collared Sabian for every scrap of information.

  Valaris

  The Keep

  “WHY HERE?” ELIANAS demanded as he alighted on the battlements of the Keep beside Torrullin.

  “This place has nothing to do with the larger past. This I created myself.” Torrullin stared over the night enshrouded valley.

  The Dragon doors were closed. Tourism, no doubt, would resume with daylight.

  “Have you considered that Karydor changed his mind and sought you out? Grief causes confusion. In not finding you, he became someone new, perhaps the man we met in another time. A good man, Torrullin, one who would be proud to call you ‘son’.”

  “He was a good man, yes.” Torrullin fingered his sword.

  Noticing, Elianas said, “That is a fine blade. It came to you across time. Maybe Karydor sought to atone from beyond.”

  Torrullin sent him an irritated look. “Quiet, will you? I know all this. I also know if Taranis is a measure of the man that was, Karydor himself was a good man also, confused, as you say, by grief. Look what Millanu’s disappearance did to Taranis.”

  Elianas nodded.

  “How different would I have been had I grown up in Lorin time, I wonder?” Torrullin pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Happy from the beginning,” Elianas murmured, “and entirely without the impetus for change that drove you into conquering Time itself. While I would wish for you the security I knew growing up with Tingast ever nearby, I cannot say I am displeased by what the fates determined for you.”

  Torrullin gazed at the noble profile beside him. “Why is that?”

  “I would never have known you.”

  “Perhaps your happiness as a lad would then have followed you into the rest of your life.”

  Elianas turned his head and their gazes locked in. “Probably, but I would today change nothing of what fate determined for me.”

  “Nothing, Elianas, when so much was in the shadows of darak?”

  “Everything brought us to this point and soon we leave into a combined future. No, I would change nothing.”

  “I should thank the fates, then, for Karydor choices.”

  “Merely accept what is now. The past is no longer able to touch us.”

  After a while Torrullin looked away. “You are right.”

  “I understand why we need to relinquish Lorinin and Danae power. The past is no longer relevant.”

  “I agree. It will hurt, though.”

  “Like the devils of a netherworld, yes,” Elianas muttered.

  “I miss Valaris,” Torrullin said.

  “She is beautiful and benign and she will go on. This became heartworld because so many threads were joined due to her presence in space, but she has suffered. It is time to let her go as well.”

  “You are wise.”

  Elianas smiled. “I have my
moments.”

  “Let us go home and sleep.”

  “It is day on Avaelyn,” Elianas grinned.

  Torrullin muttered something. “Grinwallin.”

  A sage nod followed. “Yes, we need to farewell her also, along with that nosey Emperor.”

  Laughing together, they left Valaris, never to return.

  Chapter 74

  A discordant note cannot ruin a symphony

  ~ Musician’s quip ~

  Grinwallin

  The Crucible

  TEIGHLAR SUGGESTED THE Crucible when he heard about the issue of sacrifice.

  Life itself was energy, from the smallest beetle scuttle to the giant’s heartbeat. Because life existed, energy grew, and because energy created, life flourished. It was symbiosis of the profoundest kind. Daily the state of thoughts and the actions of even the soulless manipulated the flows, and thus the sparks in the greatness harked and reacted. They danced, they swirled, and they fashioned patterns and twirls. From afar it appeared as the notes on an almighty music chart, for, yes, indeed, the sparks were sound also, the most beautiful harmonies. Every creature therefore danced, hearing the notes even in silence. A heartbeat, after all, was rhythm and was therefore music.

  This too was the Song of the Spaces.

  Lorinin was the Song, while Danae was the Dancer, and together what they were was the ultimate sorcery. They created the music, but they also heard the harmonies. As it played, they danced, and as they danced, it played. Ever it would be thus.

  To remove such great magic from the Spaces was thus the mightiest manipulation of all time. There would be no new sparks, ever. No one would ever hear the music of creation itself. The noblest act, therefore, was to surrender what they were as a gift to the multitudes of the multiverse.

  They too were part of the multiverse, and to stifle the glory of life would be sin of unparalleled magnitude. To retain the gifts bestowed upon them translated as selfishness.

  “Are you certain you need to do this?” Teighlar questioned.

  “Yes, Emperor,” Torrullin murmured.

  “Then my next question is; do you desire to do this?”

  “It will be pure egotism not to,” Elianas responded. “That is therefore a useless question.”

  The Senlu eyed them. “What changes for you when this is done?”

  “It cannot matter,” Torrullin said.

  “It bloody does,” Elianas snarled. “I already know what it is like to not hear your music and to live eternally with it silent. It matters, Torrullin.”

  “A moment, Emperor,” Torrullin said, and drew the dark man aside. “Elianas, it may still be there for us and, if not, it may return one day. It may even return day by day as we rebuild ourselves in isolation.”

  Dark eyes bored into Torrullin’s soul. “I hear that and, yes, it is what I hope for, but you know something extra, do you not?”

  He could not tell the man that Sabian had reminded him their state of isolation would probably end sometime in the future, for Elianas required the knowledge of utter severance at this point. When they did return, however far away that was, the Song of the Spaces would become theirs once more.

  Truth was, no Song was ever silenced.

  Leaning close, he murmured, “All I know is this. You were the composer before you knew me, before Danae power, before even you dreamed of music at a certain dwelling. That ability remains, Elianas. Always.”

  Elianas drew in a shuddering breath. “If I desire it enough, I am able to summon your music.”

  “Always,” Torrullin whispered.

  “Are you ready?” Teighlar called out.

  Torrullin waited for Elianas to speak. The man inhaled another shaking breath before saying, “Ready.”

  They returned to the crucible. “How?” Torrullin asked.

  “You will enter a space once I have activate the correct sequence.” Teighlar waved at the multi-hued circles between the bas relief pillars. “I have not myself entered there, thus cannot tell you what to expect. It changes according to need, apparently, different for different magic. All I know is, it is where a sorcerer releases a gift too great to bear. Senlu and Luvan in the past have entered and returned.”

  “They needed to contain the gift?” Torrullin frowned.

  “No, Torrullin, or this will prove a useless exercise. They needed to ensure no one in proximity was harmed in the process of release.”

  Elianas stepped into the depression. “We are thinking too much.”

  Teighlar inclined his head. “He is right. Choose, Torrullin. Yes or no.”

  “Yes.” Torrullin stepped in as well.

  “Then I shall see you on the other side of this. Good luck.” The Emperor moved away to commence the sequence.

  As the copper cage lowered over them, Elianas murmured, “I assume this is going to hurt.”

  “Yes,” Torrullin said again.

  The cage snapped into place and they vanished from the crucible.

  Elsewhere

  SABIAN COULD PROBABLY have expounded on the space they arrived in. Perhaps he would have spoken of a dimension of opposites, where what one asked for was not one received. Maybe he would have murmured about the soul’s canvas, artistry ever in the eye of the beholder. Or mayhap he would have stared around him … and high-tailed it out of there.

  There was no sound. That was the first reality.

  Deafness pressed against eardrums, creating popping sensations within, overwhelming pressure seeking release.

  A grayscale realm shivered around the two men, the lack of colour overwhelming, instantly negating even the illusion of realism. A giant soap bubble space, without the prisms light created when bouncing off the quivering ethereal substance.

  Gusts from an unknown external source buffeted the miasma surrounding them, chivvying them into action, a threat to showcase the insubstantial nature of the territory they had stepped into. A warning; delay, and this will vanish, leaving you eternally stranded.

  Elianas slapped hands over ears, his face a rictus of its usual noble planes.

  Torrullin squeezed his eyes shut to negate the vision of shadows assailing his every sense. This was not the Path of Shades, and yet it felt as if a bubble had been plucked from that abysmal realm to challenge him. A final confrontation, as it were, punishment for sealing its shifting shadows into a niche it could no longer escape from.

  This was punishment.

  It was not about the Path, however.

  This retribution was for thinking of themselves as gods. Such incredible talents between the two of them, every facet complementing. Elixir, able to employ every sense, taking and giving life; Alhazen, able to inveigle the strands energy created, also taking and giving life. Lorinin, by touch the all-knowing; Danae, by thought the all-giving.

  All they were placed them above everyone and everything the multiverse held within its embrace. They had placed themselves above all, believing in their uniqueness, their specialness, believing they were the gods, while denying the state with every breath.

  Gifts given; gifts misused.

  Talents bestowed; talents abused.

  Even as Enchanters they misrepresented their responsibilities, every wrongdoing leading to Shadow Wings. How could they have dared?

  They were connected to the every space and thought out there, and believed themselves individual. Better. Greater. Too powerful for judgement, while judging all. An awakened soul knew how connected all was, and they, so terribly aware of the inner being, denied that.

  Punishment was due indeed.

  Did that realisation come to both simultaneously? Did that acknowledgment reverberate into the shuddering space at the same moment?

  Perhaps, for the first sound intruded then.

  A twitter.

  Torrullin opened his eyes.

  Elianas’ arms lowered.

  A tiny sparrow regarded them from a denuded branch directly ahead. The tree shimmered, as if uncertain of its place, a grey silhouette without depth impo
sed upon shifting mists beyond it.

  The sparrow tweeted again, and full colour adorned its tiny feathers. Amber-red, its tiny breast snowy to show off its shiny black bib.

  Elianas lowered to one knee, tears tracking over his noble cheeks.

  Torrullin inhaled the breath of a dead man returning to life.

  “I understand now,” Elianas said, clearly, with full voice, the sentiment springing from deep within.

  Releasing his enlightened breath, Torrullin said, “Yes.”

  The tree erupted into full spring glory, with all hue and presence. The watching sparrow lifted to greet, on happy flutters, others of his family. They settled into the foliage, twittering their news to each other. It was the most magnificent sound ever.

  “This isn’t about sacrifice,” Elianas murmured, his dark eyes shining as they grazed over Torrullin.

  “This is about awakening,” he responded, and his tears came then. Rivers of understanding.

  “It isn’t punishment.”

  “It is the truest gift.”

  Elianas rose to approach the tree. Every step he took created a puddle of colour. Emerald. Rich earth. Wildflower splendour.

  “The dark night, Elianas,” Torrullin murmured, watching him, every sense rapt.

  “When the ego succumbs,” the dark man said.

  “And the soul knows in the aftermath.”

  Elianas glanced over his shoulder. “It is beyond beautiful.”

  Torrullin lowered his forehead to the awakening earth, and wept. Beautiful, yes, beyond every measure. His entire body shook with the strength of his sobs.

  Warm arms enfolded him then and, together, they released everything.

  HOURS WENT BY. Days. Months. Years. Ages.

  Agony lanced, as acceptance followed guilt in release.

  Suffering shuddered every atom, as acknowledgment followed every memory of dark selfishness.

  Dehydrated husks sat under a tree growing into greatness as tears emptied mind and body.

  Elixir’s power became sparkles in the swirling whitening mist. Alhazen’s flows fizzled into a carpet of brightening wildflowers. Lorinin touch summoned a silver lake of unsurpassed presence. Danae light brought forth feathered friends to fill the branches overhead.