Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  “You should be leader, Quilla.”

  Quilla stared at him, realising he had taken over the decision process. He apologised, and then, “… and, no, leader suits me not. I am too soft. You, like Torrullin, are able to set your emotions aside when cold calculation is required most. I cannot always do that.”

  Tristan inclined his head. “If you say so. We meet in twelve hours.”

  Both headed to the ogives, and were gone.

  Valaris

  TIANOMAN WANTED TO go to Avaelyn, but in the end agreed to co-ordinate the funding for ships.

  Shenendo, Galarth, Jimini and Erin were seconded to him and Yiddin to facilitate the enterprise. It was soon apparent it would take weeks, maybe months, of normal effort to have everything ready. They would work hard at it, however, and the first ship would take to the skies within two standard weeks, with the other three weeks later.

  Tianoman called for volunteers to go to Avaelyn and had four hundred answer the first summons. It took four hours to choose twenty strong men to labour at the landing site, and twenty for the building work. All were sent to gather materials, equipment, machinery and food to haul with them to the villa.

  They called in Valleur designers and soon had a team pouring over Torrullin’s device, with great awe over his foresight. The device would be ready by the time ship and crew were.

  As Tristan took his leave to return to the Dome, Tianoman promised to have the Elders spread the word about the Mercy Ships. Various pick-up points would soon be in action, the largest of which would be Sanctuary.

  No illness had yet reared on Valaris.

  The Dome

  BACK IN THE DOME, Tristan summoned the remaining Kaval and told them what was a-foot.

  He heard from them scientists had taken to isolating neurological tissue for experiments, but there were no results. Nor would there be, Tristan thought. This disease was part sorcery also.

  He sent the Kaval out to orchestrate gathering centres and to further spread the word.

  Sanctuary

  MEANWHILE, ON MARINER Island, Rose gasped on a bed and Teroux was frantic.

  Quilla managed to calm him long enough to share the news, after which Teroux was a madman in his organisation. He separated recently sick from more advanced, and those from the dying, and soon had two doctors carefully dispensing a drop of the precious potion to each. Special rooms were cleared for those placed in stasis. They would await the mercy mission. There were many, and Quilla’s heart broke at the sight.

  Mariner Island possessed a huge stocks of tents. Those not in use were readied for transport, and Teroux sent his staff to find bedding, beds and utensils, and to gather food.

  He then sat with Quilla and between the two of them they calculated how much load each transporter could safely manage, while also ferrying two sick for healing.

  They worked out that on the first day the builders should not start the hard labour, but should instead concentrate of ferrying goods and people.

  Torrullin would not like it, but he would also hark to the wisdom.

  TEROUX, WHO WANTED to go to Avaelyn as well, but was persuaded he was needed more on Sanctuary, suggested Rose as the final member.

  She would go in the first wave of transports and could then remain once healed. He would manage without her, for he would rather she be among those who walked away healthy than have her remain among those who were sick.

  Quilla agreed. Rose was not closely linked to Torrullin, and yet was known to him, and she would also bring fresh perspective. He sent word to Tristan and received confirmation.

  Late that night at the villa logistics were further streamlined.

  Then there were only three hours to the first session of transport, and Caballa suggested rest.

  Chapter 36

  A healer needs to hide emotion.

  ~ Awl

  Avaelyn

  TORRULLIN WAS ON the plateau before dawn.

  His home was shielded, the beacon active, and he cleared an area under the nearby trees to receive the first patients. During the night he dragged logs in, setting them down in angular circles about the cleared area. These would be used as seating. A stream was diverted into a flowing fountain and bowl for drinking purposes. Further out, on a defined path, he erected basic toilet facilities. That would be the first project for the builders. Nothing spread disease faster than bodily waste.

  He also placed marker stones to demarcate the landing area during the night, and now paced them, checking he had the dimensions right.

  Then there was nothing to do until the invasion of Avaelyn commenced - he saw it as an invasion - and thus he returned to the trees and beacon. Entering a meditative pose to restore energy, he waited unmoving. His mind, however, could not be stilled.

  He thought back to the lethargy that dogged him before Lowen went missing and, briefly, bemoaned its loss. Feeling little was easier than feeling too much. In that time he managed to live without being alive, and now it had changed.

  Revisiting Nemisin from this time, rather than a slow, meandering backtrack along a wide curve, shook everything. All norms went erratic due to that journey. The Void, the Avior door, all part of shaking loose from accepted status, until now nothing could revert.

  Yet, looking back, the journey through Time and the one inside the Path of Shades had not been about righting wrongs. Both journeys were about personalities, about knowing the inner being, about restoring lost connections.

  Tianoman found the strength that made him Vallorin, and Teroux was on the road to recovering from the deaths of his family. Tristan proved a different strength in immortality, and a long road now lay ahead for him. Lowen - he now understood where she fit in. She belonged to a strange past, the one where and when Elixir became who and what he is now. Lowen, he hoped, had discovered where she fit in, for it was not with him. Teighlar opened up to his own past, a fellow Ancient, a journey they battled against for a long time.

  And Saska. In the end he knew it was right between them, love survived, and thus he could let her go. The pain and betrayal now lay in the knowing of love. He would miss her eternally, yet would not mourn her more. She had moved on and would find happiness beyond no longer dependent on him. That was good for both of them.

  He shifted, knowing where his thoughts would go next. This bloody healing, the product of damnable dreams, was part of a journey intrinsic to rediscovering Elianas. He wondered whom the puppet master was - himself, or the dark man? It no longer mattered, he realised, for both pulled the strings at various times, and would continue to. The current string was one of time. How long before they danced again?

  There was shift in the air and he opened his eyes on a sigh.

  Quilla, with two stumbling women, and a load he relinquished with relief on landing. Behind him, Tristan, as encumbered, then Belun, Caballa, Fuma, and a fair host of Valleur men.

  It was time to begin.

  He touched the Medaillon, and rose, called out.

  THEY SAW HIM RISE, noted his preparations, and found they were relieved.

  He was expressionless as he helped them take the sick to the logs, there to sit them down, and he was as expressionless when he greeted them.

  Quilla informed him of the decision to use the first day to ferry in goods and people simultaneously; setting up tents could commence with nightfall. Torrullin nodded, and everyone left, except Caballa.

  She took him to a blonde woman first.

  “It’s Rose, Torrullin. She will be part of the Avaelyn team once she’s healed.”

  He knelt before her, lifting her head. He was shocked by the depth of suffering he saw there. “How did this happen, Caballa?”

  She heard emotion return to his voice, and shivered. Now it would be hard for him. “She was with the children and soon infected.”

  He laid a hand across her brow and helped her stand. “Rose, welcome back.”

  She flung into his arms.

  He held her and then set her aside. “We need your h
elp, Rose. Be strong now.”

  She nodded tearfully, and she and Caballa headed out to accept the new arrivals.

  Torrullin, after a moment, knelt before the next woman … and from there it never ceased.

  As the day wore on and the teams shifted - Caballa, Rose and Tristan leaving for Sanctuary, Quilla, Belun and Fuma staying to help move the sick along - he found it impractical to move from person to person, and found a chair to sit on. The sick were brought to him. One by one he healed them.

  When night fell, Caballa called a halt. She told Torrullin to sleep and then organised the healed for a return transport to Sanctuary, which thirty of the Valleur men undertook, finishing at midnight. The waiting sick were warmed with blankets and what food they could keep down, while ten men commenced raising tents among the trees. They were not done by midnight, but the sick were taken into those that were up, and then everyone collapsed until morning.

  The next day it was much the same, except for finishing the tents and distribution of food. Torrullin was tireless, wordless, and at nightfall fell into deep sleep in one of the tents.

  By the fourth day Caballa had the food flowing without a hitch, all tents were up - they were used to house those unhealed as night came, and for the team and Torrullin - and the levelling of the landing area commenced. Ablution facilities were soon erected and in use. The only unforeseen aspect in their initial planning was the return of healthy folk; every night, exhausted as they were, multiple transports needed to take place.

  By the eighth day, despite Caballa’s enforced rest, everyone neared breaking point.

  That night she tackled Torrullin, and the others sat around a fire surreptitiously listening.

  He swayed on his feet before a table of food and she strode up to him. She took his plate, loaded it with wholesome fare, and then moved him firmly to a log beside the fire. She sat him down, saying, “Don’t argue,” and handed him the plate.

  He started eating.

  She straddled the log to face him.

  “Torrullin, we can’t keep this up. Now you listen to me.” He did not react. “First, we are too tired to transport healthy folk back at night. Second, we can’t ferry and aid in moving sick at the same time. This is killing us. A day, two at the most, and we call this a failure.”

  He did not look at her. “What do you suggest?”

  “We need extra people to do the transporting. That way the six of us are freed to organise the line without having to concern ourselves with bringing more in. Alternatively, the healed stay here until the ships arrive.”

  He glanced at her. “No, not that.”

  She was grim. “Then we need more people. These Valleur need to concentrate on building. They have slowed because they are too exhausted after a night of taking folk back to Sanctuary.”

  “How many?”

  Quilla said, “Another thirty.”

  Rose added, “And a team of cooks. We can’t do the food as well.”

  Torrullin chewed some more and set his plate aside. “Fine, do it.” He rose and vanished into the night.

  “Bloody hell,” Caballa said under her breath.

  Tristan rose. “I’m off to see Tian about more people.” He was gone.

  Quilla said, “Torrullin cannot maintain this schedule. This saps energy and therefore diminishes his fuel.”

  Caballa frowned at him.

  The birdman shrugged, but knew he had to find a way to make it easier on the man.

  BELUN, UNSEEN, followed Torrullin.

  He caught up at the edge of the growing camp where the trees rose steeply into a series of hills. He saw the man standing in the shadows.

  “We have been friends long, Torrullin, and I know you have suffered shocks lately, but, as a friend, I am telling you, you’re going about this the wrong way.”

  “Which ‘this’ do you refer to?” Torrullin hunkered and leaned his head against a trunk.

  “The way you treat your friends.” Belun sat nearby and sighed wearily.

  “I cannot share more right now.”

  “You’re becoming a hermit.”

  “That suits me.”

  Belun muttered under his breath. “Slow it down, the healing, for all of us, but especially yourself. You’re burning purpose faster than you can conceive it.”

  “I know. That was not the intention.”

  “So hear me. Make more potion so we can halt deaths out there, and allow time to build a decent facility. Heal a certain number only, per day, to conserve your energy and, for pity’s sake, let us help you properly.”

  “Belun, I hear you, I hear Caballa, and every unvoiced thought, but know this, the fewer I heal daily; the longer it will be before the disease is eradicated. At this point I calculate at least ten months before the last one sits, kneels or stands under my hands …”

  “Gods, you will be a ghost in ten months!” the Centuar burst out.

  “If I slow the process, it will take years,” Torrullin said. “Even if scientists discover source, serum and cure. I have given this a year and, come fire or ice, after a year Avaelyn’s skies will close.”

  Belun was silent.

  “Go back to the others, my friend,” Torrullin said. “There is a storm brewing and I need to go home to secure it. The storm will renew my energy. Go, go now.”

  Belun retreated without a further word.

  Had he turned, he would have seen Torrullin already gone.

  THE STORM CAME from the east and it meant strong winds and hail.

  Torrullin stood on the ledge and smiled. A furious bout of hail once knocked Elianas unconscious and the man was livid after.

  He headed in, undressed. He took a long, hot shower, put a warm robe on. Motions, he thought, the actions that define normality. When he returned to the ledge the storm was overhead, but the wind did not enter. The shielding held the fiercest of the elements at bay, which he regretted, but was not about to relax his vigil over privacy. He sat, this time a spectator, not a participant; still, he had not lied when he told Belun it would renew energy.

  Memory did that, and this place was filled with memory.

  He closed his eyes to sharpen the images …

  … and opened them to streaming sunlight. He lay sprawled on his bed and frowned, trying to remember how he got there.

  A moment more and then he was in motion.

  The sun was already high.

  CABALLA PULLED A face when he came striding over.

  “You put something in my food last night.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Caballa, bloody hell, look at the line!”

  “And today you will cope better for the decent sleep. Here, have some coffee, then get going.”

  He stared at her a beat, and offered a grin. “Ever my protector, aren’t you?” Torrullin took the presented coffee and drank as he headed to his seat, which he found, when he reached it, was more comfortable. He snorted a laugh, finished his coffee, and gestured.

  Caballa brought a boy over, winking at him over the child’s head.

  A quick smile flitted, and then he laid hands on the boy.

  MID-MORNING SAW the arrival of thirty Valleur with new patients.

  They dropped their charges and headed back with healthy folk. Twice more they came and went, and then a different thirty did three shifts. Obviously Tianoman figured a shift system, but Torrullin did not notice.

  A while later five women arrived, hauling with them a special tent for stores, another for washing up, one for utensils and another for sleeping. By evening the cooking process was in full and efficient operation.

  Torrullin overdid it, attempting to make up for lost hours, and Quilla wracked his brains for a solution. Nothing came to mind.

  At sundown Caballa called a halt. Torrullin crawled to a nearby tent and was instantly asleep. She collared Fuma and Tristan.

  “It’s easier for us, but not for him. More frequent arrivals means more healing. Something must be done.”

  Trist
an was as worried. “He barely eats, too.”

  Fuma was thoughtful. “And today, if you noticed, there were four cripples among the epidemics. Word is out and he will soon be healing more than this disease we attempt to halt.”

  Caballa swore.

  Tristan had a brilliant idea. “Teighlar!”

  “What about him?” Caballa frowned.

  “He’s an enchanter, Caballa.”

  She blinked. “Are you saying he can heal?”

  “It’s worth asking.”

  Quilla overheard; his tiny face was animated as he joined them. “Even if he cannot heal, he can share his power with Torrullin, thereby halving impact.”

  Fuma murmured, “Then we should ask him immediately.”

  They looked at each other.

  Quilla shrugged. “Fine, I shall go. I need a change of scenery. Keep my food warm, will you?”

  Chapter 37

  Friendship is first in the call to duty. Aiding a friend is aiding yourself.

  ~ Book of Sages

  Grinwallin

  QUILLA BLINKED IN bright sunlight, took a moment to orientate to the time difference, and strode into the Great Hall.

  The Senlu Emperor, he discovered, was waiting for him.

  “Took you long enough, Quilla. Sit. Have some wine.” Teighlar gestured at the spread on the table before him. “It is lunchtime,” he added. “It only appears as if I eat all the time.”

  Quilla sat, accepted a glass, and ate heartily from the grape platter, his metabolism craving sugar. “You heard?”

  “About Torrullin’s latest mission? Oh, yes. And by now he must be near collapse. I can help.”

  “And you did not think to offer?”

  “I did, actually, but I know him. In this he will be stubborn.” Teighlar leaned forward. “Luvanor has the disease now, as has Valaris. A few isolated cases, but that is all it needs. This is not a biological illness. Magic is at work here.”