Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  “Gods, man, be more subtle,” Torrullin snapped.

  “Fuck subtle,” Elianas muttered. “The bloody Dryads are coming.” He punched again and a huge piece of eggshell fell outward. He immediately climbed through the jagged hole.

  Torrullin motioned at Tristan, and the two followed with alacrity.

  Beyond lay a shifting world. Colours moved, air stirred, ground and sky canted - if there were such distinctions - and sound was in constant motion, from low to high in patterns severing internal balance.

  Elianas, on his stomach and undulating with the motion of the ground, crawled forward, his face set in a grimace. Torrullin lost his footing, crawled also, and Tristan had no option. He crept and, as he did so, heaved dryly. Sharp pain lanced through his skull, through every muscle.

  Something slithered towards them akin to a snake and, in fact, hissed.

  Elianas reared back to avoid it and then had his wrist jerked forward as the creature coiled around him. He found his dagger and slashed at it, but it weaved knowingly, yanked hard, and Elianas was sucked into the undulating earth.

  Torrullin screamed obscenity.

  Tristan shouted as another twisting, slithering thing neared, and he was gripped by the elbow. He, too, was dragged through.

  Torrullin stilled and, when a third slithering entity approached, allowed it to take hold of him without putting up a fight.

  For an instant, as it touched him, he thought he heard laughter.

  THEY WERE IN A cage of latticed vines.

  Dry leaves rustled underfoot and blue sky was visible through the interlacing of hard wood. Somewhere there was the smell of smoke and nearby a hive of bees droned in the stillness.

  “Where?” Elianas whispered, huddled on one side rubbing his wrist.

  “Sun, oxygen,” Torrullin said. “A reality of Lethe?”

  Elianas, on his knees, pressed against the latticework.

  Torrullin pulled his hand away. “Wait. I want to see who comes, or what.”

  Elianas’ hand balled into a fist. “I do not like being caged, you know that.”

  “Neither do I, but give it a time, will you?”

  The space was so small the only way to avoid a squash was to stand. Tristan raised himself up and leaned against the curved wall. He could breathe normally again and it boosted confidence. He inhaled deeply and found a well of patience to aid him in the wait.

  Elianas, previously confident, steadily worsened. His breathing grew shallow and he rocked.

  Torrullin hunkered beside him. “I know the cage, my brother, for I was in one caught like an animal, prodded with spears, spit at, insulted. Half an hour, and if nothing changes, we bust out. Can you wait that long?”

  Dark, terror-filled eyes. “They threw globs of burning, melting metal at me and it tore through my skin and organs until I was a blubbering wreck. I could not heal, for I was spread-eagled over a rack of imbedded glass.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Aldari.”

  Torrullin blinked. “The same who named you as Alhazen? The Aldari are extinct - ah, I see.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “My god.”

  “It wasn’t all me,” Elianas said. “They did it to themselves.”

  Torrullin opened his eyes. “I know. Can you hold?”

  “I will hold. Who put you in a cage?”

  “Creatures of guilt.”

  “The Hounding?” Elianas, distracted, seemed better. “Torrullin, you did not release all guilt there. How could you enter the abyss as an innocent?”

  “I did not remember. I guess forgetting can equate to innocence.”

  Elianas looked away. “I wish I could forget.”

  Tristan licked his lips. It occurred to him he knew little of the barbarism in the universe, and he knew not even a fraction of what made those men.

  Silence returned, the minutes slow and wearying.

  Then the earth rumbled and shook. The cage slid askew and toppled over. Leaves came fluttering down from twisting trees; the cage began to roll to and fro.

  “Earthquake,” Tristan said, bruising along with the others in the rolling.

  “Elianas, get us out,” Torrullin said.

  The dark man needed no second invitation. In the next roll, all three tumbled out. A moment later a mighty branch smashed down, obliterating the cage. The three men clambered to their feet and stared at it in fascination for a second or two, and thereafter commenced a mad dash through whipping and crashing trees, searching for open ground in an earthquake.

  Mighty crevasses tore through the forest with an ear-splitting din, and huge trees fell. Birds pelted dead from the sky and wind whipped at them, whistling insanely. The ground tilted sideways and leaves skittered, and petrified creatures slid helplessly away.

  “This is no earthquake!” Torrullin shouted over the din, and picked up the pace. “A Syllvan is fighting!”

  They pounded after him to the edge of the trees and there they halted in awe.

  On an open plain, on ground moving like waves, one Syllvan confronted three Dryads. The tree-like creature was at least two hundred feet tall, had a girth the size of a volcano, and every time it stomped massive feet the ground moved. It was not a tree, however; it moved fluidly, swiftly, intently, and swung mighty arms with flowing sorcery as if it were made of water. It roared, the sound tearing at the heavens.

  “Sweet lord,” Tristan whispered.

  Torrullin was running again. The Dryads, while not as big, danced their sinuous forms and their sorcery around the Syllvan. It was only a matter of time before they found purchase and commenced the strangling.

  Elianas, with a manic grin, set off after Torrullin, and Tristan, less crazy, charged with him.

  The Dryads were a shifting grey, as if they could inherently camouflage, with python-like skin, and, like to a python, were pure muscle. They were able to coil on the ground akin to a snake, but could also rise to their full and incredible height like a tornado spout and, like to the vines they emulated, could wrap around their prey and throttle them to death. They flicked out protuberances at various points, never the same, and each appendage acted as an arm and a hand and hurled magic. It meant they were hard to kill.

  It meant it was easy to sunder a Syllvan.

  Halfway across the space to the Syllvan’s aid, a Dryad snagged the tree creature’s one branch-like arm and commenced to wrap around it. Torrullin snarled his fury, and the next instant saw two mighty wings soar out behind him.

  He took to the sky, launching bolts of sorcery.

  Elianas pulled Tristan to a stop. “Stay here,” he heaved. “Just stay.”

  He took a running leap and two wings erupted behind him. He flew swiftly and caught up with Torrullin. Together they hurtled into the fray, little ants into a battle of giants, shooting out powerful bolts so fast it was a continuous stream of light.

  The Syllvan shook itself like thunder and pulled the Dryad off its perch to swing it up and round and around, and then tossed it to a screaming point far in the distance. It lumbered forward to attack one Dryad, while Torrullin and Elianas concentrated on the third on the field.

  The two men flapped around it, teasing, taunting, one this way, the other that, and the Dryad lost its sense of supremacy in attempting to catch them. They ducked the creature’s sorcery, releasing theirs.

  The Syllvan pulled in a mighty breath, which tore like vacuum through the space, and then released it explosively. No typhoon or hurricane would ever match the insane power of that breath. The Dryad lost its footing and went hurtling away.

  The other, fried in many places, wisely chose retreat. It looped like a snake and slithered away so fast the eye could not follow.

  Tristan transported closer, his breath coming in great gasps.

  Torrullin and Elianas settled to the stilled earth, wings vanishing, and the Syllvan heaved a great sigh and diminished to its more usual size.

  It bent a stern eye on Torrullin. “Elixir, you were not to come.”

  T
orrullin swept a rueful bow. “When do I follow the rules, my friend?”

  The Syllvan shook with a rumbling chuckle. “I thank you. I am afraid had you not distracted them I would now be dead.”

  “They will be back. How do you stop them?”

  “Our very dilemma,” the Syllvan sighed. He glanced at Elianas. “You are most welcome, Elianas Danae. We have been waiting.”

  Elianas’ face tightened and then he bowed. “Thank you.”

  “And you, Tristan Skyler Valla, thank you. Watch yourself; nothing is as it seems.”

  “I did not do anything.”

  “You will,” the creature responded. He faced Torrullin again. “I am weary. Will you transport me to our safe place?”

  “It is my honour,” Torrullin said.

  The co-ordinates were silently communicated and he laid a hand to the tree creature - the first time he touched a Syllvan, to find it comfortingly warm - and took them away from the plain, masking everyone in his lack of signature.

  Chapter 61

  Oblivion takes many forms, although one can say only a minority attains it consciously. Sleep is a form of oblivion, but is regarded as imperfect, for the unconscious is more active during that period. When drugs are used, the user claims oblivion, and yet this cannot be. Too much changes within for that to be true. Death is not oblivion, for new journeys begin. What, then, are the forms of oblivion?

  ~ Book of Sages

  Lethe

  THE SAFE PLACE was a forest.

  It was surrounded by rock, and later the three Valleur would learn they were in the caldera of a long extinct volcano, where time and nature had reclaimed an empty space.

  Torrullin released his hold in a clearing and they found three other Syllvan there.

  “One more gone?” Torrullin murmured.

  “Sadly, yes,” the Syllvan said.

  He lumbered forward in his stately manner to subside into the earth in the pose Torrullin was familiar with. The three others looked at him in relief.

  Then one spoke, the same always in the central position in the grotto. “Elixir and companions, please excuse us for a time. We must communicate the latest developments.”

  Torrullin bowed and gestured to Elianas and Tristan to follow him into the trees opposite the small gathering.

  THEY CAME UPON an emerald lake so still it was surreal. Circular and surrounded by spruce trees in full leaf, not a sound could be heard.

  Torrullin and Elianas turned as one to face Tristan.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Shadow wings, I assume?”

  Elianas sat. “We tipped the enemy too soon. They will be wary now.”

  Torrullin looked down on the dark head. “We had no choice.” He hunkered. “It is the Syllvan who concern me, Elianas. They cannot abide Shadow Wings.”

  Tristan sat. “They do not judge, not like that.”

  “I am not worried they will judge us; I am worried they will judge the use of our wings.”

  “Why should they?” Elianas murmured. “We would use them to their advantage.”

  Torrullin pushed himself up again and leaned forward to stare into the water. There was no reflection. “Using the wings removes our sense of judgement.”

  Elianas sucked at his teeth. “We are not near that point.”

  “We must be wary, though.”

  Elianas looked away. “I wonder where this is.”

  “They will know,” Tristan said. “What was that strangeness after Glare?”

  “Discouragement. Some portals are like that. Others, as you know, are like antechambers with veils.” Torrullin gave a wry smile.

  “Tian says Digilan is a direct transfer.”

  “Actually it isn’t - there is the mist - but, yes, it is more direct.”

  “A father-son connection,” Elianas murmured.

  Torrullin inclined his head. He stared deeper into the water, wondering why it had no reflective properties.

  “If that strangeness was all portal, then this is Lethe, right?”

  Elianas said, “A realm of Lethe, hopefully.”

  “Realm or reality, who knows,” Torrullin murmured.

  “It isn’t Oblivion, mercifully,” Tristan sighed.

  “There is no reflection in the water,” Torrullin said. “Thus there is no sense of self, at least not here.”

  Elianas made a sound in his throat. “I sense myself.”

  “For how long?”

  “Torrullin, do not get esoteric again.”

  “I am not, idiot. It is a valid question in this place.”

  “You are judging too soon.”

  Torrullin looked up into the trees. “We are summoned.” He strode away from the water and into the forest.

  THE FOUR REMAINING Syllvan were waiting. The one who earlier requested privacy spoke first.

  “A question-answer mode of communication is not viable now and thus we dispense with that formality. We speak now without nuances.”

  Torrullin nodded. “We are saddened by the loss of your brethren, as you must be. We hope to right this wrong.”

  “Our brethren, as you put it, Elixir, are evolved onward. This is not cause for sadness, but a cause for inner joy. It is not a wrong that requires justice. However, a wrong is being worked against Reaume and that has need of your particular skills.”

  “I freely offer it.”

  “We thank you, but Shadow Wings are dangerous anywhere and most specifically here. You must not use them again.”

  “I must qualify. We shall not use them, unless we have no other choice.”

  “That is acceptable,” the Syllvan they aided earlier murmured. He leaned towards his companions. “Had they not come on their wings, my brothers, I would not now be speaking to you.”

  “We are not afraid of dying,” the third Syllvan sighed.

  “Agreed, brother, but Reaume still requires sentinels. Some of us must survive.”

  “Very well, we accept the qualification.”

  Torrullin bowed over his hands.

  “May I ask where we are?” Tristan said.

  “This is Lethe where Oblivion might catch you unaware. We, the Syllvan, left Reaume to bring the fight here; this was decided upon as a safeguard. Fight on the borders and the land between and hope to be victorious, and in the meanwhile Reaume remains unscarred. Lethe, however, slowly saps from us recognition of purpose, and we can only hope the same disadvantage applies to the Dryad.”

  “Is Reaume unscarred?” Torrullin asked.

  A long silence ensued and then four unblinking gazes settled on Elianas. “The Danae has come with Alhazen energy. We pray now that Reaume is unscarred.”

  Elianas drew breath. “You did not say my name before in the grotto.”

  “A word of power should not be uttered in Reaume. Lethe is more forgiving.” The authority figure had spoken and he added, “We have been waiting long to say your name, Elianas Danae.”

  “Why?”

  “You are the oldest blood in existence. You are special.”

  Elianas glanced at Torrullin.

  “The Valla is older, yes, but not so his blood.”

  “Did you know, Elixir?”

  Torrullin did not look at Elianas. “I know.”

  “Had it been different, the Danae would be rulers of the Valleur.”

  “I am aware.”

  The fourth Syllvan murmured, “He has done too much off the pure path to restore himself to such a position.”

  Torrullin briefly closed his eyes. “I am not innocent myself.”

  A long silence answered him.

  “I said, I am not …”

  “We heard. We choose not to answer.”

  “They mean you did less wrong, Torrullin. You killed less,” Elianas muttered.

  “No, Danae, that is not what we mean. Elixir killed more, if you seek numbers, yet his reasons were sounder. It does not make him an innocent, only less guilty.”

  Elianas spread his hands eloquently.

  “The degree
between less and more, Elianas, is truly infinitesimal.”

  Elianas closed his eyes. He shook his head.

  “Vengeance murders the pure path.”

  Elianas snapped, “I get it.”

  “Do not anger. We are not judging.”

  “Gods,” Elianas muttered. He sat. “My entire existence is characterised by revenge. How do I not anger and how can you not judge?”

  The head Syllvan spoke. “The thirst for vengeance commenced with the disappearance of your father, Elianas.”

  The dark head swung down.

  Torrullin breathed through clenched teeth, suddenly and brightly enlightened. He leaned in and dragged that dark head up. “I swear on Tristamil’s soul I had nothing to do with what happened to your father. Not by design or default. By god, Elianas, is that what you carry around? Have you blamed me all these ages?”

  Elianas jerked his hair free. He rose fluidly. “Nemisin told me Lord Sorcerer orchestrated my father’s disgrace.”

  “Nemisin lied!” Torrullin spat out. “He sought to use you.”

  “He obviously succeeded,” Tristan murmured.

  The Syllvan said, “It has become clear to us what was unclear before. The power that is Alhazen has the ability to bridge between vengeance and true justice.”

  “What does that mean?” Elianas snarled. He stared at each of them. “What happened to my father?”

  The fourth Syllvan replied, “He was in love with Nemisin’s wife and some said Cassiopin was his daughter …”

  Elianas blanched.

  “It is untrue, but the point is, many knew there was a relationship between Tingast Danae and Valeri of the Lorin. They were not lovers, but in Nemisin’s eyes they were. He loved Valeri, however, and would not set her aside or insult her by accusing her of cuckolding him. He knew she was not, yet regarded her friendship with Tingast as a form of betrayal. Thus he set out to disgrace Tingast by slow degrees. Rumours of ill will, words of shady dealings, conspiracy and, worst of all, that the man was a paedophile.”

  “Goddess,” Elianas whispered.

  “Unfortunately for Nemisin, few believed it. Tingast was a good man and many rallied to his side. Valeri flew into her husband in a rage over the whispers and demanded he fix it. Nemisin promised, and not long after Tingast vanished. Some said it was guilt, others he had been murdered, but Nemisin had an alibi and that alibi was his wife. Valeri, in fact, did love her husband and thus did not suspect him of wrongdoing, but neither did she believe Tingast guilty of anything other than a good heart. She believed, as many others did, that another murdered him, but she alone did not think her husband gave the command. He did give the order, and in later years told you it was Lord Sorcerer. He gave the order to another, however, and Lord Sorcerer knew none of it.”