Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  Elianas inhaled, hoping he curbed the appearance of shock, and pressed one leg against the statue. He hoped Torrullin would sense the support and cease struggling.

  Ixion straightened. He gazed at Elianas quizzically. “You astonish me also.”

  “Really. How is that?”

  Ixion smiled. He lifted his right hand to Elianas’ face, but the dark man flinched and stepped out of reach. “That, Elianas; the reluctance you have within you, it astonishes me. You cannot allow people close.”

  Elianas glanced down on Torrullin as statue, but did not say anything.

  “Torrullin is your only exception. Had it not been for the Valla, you would have surrendered to the demands of time in the first age; your connection is strong and it is highly useable also.”

  Elianas said not a word. He had learned sometimes the best weapon was silence; others often felt the need to fill it and then said more than they would have.

  Ixion gave a smile, aware of the ploy. “You said you are ready to deal.”

  Elianas inclined his head.

  Ixion laughed. “Where will silence get you now?”

  Thus the Danae, seeing it was time to take control, commenced the dealing. “You have no control over either of us when we are Shadow Wings. In that state both Torrullin and I are closest to the real men we are without sorcery and power. We are free of every controlling influence, except the hold we have over each other. It seems there is no way the hold can be broken.”

  “Interesting,” Ixion murmured, eyes narrowing.

  “I think so,” Elianas nodded. “It is that hold you seek to manipulate.”

  “And what deal are you offering?”

  “In exchange for Tristan’s freedom and Torrullin’s release, I shall swear to remove his Shadow Wings.”

  Ixion was silent a long time. He paced away, then returned, and paced away again, twice, three times. When he did come to a halt, it was with an enigmatic expression.

  “You have misunderstood, my friend. I do not want his wings clipped or removed.”

  Elianas licked his lips. He blinked. “You want mine.”

  “Allow me to tell you a tale, dark man of the Valleur, and then perhaps we can deal properly. Allow me to take you back a fair time and a fair few realms and planes. You have heard of the Kallanon, no doubt. They are not the focus of this tale, but an example of how travelling back and forth through time is able to influence futures and pasts.

  “The Dragon Neolone is a prime example, and one you are linked to. He left his universe for the one you know and then travelled forward in time following prophecies until he knew where the source of the One began, and went back to deal with Nemisin. Thus was the mighty symbiosis that has governed the Valleur for many ages born.

  “But Neolone was not the only Kallanon to manipulate time and prophecy, was he? Queen Abdiah radically changed Torrullin’s future after the Atrudis War simply by pointing out his options. We could argue he in fact chose the future written in obscurity somewhere, and Abdiah was merely the instrument.

  “My point is, moving back and forth does affect time. Travelling realms, planes and universes, the spaces, these affect self also, future and past. Somewhere along the way the self actually splits. Torrullin, as you well know, is in danger of fragmenting. You, however, have the singular and unique advantage of a periodic death; this prevents you breaking into little pieces, little slivers of self.

  “I am such a sliver, Elianas Danae. My real self has travelled realms and time far more and longer than you can imagine. I have been back to the time when every space and universe was still unborn. I have witnessed the birth of a universe and I have seen and felt the holiness of Time as the truest sentience. I have gone so far forward I have seen the Great Contraction commence, the pulling in of all spaces, the approaching end of everything. I have seen that it is not an end, and I have gone beyond to experience the newness beyond all that you know, suspect, calculate and guess at.

  “And along the way I saw and learned and felt and knew. I saw Elixir, I helped make him. I saw you and, yes, I helped make you. Why? The answer is so simple, it is no answer. I helped make you because you must see what I have seen. What I have seen should be shared. Do you understand? Do not speak yet.

  “Elixir was written; I did not create him from imagination. Torrullin would have Become purely by being in the embrace of time, as you would have become Alhazen. I simply eased the way and helped you understand your powers for you to know you must impose certain limits upon yourselves. Neither power is particularly safe, is it? I stayed behind as a sliver to broker this deal. This, Danae, is my final service to the spaces you inhabit.”

  Elianas muttered, “I thought I knew, but I am way off track.”

  Ixion shrugged. “Actually not; this is about wings and flight and this is about control. Not mine, but certainly about control and choices.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “I thought you might not. Allow me therefore to be the one to present to you a deal. There is room for negotiation, of course.”

  Elianas rubbed at his face with one hand. It had gotten away from him; Lethe had gotten away from all of them. “Speak.”

  Ixion studied him. “I am able to strengthen Lethe as a permanent barrier between Reaume and Ariann. Accept my terms and the battle is over. Whatever happens here afterward will no longer impact on your precious reality. If you accept my terms I shall leave also, and no longer have influence, power, control or even generic form to aid me. I shall dissipate and this sliver will eventually fade beyond even its own recall.”

  Elianas inhaled. “And in return?”

  “Shadow Wings. You must release them. You must release yours.”

  “Thus you do want them.”

  “No, Elianas. Torrullin wants them. You cannot allow him to take them from you; you must release them before he is able to understand he is able take them.”

  Elianas leaned against the statue. “You have seen him try?”

  “I have seen him succeed. I change past and future by telling you this, because my freedom from this long and pointless wandering depends on it. All you have to do is discharge your wings now, before he is released, and all shall be as I promised.”

  “What does he do with my wings?” Elianas asked. He did not for a moment doubt.

  “He becomes something you will hate. There will be no love left. I have deliberately brought about a war between titans to bring you to this place where you may release your wings safely. I shall use them in the strengthening of the barrier, and thus remove all temptation.

  “Elianas, this is not altruism, this is a selfish thing. I want to go. I desire that you both see and know what I have seen and known. If it took a war to make this happen, then I do not apologize for it, but, friend, for you are friend, you must choose and you need to do so now.”

  His wings were familiar to him, and it was something personal he shared with Torrullin. How was he meant to let go and let go without due thought, without adequate warning and preparation? His gaze found Tristan in the glass cage tied to the torture bed.

  “Why is he in there like that? He does not deserve it.”

  Ixion glanced at the bound man. “Forgive me, but know I shall use him to force you to do as I ask. I shall torture him, and Torrullin will know you did nothing to stop it. Tristan Skyler Valla is precious to him.”

  “In other words, I have no choice.”

  “You are able to choose the simpler and less painful route.”

  Elianas paced away. He went to the glass cage. “How do I release them?”

  “I am afraid I do not know.”

  Elianas swung around.

  “I am not omnipotent, Danae. I have been a witness long and it has gifted me certain powers of persuasion, but I know not what rules the real kernel of your power. You must find the way. Only then will it be worth anything.”

  Elianas stared at him. “How long do I have?”

  “Minutes, my friend. We must release
Torrullin soon, for Valaris is about to suffer. Elixir fights hard to break from his stone prison.”

  Elianas leaned against the glass and watched Tristan. Between devils and demons, that was where he was, with no time in hand to think.

  “I will do it.”

  Ixion seemed relieved. Perhaps he thought Alhazen would fight harder. Perhaps he did not realize Tristan and Valaris, in Torrullin’s mind, could not be harmed. Harm either, and suffer the wrath of gods.

  Elianas stared at the stone statue. “Leave me. Return in five minutes.”

  Ixion was wary.

  “I need privacy to divest myself of my wings.”

  “Very well,” Ixion said.

  He vanished, and Elianas sank to the ground wondering if he knew anything at all.

  IN FIVE MINUTES Elianas wandered through lifetimes.

  He viewed the creation of his wings objectively, and then attempted to understand how they aided him in realms and planes. He studied Torrullin’s wings and gradually an image of dependence emerged. He earlier flaunted a concept of freedom to Ixion, one where their wings created truer beings, and now realized it was not true. They required their wings periodically to believe themselves free, and it was a form of dependence.

  In the same five minutes he again saw Lowen - the older seer - and knew she told him the choice he made was the right one.

  His wings were less important than the battle raging inside the stone statue, a battle that wreaked havoc in reality. Torrullin would hate himself for causing unheralded destruction and would accuse Elianas of fence-sitting.

  Also in five minutes he attempted to see beyond the obvious to how and why Torrullin would desire his wings. What would he become, what was this object of hate? Could he live with that? Or would he hate as much over the loss of his wings as he would the one who removed them? Was it even worth considering? Other factors of brinkmanship already went beyond anything acceptable.

  He gazed at Tristan. The young Valla had a mighty future and deserved not the ills of torture. He tore his gaze away, knowing his choice was entrenched. It was not for Tristan, as it was not for Torrullin either; he would divest himself of his wings because it was the safest option, safest for him.

  On his feet, roughly equidistant between Tristan’s bound form and Torrullin’s frozen one, Elianas raised his arms high and flung his head back. His dark hair trailed downward and his great Shadow Wings soared out.

  They were beautiful.

  A Siric held glory in wings, a Centuar arrogant style, and many other races likewise proved their worth in wings, some feathered, others scaled and others more leathery, while a few were mere decoration, a prettiness that was useless.

  The avian species, naturally, used their wings as a necessary tool, and beauty and prettiness was immaterial to that, and therefore was their beauty the greater.

  Elianas’ wings, as Torrullin’s, were something unique. They were created by personality, by will, by power, by desire and by necessity. They were there to be utilized and were thus beautiful in practicality. They were beautiful too in the power their creation implied. Yet it was in substance where true mastery lay, therefore true beauty.

  Shadow Wings were exactly that, shadow. They were not tangible, yet could be seen. They were not real, yet could beat the air and be felt in the movement of disturbed currents. They were because they had been made in the imagination.

  Wings of power.

  Elianas flapped his wings out, held them wide, and for a brief time the whole of all universes held a collective breath. In his hands then lay great power, the clay to shape every future … and he turned his back on it.

  He released the will for ultimate control, not in a desire for safety, but out of love. Those wings flapped once more, a mighty beat of air, and then they separated from him, lifted slowly away from his shoulder blades, and his face twisted as he felt them go from him. He watched them flutter upward independent of him and he saw Ixion return waving his arms. He witnessed the generic man grip those mighty intangible substances and manipulate them into shapes that could not ever be described in words, nor should be. He knew those shadows were being utilized as a barrier between Ariann and Reaume, yet could not find satisfaction in the knowledge.

  All there was for him then was the wrenching of eternal separation, the pain of loss.

  It would not ever leave him, the sense of loss.

  He put his back to the sight of Ixion doing his magic, and fell to his knees, head bowed.

  How had he separated them? Which power enabled it? He fell further forward until his forehead rested on the damp grass and rocked there. Love. Would Torrullin understand, would he know, would he agree or would he be disappointed, unhappy? Gods, did it matter? It was done and whatever Torrullin thought had no bearing.

  Time passed then he knew nothing of.

  Chapter 65

  Freedom must be paid for, whether by blood or terrible understanding. Freedom, true freedom, cannot be borne by weaklings.

  ~ Book of Sages

  Lethe

  TRISTAN OPENED HIS eyes, and knew himself released.

  He stepped away from the device he was sure was an instrument of torture and approached the glass barrier. As he reached it, it dissolved and he could step beyond as if it had been a mere figment of the imagination.

  Time had passed, he felt, an intense period he would not know of. He was blinded for more than one purpose, he was sure, and his certainty was borne out when he saw Elianas kneeled in the grass as if dying slowly inside.

  He took a breath and looked around. Beyond Elianas was a man - the one who bound him - and beside the strangely normal man was a stone statue, a statue that looked remarkably like Torrullin. He shivered. It was Torrullin, all gods.

  Tristan strode forward, flexing his arms and fingers to restore circulation and to test inner strength, and called out, “Elianas! Are you all right?”

  The dark man raised his head. His eyes were empty. “Tristan?”

  “What happened here?”

  Elianas pushed to his feet. “It does not matter now. Reaume is safe. We will be leaving Lethe soon.”

  Tristan frowned and closed in. He came to a halt before Elianas. “Talk to me.”

  Elianas put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Sacrifice, Tristan. It is done now and we can go home and deal with the consequences.”

  “Your sacrifice?”

  “I believe so.”

  Tristan studied him and knew there would be no more. “Was the sacrifice the reason we had to come?”

  “Only partly, thank god.”

  Tristan nodded. He transferred his gaze to Ixion and the statue. “And that?”

  “Meet Ixion,” Elianas muttered. “Wielder of titans and prisons.”

  Tristan strode over. “Why is he a statue?”

  Ixion inclined his head. “Tristan Skyler Valla, you are as impatient as the Danae, and as blind, too.”

  Elianas grunted. “You have shared, Ixion; now release him.”

  “That I cannot do. Torrullin must break free alone. You knew this, as you knew to …”

  “Quiet,” Elianas snapped.

  Ixion smiled. “Very well.”

  “Are you done?” Elianas demanded. “If so, feel free to leave.”

  “I aim to be on my way soon enough,” Ixion murmured. “I need a word with Torrullin before I go. I shall not tell him about your sacrifice, Danae. He will know in his own way in due time or you will reveal it as part of the on-going war between you.”

  Tristan, about to speak, stepped back.

  A crack appeared in the stone and unearthly light streamed out. Elianas stepped in closer and put his hand boldly into that crack. A moment after his other hand joined in and he began pulling at the stone to widen it.

  Ixion looked on, amazed, and Tristan found he was afraid.

  The stone split wide with an audible cracking sound, like stone subjected to intense heat, and Torrullin fell out onto his face. The stone vanished and Elian
as was on his knees, rolling the fair man to his back.

  “What have you done to him?” Tristan shouted, on his knees also.

  Ixion retreated.

  Torrullin opened his eyes and sat up. He gazed at Elianas first, reading his face and emotions, and then carefully studied his grandson, and drew a mighty breath.

  “It is time to go home.”

  Elianas’ face shuttered, and he rose and walked backward without saying anything.

  Torrullin watched him and then swung up. “My dreams were filled with disaster. What happened while I was out?”

  Elianas grunted.

  Tristan pointed. “Ask him. I am more in the dark than you are.”

  Ixion lifted his shoulders, expectant.

  “Ixion.”

  “You remember.”

  “We met during the Becoming; I remember.”

  Ixion smiled. “You can do most anything if you can conceive of it, right?”

  “Yes, I remember thinking that. I did not realize I spoke the words aloud in coma also. Those words gave Declan quite a turn.”

  “The Siric understood better than anyone, have no fear. There is only one other who would have understood more. No, not the Danae - Llettynn.”

  Torrullin blinked. “Llettynn is still missed, yes. That Siric had a peculiar power.”

  “Torrullin, let us go from here,” Tristan interrupted.

  “Not yet.”

  Ixion laughed. “Elixir requires words as much as I do.”

  Elianas cursed and kicked at the grass.

  Torrullin flicked a glance at him, eyes narrowing in an unaware kind of knowledge, and then focused anew on Ixion.

  “You are a sliver of a great being, you remained to aid certain individuals to knowledge you acquired via the expanses of time, whether folded or compressed or linear and otherwise. I understand and I even understand why you seek to share. We are all of us creatures who require the marking of a passing. What I do not understand is where you source your power from and why you are not Elixir.”

  Elianas folded his arms and stood braced, defensively, and watched Torrullin as the conversation unfolded.