Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

  Chapter 69

  Oh, oh, oh, here it comes, Master Rat! The ship will sink when that hits! Are you ready?

  ~ Tattle’s Blunt Adventures

  Alternate Valaris

  “SABIAN OPENED A pathway through the spaces when he took Nemisin away. The line opens a link to that pathway.”

  “The line, or the line crossed?”

  “The line, Torrullin. You don’t have to cross it.”

  “But we do have to get pretty steamed first. To bring the line into the open, we need the intention.”

  “You know more about it than I can guess at.”

  Torrullin chewed on the stalk of grass he absently picked earlier.

  Ixion might not be behind their dilemma. The sliver revealed to Tristan the existence of planes, and realms, and the connections between them despite real differences. He further shared the spectre of ultimate change if a trap was not sprung within fourteen hours. The mention of fourteen via pulse communication meant depth and honesty. No sliver could lie about magic. No whole person would dare, and Ixion desired only to move on; he would not jeopardise it.

  Beyond that, the Syllvan could not be manipulated, and therefore it was not Ixion who tweaked their path to land them somewhere entirely new. The Syllvan would have barred his journey.

  Tymall stepping out into this place at the exact right time, and without knowledge of Ixion or the journey into Lethe, could only mean an unknown.

  Someone sought to keep them from reality.

  Why?

  Who?

  There was a way out. The path lay before them. All they had to do was step onto it and discover the why and who, and tweak it to kingdom come.

  He shifted and chewed more.

  It was not Tymall, for he followed a prompt - the same influence that altered planes for them? Tymall, however, was a factor now to herald disaster on an entirely new level. Tymall back in reality meant an agitated Digilan, unless Digilan wanted him out. If that was so, Tymall would be an issue no matter what. His son could not remain where he could start a new war. The Warlock of Digilan needed war and attrition to feel whole.

  It was not Elianas. He did not need to examine that further.

  Of everyone he could think of with the power to move mountains in this way, there was no one able currently alive. Except Nemisin. And maybe Sabian. And Sabian, according to Tristan, was the means to return. Sabian earned trust when he took Nemisin away, but Nemisin, well, he was a cockroach in the ale. As was his daughter.

  He frowned over that.

  Cassy controlled a universal net and employed it recently. Nemisin was aware of the net. What if its power transcended realms and planes? What if Cassiopin, Nemisin’s daughter and Elianas’ wife, was bent on revenge despite her words of forgiveness and contrition? And what if she could reach out to her father wherever he was … or he knew how to reach back to her?

  Step one would be to trap Lord Sorcerer and his apprentice.

  Step two would be to unleash a Warlock on his father - no. The greater impact would be setting a Warlock on Elianas. Nemisin would believe Lord Sorcerer’s hands tied.

  And step three would be returning to assume the mantle of the One.

  Torrullin whistled under his breath.

  There was no proof, and yet the bells pealed in tune.

  Nemisin would never go quietly into the night.

  He focused on Tristan.

  Tristan said, “You suspect you know the culprit.”

  “I know the culprit, but suspect is right. Nemisin.”

  Tristan thought that through before responding. “Cassy’s network.”

  “Right first time. She could be involved as well.”

  “I can’t get a hold on her, but that’s no reason to suspect her. Tian reckons she is a model citizen.”

  “The Cassy we saw on Echolone was not model anything. She is hiding her true feelings.”

  “It doesn’t make her evil.”

  “It could dupe her. Nemisin wants above all else to be the One.”

  “Gods, Torrullin.”

  “It is suspicion only.”

  “Will you mention this to Elianas?”

  “Yes.”

  “To Tymall?”

  “I have to.”

  Tristan muttered, “We have about eleven hours left.”

  In eleven hours I must get under Elianas’ skin. “Whatever happens now, stay close. If the portal opens, you need be nearby.”

  Tristan stared at him, paling. “Gods. You mean …?”

  “Oh, yes. Two fucking witnesses. No offense.”

  “None taken. Hell, Torrullin, no one can, well, function in those conditions.”

  A grim smile. “A huge dilemma. At least it isn’t a matter of ultimate and binding choice. Merely intention.”

  “Hard.”

  “Very.”

  “Will he fight it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you fight it?”

  “Yes.” And that is enough to set us on the path. If only we could achieve this in private. Gods, I would give anything for privacy.

  “Torrullin.”

  Elianas’ voice, behind him. The man always possessed perfect timing. Torrullin looked up. He knew his final thoughts would be nuanced in his gaze. It was a starting point.

  Elianas drew breath as his gut lurched. He shifted to Tristan. And was wordless.

  Torrullin clambered to his feet. “We must talk.”

  Elianas’ voice was hoarse. “I am not going anywhere with you right now.”

  “They need to stay close for the portal. We are not going anywhere.”

  Elianas’ gaze jerked back to him. “Absolutely not. Tristan I can accept, but not him.” Elianas jerked his head to indicate Tymall wandering and muttering below the rise.

  “Yet this is the way of it.”

  “I would rather stay here.”

  “I believe Nemisin is behind this. Will you allow him free reign?”

  Elianas was silent as he worked it out. He shook his head. “You are accusing Cassy also.”

  “Nemisin could be using her.”

  “Sabian would not let him get away.”

  “Gods, Elianas, Nemisin pulled the veils over the entire Valleur nation when he invaded Orb. Sabian would be child’s play. Cassy would be the simplest of all.”

  “For pity’s sake, do you have to make it so complicated?” Elianas stalked off.

  Tristan sighed. “You have a twisted mind, Torrullin, do you realise that? I am not sure whether that is a good thing or not, but I can no longer see you as a grandfather.”

  Torrullin blinked. “I am sorry.”

  “I begin to understand why folk fear you while revering you simultaneously.”

  “That is a pedestal.”

  “Yes, and it will remain no matter what.”

  Torrullin was silent, and then he murmured something about talking to Tymall.

  Tristan watched him go. Twisted, yes, and it would not get easier. Ixion sprung a few surprises and one day he would have to share what he learned from the sliver.

  He was glad it was told him. Elianas and Torrullin were not ready, not yet.

  IN AS FEW WORDS as possible, and after telling Tymall to merely listen, Torrullin told his son what the situation was.

  He explained the suspicion about Nemisin and he explained the path Sabian opened. Then he explained the line, and what would need to happen to activate it.

  Not far away Elianas waited, watching. He could not hear the words, but he was aware of body language.

  Tristan, leaning against his tree, watched also.

  Tymall laughed. “Well, father, now I have heard everything. Nothing you will do after this will ever surprise me again.” He sobered. “You cannot be serious.”

  Torrullin did not deign to answer.

  Tymall swung to the side and charged Elianas.

  Elianas braced.

  They were at each other’s throats.

  Tristan hurtled to his
feet, and he and Torrullin rushed headlong into the fray.

  Fists connected, hair flew, knees discovered tender areas, and then Tristan had a hold of Elianas, yanking him away, and Torrullin gripped Tymall, dragging him aside. The two strained against the restrictions and the brawl almost escalated into two new fights.

  Torrullin roared, “Enough!”

  Tymall jerked from him and stood with hands on knees, heaving. He glared hatred at Elianas, who calmly loosened Tristan’s hold and sauntered up to Tymall to slap his face.

  “You are like a child,” Elianas said. “Give over, for pity’s sake.”

  Tymall straightened, touched a bleeding lip, and murmured for Elianas’ ears alone, “I am going to kill you. Touch him, and I promise you will not live to see the sun rise again.”

  Elianas smiled lazily. “You are the mortal one.”

  “We shall see who kills who, then. You forget I possess power close enough to yours to be telling in a real confrontation.”

  Elianas lifted a shoulder. “Bring it on, Warlock. Please.”

  Tymall bowed. “Clearly you desire the return of your wings.”

  Elianas inclined his head. “For this it will be worth it.”

  Torrullin approached.

  Tymall whispered to Elianas before his father joined them, “You know what happened the night Taranis died, don’t you? You meted out punishment on his behalf.”

  “You killed his father. You deserved it.”

  “You will pay, Danae.”

  Then Torrullin was there. Before he could say anything, Elianas murmured, “He says if I dare touch you he will kill me.”

  Torrullin’s gut lurched as Elianas’ had earlier. He knew that tone. Brinkmanship had again entered the arena. This time he had no choice but to push back. They needed to escape, and time counted down.

  “Really? And you desire to test it, of course.”

  Elianas swivelled his head to look his way. “You know me.”

  “So test it.”

  “Father!”

  “Shut up, Tymall. Test, Elianas.”

  Tymall moved to stand between them. He was livid. “You will not degrade yourself in this manner!”

  Torrullin glanced at him. “I do not see it as degradation.” His gaze returned to the dark man over Tymall’s shoulder.

  Elianas closed in and moved as if to reach for Torrullin beyond his son.

  Tymall snarled and whirled. “You dare!”

  The dark man laughed. “Child. You have more experience in buggery than I do.”

  Torrullin hauled Tymall away just in time.

  Elianas murmured, “Seems you are going to have to make another choice here this day, brother. Me or him.”

  Torrullin shunted Tymall aside and strode into Elianas’ space. “I do not see that.”

  “You do not want to. Think it through.” Elianas stepped closer. Thighs touched, chests, arms, hands, and he sighed, a sound that travelled along Torrullin’s spine like a livewire. “Or do not think - act. Now.”

  Grey eyes silvered. “Is this a challenge?”

  A laugh. “These days I do not seem to keep my word long.”

  Tristan shouted warning, Torrullin ducked, Elianas shifted sideways, but not fast enough to avoid the blow Tymall wielded, sword to hand. It slapped across Elianas’ shoulders, driving him down, knocking breath from him, and then Tymall shifted his clasp and brought the point to bear.

  Elianas rolled back, drawing his blade at the same time, and sprang to his feet a few paces away. Dark eyes glittered. “Bring it on, Warlock.”

  Tristan gripped Torrullin’s wrist as he moved to draw his sword as well. “Don’t add to it.”

  “Elianas is too good with that blade.”

  “Excellent. He will teach Tymall a lesson, without being hurt himself. Let it ride, Torrullin. You cannot always run interference for others.”

  Torrullin stared at him, and nodded. “The voice of reason.”

  Tymall, it soon turned out, was brilliant with a blade as well. Digilan’s time was lengthier and thus he spent longer years practising, a fitness regime serving also to dissolve frustration and tension. Elianas had not done much work with his in recent times.

  Their blades connected, sparked, rang and flashed, and the dance was intricate, aggressive and beautiful. Neither made a sound, not even to grunt.

  Torrullin and Tristan watched in growing fascination.

  It was soon evident there could be no clear victor. The deciding factor would be accident or distraction, such as a misplaced rock underfoot or interference from either one of the others. Neither dared.

  Something entirely unexpected brought everything to an abrupt halt.

  Arrows whistled through the air and smacked loudly into flesh. Both Tymall and Elianas fell to their knees, swords clattering to trampled grass. More arrows felled Torrullin and Tristan.

  Small men ran up the rise and surrounded them. Sturdy wooden clubs lifted and the lights went out.

  Chapter 70

  Delirium isn’t oblivion, but it can feel that way to the healthy mind.

  ~ Book of Sages

  A cell

  ELIANAS REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS.

  He groaned and opened his eyes into dim light and concrete walls. It was a cell. Three walls were clean concrete and the fourth was bars. Beyond nothing moved in an empty space.

  Torrullin was thrown into a corner and lying at an angle, blood on his face, and Tymall and Tristan were bundled together in the opposite corner.

  He was closest to the bars, and they were all on hard floor. There were no beds and there was nothing to determine state, age or captors.

  Elianas crawled to Torrullin and shook him. As the man returned to awareness, he examined the wound on his head. Surface, nothing serious, although it would hurt - as his was. He touched to heal the wound, but nothing happened.

  No healing. It meant there was no means to deal with the arrow wounds. Torrullin had three in his shoulder, he had four, and, glancing back to Tristan and Tymall, they had a fair few bristling upward. The shafts had been snapped off.

  Torrullin sat up groggily and touched his head and then glared down at the broken shafts. “What happened?”

  “Arrows, pygmies, and a cell that looks far too modern and unused for men who trust to the bow. And I cannot access my healing powers.”

  Torrullin reached out to touch the wound on Elianas’ head and nothing happened. “Gods. We are in deep shit now.”

  Elianas grimaced. “Tymall will be the one worst off.”

  Torrullin viewed the dim shapes. “Have you tried calling for someone?”

  Elianas shook his head and crawled over to the other two. He laboriously separated them and by the time he was done they were waking, and he bled profusely.

  Torrullin was beside him. “Don’t move so much.” He put an arm around the dark man’s middle and urged him to a seated position with him, leaning against the wall. Elianas passed out with his head on Torrullin’s shoulder, the one free of arrow shafts.

  Silence descended again.

  SOMETIME LATER THERE was movement in the outer room.

  Four men wielding spears stood guard while one unlocked the cell from a bunch of keys, allowing access to eight women with medical accruements. Two per prisoner.

  They answered no questions as they set about binding heads, and neither did the men.

  The women then gestured for them to lie down and, bizarre tool in hand, proceeded to scoop out the arrows.

  All four men lost consciousness.

  TORRULLIN RETURNED FIRST.

  He noted the emptiness again, and then their bandages. They were thoroughly wrapped and fire roared under it. Gods. Elianas was beside him, on his back, his skin pasty even in the dim light.

  How long had it been? How many hours remained in the escape window?

  He stared at Elianas.

  Groaning, he understood what he had to do next.

  Torrullin moved then, and dragged Tristan and Tyma
ll closer until they lay one on each side of Elianas. Neither awakened; they did not even groan. He pushed Tymall’s nearest hand under Elianas’ back and then did the same for Tristan. Touch. The connection that would bind them in a portal, and take them through together.

  He sat back, breathing hard.

  Not one of them would like this.

  Gritting his teeth against pain, he leaned in and jerked Elianas’ tunic down. It was already in pieces from the ministrations of the women as they made space to reach skin for binding wounds. He placed his hands on Elianas’ chest and pressed lightly. The man’s skin was hot; he was feverish.

  He leaned in and called quietly. Slowly Elianas opened his eyes. Dark stared into grey, and an instant later Elianas understood. He felt the hands shoved under him and he saw Torrullin’s intent.

  Despite fever, or perhaps because of it, his entire being fired. It was more than expediency now and thus every atom in his blood boiled. He gasped and his hands lifted into Torrullin’s tangled hair and he pulled that head down to his.

  In that moment all holds sundered and fire took precedence. Hot skin slid against hot skin and lips seared together. Arousal was complete. All thought fled, and intent and expediency and every other nuance vanished. Only sensation counted.

  The Goddess of Souls pulsed between them, firing agony into pain that could sunder worlds.

  Torrullin cried out.

  Elianas arched.

  When he smacked back down to regain the connection with the other two, a bright blue hole appeared under him, and they fell through.

  Chapter 71

  Beaver, rat, wolf, stand together now.

  ~ Tattle

  Nowhere

  TIME WENT BY unmeasured.

  Then a pair of hands jerked roughly and a voice called urgently.

  Torrullin opened his eyes.

  It was a cavern, amber and flickering in firelight, and Sabian bent over him, fair hair tangled, blue eyes concerned.

  Torrullin sat up.

  “Gods, Torrullin, how did you pull this one?” Sabian demanded. “You all look like hell and what is that prick Tymall doing here?”