Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

“I … esoteric …”

  But Arli was gone, the forest circle had vanished.

  Torrullin fell butt first onto the grass and stared up at Elianas.

  Akhavar

  TRISTAN GASPED, SEEKING a cool breath.

  “Humans. Too much heat and they are weak, too much cold and they are frozen.”

  Tristan twisted around and squinted up. “Neolone.”

  The mighty blue Dragon arched its neck and swayed side to side. “In the scales. You are not human, of course; still, the ridicule fits.”

  “You cannot enjoy this kind of heat,” Tristan challenged.

  “Too much and my hide will cook under this armour. We shall keep this brief, shall we?”

  “Your call.”

  “Ha. I like you. Balls, you got balls, and you are not so surprised. That sliver got to you, did he?”

  “You mean Ixion.”

  “Thus, he did. Excellent. Eases this conversation.”

  “Say your piece.”

  “The new Timekeeper will emerge soon. He has a name, he has a face, and you will know him. Tristan Skyler Valla, tell Torrullin to banish him.”

  “Who is it?”

  “It would be stepping onto another Dragon’s tail. I may be wrong and thus shall not speak a name and create expectation.”

  “Where will this Timekeeper arise?”

  “Find the place where a silver cathron lurks in the black floor.”

  Tristan stared at him. “That makes no sense.”

  “It will to Torrullin. To Tianoman also.”

  “Fine. Why must we banish him? Ixion and Adagin were noble Timekeepers; perhaps this new one also.”

  The great Kallanon dipped its massive head and glared at Tristan at eye level. “I was a Timekeeper, right? Was I noble?”

  “Point taken, but …”

  “It is time to go; this heat kills me. No but, Tristan. He will not be noble. Banish him, do it while he wears his mask of completion, do it before Torrullin sees his face.”

  “Why?”

  “I wish I could explain, but it would be stepping on two Dragon tails. Heed the warning.” Neolone’s presence began to dim.

  “Wait. Why warn us? One would expect you to revel in potential strife for those who killed you.”

  “Much like Sabian did, I find my loyalty transferred to Torrullin because he proved a noble enemy.”

  “Will we speak again?”

  “Perhaps. In dreams. In unguarded thoughts. Perhaps another visitation. I am the Valleur Dragon; your kind killed me, but I remain a legend. I live on.”

  He was gone.

  Tristan dragged fresh cold air into his lungs, and shifted to find Torrullin on the grass nearby, with Elianas looking down at him.

  Both men swivelled strange looks his way and no doubt he bore a similar expression.

  Circle of Confrontation

  IN THE DOME RELIEF was palpable, until they realised a host lay between them and the three men on the common.

  On the battlements Tymall glared at Tianoman and Teroux. His sense of foreboding increased.

  At the citadel Bannerman sat head in hands. “Horatio, how do we win this?”

  Chapter 54

  From the coals into the fire …

  ~ Twist to an old saying ~

  The Common

  ELIANAS MURMURED, “That was bizarre.”

  “I agree. Sudden realm travel - now? Tarlinn did this, no doubt to give us pointers for what comes next, but his timings sucks. Or maybe Adagin left behind final tweaks, the truth stuff he wants us to face,” Torrullin muttered. “ I ended up on Pendulim suffering more of Arli’s wisdom,”

  “Arli?”

  “The Shadof who once bent my ear for a solid month.”

  A grin erupted on the dark man’s face. “Pissed you off, it did. What did he have to say?”

  “Wings of Mist do not exist.”

  Elianas’ expression closed. “Really.”

  “Think about it, will you? You have too much on your shoulders already.” Torrullin said to Tristan, “What happened to you?”

  “I think it was Akhavar, although of another time or alternate, and Neolone waited for me.”

  “You are kidding.”

  “In the scales. His words.”

  Torrullin sported a reluctant grin. “Sounds like him. And what did Neolone share?”

  Tristan looked around. “It is not the kind of information I would want other ears to hear.”

  “Give me your arm, Torrullin,” Elianas abruptly demanded.

  Torrullin blinked and faced Elianas. The dark man stared at him, but clearly did not see him. His focus was inward. “Why?”

  “Kin list.”

  “Why?”

  “Just listen.”

  Torrullin shoved his sleeve up and offered his bare forearm. A frown flitted as Elianas reached out.

  … Tingast, Elianas, Menlore, Skynis … Tannil …

  Elianas lifted his fingers. He stared at Torrullin, this time focused.

  “Gods, you are scaring me. What are you looking for in the list?” Torrullin demanded.

  “You did not hear that?” When Torrullin denied it, Elianas looked around much as Tristan had. “Not here.” He swiped a hand over his face. “Man, this changes everything.”

  Tristan cleared his throat. “We need to take Tymall’s fort as soon as possible.”

  Elianas nodded immediately and emphatically. “Agreed.”

  Torrullin looked from one to the other. “Why?”

  Tristan said, “We have to be in place for … I will explain when I can.”

  “Something,” Torrullin growled.

  “The new Timekeeper, Torrullin,” Tristan said, his tone skirting the edge of hearing.

  “Gods.” Elianas again swiped a hand over his face.

  Torrullin’s eyes narrowed, but he did not address his foreboding. Resonance already revealed to him it was safer to keep quiet now. “The Dome is surrounded. We cannot get to them and they cannot get to us. We three cannot hope to take the fort alone.”

  “Well, whatever, but now we need move.” Tristan pointed at the citadel’s path. “Soldiers.”

  Elianas barked a laugh. “Only one way open.” He lifted a shoulder and sprinted towards the path that led ultimately to Tymall.

  “Are you mad?” Torrullin called.

  “Must be!” Elianas attained the path and vanished into the trees.

  Torrullin and Tristan set off after him.

  The Dome

  BELUN EXECUTED A TWIRL in the Gatherers’ Circle, and assumed his imposing Centuar self. His tail swished and hooves stamped on the pristine white floor.

  Out of my way, he sent, for he lost vocal ability when he chose form, I am going after them.

  He reared briefly and galloped for the Dragon ogive.

  “Belun!” Teighlar roared.

  The ogive had already chimed.

  “Stupid Centuar!” Teighlar braced in the space Belun had transformed in. “Fuck it,” he said a moment later, drew his sword and ran.

  “Teighlar!” Quilla shouted. Too late. The ogive had already chimed. He rounded on the others. “You lot stay put!”

  A laugh sounded. “Sorry. That is my Emperor out there.” Kylis hurtled at the exit.

  “Gods, has everyone gone mad!” Quilla stamped tiny birdman feet, twin spots of colour on his cheeks.

  Lowen, Dechend and Caballa stared at him.

  Yiddin, Vanar and Sirlasin, markedly silent in proceedings to date, glanced at each other. One shrugged, one sighed, and the other grinned. They were Valleur and thus only one choice sat right with them.

  They headed together for the exit.

  “No!” Quilla pulled at his feathers.

  Again, too late.

  Circle of Confrontation

  BELUN FORGED THE PATH.

  He reared and stomped. He wielded his tail as a battering ram and his great head as a giant fist. Soldiers collapsed in various states of injury on either side. Those wh
o closed in behind him fell to the earth as mangled pieces of flesh. Those before him, after the third rank went down, retreated without raising their weapons.

  Teighlar and Kylis, with Vanar and Sirlasin, slashed and parried behind him - keeping a respectful distance - while running like the hounds of hades to keep up. Yiddin brought up the rear, a battle that had him moving backwards to fend off attack from that quarter.

  Yiddin soon lagged.

  Then Yiddin no longer followed. Rifles with bayonets attached rose and fell repeatedly.

  His shout as death took him went unheard in the din of battle.

  Yiddin, the one truly ugly Golden, a man clever and steadfast, had passed on.

  Belun reached the common and flipped left in a galloping turn. At full speed, he headed for Tymall’s path, battering soldiers from his path. Heaving, Teighlar raced to keep up. Kylis glanced over his shoulder, noted Yiddin was no longer with them, and slowed. Waving Vanar and Sirlasin past him, he assumed the rear.

  They were safe from harm on the common, but soldiers had flooded the fort’s pathway, and there the battle for a way through commenced again.

  Many hands dragged at the Senlu soldier become Elder, and Kylis fell and did not again rise. His final thought was for Alik.

  Belun skidded to a heaving halt as the shadow of great gates loomed.

  Torrullin!

  Shadow Wing Fort

  “KNOCK,” ELIANAS SAID.

  Torrullin stared at him. “I do not get you. This should be the last place you want to return to.”

  “Time to face my fear. Knock. We take this filth down from the inside.”

  Torrullin glanced at Tristan, who shrugged.

  “What is it with you two?” Torrullin demanded.

  Torrullin!

  The three men jerked around to find Belun in Centuar war-mode, with Teighlar, Sirlasin and Vanar doubled over beside him. Soldiers, silent, conscientious and spoiling for a fight, closed ranks all around.

  “All gods,” Torrullin muttered.

  Elianas drew the Lumin Sword and ambled in their direction.

  A moment later the soldiers pounced.

  It was a mêlée.

  Streaks of electricity weaved wherever Elianas was, Teighlar wielded his sword old-style - a swinging broadside at everything that moved - and Belun neighed and stomped. Tristan battered with one fist and his head, and stabbed with his other hand, the one wielding his blade. Vanar screamed obscenity and slashed, and Sirlasin elbowed and head-butted and cut and kicked. Torrullin, in the thick of it, wished he still carried Neolone on his chest, for the damned Dragon had been formidable in battle, and wished also for his alter-ego, Destroyer.

  It was the first time he fought in battle without at least one of those advantages. It was also the first time he entered an unholy fray without sorcery at his command.

  It was him and a blade, and anticipating the actions of others.

  TYMALL SPRINTED TO THE battlement overlooking the great gates, and with him Tianoman and Teroux.

  They saw Vanar fall, Sirlasin wounded, Belun besieged, Teighlar on his knees still wielding his sword. And they saw Torrullin guard Elianas’ back while the man’s blade dispensed energy. Tristan screamed obscenity.

  “He has the fucking Lumin Sword with him,” Tymall whispered. “By all gods, how did he manage that?”

  “You wished earlier you had not allowed Elianas to leave,” Tianoman said.

  Tymall glanced at him. “So?”

  “He is right there. Take him.”

  Tymall stared down, marking the progress of the energy weapon. “Why would I do that?”

  “They are minutes from being overwhelmed. Is this the final confrontation you envisioned?”

  Tymall paced forward and leaned intently over the low wall.

  “What are you doing?” Teroux whispered from the side of his mouth to Tian.

  “Saving their lives.”

  “By bringing them inside? Man, that is not how it will work.”

  “An opportunity for change is better than defeat down there.”

  Tymall straightened. “We will wait.”

  Tianoman frowned. Why? He too realised Elianas was working with energy, although he did not quite understand how. He glanced at his father, and noticed Tymall’s attention had centred on someone other than the dark man. His lips tightened. Belun. The Centuar would not last much longer. His father had never liked Belun because Belun’s great and surpassing friendship was with Torrullin.

  “Torrullin! Belun needs you!” Tianoman screamed out, gesticulating wildly.

  Tymall cuffed him.

  Below, two fair heads turned simultaneously - Torrullin and Tristan - and forged a path to the Centuar. Elianas whistled piercingly to draw attention to him and lifted the energy blade high. Teighlar had succumbed somewhere.

  More and more soldiers arrived, a press of men that would swiftly become an impenetrable wall.

  “Father, if you seek to make a statement, this would be a poor excuse of one,” Tianoman murmured.

  Tymall cursed, for Tianoman was right. Furthermore, he sought to witness his father’s agony first-hand.

  He lifted his hand to his brow - the circlet - and said, “Ceasefire.” Such was the power in the gem, all heard him clearly. “Cease fighting now.”

  Gradually the sounds of battle died away.

  Tymall leaned over the wall. “I will allow Belun unhindered passage back to the Dome if he swears to remove that thing from this circle of confrontation.”

  TORRULLIN, HEAVING, FACED the Centuar.

  The mighty creature of legend bled everywhere. One eye had been lost. He stood swaying on his four legs, great head hanging. Breathing was effort.

  This was a dear friend.

  “To here and no further, Centuar, and I thank you for coming to our aid,” Torrullin said. “Take the Dome home, Belun.”

  A shake of that great head.

  “Please, my friend. You are one of those I cannot afford to lose. Please.”

  The Centuar pawed at the churned earth. How do I move her from here?

  “You do what you always do. Retrace the path to her previous resting. Will you do this?”

  Belun lifted his head and stared at Torrullin with one eye. It removes a safe haven.

  “It also becomes a safer haven for those inside her now.”

  A nod. I do not understand why we had to do this. Circles? Only to have it sundered?

  Torrullin shrugged. “I had hoped for more options, but we know how the nature of a battle cannot always be controlled. At the very least, it served to remove our enemies from the realm they are able to dominate.”

  Another nod, a laboured breath. I shall take them home and live to see your ugly face again.

  “Thank you.” Torrullin touched the Centuar on the shoulders, a tiny space not covered in blood. He raised his voice. “Tymall! You have our word! The Dome will go!”

  “Create passage for the Centuar.” Tymall commanded and the soldiers moved apart.

  “Go, my friend,” Torrullin murmured.

  “Keep the home fires burning,” Tristan added. “I hope you can handle the birdman’s wrath.”

  A snort sounded. He is tiny. I shall manage. He turned carefully and paced to the path formed for him. Without turning, therefore giving no sign, he sent, Torrullin, use this as leverage to remove the citadel.

  He ambled away.

  TORRULLIN SWIVELLED on the balls of his feet and stared up at the three forms overhead made tiny by height.

  “And now?” he said, projecting his voice. Almost inaudibly, to Elianas, who had taken stance at his shoulder, he said, “Check Teighlar and Vanar.” He sensed the man move away.

  Tymall said, “You have a choice, father. Enter my hallowed halls and suffer my control, or stay out there and fight until you are the last one standing.”

  “I will not be the last one standing.”

  “Maybe Tristan makes it, maybe not.” A laugh from above. “I do not see
you taking the risk with good conscience.”

  Torrullin moved his head to find Tristan supporting Teighlar. The Emperor had been injured, badly, but would live to fight again. Of course he could not put Tristan in harm’s way. He moved his gaze to Elianas kneeling alongside Vanar.

  The dark man glanced up and shook his head. Another Elder had succumbed. Vanar, bless her, had been a mother figure for the three Valla heirs after Curin passed on and deserved long life for that unselfish service alone. Vanar was Aislinn’s mother; the Valleur queen would soon be in mourning.

  If Vanar was here, Yiddin had been also. The Elder succumbed further up the path.

  Torrullin drew breath and his gaze shifted again, to Sirlasin. That Elder still lived and, like to Yiddin and Vanar, had stepped into the front rank of status due to his duties to the Vallas. He could not endanger Sirlasin’s life further. He inclined his head and Elianas nodded and moved to aid the Elder.

  Torrullin turned back to Tymall. “I meant Elianas would stand with me, if that is the ending of this battle.”

  Another laugh. “Maybe, maybe not.” A hand slapped at the battlement stone as if enjoying a salient joke.

  He would not ask what it meant. He would not give the monster the satisfaction. But he moved his head again, to Elianas. To note the man glaring up at Tymall. Then those dark eyes dropped to his, before swiftly turning aside.

  Torrullin shivered. “Elianas?”

  “He has the wrong end of the Warlock staff,” Elianas muttered, but would not meet his eyes.

  Torrullin shivered again. It meant, somehow, Elianas could succumb in a battle of this nature, and Tymall knew it.

  “Open the gates, Tymall.”

  Tristan swore under his breath, but Elianas was markedly silent.

  A theatrical sigh sounded. “Enter.”

  The gates swung wide.

  The Dome

  THE OGIVE CHIMED.

  Belun, swaying and stumbling, entered.

  Quilla, about to unleash his temper upon whoever was unfortunate enough to be first in line in that entry, bit his tongue into silence and hastened closer.