Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

by Elaina J Davidson

Torrullin gave a forced laugh. “Wouldn’t that be something?” He started to eat then, and Tianoman sat and did as well.

  After shrugging at Urial, father and daughter lifted knife and fork.

  The Dome

  TRISTAN STALKED THE GATHERERS’ Circle. “Belun, there is big trouble coming. I can smell it.”

  The Centuar was blasé. “We handle it.”

  “I need to see this thing,” Tristan muttered and headed towards the upper section of the Dome, where the living quarters were.

  “What thing?”

  “The keystone.”

  “It cannot be seen,” Belun called after him. “It is protected behind layers of crystal, above and below. Why do you need to see it?”

  Tristan strode back. He pointed upward in punctuated movements. “That is the goddamn master mechanism.”

  Belun paled, a remarkable achievement for a Centuar in humanoid guise.

  “And we are meant to remove it, Belun, to hide it into eternity.”

  “The Dome cannot survive that,” Belun whispered in a hoarse voice.

  Tristan turned round and around, and smacked palms on the marble slab that was the meeting table. “I bloody know!”

  “Well …”

  Tristan glared at him.

  “… Elianas restored ancient energy on Avaelyn, did he not?”

  Tristan straightened. “You have a point. He used the Dome to do so, partly, and is thus aware of strengths and weaknesses here.” He paced away, muttering.

  Belun left him to it.

  Sometimes Tristan was so much like his grandfather, it was uncanny.

  Grinwallin

  FREMAN SET HIS MUG DOWN after finishing his coffee. “My Lord, may I ask something?”

  Torrullin glanced his way and nodded. Tianoman had excused himself, and Urial went off to keep Lunik busy while Aislinn packed; it was only him and the Lore Master still at table.

  “The man who was here earlier? Who is he?”

  Leaning back, Torrullin prepared for something … new. It was exceptional to meet someone who did not know of Alhazen, if not his name and true identity.

  “Many call him Alhazen,” he murmured.

  The Dani frowned. “I have heard the legend. It is a true? About energy?”

  Torrullin nodded, watching the man closely.

  “You called him Elianas, I believe?”

  “His name,” Torrullin said.

  “I have only heard this name once before.”

  “Oh?”

  “In Daywalker …”

  Torrullin’s heart flipped in his chest. He held his breath.

  “… annals there is mention of a man from the stars. He was called Elianas.”

  Forcing nonchalance, Torrullin said, “I have never heard of Daywalker annals.”

  “Hmm, probably because they are now known as the Lady of Life Histories. The more popular title, I believe, because apparently ‘Daywalker’ implies something less than wholesome. Some have said it means they were vampyres.”

  “Were they?”

  “No!” The man was horrified. “The term implies the bringing of new light, not evil in darkness.”

  “What happened to the Elianas in the annals?”

  “Apparently he disappeared after his Daywalker succumbed to illness.”

  That did not make sense. Elianas possessed the healing talent. Unless … “What kind of illness?”

  “I cannot now recall.”

  “What was her name?’ Torrullin asked next.

  The warm hand on the back of his neck nearly caused him to shed his skin.

  “Stop fishing, Torrullin,” Elianas whispered in his ear. “I shall tell you when I am ready.” The dark man flung into the seat beside him, staring at him. “Hear me?”

  Freman looked from one to the other. “You are that Elianas. My word. It was a long time ago.” He smacked his forehead. “Well, you are thus a timedancer like to my Lord Elixir.”

  Neither responded; instead they traded stares.

  “The twins of time,” the man whispered, instantly garnering their undivided attention. “First there was Eurue and Immirin, according to that legend, which I disbelieved until this day, then Ixion and Adagin, which must therefore also have merit, thereafter Tarlinn and Neolone, and then …” He paused there, his eyes round. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” they echoed simultaneously.

  “There are no names assigned, but the tale speaks of the Animated and the Arc.”

  Both men shrugged. It was not particularly altering, after all.

  “Elixir and Alhazen,” the man murmured, enlightened. “Today is the day, for me, when legends are no longer mere tales.”

  “Knock yourself out,” Elianas murmured, to have the man fixate on him.

  “You are the word of power. Now I understand!” Fingers clicked as a mind made new and educated connections.

  Elianas leaned forward. “What do you understand?”

  “She gave it to you.”

  “If you repeat what you think you understand, my friend, I will …”

  “… kill me,” Freman whispered. “I do understand. I shall say no more.”

  Elianas swivelled to Torrullin. “When I am ready.”

  He received an expressionless nod.

  Suddenly dark eyes creased into smiling orbs. “It is eating you alive.”

  Grey eyes silvered. “Do you know what I marked in Saska first? Her eyes. As emerald as the pyramid stone, not so? Alik has them also, and so does this man’s daughter. Truly special, don’t you think?” Torrullin leaned closer. “What colour were her eyes, Elianas?”

  A sigh. “Emerald.”

  “The reason why you dare not even glance at Alik right now. You have remembered a past you sought to forget, and now you understand my reaction to her. Only to her eyes. I try and avoid them too.”

  Freman murmured, “Emerald as a stone …”

  Torrullin smacked the table, causing dishes to rattle. “No more.” He glared at the dark man. “Which city is first?”

  “Flint on Mon Unon.”

  “No one lives there,” Torrullin frowned. “And Flint is nowhere near the great sundial.”

  “It is a ruin, yes, and still Tannil destroyed what was left.”

  “A distraction?”

  “Something we could use,” Elianas muttered.

  A reluctant grin erupted. “True. Tian!”

  A harassed Tianoman darted in. “What? Aislinn is driving me crazy, damn it.”

  Laughing, Torrullin said, “See to our guests before you leave, and we will meet you at the conclave.”

  Tianoman waved a hand, and they vanished.

  Chapter 16

  Sometimes you need to gag the dead

  ~ Tattle to his scribe ~

  Mon Unon

  Flint

  MON UNON WAS IN present day a desert planet.

  No rain had fallen in centuries. Once proud cities were abandoned when the Guardians ferried a dying people to Echolone, the green and fertile world now hosting also the Avior door.

  Only fallen stones remained here.

  Recently Quilla waited at a nearby disused fountain, a point on the universal web Tristan and the Kaval set up in order to draw Torrullin, Elianas, Saska and Declan from the Path of Shades. Saska and Declan did not survive.

  As they landed, Torrullin’s first though was for Quilla.

  “It is mighty strange that the birdman has been missing since the Dome healing.”

  Elianas frowned. “Now that you mention it, yes. And, with hindsight, he didn’t seem all there, sort of insubstantial.”

  Torrullin abruptly realised, “Quilla is being used. Time trickery. If he isn’t here, he is in one of the other destroyed cities, waiting for rescue. We saw him, but his timing was out of sync with ours. Elianas, the vision of the stone boys was no vision.”

  “That is quite a leap.”

  “It’s Quilla.”

  A beat of silence ensued. An introspective frown appeared between da
rk eyebrows. “He would be in the thick of this, true.” Elianas started walking. “Flint’s ruins are just ahead.”

  Clearly fire had swept through the region, but there was little now left to destroy. Buildings had long since crumbled and there was not much remaining beyond knee height.

  The two men, arms akimbo in a dusty square, swung in every direction to study fire blackened rubble already long rounded by immense and sustained wind conditions. That same wind now tugged viciously at clothes and hair.

  “This was not the place of vision,” Torrullin said.

  Elianas frowned. “Why this?”

  “There.” Torrullin pointed.

  A simple stone cross reposed in splendid isolation in a space to the east of the immediate collection of wreckage.

  They headed towards it and wiped away dust and soot to reveal an inscription.

  Here lies Tannil.

  Elianas thudded to his knees. “How was my grandson interred here?”

  Torrullin clasped his shoulder. “A long time ago this was a Valleur world. A fertile and benign world, where a lad grew up in peace.”

  Elianas stared at the sterile ground. “I thought he was born to Akhavar.”

  “Perhaps he was, and moved here when older. There is nothing but dust left, my brother, I promise,” Torrullin said as he hunkered beside the man. “Even the inscription was gone until recently. This happened a very long time ago. Tannil renewed it to mess with us.”

  Slowly Elianas clambered to his feet. “He succeeds.”

  “He is vindictive, almost small-minded. We can use it against him. Come away.”

  Elianas closed his eyes and put his back to the cross. “Etithor is next.” He inhaled deeply of the dusty air and reopened his eyes. “He thinks as an immature soul would and yet he claims time itself. We are overlooking something, Torrullin, something intrinsic in his selfhood.”

  Torrullin gazed at the stone cross. “We follow his markers until it is clearer. Etithor? Never heard of it.”

  “An outlying city on Lax, according to Dechend.”

  “Oh, how lovely. Lax, of all places. Fine. Let’s.”

  They left Flint to the ravages of time.

  Lax

  Etithor

  LAX WAS ANOTHER STORY entirely.

  The rubble-ridden world was in recovery after many confrontations with the Kaval. Gradually cities were cleaned-up, land becoming habitable and able to sustain crops. Weapons trading had been largely eradicated, as had most of the criminals.

  On the road to recovery, yes, but Lax yet required much time, resource and aid before it would again be self-sustaining.

  Etithor, when they asked after it at the main space port, lay west of the mountains. Yes, some might still live there, but the city was abandoned sixty years ago. As yet there were no plans to rebuild, for the coastal cities and farming centres required the most attention at this stage of recovery.

  When they found it, Etithor proved as the place of vision.

  Beyond the city there was a ridge and on that ridge there reposed seven angelic statues. They wore no red cloaks and they had not toppled over, but it was the place. The concept ‘red’ again niggled at Torrullin’s thoughts, but he could not spend the time to unravel it in these moments.

  Many dead lay decomposing in the potholed streets of Etithor. Most wore rags; this was a place of desperation before Tannil came, and now it was a graveyard.

  “Remind me about the Gravedigger Guild,” Torrullin muttered.

  Finding no movement or sound in the city to signify life, not even a dog barking somewhere, they headed to the ridge. There they found Quilla, fast asleep in the shadow of the furthest statue.

  “Why?” Elianas threw his hands up and took to wandering along the row of expressionless boys.

  Torrullin sat beside the birdman to gently shake him.

  Quilla sat up blearily and squinted. “Took you long enough.”

  “Forgive me. I did not understand his intent before.”

  “Do not fret. I found water and fruit.” Quilla stood and stretched mightily, which was not that mighty.

  Hiding his amusement, Torrullin leaned against the stone base. “Shielded, I assume?”

  “Yes, and unbreakable. He is a small man in his head, but large in his power unfortunately.”

  “What did we see here, Quilla?”

  The birdman sighed. “You received a vision as well? The boys toppled?”

  “After imparting messages each, yes.”

  “I knew there was more to it!” Quilla smacked his palms together. “There was a delayed topple effect, as if something happened between the pauses, but I heard nothing. I came this way to investigate and trapped myself under the shield Tannil threw over the city.”

  “Yet recently you healed me in the Dome.”

  Quilla stared at him. “I thought that was a vision as well.”

  “Ha. Well, thank the gods it was more than that.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Thanks to you, yes.” Torrullin glanced around. “I did not know this was a real place.”

  “It was once a retreat.” The birdman gazed sadly into the city. “It will never be a peaceful hideaway again.”

  Elianas returned and threw himself down on the grass. “A strange place. Contemplation, I assume, a long time ago. Are you hungry, Quilla?”

  “I am.”

  Elianas nudged Torrullin, who obliged. Indulgently they watched the tiny creature tuck into the fare. While the birdman ate, they filled him on the latest developments.

  At the end of it, Quilla said, “I am impressed. You are further along than I thought. You know where the mechanism is, what to do about it, where to make your stand, and you even know his name. It will not be easy to bring together, but we have a chance now.”

  Torrullin reluctantly straightened. “We will check the final two cities and then meet up with you and Tristan in the Dome before the Elder conclave.”

  “Get some sleep first, Torrullin,” Quilla murmured. “Both of you appear quite exhausted.”

  “That depends on what we find next,” Elianas shrugged, and sat up with regret. “Let us get it done.” He stood, held a hand to Torrullin and Quilla, and thereafter gripped the Medaillon. “Make the door.”

  They left that place.

  New Haven

  Lantern

  NEXT WAS A WALLED city akin to Balconaru. Situated in the Xactus Galaxy, it was a human city - Lantern - on a human world known as New Haven.

  “All gods,” Elianas gasped out.

  All gods indeed. Millions died here.

  Movement filled the city, however. The Gravedigger Guild was already at work.

  Torrullin gagged on the stench. “Why, I ask? This place is too young to draw his attention, for pity’s sake.”

  Elianas pointed. “Those walls are truly old. Humans may be young here, but others lived here in the past. I am guessing Valleur.”

  “Valleur never walled cities.”

  “True,” Elianas frowned. “Torrullin, I suspect we are not going to like what we find here.”

  He nodded in response, already feeling the dread of discovery settling into his gut.

  “It is unshielded,” the dark man murmured as they approached the gates.

  “Gravediggers have means to enter any place.”

  At the gates a man in a blue turban hailed them. When he realised who he spoke to, he bowed, retreated, and waved them on.

  The streets were paved in red brick, faded now to a generic colour, and buildings were high and narrow, of fitted stone and clay roof tiles. Lines criss-crossed overhead, some still sporting fluttering laundry. Window boxes gave off heady scents from exotic blooms, but not enough to mask the smell of death pervading every space.

  Until recently, Lantern was a thriving city. Shops lined street level, selling everything from food to weapons if the signs were anything to go by. All was in the common tongue. Here no fire swept through to bring death. Yet the dead lay in hea
ps everywhere, of all shapes, sizes and colours. Many dogs and cats, too. And horses.

  Torrullin stopped a digger team moving past them hefting stretchers. All wore white masks over nose and mouth.

  “How did they die?”

  “It remains a mystery,” one man said. “To us it looks as if they simply stopped breathing, but the scientists are working on it.”

  “Thank you.”

  The team went on their way.

  “He removed oxygen,” Elianas muttered. “Killed all.”

  “Seems so.”

  “Human death should be pointless to him,” Elianas said. “Not only too short-lived to have an impact on his kind of time, but he never knew them.”

  “The Tannil I knew on Valaris was a man exiled, vilified and insulted by humans. He never held it against them, but in death perhaps hidden feelings festered.”

  “Then Valaris would be the target. Why here?”

  Frowning, Torrullin walked on, head moving left and right continuously. “I am aware this has no logic.”

  “Excuse me?” A man swathed in mask and blue turban approached them from a side street, almost tripping in his haste to reach them before they vanished from his view. “My Lord Elixir?”

  They halted and waited for him to catch up.

  “Forgive me, lords, but I heard you were in the city. There is something you should see.”

  Torrullin’s gut hollowed out. Glancing at Elianas, he saw the same anxiety reflected there. “Lead on,” he murmured.

  “Who called you in?” Elianas asked as they fell in behind the man setting a rapid pace up the same street he appeared from.

  “Belun of the Kaval,” the man said over his shoulder.

  Wordless then, he led the way to a crossroads ahead, where he swung left and headed to a tower set in a paved square. A squat affair, it was more a guard tower from ancient fortifications than an edifice of beauty. It probably ended up as a monument to times past. Clearly the city had grown to encompass it within its precincts.

  At ground level, iron doors gaped askew as if blasted from their hinges.

  Recently.

  The man halted and pointed. “We looked for bodies up there, but it was empty. Something else was left there, though, and we prefer not to guess at its purpose … or even touch it.”