Lore of Sanctum Omnibus

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Lore of Sanctum Omnibus Page 236

by Elaina J Davidson


  “The cuffs curtail us,” Elianas murmured.

  Tristan, swearing, pulled at first one and then the other. All he served to achieve was greater bite.

  Rivalen strode to an overturned wooden crate and dragged it closer. He sat, crossing his legs, resting back on the palms of his hands. Head cocked, the lifted foot swaying, he studied his captives.

  First he gazed at Tristan. “Cease your efforts; they cannot be removed just so.” He cocked his head. “It is remarkable, the likeness, but are you ever your own man, Skyler? Are you not merely a reflection of your famous forebear?”

  Tristan did not respond.

  Rivalen shifted his attention. “Danae, my bloodline saw me exiled and abandoned. Why would I seek to hold to its directives?”

  “Do you know why it happened?”

  Rivalen shrugged. “It is of no matter.” He paused, and his eyes narrowed. “Do you?”

  Elianas pulled on the rope above his head to ease the tightness around his chest. “I might.”

  Leaning forward, Rivalen said, “Tell me.”

  “Why should I?”

  A shrug followed. “I might be lenient with your torture.”

  Shaking his head, Elianas knew that was unlikely, but the truth might unsettle the creature into making a mistake he could use to advantage. “Your father was Jacastu Valla. Did you know?”

  “It’s a name only. The name means little to me.”

  Well. Rivalen might not possess clear Valleur race memories. Interesting. “Jacastu was Nemisin’s youngest son.”

  A frown bloomed on a dead white brow. “Nemisin was born a long time after my exile. You are not making sense.”

  “Jacastu went back in time. He was not the best of men and sought people to indulge his need for perversity upon, among others, Immirin, your mother.”

  “He raped her,” Rivalen stated.

  “Repeatedly.”

  Rivalen’s head descended. “I understand the why you were referring to.” He looked up. “As I said, it is of no matter. I am now who I am because I was not raised among the Golden.” His eyes were cold. “If you seek to use the Valla connection to spread mutiny in these ranks, go ahead. They will lap it up. It will explain why I am able to hold the Maghdim without harm befalling me, and they will revel in my success.”

  “Why settle for a replica?” Elianas needled. “Why are you not actively seeking the real one?”

  Those pale lips twisted. “We both know Torrullin will not be easy to subdue and that damn coin will harm me if I dare touch it. I have not the time or patience for long subversion. No, this manner of manipulation works to my advantage and is faster.”

  “You have Valla blood,” Elianas pointed out.

  “So has he,” Rivalen said, gesturing at Tristan. “Can he touch it?”

  Elianas laughed. “No.”

  Rivalen smirked. “There you have it. Why bother with all that when a copy delivers the impact I desire?” He got to his feet, removing a dagger from his belt. “Now you will tell me where you hid the master mechanism.” Wiggling the dagger eloquently, he approached.

  “Never,” Elianas stated.

  Rivalen veered to Tristan and stabbed him in his thigh. “Say again?”

  “I can take it, Elianas,” Tristan said.

  Swallowing down his rising fear for Tristan’s life, Elianas snapped, “I will never tell you where it is.”

  Rivalen buried his dagger in Tristan’s side.

  Elianas closed his eyes when Tristan grunted his agony.

  “Two chances left, Danae,” Rivalen murmured, “and then this goes into his heart.” He raised the bloodied dagger.

  “It did not work,” Elianas said. “Your master mechanism is flawed.”

  “I shall be the judge of that.” Rivalen moved to come at Tristan from the other side, slicing deeply across his ribs.

  Tristan jerked back and swung wildly. Blood seeped ever faster from his wounds to drip into the sawdust.

  “I swear to you,” Elianas shouted, “it is not what you seek!”

  “Hmm, interesting.” Rivalen studied his dagger. “I still desire it in my possession, whatever you claim about it. You may be lying to me.” In a circular motion, he swiped across Tristan’s abdomen.

  The man screamed.

  His belly split open and blood erupted.

  Elianas went cold.

  “Do. Not. Tell. Him,” Tristan said hoarsely.

  Rivalen stared up at Tristan with enlightenment. “You too know where it is. Well, this is an unexpected twist.” Smiling then, waving his dagger as a conductor would a baton, he left Tristan and stood before Elianas. “He will tell me, I think, once I get to working on you.”

  Elianas snapped his head to Tristan. “I do not care what he does or what you see and hear …”

  Rivalen stabbed into his untouched thigh, short, sharp and shallow stabs, rapidly, which shredded his skin. He kept at it until a mess of flesh was all that remained. There was no longer skin.

  Elianas’ blood pumped out. He made not a sound.

  “Oops, seems I nicked an artery,” Rivalen murmured. He shifted his attention to Tristan. “I shall stop the bleeding if you tell me. I will not cease hurting him, but he will be alive.”

  “No, Tris,” Elianas ground out, slumping into the ropes, his head hanging.

  Rivalen simply commenced a fresh session of flesh shredding.

  “Stop!” Tristan screamed, although his voice had little carrying power, for he had lost much blood already. “I will tell you.”

  Rivalen paused, knife raised, and waited.

  “Dome …” Tristan whispered.

  Elianas closed his eyes.

  Abruptly the sounds of battle intruded.

  Rivalen, frowning, strode to the door.

  “Stop the bleeding,” Tristan begged.

  Shoving the barn darn to a mere sliver opening, Rivalen put an eye to the gap. “Valleur,” he murmured, sounding amused.

  While his back was thus to them, Torrullin materialised in the space. His understanding of the situation was swift, and he put a finger to his lips. On cat’s feet he moved to Elianas to lay hands upon his torn thighs. Healed and whole skin appeared. He quickly touched a finger to his foot, looking up then.

  Elianas met those rage-filled eyes, and blinked. As Torrullin prepared to lower him to the floor, Elianas jerked his head to Tristan. Heal first, then escape, he meant.

  Nodding, Torrullin moved to lay hands on Tristan’s wounds, who stared down at him in mute appreciation. Tristan lifted his cuffed wrists and glared at them significantly. Torrullin’s mouth twisted wryly as he understood what they meant.

  He then faded into the shadows as Rivalen closed the door and dropped double braces into place. Clearly Rivalen did not seek an invasion from outside at this stage of his manipulation. Obviously also, he did not give a damn about Slayer lives.

  “It seems the Valleur have every intention of killing every Red Cloak on Millwold. It is time to change the game …” Rivalen paused there, noticing they were healed. An instant later he lifted a hand and sent a power blast into the shadows where Torrullin had retreated to.

  “Come then!” he roared.

  Torrullin sauntered out.

  Teroux sidled into the light as well, glaring at Rivalen.

  “Boy, have you switched allegiance again?” Rivalen demanded.

  Teroux gave him the finger, causing Elianas to throw his head back in laughter. “Excellent, Teroux!”

  Somehow the dark man’s approval stiffened Teroux’s backbone even further, for he strode to the pegs where the ropes were tied off and severed both with one sword swipe.

  Elianas landed on his feet, while Tristan stumbled to his knees.

  As Torrullin circled closer to Rivalen, Teroux withdrew a dagger from his belt and sawed at the rope knots behind Tristan.

  “You turned him,” Rivalen taunted.

  “Teroux is my grandson,” Torrullin said by way of answer.

  The you
ng man glanced in his direction and a blush suffused his cheeks. With that approval now his, he freed Elianas and Tristan, handing the dagger to the dark man. Reaching into his boot, he withdrew a knife and passed it to Tristan, who gave him the widest smile.

  “Teroux, transport them to the Senlu,” Torrullin said without taking his eyes from Rivalen.

  “I can still fight,” Elianas said.

  “Not this kind of battle. Go.”

  While Teroux did not quite fathom why, he gripped both Elianas and Tristan by an arm and dematerialised with them.

  THEY ARRIVED INSIDE A ramshackle building next to a broken waterwheel. It was secluded because it was long abandoned. There four Senlu crouched, watching the battle.

  Fires raged, swords clashed, men screamed and shouted. The Slayers fought to the death, giving no quarter and showing no mercy, red cloaks swirling like wings amid flashing daggers and dull spears. Valleur returned every slice and stab with equal ferocity.

  Elianas was furious for having been stymied, but arguing with Teroux for removing them from the fray would now help not at all. He held his wrists out. “Get these off me. I need to go back in.”

  “What are they?” Teroux asked.

  One of the Senlu bent over them. “They bind sorcerers.” He looked up at Elianas. “It requires something special to remove them.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Kene, my Lord.”

  “Well, Kene, I do not care how special - use your dagger and pry it loose.”

  The man was doubtful, but did as bid. Holding Elianas’ left wrist firmly, he wormed a slim blade between skin and cuff. The point dug into Elianas’ flesh as he levered the blade this way and that, scraping audibly against the embedded metal studs.

  “Stop,” Elianas grunted. “The more you move it, the tighter the other becomes.” He showed his right wrist. His lower arm was bloodless from the force of the grip there. “What now?”

  Kene grimaced and withdrew his blade.

  Teroux meanwhile removed his over tunic and handed it to Tristan, while two Senlu unwrapped the sashes around their waists that marked them as trackers. Handing one each to Tristan and Elianas, they indicated hips.

  Tristan, smiling thanks, tied the sash as a sarong.

  Elianas glanced at him and followed suit, nodding appreciation at the Senlu, but found the act of knotting clumsy. He swiftly lost all feeling in his right arm. Frowning at the cuffs, he reasoned it out. Whenever they were moved in some way, they tightened. Perhaps the opposite was also true.

  Drawing in a breath, he released it, saying, “I accept I can no longer access my power.”

  Instantly the right cuff surrendered a smidgeon of pressure.

  “I am bound to another’s will,” Elianas murmured, while the others looked at him in astonishment.

  Both cuffs loosened, enough for free play.

  Blood rushed into his right hand. Spasms bit into his fingers and they tingled as if a thousand fleas bit him.

  Kene said, “Ah, surrender the will to remove them and they begin to release.”

  Elianas nodded, put a finger to his lips, and gestured at Tristan, who spoke similar words of surrender and was offered relief also.

  Kene murmured on the edge of hearing, “Maybe convince them you do not need binding.”

  Dark eyes glittered, but Elianas remained serene. He had reached that conclusion also, but needed now to give these sentient cuffs no call to doubt his state of mind. With arms dangling as if he had not a care in the world, he said, “My will is subject to another.”

  Markedly, the cuffs moved, shifting from a general grip above the bone knobs at the joints to a loosened mien. Now they appeared as ordinary leather bracelets.

  He ignored them, tightening instead the sash around his waist. Bracelets, after all, did not require constant attention. Remaining calm, he looked then at the others and smiled.

  “You cannot know, but I feel released from all responsibility and duty. My master now decides. He has complete control of my body and my mind.”

  The cuffs slithered from his wrists and rolled into a grass verge.

  With an underhanded stare, Elianas gazed at them. and blasted them into smithereens. He turned on the balls of his bare feet and murmured, “Not yet, Tris, in case they learn from each other.”

  Tristan nodded, eyes wide.

  Teroux murmured, “Man, that was brilliant.”

  Elianas sent him a grin, leaned in, took Teroux’s sword from him and hurtled into the battle.

  RIVALEN HAD DRAWN A sword of the kind giants’ wielded.

  The blade was four times broader than an average one and twice as long. It had to be heavy. He twirled it above his head as one would a battle axe.

  Clearly he possessed the strength, and Torrullin grimaced. Trezond could not match that blade, but if the man wanted to play with swords, then so be it. He stepped aside as that mighty point dipped in his direction, and withdrew the Lumin Sword with every intent to deploy it.

  The blade of light heard him.

  All space surrounding them fell into darkness instantly.

  Rivalen hissed, but Torrullin heard his giant’s blade continue to swirl in the air.

  Golden light burst from the Lumin Sword.

  It bled out every chink in the old barn to slay those it came into contact with. Anyone it highlighted outside died and all who ran across the beams to be touched fell screaming to the earth as bodies were surgically severed. It blinded those who stared directly into its brightness.

  There was no distinction between friend and foe. This was the danger of wielding the Lumin Sword in battle. It killed without discrimination and conscience.

  Inside the barn, Rivalen stumbled to his knees. His great sword thudded into a waft of sawdust as he shielded his eyes. A screech tore from his throat.

  It matched many of the screams outside.

  Lifting the Lumin Sword on high, Torrullin prepared to plant it in the floor, to create thus the shadow doorway needed to coerce Rivalen through.

  Concerted pounding on the barn’s door drew his attention briefly. The braces there buckled under the onslaught from outside. He heard Elianas’ war cry.

  Fuck. Swift then, he focused on Rivalen.

  The Timekeeper was gone.

  All fucking gods. Torrullin instantly sheathed the sword of light to extinguish its unholy manipulation. For an instant the resultant gloom blinded his every perception before everything returned to normality, such as it was in these circumstances.

  Drawing Trezond instead, he headed to the door and shoved the braces up and away. At least twenty Red Cloaks bundled in with Elianas half-naked harrying them from behind. Stifling a laugh over the savage in his element, Torrullin swiftly dispatched those still with enough fight left in them.

  Silence fell over Millwold.

  Teroux, Kene, Torrullin sent.

  Teroux and the four Senlu, along with Tristan, appeared.

  Tristan immediately strode closer. As he did so, the cuffs fell from him. Of course they would - Rivalen was no longer present. Belun hurtled into the barn, roaring the Centuar war cry.

  More silence fell, this time into the barn a well.

  Tristan spoke first. “Rivalen knows about the Dome’s keystone.”

  “How?” Torrullin asked.

  “I told him, Torrullin, when he was about to kill Elianas.”

  Torrullin glanced at the dark man. Seeing no denial there, he realised both Elianas and Tristan came close to death. He jerked around to Belun. “Gather the Kaval and attend us here.”

  The Centuar left without a word.

  “Torrullin, surely we should defend the Dome,” Tristan said.

  “It has winked out; the Kaval is here. Rivalen cannot find it now.”

  Tristan blinked. “I admit to relief.”

  Torrullin faced Kene. “My friend, will you summon your army in to aid with clean up?”

  “It is over?” the Senlu frowned.

  “It is over.
Thank you for your help and thank your Emperor for me as well.” The Senlu bowed. Torrullin went on, “Many here are dead and many more are wounded. Kill any living Slayers you find. Pile the dead in the field we crossed earlier. Valleur dead and wounded return to Luvanor.”

  “It will be as you say.” The Senlu beckoned to his three companions, and they vanished.

  “Teroux, inform Tianoman of developments. Tell him every healer must go to Luvanor.”

  Teroux merely nodded and left.

  “Tristan, I leave the Kaval to you.”

  Tristan headed to the door as Belun led the team in. All were bloodied, but all were alive. “Where is Chaim?” he demanded, realising one was missing.

  Jonas grinned. “Erin bound him hand and foot when she realised what we faced here, telling him he was too old for this stuff. We left him far from the action, don’t worry.”

  Erin winked. “He will return the favour sometime soon, no doubt.”

  Tristan laughed. “Good for you. Now, numbers. How many do you …?” They moved beyond hearing.

  Torrullin stood before Elianas. “Do not even think of pulling a Danae here. Raising this many will sap every scrap of energy you possess.”

  “I am aware.”

  “What did he want with you?”

  “The master mechanism. He discovered it missing from Danaan,” Elianas shrugged.

  “His intelligence is old.”

  “Indeed. Thus he makes mistakes.” Elianas sauntered around the barn to find his boots and sword. “Many Red Cloaks are still offworld. This rout will not end their reign of terror.” He found two pairs of boots and two swords and moved back to the centre.

  Torrullin said, “Then we need summon them to make a spectacle of the Medaillon’s power here.”

  Elianas gave it thought. “The public display Sabian suggested?” He whistled and held aloft his discoveries when Tristan and the Kaval turned to look.

  Tristan approached to accept his boots and blade. “Many Valleur died. We will have numbers later.”

  “Help the Senlu when they arrive,” Torrullin murmured.

  Tristan frowned. “Why are you brushing me off?”

 

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