The Nemesis Blade

By

Elaina J
Davidson

Lore of Sanctum
I

Published
2015

Copyright
Elaina J Davidson 2011

First
Edition

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reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
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retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
publisher.

This is a work
of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents,
are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or
dead, organisations, events or locales, or any other entity, is
entirely coincidental.

The
unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work
is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement
without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable
by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Cover designed
by Poppet.

Dedicated
to

the thoughts,
the places, the people

that gift us
joy and comfort

Cherish every
moment

And for my
family, the entire extended team

Huge, huge
sacred space!

A long time
ago

Elsewhere

A
ir flowed through the dungeon block and the straw
underfoot was fresh.

Flickering
from the lantern at the guard station gave enough light also.

Torrullin
shrugged in the gloom. These cells were more about safety than
punishment; it was not so terrible waiting it out in the small
space. Someone would come soon enough to alter the dynamics,
probably Elianas … ah, there, the sounds of approach.

He clambered
to his feet as two guards dragged an inert form closer. They
pitched a man into the cell opposite his, slammed and locked the
iron door, and went away whistling. Groaning, the captive crawled
to the bars.

Torrullin
hunkered. This man’s father had him, Torrullin, thrown below, and
now the
son
was imprisoned? Clearly loyalties switched
swiftly in the halls above.

“Prince, what
happens?” he called.

A bruised and
bloodied face lifted his way. “Your friend the baron killed my
father and had me beaten.”

The
unmistakable sounds of fighting then penetrated the silence.
Whatever happened up there was now moving into the lower passages
also. A shadow of a man wavered into view, backlit by the lantern
at the end of the block. Metal scraped on stone.

Torrullin and
the prince stood carefully and moved away from the bars. Both were
wary.

“Time to leave
here, Torrullin,” the shadow rasped, halting to lean on his
bloodied sword.

Relief
overcame him, and Torrullin grinned at the dark-haired man braced
in the corridor. It appeared Elianas
had
altered the
dynamics again.

“The baron was
not fit to rule either,” Elianas murmured, “and thus I made a
choice.” After slamming his blade into its scabbard, he extended
his arms to either side. Turning his head to the right to sight
along his outstretched arm, he then flipped his fingers up as an
eagle’s wingtips would. He mirrored the gesture to his left.

Shadows
gathered behind Elianas to imitate mighty wings, and Torrullin
shivered. It was time to leave indeed. Elianas was on the edge.

“Between us,
we have done our worst. I aided this man’s enemy,” and Torrullin
glanced at the young man opposite, “while you chose a side in
opposition to me. They will not trust us now.”

Elianas he
lowered his arms “I agree. We leave this mess to the prince. He may
prove better than his father.” He studied the young man and the
shadow wings vanished. “He cannot restore calm in his condition,
however.”

“I shall heal
him, and then we leave. It did not work as we hoped, this going
elsewhere to make different choices. Again we leave only blood in
our wake, Elianas. This cannot go on.”

The
dark-haired man gripped Torrullin’s cell bars convulsively. “We
cannot change what happens unless we change ourselves, Torrullin.
You are right. It is time to forget. It is time to hibernate.”

Torrullin
clasped those hands raw from fighting. “Until time is for us
entirely new?”

“Until then,”
Elianas whispered.

The present

Somewhere

Oblivion was a
less than satisfactory state.

While periods
of blackout aided in reducing the long wait, it did little to stave
off boredom, frustration and sometimes approaching madness. One
could only wait so long before insanity became more than a
spectre.

Elianas knew
this, and therefore understood how to keep it at bay.

Frustration
was another matter entirely, as was impatience.

Here he was,
waiting. Here he was, aware and awake.

How much
longer,
he cried out to the heavens.
I cannot remain patient
and stay sane.

Perhaps
oblivion was not so bad.

Green blades
of long grass undulated around him in a gentle breeze. He wandered
aimlessly, gaze drawn to distance. This plain was vast; he could
roam without a care for his safety. He would see predators with
time to spare; not that anything could touch him … as he could
touch nothing.

He extended
slender fingers to trail over emerald spikes and furry seed ears,
desiring to feel the freshness of nature, to know the cool of
living grass … and felt nothing.

Elianas
halted.
How much longer, by Aaru? I cannot do this anymore. I am
a spectre, I am as nothing.

About to kneel
in surrender upon the untouchable rich earth, a shiver of
recognition passed through him, holding him upright.

The shiver
transformed into a current of awareness, as if live nodes were
attached to his skin everywhere. Unexpectedly his ethereal form was
able to feel, taste, smell …
know
.

He did fall to
his knees then, fingers clawing at soil and sward. He
felt
it, every drop of moisture and coarse facet.

Hyperventilating at the onset of senses and emotions, he forced
renewed calm. Listen, idiot, or you will not know the timing of
your freedom.
Listen
.

Elianas
hurtled to his feet to stand unmoving.

He
listened.

Torrullin,
help me!
A woman in trouble shouted out her need into the
spaces between worlds. He knew her, as he knew the one she called
to. Would Torrullin respond or had he sunk into depression so far
he could no longer hear?

A long time
passed, but Elianas did not move. Then, watching night descend over
his ethereal realm, he finally smiled.

Torrullin was
awake once more. As he, Elianas, was alert. Both of them were now
aware in exactly the same period. How new. How utterly
challenging.

It was time at
last to bring Torrullin to the place of reconciliation.

Elianas
swivelled on the balls of his feet to stare at the mighty mountains
beyond the plain. There, he thought, where it all began. In the
hallowed stone of antiquity, where once a golden seat created
destiny.

There he would
greet his brother, and finally Torrullin would have his
answers.

Listen now,
Torrullin, and you will hear me.

Listen not
only with ears, friend. Listen also with your skin.

~ Arun,
Druid

R
ock strata surrounding him revealed he was deep
within the layering of ancient rock.

Shades of
colour gave evidence of depth. There was little else to see and it
was disconcerting. It was akin to being far back in time.

“
Help
me
!”

Her desperate
scream assaulted him anew and he turned swiftly, seeking, ever
seeking. That terrified plea was behind him, as it was behind a
moment ago, and the moment before, and yet he found nothing every
time he moved, and found nothing now … only the sad echoes of
opportunities forever lost.

Then the
uncaring rock moved to close in and he was the one screaming.

Torrullin sat
up, sweat-drenched and chilled. The sheets were twisted, pillows on
the floor and there were scuffling sounds in the night.