The Light of Reason (The Seekers Book 3) Read online

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  The Light of Reason

  (The Seekers – Book 3)

  Copyright © 2016 David Litwack

  Cover Art Copyright © 2016 Mallory Rock

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  ISBN (EPUB Version): 1622534379

  ISBN-13 (EPUB Version): 978-1-62253-437-1

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  Editor: Lane Diamond

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  eBook License Notes:

  You may not use, reproduce or transmit in any manner, any part of this book without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews, or in accordance with federal Fair Use laws. All rights are reserved.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Disclaimer:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

  Other Books by David Litwack

  Along the Watchtower

  The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky

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  THE SEEKERS

  Book 1: The Children of Darkness

  Book 2: The Stuff of Stars

  Book 3: The Light of Reason

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  www.DavidLitwack.com

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  What Others Are Saying About David Litwack’s Books:

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  The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky:

  “...a fully imagined, gripping read....” ~ Kirkus Reviews

  “Author David Litwack gracefully weaves together his message with alternating threads of the fantastic and the realistic.... The reader will find wisdom and grace in this beautifully written story....” ~ San Francisco Review Book Review

  “...an enthralling look at an alternative world... thought-provoking, beautifully written and highly entertaining.” ~ Jack Magnus for Readers’ Favorite

  “David Litwack’s sweeping novel The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky is a powerful story that follows the journey of a mysterious but charming little girl whose mere presence seems to have changed the lives of those people around her... Superbly imagined with a tense plot which makes it difficult to put down....” ~ the GreatReads!

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  The Children of Darkness:

  “A tightly executed first fantasy installment that champions the exploratory spirit.” ~ Kirkus Reviews

  “The plot unfolds easily, swiftly, and never lets the readers’ attention wane.... After reading this one, it will be a real hardship to have to wait to see what happens next.” ~ Feathered Quill Book Reviews

  “The quality of its intelligence, imagination, and prose raises The Children of Darkness to the level of literature.” ~ Awesome Indies

  “...a fantastic tale of a world that seeks a utopian existence, well ordered, safe and fair for everyone... also an adventure, a coming-of-age story of three young people as they become the seekers, travelers in search of a hidden treasure—in this case, a treasure of knowledge and answers. A tale of futuristic probabilities... on a par with Huxley’s Brave New World.” ~ Emily-Jane Hills Orford, Readers’ Favorite Book Awards

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  The Stuff of Stars:

  “...an excellent book about what it means to be human, what humanity can strive for, and ultimately the balance between technology and nature, dreams and reality... a great page turner and a ton of fun to read... one of my new favorites.” ~ Michael SciFan

  “...a thought-provoking and well-crafted tale - one that will delight lovers of dystopia, science fiction and fantasy. Its message will stay in your mind long after you’ve turned the last page.” ~ Hilary Hawkes for Readers’ Favorite

  “...as unique, unpredictable and well-written as the first book... Another 5-star beauty from David Litwack.” ~ Awesome Indies

  “The Stuff of Stars is dystopian literature at its best.” ~ Feathered Quill Book Reviews

  “...a fantastic story that continues the plot initiated in the first Seekers book: a tale about a futuristic utopian world that is anything but perfect. There is only one word to truly define this novel: WOW!” ~ Emily-Jane Hills Orford for Readers’ Favorite

  Dedication:

  For Amy, and for all the children yet to be born—for our hope for the future and for our dreams of a better world.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Other Books by David Litwack

  Dedication

  PART ONE – The Smoldering Flames

  Chapter 1 – The Lighthouse

  Chapter 2 – Over the Mountains

  Chapter 3 – Little Pond

  Chapter 4 – A Reservoir of Courage

  Chapter 5 – A Gathering of Elders

  Chapter 6 – Shadows on the Moon

  Chapter 7 – Memories of the Darkness

  Chapter 8 – Adamsville

  Chapter 9 – Cudgels and Staves

  Chapter 10 – Bradford

  Chapter 11 –Rescue

  Chapter 12 – Retreat

  Chapter 13 – Limits of the Dream

  Chapter 14 – The Darkness Descends

  PART TWO – Conflagration

  Chapter 15 – The Way of the World

  Chapter 16 – Riverbend

  Chapter 17 – Monsters and Men

  Chapter 18 – After the Battle

  Chapter 19 – A Vote for War

  Chapter 20 – The Cause of Strife

  Chapter 21 – A Greater God

  Chapter 22 – Children Unborn

  Chapter 23 – To Dream No More

  Chapter 24 – The Essence of the Darkness

  PART THREE – Victory and Defeat

  Chapter 25 – Revelation

  Chapter 26 – Plots and Plans

  Chapter 27 – Priests and Priestesses

  Chapter 28 – Resurrection

  Chapter 29 – Remorse

  Chapter 30 – Discord

  Chapter 31 – Decision

  Chapter 32 – The Seekers of Truth

  EPILOGUE

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  What’s Next?

  More from David Litwack

  More from Evolved Publishing

  PART ONE –The Smoldering Flames

  “It’s once I was free to go roaming in

  The wind of the springtime mind

  And once the clouds I sailed upon

  Were sweet as lilac wine

  Then why have the breezes of summer, dear

  Enlaced with a grim design?”

  ~ Richard Farina

  Chapter 1 – The Lighthouse

  Near first light, I spotted a glimmer where the sun should rise, but it flickered too low on the horizon. If I trusted the dreamers’ guidance—always precise until now—the red glow of dawn should be higher up, above the ragged peaks of the granite mountains. This light before me, though bright enough to cast sparkles across the waves, appeared more like a bonfire on the shore.

  Perhaps weary from my four-hour watch, my eyes had deceived me. With the toe of my boot, I nudged Nathaniel awake and pointed to the east. “There. Do you see it?”

  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands, and let out a lung-busting yawn before following my ge
sture. “A light, Orah, but too dim to be the dawn.”

  We both gazed until our eyes teared. Moments later, a second glow joined its lesser twin—the sun rising over the familiar saw-toothed peaks.

  The dawn grew brighter now, letting us distinguish sea from land, and the source of the glimmer became clear. A wooden structure emerged from the fog, a tower on the beach where none had stood before. The modest tower tapered near its top, where a fire blazed, a flame too bright for torchlight alone—a beacon to welcome us home.

  How fast our ship had flown. Its sleek hull, designed by the dreamers, had glided over the water when the sea lay calm, and sliced through the waves when they rose to resist. The outbound voyage in our crude vessel had lasted nearly two months, but now our dreamer-designed boat had carried us back in less than half that time.

  I clung to a spar of the mast as the breeze blew wisps of hair across my face, and relished the sound of seawater lapping the shore. The dreamers, so much wiser than the keepmasters, had plotted the most efficient course using maps that tracked the ocean currents, ancestral charts from a thousand years before.

  And so, dreamer-guided and current-borne, we neared our destination.

  Unlike our prior voyage, I felt well rested and in better spirits. With more than thirty souls aboard, no need to spend half of each night on watch, and this time I arrived not as a stranger to a new land, but as a wanderer returning home.

  Ahead, what I’d learned to be a continent rose up from the mist, a shelf of dry sand followed by rocky cliffs rising steeply into the granite mountains. As I pondered the scene and the strange cargo in our hold, myth became reality—the explorers of legend bringing back treasures for their people.

  Nathaniel led me to the bow for a better view. As our boat drew closer to the shore, the tower’s peak came into focus—a flame reflecting off a polished mirror, and beside it a shadow, a figure standing alone.

  Our eyes met, but the figure stood too far off to recognize. Then he turned away and raced down the stairs, hopefully a friend to greet us when we landed.

  I donned the white bonnet with its winged flaps that seemed to mimic the sails, and adjusted the sensors around its brim so they fit snugly to my skull. At once my mind joined with our boat. I sensed the waves splashing against her bow, and gauged the depth beneath her keel. With a quick thought, I trimmed the sails to let her drift toward the shore.

  Thanks to the genius of the dreamers and a gentler beach, we glided to a landing more peaceful than the year before, when the crash of wood on rock had destroyed our first boat. Not this time. Now our bow settled softly into the shallows.

  Caleb rushed on deck, barking orders to the crew as he went. Those with tasks to fulfill scurried about, while the others lined the side rails, ogling as I had done when I first caught sight of the distant shore. Caleb lowered the ladder and insisted Nathaniel and I disembark first, a way to honor the seekers who had brought these two worlds together.

  I scrambled down and waded through the knee-deep water. Once on dry sand, I dropped to my knees—another dream attained, one I’d believed impossible not so long ago. I turned to face the sea and formed a picture frame with my thumbs and fingers, imagining the world I’d left behind—a land of earth people and machine masters. How shocking to switch so quickly from one world to the next. What must it have been like in the time of the darkness to cross the ocean in flying machines, to complete such a journey in hours?

  A seagull flitted aimlessly overhead across the clouded sky. Small waves broke against the shore at regular intervals, leaving behind a gentle curve and tiny bubbles on the beach.

  With cupped hands, I scooped up some sand, so much like the sand where our boat had crashed the year before, but different. I let the grains trickle through my fingers like sand in an hourglass.

  Yes, this sand is different—the sand of my home.

  Nathaniel gasped beside me, a sudden intake of air.

  I glanced up to catch the figure from the tower approaching. Despite the dim light, I recognized him at once by his gait, with his broad shoulders and jaw jutting out—Nathaniel’s father, William Rush—but he appeared gaunter than I recalled, a shadow of the elder I knew.

  His pace quickened, his face brightening with joy. “Nathaniel, Orah! My prayers answered. Thank the light you’re alive.”

  We rushed to close the gap, and the three of us clutched in a long and silent embrace.

  When we separated, his eyes widened as he took in our boat. How strange it must have been to gaze upon a boat so different from the one he’d helped us build the year before—no longer canvas sails, but wing-like sheets of the thinnest metal, with no hemp ropes or any other visible means to trim them.

  How could I explain that these sails sensed the wind and adjusted for maximum speed on their own, or that if I wished to change their tilt, I had but to don a bonnet and think?

  His amazement grew when dozens of strangers followed down the ladder, men and women from the far side of an ocean whose existence he’d once denied.

  “So many,” he said.

  I nodded. “They’ve come to help.”

  He eyed the party as if counting heads, and then turned back to the base of the tower, where a flimsy lean-to sheltered supplies.

  “For the past few months, I’ve kept a stock of provisions, thinking you’d arrive exhausted and starving. Our loyal neighbors brought enough for me to stay and stand watch, and if you arrived, to let you hide here until they made sure the village was safe. But with so many, these provisions won’t last long.”

  “Hide?” Nathaniel blurted out the word before I could digest its meaning.

  His father shook his head. “Things aren’t as you left them. Better to wait here while those I trust survey the situation, before we risk the trek over the mountains. But with so many, we should return to Little Pond at once, especially with a storm on its way.”

  He tossed a nod to the horizon, and I followed his eyes. The sky behind me had darkened as if reflecting my change in mood—ominous clouds blowing in from the west.

  “Why wouldn’t we go straightaway?” I said. “We’ve been gone so long, and I’m eager to see my mother and Thomas again.”

  A shadow crossed his face, and he glanced away. “Your mother, yes.”

  A fluttering in my stomach made me wince, but I forced a smile, still happy to be back on my home shores. “And Thomas too.”

  Frown lines appeared between his eyebrows. He blinked and stared past me, with lips tight and eyes riveted on a point over my shoulders and out to sea.

  I turned. The bank of clouds seemed closer, as if following us into shore.

  “How long have you waited here?” I said, trying to regain his focus.

  “Too long.” He grasped Nathaniel’s arm and squeezed as if to test the flesh was real. “Through all these months, I kept my faith and never believed the lies the vicars spread, but you come back to a sadder place. They punish folks who speak their minds, and deacons search for me.” He took in a long draft of air and blew it out. “They’ve placed a bounty on my head. My good neighbors keep my whereabouts a secret and bring provisions as needed. Thank the light, the deacons believe demons of the darkness dwell on this side of the mountains. I’m safe as long as I stay here—safe but alone, with nothing but the lapping of the waves and the hope of your return.” He eased into a grim smile. “And now at last you’ve come.”

  Nathaniel’s lip curled into a sneer and his fists tightened. “How could they—”

  His father waved him to silence and pointed at the encroaching clouds. “We can talk later. The storm will strike in a few hours, and this tower’s too small to shelter so many. I’ve lived through such storms in the past. They can be violent, but never seem to go beyond the summit. Best we make the climb at once and clear the heights before the first gale hits.” He glanced at Caleb’s men as they started to unload provisions from the hold. “We should travel light. Though Little Pond’s lot has worsened, we still have food and
drink. Tell your crew to leave their cargo behind.”

  “Not all of our cargo,” Nathaniel said. “Some of what we’ve brought must come with us.” He signaled to Caleb. “Leave the provisions. We’ll find plenty in the village, but fetch the machines.”

  Of those on board, only Nathaniel and I had gone to sea before. Now even Caleb’s stout men struggled with the return to land, staggering across the uneven sand as they hauled the mending machine and the crate of spare parts Kara had insisted on bringing.

  Nathaniel’s father gaped at them. “What are those? Is it wise to haul so much over the mountain pass, when we need to travel fast?”

  “It’s wise and many times more,” I said. “This cargo will bring a better life to our people.”

  His eyes widened when, last of all, the crew lowered the opaque black cube to the beach, its bits of lightning flashing inside like a captive storm. “What is that?”

  I smiled my I-know-the-answer smile and patted the cube, causing a familiar tingling on my fingertips that traveled to the roots of my hair. I fought off the urge to don the white bonnet and commune with my wise friends, to share with them my excitement at returning home. “Too hard to explain, but you’ll see I’m right, in time. What we’ve brought back from the distant shore will change our world.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he said. “We can use some good news.”

  Good news. An image flashed in my mind of a grinning Thomas sitting by the pond and playing his flute.

  “But what of Thomas?” I said more insistently than before.

  His chin dropped to his chest, and he stared at his boot tops. “We’ll talk later, once you’re safe and in your mother’s arms. Then she and I will sip hot tea by the fireplace and share the sad news, as we once told you about the teaching your father and I endured.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but before I uttered a word, distant thunder rumbled from the gathering storm. I spun around to look. The massive bank of clouds was rolling toward us from far across the sea, letting loose a flurry of lightning bolts, as if probing every nook and cranny of the waves, searching for our long-lost innocence. In a dozen seconds, their resulting claps boomed and dwindled to a faint but angry echo, followed by silence.