The Seekers: The Children of Darkness (Dystopian Sci-Fi - Book 1) Read online

  “And if I stay, what will happen when you fail to return? They’ll come back and take me for a teaching, or worse. I’ve had a taste of their darkness and don’t yearn for more. Besides, you can’t seek the keep without me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because only I can find the next keeper. I’ve figured out the way to Adamsville and know what the symbol means. I can get us there and you cannot. So it’s settled.”

  Then to show her strength, she hoisted the two satchels, one in each hand, and tossed them into the shelter.

  ***

  At scarcely first light the next morning, Nathaniel fidgeted while Orah organized her pack, her breath emerging as rapid puffs of white. Why had she insisted on coming? Why had she abandoned her orderly world? To search for the elusive keep or to be with him? For years, she’d humored him, listening to his dreams, never believing they’d come to pass. Now dreams had become reality. They were about to leave Little Pond, maybe forever.

  He was glad she’d come.

  She’d exchanged her black skirt for pants tucked into lambskin boots. Both wore the woolen jackets common to the Ponds, which they’d need until midmorning for warmth. Soon lighter clothing would suffice, but they had to prepare for the worst. How long would they be gone? If they needed these jackets again when winter returned, they’d be gone a long time indeed.

  They divided the load between them, with the heaviest items—the hatchet, water skins and dried meat—going into Nathaniel’s pack, all except the paper for her log.

  With their provisions squared away, nothing remained but to wait for Thomas, who’d insisted on seeing them off. The two took turns touching the NOT tree for luck, realizing they were about to do more than depart Little Pond. They were about to leave their youth behind.

  Nathaniel startled to a crashing in the woods.

  Thomas stumbled into the clearing, grinning foolishly and breathing out steam. He lugged a pack as big as theirs, though it appeared larger on his smaller frame. He apologized between breaths. “Sorry, haven’t got used to this thing. A strap caught on a branch.”

  Orah and Nathaniel spoke as one. “What are you doing, Thomas?”

  He forced a look of surprise. “You didn’t think I’d let you go without me.”

  Orah collected herself first. “You have no idea what this is about.”

  “I know you’re going on an adventure and bringing lots of food. I’d guess it’s something the vicars won’t like, which means it’s perfect for me.”

  She crossed her arms and dug in her heels. “This isn’t a game, Thomas. You can’t come.”

  “How do you plan to stop me?”

  “For the last time, go home.”

  She turned to Nathaniel for support, but he considered the gloom that had settled over Thomas at festival—and the spark that flared in him now.

  Orah seemed to read his thoughts. “Don’t you dare, Nathaniel.”

  “You’re coming. How’s that different?”

  She arched her back and lifted her chin. “I was with you in Temple City.”

  “He went there too and suffered more than either of us.”

  “No matter. You can’t come, Thomas, and if you follow, I’ll make your life miserable.”

  Thomas grinned. “I’ve been made miserable by the vicars. You don’t hold a candle to them.”

  She snorted, hoisted her pack, and signaled for Nathaniel to do the same, but as she turned to go, Thomas blocked her way.

  His grin had disappeared. “You can’t deny me.”

  “Why not?”

  His lower lip trembled. “I thought I’d never see you again, because you’d never give in as I did. I’m ashamed, and helping you is my only way to make amends. Besides, when the two of you go missing, they’ll come take me for the second teaching. You will not leave me behind.”

  Nathaniel gave Orah time, knowing her, knowing how she’d decide.

  At last her arms went limp, and she nodded.

  With a sly smile, Nathaniel slapped Thomas on the back. “Pact of the Ponds.” Orah opened her mouth, but before she could argue, he reminded her of the rule. “No debate after the pact’s declared.”

  Thomas squeezed between them to form a circle, covered his heart with his right hand, and thrust his left into the center.

  Nathaniel did the same, gripping Thomas’s wrist, and waited for Orah.

  She finally gave in, sealing the pact, but insisted on the last word. “So be it. Against my better judgment. We’re now three seekers, and may the light protect us all.”

  PART TWO – THE SEEKERS

  “The beginning of wisdom is found in doubting; by doubting we come to the question, and by seeking we may come upon the truth.” ~ Pierre Abelard

  Chapter 15 – Flight

  Orah led Nathaniel at a furious pace, leaving Thomas lagging behind. She kept to trails they’d explored as children, winding paths most adults had forgotten. When she finally stopped at a clearing, she glared back at the path for a full minute before Thomas appeared.

  He staggered in and collapsed on a log, apologizing between breaths. “I’ll do better, Orah, I promise. How much farther to go?”

  Why did he have to come?

  She had no choice but to help Nathaniel—how could she leave him alone to bear such a burden? Now she had to watch out for Thomas as well.

  “We let you join us,” she said. “Isn’t that enough?”

  Nathaniel set his pack down between them. “His question deserves an answer. Time to tell us where we’re going.”

  A deep sigh. They always expected her to have answers, but she only pretended to be a leader, an act perfected when they were little. In what seemed like an instant, through the villainy of the vicars and a quirk of fate, she’d been drawn into this reckless venture so counter to her nature. She was a weaver, and weavers took no risks. The flax never failed, and her neighbors always needed cloth. Nathaniel was the brave one, charging into Temple City. On her own, she’d never have taken such a chance.

  With the sole of her boot, she brushed away leaves and smoothed the dirt into a circle, then found a stick to draw with. Her friends huddled behind.

  “Here’s Little Pond.” She made a mark on the ground. “Three days east is what we’ve been calling Temple City, the place so recently a kind host to us all. From what the old prisoner told Nathaniel, the Temple has set up a grid, north to south and east to west, with other Temple Cities, each responsible for everyone within a three day walk. From that we can conclude they’re located here, here and here.”

  She scratched the letters “TC” to the east, north and south of the first Temple City, and paused to be sure they followed.

  “The shopkeeper in Great Pond told me his wife travels to Adamsville twice a year to visit family. A five-day walk, he said, as the crow flies, but six to loop around the Ponds. We know the five ponds follow a crescent to the southeast.” She sketched in the ponds, starting at Little Pond and continuing southeastward. “I asked the shopkeeper if Adamsville is so far from Temple City that they never see a vicar. He said no, a vicar visits more frequently, because he comes from a different place just a day away. So Adamsville must be to the southeast and about a day northwest of the lower Temple City. That places it here.”

  She carved an “x” and checked to see if they were impressed. “One last thing. The main roads follow the grid.” She drew connecting lines between the Temple Cities. “I think we should avoid them.”

  Thomas contemplated his tired feet and wiggled his toes. “Are you sure we have to? That’ll make the trip harder.”

  Sure? She wasn’t sure of anything. Since the day the grand vicar had called her name, her life had spun out of control. Now she raced through the woods toward light knows where. Thomas and Nathaniel always expected her to have answers, but never before had the answers mattered so much.

  “I’m not sure of anything, Thomas. I only said I think we should.”

  She glanced from one to the other. This fa
r from Little Pond, she was starting to realize how rash this undertaking might be. They’d have to make a number of decisions with no clear answers, and with only an inkling of the power of the vicars. Against such power, the three of them might be more fools than seekers.

  Please think kindly of me, Nathaniel, and on this journey, forgive me the mistakes I’ll surely make.

  “Orah’s right,” Nathaniel said as if he’d read her mind. “We’ll avoid the main roads. We can follow a route to the southeast, using the sun for direction, and cut through the woods when necessary.”

  Orah nodded in gratitude, then erased the drawing with her boot so as to leave no trace behind.

  ***

  For the first couple of days, Orah found well-marked trails, but by the start of the third she was forced into the woods. She tried following gullies formed by rainfall, but they often led them astray, and so, afraid of wandering too far off course, she had them scrambling over downed trees and through thick brush. By nightfall, they had wasted much of the day traveling in the wrong direction.

  They camped at the closest they could find to a clearing. The next morning, she awoke stiff from the uneven ground and sore with scratches from the prior day’s trek. Moreover, when she shared her ailments with the others, she discovered they’d slept fitfully as well. The gravity of their undertaking had begun to sink in, and an overcast sky offered no consolation.

  They broke camp and trudged on. She did her best to keep to a straight line so they’d eventually emerge from the woods. Sure enough, after a few more hours of thick brush, the vegetation thinned and they caught a break in the trees. It had to be a road.

  As it came into view, she froze at the sound of gruff men cursing and laughing ahead. She signaled for her friends to drop to the ground, and peered through the underbrush.

  Deacons.

  She stayed low, clawing at dried leaves as if grasping for the soil beneath. The smell of decay filled her nostrils as she hugged the earth and tried to slow her heartbeat.

  My first mistake—underestimating the Temple of Light.

  Once the clamor had passed, she raised her head. “They’re searching for us.”

  “Not likely,” Nathaniel said. “They couldn’t possibly have expected me back so soon.”

  “We were fools, Nathaniel. They never trusted you and sent deacons to spy. Had we lingered a day longer, they’d have caught us in flight.”

  Thomas crouched on the ground, clutching his legs and rocking back and forth.

  Nathaniel rose to one knee and surveyed the road, then turned to Orah. “You were smart to stay off the main roads. From now on, we avoid all roads in daylight. From now on we think differently about everything.”

  Orah stood and brushed herself off. “We need to keep moving. Once we’ve made it three days past the nearest Temple City, I think we’ll be safe. The next city won’t know about us yet. Even the vicars can’t send word that far, that fast.”

  Thomas released his knees to let the blood flow back into his arms. “Are you sure this time, Orah?”

  “No, Thomas. I said I think we’ll be safe.” She looked at him with resignation. “We’ve left ‘sure’ behind.”

  ***

  They arrived at the outskirts of Adamsville on the seventh day, covered with the dust of the road. Orah felt more vagabond than seeker, with the way every passerby stared at her, but as the clay path turned to the gravel of the merchant district, her mood improved. People there seemed more accustomed to strangers, and scurried about lost in their own affairs.

  This town was less grand than Temple City but many times the size of Great Pond. Where the latter had one road with a few stores and an inn, several streets crisscrossed Adamsville, all teeming with commerce. Most of the buildings stood two stories high—unheard of in the Ponds—with a storefront below and a residence above, and unlike the wooden dwellings of Little Pond, those of Adamsville had been constructed of brick. Everything seemed tall and exceedingly solid.

  Orah startled to a new sound—boots crunching on the stony surface. From around a corner, she spotted four deacons parading abreast. Their spotless black uniforms gleamed, and the stars on their chests flashed in the sunlight. They paused at a post between buildings, and the tallest held a scroll taut to the wood while a second nailed it down.

  Once the deacons reformed and marched on, the three travelers reemerged.

  Thomas turned to flee, but Orah grabbed his arm and whispered, “Better to know your enemy.”

  She strode to the message on the post, and her lips moved silently as she read. The top of the paper bore the heading “Temple Bulletin” in bold lettering. The first part listed minor infractions committed by the locals—hair trimmed too long, improper dress and unsanctioned foods—but it was the second section that raised bumps on her skin.

  When finished, she signaled the others to follow as she ducked between buildings.

  Her worry spread to Thomas. “What did it say?”

  “It lists those they’re searching for... with names and descriptions.”

  “Are we on it?”

  “No, only vagrants and people traveling without permits. I told you they can’t send word that fast. Adamsville is controlled by a different Temple City.”

  “I wish you were more certain of that.”

  Orah whirled on him. “It’s not my fault you’re here.”

  Nathaniel wrapped a long arm around each of them and lowered his voice. “But we are here, and we shouldn’t linger in the open. Time to tell us. Where can we find the next keeper?”

  At least she knew this answer. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Not to me. I see no mountains here.”

  “They’re not mountains, Nathaniel. They’re spindles. The symbol of the three spindles is the sign of a yarn store. Our second keeper, if he exists, is a spinner.”

  Nathaniel stared out, seeming to reassess the symbol in his mind, and then stepped from the shadows. “In that case, let’s find this spinner and get off the road.”

  Chapter 16 – The Spinner

  Around the next corner, Orah spotted a brass symbol that matched the image on the scroll, hanging over the doorway of a two-story brick building. The shop’s open door beckoned, yet she hesitated to enter, plagued by a sudden wave of doubt. What if the chain had been broken? What if the keep itself had ceased to exist? What if both were the delusions of the old prisoner’s deranged mind?

  She searched for answers in the building. White curtains and a flower box marked the upper floor as lodging. The store on the ground level had a window large enough to display an impressive pyramid of yarn. Behind the glass, the shopkeeper stacked spindles on shelves above the counter.

  “What if he’s not the owner?” Nathaniel said. “We should be certain before we blurt out the pass phrase.”

  She shifted sideways to avoid the glare and peered inside. “Too proud to be a laborer, too old to be an apprentice. He looks like the shop owner, but I can’t be sure.”

  “You’ve dealt with spinners before. Why don’t you go in and pretend to bargain?”

  She considered a moment and nodded. After patting the dust from her clothing and checking her hair in the reflection of the window, she marched in with Nathaniel and Thomas trailing behind.

  Up close, the shopkeeper seemed older than he’d appeared through the window, and he moved with difficulty, using an unusual walking stick with a mallard’s head carved into its handle. His left leg hardly bent at the knee as he shuffled about with his back to them.

  Orah rapped on the counter.

  The man turned, took them in with a glance and raised a skeptical brow.

  “Excuse me, sir,” she said, trying to sound confident despite his reaction. “I’m a weaver from the Ponds and have come to find the best yarn available. I’m interested in seeing your wares.”

  The brow remained raised, but his eyes narrowed. “Young lady, are you looking or are you prepared to trade?”

  “I’m prepared to tra
de, but not yet. First, I want to compare your work with the others.”

  He smiled in a way that seemed neither patronizing nor unkind. “Then you won’t be back for some time, my dear, since my nearest competitor is a two-day walk from here. I’ll be happy to do business with you when you return. Now, I don’t mean to be impolite, but I have things to do.” With that, he resumed his work.

  Orah gathered her will, but a tremor crept into her voice, betraying her uncertainty. “The first born... says to tell you he is doing well, blessed be the true light.”

  As she held her breath, praying for the correct response, the man climbed a ladder behind the counter and placed two spindles on a high shelf. The clatter of them falling into place echoed throughout the shop. After a few seconds, she spun around and fled the store with Thomas and Nathaniel at her heels.

  “What do we do next?” Thomas whispered. “What if he’s not the one?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He’s all I can think of.”

  Nathaniel gathered them into a circle. “What if he’s hard of hearing? We should try again.”

  Orah turned to respond, and caught the shopkeeper eyeing them from the behind the curtain. She lifted her chin, rose to her full height, and strode back in.

  “Sir....” She tried to speak louder this time, but the words came out forced, as if mimicking an elder at festival. “The first born says to tell you he is doing well, blessed be the true light.”

  The old man’s hands began to shake. He grabbed her and drew her farther inside, with the others close behind. After checking that no one was watching, he pulled the shade down over the display window.

  Finally, he spoke. “May the true light shine brightly upon him and disperse the darkness.”

  Orah stood dumbstruck. They’d done it. They’d found the second keeper.

  “Why didn’t you answer the first time?” she said