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

  The trail soon leveled and travel eased. With the mild weather and a wind wafting from behind, Orah led at a brisk pace, the trio stopping only for meals and an occasional drink. Their progress convinced her they’d beat the time foretold in the rhyme.

  By the second day, curiosity rather than weariness slowed them down. Here, far from the world she knew, lay remnants of an older civilization—things foreign to her, which she tried her best to understand.

  Along a well-protected section of trail, a line of tall poles rose at hundred pace intervals, each with the girth of a tree trunk but unnaturally straight. A shiny gray coating suggested they were man-formed, if not man-made, and all appeared planted in place for no reason.

  Nathaniel rapped on one with his knuckles, and it made a hollow sound. “I wonder what these were supposed to be.”

  “Look,” Thomas said, pointing to their tops. “Some have lengths of black rope hanging from them.”

  He found a sample on the ground nearby, and wrapped one end around each hand and pulled. The cord proved lightweight and supple but extraordinarily strong. He took out his pocketknife and tried to cut through. The black skin peeled away, revealing a hard inner core with the same texture as the scrolls.

  From the top of the next pole, a hundred-foot stretch dangled intact. Thomas grabbed the nearest loop and yanked, but the other end stayed stubbornly attached.

  “Come help, Nathaniel.”

  “Just leave it.”

  “You can never tell when a sturdy rope might come in handy. You’re the strongest. Give a tug.”

  Nathaniel braced himself and pulled. The rope hardly budged.

  Thomas approached the pole and wrapped his arms around it, testing his grip. “I’ll climb up to release it.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Orah said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “If we’re caught, they’ll lock me in a teaching cell until I go mad, and you’re worried about a fall? Nathaniel, give me a lift.”

  Nathaniel cupped both hands and boosted Thomas ten feet up the pole. His nimble friend clambered up, clutching hand and footholds in the weathered surface, and reached the fastening in seconds. With two twists, the rope was free.

  Nathaniel coiled their find and offered to carry it, but Thomas insisted on bearing the prize himself.

  The next day, looking down the embankment, Orah noticed the remains of a covered bridge. The roof had collapsed, revealing a surface made of the mysterious black rock. Two reinforced tracks lay on top, too far apart for the wheels of a cart—another riddle from the mysterious past.

  After three days, the trail began to climb, tracking the river toward its mountain source. The slope rose so gradually she detected it not in her legs but as a chill in the air. Farther down, the tips of pine boughs displayed the bright green of new spring growth, but here the needles remained dark. Patches of old snow increasingly dotted the hillside, sheltered in gullies and beneath the shadows of trees.

  On the morning of the fourth day, the trail rose more quickly. For now, the river appeared accessible, but possibly for the last time. Orah jiggled her water skin. Only a couple of mouthfuls sloshed inside.

  She turned to Thomas. “Can you climb down to the river?”

  He eyed the embankment. “I can climb down, but maybe not back up, especially hauling skins full of water.”

  “What if we used your rope?”

  He grinned. “I knew you’d find a reason for bringing me along.”

  Orah had him tie the rope around his waist, and she and Nathaniel eased his descent. They then used it to lower the empty skins and pull up the full ones. At last, it served to secure Thomas. They braced themselves to support their friend, but he scrambled up like a goat, scarcely breathing hard. Orah never sensed tension on the line.

  ***

  Despite his misgivings, Thomas had to admit the venture was going well. They’d found all four keepers, and though he still fretted about the rhyme, he trusted Orah would solve the puzzle in the end. She always did. The deacon’s star would be far away by now, hopefully carried all the way to Nathaniel’s ocean. Best of all, he’d found small ways to help his friends.

  If only he could shake off the vision of three vicars, sitting at their high bench and spying on his every move.

  Near sunset of the fifth day, the rains came and the temperature dropped—a last gasp of winter. A wind from the west lifted droplets from the river and turned them to pellets of ice. The sleet stung his face as he huddled behind Nathaniel and did his best not to complain, but the footing became treacherous.

  He cried out over the winds, “We have to stop. We can’t go on.”

  “We can’t stop in the open,” Orah said. “Too risky.”

  He cupped his hands around his eyes and glanced beyond Nathaniel. “There’s an outcropping ahead. We can crouch beneath it, put blankets up and tie them down with the rope.”

  Orah wavered but then agreed.

  The three hurried to the overhang and removed their packs. Thomas uncoiled the rope while the others pulled out blankets. Within minutes, they’d built a makeshift shelter and huddled inside.

  Darkness settled in, and Thomas felt more than exposed on the ledge. The blankets flapped in the wind like walls closing in, and the air grew heavy, as if a millstone weighed on his chest.

  He forced himself to breathe, and pulled out the calendar stick to give his hands something to do. Careful not to cut anyone in the close quarters, he made a slash.

  “One, two, three, four, five. Only three days left to the falls.”

  Orah moaned. “Three more days this close to you and I’ll go crazy.”

  Nathaniel countered. “That’s assuming we survive the night.”

  As if in response, a gust of wind ripped loose their covering. They scrambled to grab the blankets and tie them down more securely. The blast of cold air combined with the exertion made breathing strained.

  Thomas lay still, catching his breath and listening to the creaking of the pines. Finally, he wondered aloud. “It’s as if the forces of darkness are conspiring to stop us.”

  “I don’t believe in the forces of darkness anymore,” Orah said. “That’s not what frightens me.”

  “Then what are you afraid of?”

  “That we’ll come all this way and fail. That the secret of the keepers will be lost. That we’ll never find the keep.”

  The thought hung in the air, competing with the wind to chill them. Thomas studied their profiles in the dark. Even Orah had doubts. Even Nathaniel had fears.

  When he spoke at last, the certainty in his voice surprised him. “Do you know what I believe? I believe in my friends. I believe we’re the true seekers and we’ll find the keep... or at least Orah will find it for us.”

  Orah said nothing, but leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  After a few minutes, the storm blew past. The wind calmed and the drumming on the blankets quieted.

  Orah eased into a smile. “We may survive the night after all.”

  Survive the night. Maybe Orah is right. What if the keepmasters possess magic stronger than the vicars? The keepmasters will keep us safe.

  Thomas peeked outside the blanket and made a small bow to his friends. “I never doubted it, but what happens when we find the keep? What do the keepmasters expect of us? When a seeker finds what he seeks, what does he become?”

  All fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.

  The next morning, the trees bore an icy glaze that made their boughs sparkle, and the rising sun melted the sleet on the trail. Orah had them collect water from the dripping branches, enough to last until the seventh day. They’d go thirsty after that.

  He licked his lips, recalling the thirst of his teaching. He hoped they’d reach the falls soon and find them—unlike the rock face—to be real.

  ***

  From high above the river, Orah spotted the lake that must have been its source, a vast body several times the size of Great Pond. Shortly, the
breeze bore a hopeful sound from ahead, growing louder as they approached—the whoosh of rushing water. She picked up her pace, determined to forego their normal rest.

  No one spoke as they focused on the sounds of their own hurried breathing, and on the unceasing roar of the falls.

  Around the next bend, her optimism faded. Tree limbs and debris lay scattered across the trail where the hillside had ripped away, likely during the recent storm. Of bigger concern, a boulder too broad and sheer to pass around had blocked most of the trail, leaving a scant foot’s width of path between it and the drop-off.

  The slope down appeared treacherous, and the cliff to their right too steep to climb. Behind them, they’d find no water for days, and their skins hung empty from their packs.

  Nathaniel prodded the rock. The boulder had lodged itself firmly in the path, far too heavy to move.

  He glanced at Orah, but she had no guidance to offer. Turning back meant the unthinkable, abandoning the search for the keep. They had only one choice—the way forward.

  Nathaniel insisted she go first as the slightest and least likely to disrupt the ground. She secured the rope around her waist, while he grasped the other end and braced.

  She patted his hand. “Don’t drop me, Nathaniel.”

  “I’ll do my best. We don’t want to lose our best seeker.” Once set, he nodded.

  Orah passed around the boulder, clutching its every knob, sliding her small feet painstakingly from side to side. After she cleared the rock, she threw the rope to Thomas, who did the same. Then both grabbed the end and waited for Nathaniel.

  He tossed the remaining rope across to their side.

  “What are you doing?” she cried.

  “If I fall, I’d only pull the two of you down with me. Better I cross alone.”

  He stood out of view, blocked by the boulder, so she shouted across to him, “If you fall, Nathaniel, you better die, because if not, I’m coming down to kill you.”

  As he started around, she closed her eyes and prayed to the light, knowing his feet were too big for the space and his heels would hang over the edge. A yelp from the far side made her jump. Pebbles skidded off the path and echoed as they tumbled to the valley below. She peeked around and caught Nathaniel balancing on one foot as he groped for cracks in the stone. The misstep had created a hole the size of her fist.

  “Stay with me, Nathaniel. Don’t look down.”

  He finally shifted around the hole. Then one step, two more, and he was across.

  She grabbed him as soon as he reached solid ground. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “I don’t plan to if I can—” An expression of wonder crossed his face as he glanced past her.

  “What now?” She could handle no more surprises.

  He began laughing. “Look behind you.”

  Less than a minute ahead, the first of the falls plummeted from the slope above all the way down to the lake below.

  Another obstacle? No, thank the light. The cascade shot out over the cliff face while the trail passed dry underneath.

  A few paces farther and she saw them all. This time at least, the rhyme was literal. Before her lay four falls in a line.

  Despite her disapproval, Thomas stuck his face out under the nearest torrent and emerged with his cheeks red.

  “The water’s freezing,” he said, “but delicious.”

  ***

  Orah suggested they camp between the falls. As the day ended, the wind stilled and the clouds evaporated. Soon, stars flickered into being one at a time, until they sparkled in clusters throughout the heavens. Behind the seekers, the thickly-treed slope had turned black, obscuring the ridgeline from the darkened sky. The mountains to the west had grayed, but a lingering glow radiated from their peaks. Shortly after, a full moon rose, fat and orange on the horizon, climbing until its beams shed a path of gilded glass across the lake below.

  Thomas pulled out his flute, but before playing, he checked with Orah. “Are we far enough from the vicars now?”

  She laughed. “I don’t think they could hear you even with their communication devices.”

  “Then with your permission, may I serenade my friends?”

  She glanced at Nathaniel and both nodded.

  Thomas began slowly, but with each passing note he poured more of his being into the instrument. He played a tune of sadness and hope. The song flowed into the air and hung over the valley, matching the light of the stars.

  That night, they slept to the sound of rushing water. One more day and they’d be done with the first verse, but Orah worried more about the second. Would it be literal like the falls or symbolic like the rock face?

  She gazed out over the river valley and silently mouthed the words:

  To the East, towering o’er the lake

  A cave made by men who must die

  Two doors to the mouth of the snake

  Inside, you must enter and fly

  Chapter 24 – The Iron Snake

  Orah started the next morning with a hearty breakfast. They had food enough for only two days, but one extra serving would make little difference, and they’d earned a decent meal. She doled out a double portion of meat and flatbread to her friends, but ate less herself, offering the remainder to Thomas. When they finished, they filled their water skins from the falls and set off.

  The day progressed without care except for the second verse, which she analyzed constantly. “The first part’s obvious. We’re looking for a man-made cave high up on the hillside to our right.”

  “So you told us,” Thomas said. “Five times.”

  “I’m trying to fathom the rest, the part about the snake and flying.”

  “Don’t worry so much,” Nathaniel said. “For six weeks, we’ve faced each step as it comes. Wait till we find the cave.”

  “I know, but I like to be prepared, especially when giant snakes are involved.”

  Then she’d recite the verse again.

  The trek to the falls had taken the predicted eight days. According to the rhyme, they should find the cave after one more day, so by late afternoon, she hardly flinched at the sight of a man-made tower looming ahead.

  “To the East, towering o’er the lake,” she announced. “Below is the lake and here is our tower.”

  The stone tower rose some sixty feet and, like so much of the old civilization, was crumbling with age. She scanned to its top and saw at once what lay there—a platform forming the entrance to a cave. She shifted her gaze, cupping a hand over her eyes to filter the glare, and studied the far side of the river valley.

  After a moment, she drew in a sharp breath and pointed. “Look there.”

  The others followed her gesture. To the west, hundreds of paces away, lay a mirror image of the tower and cave.

  Thomas scrunched his nose and rubbed the stubble of his scraggly beard. “What do you suppose that means?”

  She smiled her I-know-the-answer smile. “It means the old masters had few limits. The vicar of Bradford described an age of innovation and genius. We’re looking at one of their miracles.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “They must have built a road to cross the valley, suspended between the two towers. The tunnel cut through the mountain on the far side and reentered here.”

  Thomas gaped at one cave and then the other. “Impossible. A thousand men couldn’t build such a thing.”

  She patted his arm. “Before we’re done, Thomas, we may have to redefine impossible.”

  Once the friends got over their wonder, she turned her attention to the next challenge: how to scale the tower. She discovered iron rungs embedded in the back side of the stone, the lowest within Nathaniel’s grasp, but when he tried to pull himself up, the rusted metal broke apart in his hand.

  The two of them studied the problem, debating solutions, while Thomas circled the base.

  At last he spoke up. “I can climb it.”

  Orah stopped mid-sentence. “What did you say?”

&nbs
p; “I said I can climb it. The bricks on the outside may have crumbled, but they left holes to a solid core. The rungs have rusted, but the fasteners remain.” He scanned the length of the tower, and he nodded to himself. “I know every hole and fastener I’d use. Once at the top, I can secure one end of the rope and drop the rest down to help you two up.”

  Nathaniel eyed the tower and then Thomas, letting the idea sink in.

  Orah checked the angle of the sun. “All right, we’ll try it your way... but not now. Too dangerous so late in the day.”

  “But—”

  “I won’t start now, Thomas. We’re already tired, and if we have a problem, we’ll be solving it in the dark. Better first thing in the morning, especially with a giant snake at the top.”

  ***

  Early the next morning, Orah regarded the tower and pondered. Elders long gone and with extraordinary powers had laid out this path, but what if the seekers had taken too long to emerge?

  The tower offered a good example. Had the seekers come sooner, they could have used the ladder to climb up, but now success depended on the agility of a nimble seventeen-year-old.

  Thomas coiled the rope around his left shoulder, leaving his right arm free, and headed to the base.

  She followed uneasily.

  He grinned. “Move aside. You won’t be able to catch me if I fall, and you’ll only get hurt.”

  Her eyes widened. “Maybe we should find a safer way.”

  Thomas winked. “Stop worrying. This’ll be easy.”

  He jumped on Nathaniel’s shoulders and stood exactly as he’d done with a different tall boy years before at festival. After steadying, he scampered up, using the grooves in the stone and the fasteners of the ladder. In less than a minute, he reached the top.

  He waved to his friends, attached one end of the rope to a tree, and lowered the rest.

  That morning, Nathaniel had tied a series of knots in the rope. He now used these to ease his ascent. Though not as nimble as Thomas, he was stronger, and with the aid of the handgrips soon joined his friend.

  After he’d hauled up the packs, he signaled for Orah to follow.

  She gave a skeptical tug and started off, but with Nathaniel anchoring the rope, the climb turned out to be easier than expected. Still she breathed more easily when he locked hands with her and boosted her up to the platform.