Tokus Numas

by D. W. Rigsby

  At that moment, the bushes on the far end of the opening shook, and Petro swallowed hard. He steadied himself and then remembered to check his shotgun. There was something wrong with it—he fired, but the shot hit the boar’s stomach, not its head. He opened the gun, exposing the unused shots. He took one out and could see it was a different color around at the base—not green for the slug round they used but yellow. He examined it and could see clearly now. It was a yellow round coated with green, but it was the wrong round. The yellow round was meant for small game, and when fired, the metal balls spread out so it had a better chance of hitting its target. This would only serve to anger the beast that would soon emerge.

  He saw Kad glance back, giving him a strange look. Petro was not sure what to say. He stuffed the round into his pocket, took the second round out of the other barrel, and shoved that into his pocket. He pulled out two more rounds from his pouch and examined them quickly to be sure they were all green with no yellow showing, but all he found were the same ones, as though they’d been painted over. His hand was full of shells as he checked his pouch, digging deeper. Then, across the way, he heard the snorts and thrashing, and his eyes saw the same large beast as before come into the clearing. Petro dropped the shells, and the boar turned toward him. He backed away slowly, his hand still digging for more shells. He peeked over to Kad, who had his string drawn back and the arrow pointed at the beast’s broad side; then he fired. He’d seen this before; it was coming back to him. The arrow bolted through the air and sunk into the boar’s chest. The creature let out a howling cry and charged toward Petro. Its head was down, and its tusks were low and ready to slice him into pieces. Petro shook all over, dropping shells out of his hand. After quickly searching them, he found one—it was all green. He fumbled with the shell, trying to put it into the barrel, but it slipped and fell into the dirt below. He dropped the shotgun, pulled out his ironshot, and then the boar turned. It was headed toward Kad now, ripping up the ground with its tusks, spraying dirt all over the leaves, shoving everything around it. Kad pulled out his ironshot and fired. The round hit the skull and ricocheted. He fired again. Petro fired, too, but his weapon misfired. He pulled the trigger again, nothing. He tossed the ironshot, grabbed his shotgun, picked up the shell again, hoped it was the right one, slammed it into the gun, snapped the weapon shut, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The blast sent him backward, and as he fell to the ground, he saw the side wall of the great beast’s chest, just behind the leg, explode.

  The beast careened into the ground. Its face hit hard and fast, pushing dirt up into a mound as it slid to a halt just before it reached Kad. The young man examined the creature, never moving from his spot and keeping an arrow drawn on it. The creature’s eyes were wide open, and the life it once possessed was gone. Satisfied, Kad lowered his weapon, placed it on the ground, and took out his knife. “That was close,” he said with his head down and his eyes looking up at Petro. Taking the beast’s leg, he pulled it up, and he sank the hooked part of the blade into its lower neck, slicing the beast open from neck to groin. Its guts spilled out onto the ground with a thick, sweet smell. He reached in and pulled the guts out, raking the cavity clean.

  “We’ll need to quarter this one; it’s too big for the both of us to carry back. I’ll cut off the choice parts and leave the rest for the wolves.” Kad took his blade, and went to work on the beast, cutting off large chunks.

  A large part of the animal was slung next to Petro; he stirred from his thoughts.

  “You want to help? I can’t carry all of it. Wrap it good with the burlap sack, tie it off, and make a sling to go over the shoulder and around your chest,” said Kad.

  Petro nodded and went to work, taking the leg and hind quarter. He pulled out the burlap bag from his pack and wrapped it tight. After he fixed the sling, another piece of meat came flopping next to him. He looked up briefly and over to the woods, wondering if the man was still there, waiting to kill them. Was the man an assassin? What should he say to Kad? Petro nodded and went to work, but he kept looking over into the woods. After several pieces of meat were prepped, they readied themselves for the walk back to camp.

  “What’s going on in the woods over there?” Kad said.

  Petro thought to tell him, wanted to tell him, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to say it. What if he was wrong? Would Kad just think he was strange?

  “Nothing. Let’s just hurry up.” Petro looked out into the forest, and Kad followed his gaze.

  “Why did you drop them?”

  Petro looked to where Kad was looking—it was the shells on the ground.

  “Someone gave me the wrong shells,” Petro said.

  “Who do you suppose did that?” He glanced over at Petro.

  Petro could only give a shrug. Someone had tampered with them, but who? It was hard to say. And why was even harder to answer.

  “Well, let’s keep it to ourselves. No need to give away something useful just yet.” Kad lifted up his slab of meat. “Pick those up, and let’s get going.”

  Petro anxiously picked up the shells, pocketed them, and then lifted the sling up and over his shoulder all the while watching the forest.

  “All right, let’s get moving then,” Kad said, and they walked back toward the camp.

  ***

  The two of them stumbled into camp, carrying the heavy load, and placed it over a wooden peg on the side of the wagon. Vetus Sepher was there to meet them. “So, we’ll feast tonight. Good job, both of you,” he said, patting down the burlap sacks around the chunks of meat. “You two should get cleaned up. Wash your hands and get something to eat. It’s nearly midday, and the rest of them probably won’t be back anytime soon.” Vetus Sepher nodded to them. Kad and Petro began to leave. “Petro, a moment please.” Petro looked over at Kad and then back to Vetus Sepher.

  “Yes, Vetus?” Petro said. Kad left the area.

  Vetus Sepher came over next to Petro and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I wanted to ask you about that object again. Did anything come to mind?” They walked away from the wagon toward the far side of the camp, away from Kad.

  “No, nothing came to mind,” Petro said, though he was wondering about saying something to Vetus Sepher about what had happened to him.

  “I can see something has changed in you Petro,” Vetus Sepher said, taking a seat on a log. He tapped the log. Petro sat next to him. “I remember when I was young and had finished my first year. I had killed a boar, large, not like the one you two found. What you found was a monster of a beast. I’ve never seen one this large. You should be proud.” He looked over toward the wagon. Petro followed his gaze. “It must have been one massive beast from the looks of the legs you’ve brought back.”

  Petro was dealing with something else. He’d seen into the future, saw what would come, and he looked farther into the future than ever before. Why? So much had passed through his mind while he was out there in the forest, but how? What did he do to trigger it? It didn’t feel random, like other times—this had meaning, a purpose. Had he seen the future in order to change it? Was he meant to stop an attack against Dugual? Was there no other explanation for it?

  Vetus Sepher pulled a piece of grass from the ground, ran it between his lips, and then chewed on it. “Tell me, what are you doing with the dirt? Packing it into your wound? Does it help?”

  Petro was startled, and he looked at Vetus Sepher with wide eyes. Before he could say that he didn’t know what he meant, Vetus Sepher took the blade of grass, grabbed Petro’s hand, and ran the thin edge across his finger. It sliced easily but not too deeply, but it did draw the red of life. Petro tried to jerk his hand away, but Vetus Sepher held it tight, dropping the grass and then taking a piece of dirt from the ground and rubbing it into Petro’s hand. It burned. Petro winced, and Vetus Sepher let go.

  “Why’d you do that?” Petro looked at him with accusation.

  Vetus Sepher looked at the hand, watching it intently. He picked a new piece of grass and chewed on the
blade. The cut on Petro’s finger began to crust over, and the bleeding stopped. “Hmm…” He looked at Petro.

  There was nothing to say. He knew Vetus Sepher knew, but how? He let out a sigh and rubbed his finger on the side of his leg, knocking off the excess dirt. “How’d you know? It’s not possible for you to know.”

  Vetus Sepher gave a smirk. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

  Petro was bewildered. His head spun, and it wasn’t making sense. If Vetus Sepher knew what had happened, then it must be real, and it wasn’t him seeing the future; he had lived it. If he lived it, then what just happened? He watched Vetus Sepher get up.

  Vetus Sepher looked down. “Ever predict anything just before it happened?”

  Petro nodded, his mouth open.

  “Ever hear someone say something twice, but they didn’t know it?”

  Again Petro nodded. He seemed almost out of it; his eyes were blank, his breathing slowed.

  “Do you remember the man out in the woods, the one who tried to kill you?”

  Petro’s heart sped up—none of this made any sense. How did Vetus Sepher know all these things?

  “You have a lot to learn, Petro. Things are not what they seem.” Vetus Sepher stood. “Oh, the question about the object. It’s nothing; just a ruse we use to get you thinking of one thing while we see what else is going on. I didn’t expect this.”

  Petro sat there, looking at his hand, which looked as though it had nearly healed. There was a connection between him and Spearca. The ring of fire in the sky, how the light touched him. The voice that told him to “come and find me.” It all meant something, but it still did not explain how Vetus Sepher was there, and if he was there, how they had both experienced it together. Slowly it started to come to him—the reasoning behind it, but how? Did they have a shared precognition?

  He turned to Vetus Sepher. “Have you ever seen the future? Is that how we were able to see the same thing? We shared sight of the future together?” Petro felt truly dumb for even suggesting it.

  “Petro, it’s good to ask questions. There is much to learn here. I was there, and I did see you in the dirt. You were there, too. Was it the two of us sharing a view of what might happen in the future? It’s a fair conclusion, but I’ve never seen the future.” Vetus Sepher moved over to a log and sat down.

  “Then what is it? How is it possible for the two of us to have experienced the same thing? I mean, I should be writhing in pain right now, lying out there on the forest floor, waiting for my brothers to come help me. Waiting for that man to show up. But I’m not; I’m here. I’m here, and you’re here. And it’s because I changed the future. I did it. I’ve done it before, but not like this—this is different. This was not like the other times—nothing makes sense anymore. Was I meant to stop the attack on Dugual?” Petro clenched his fists tight.

  Vetus Sepher sat down, his elbows resting on his knees. “Petro, there is no easy way to explain what is happening. Your place in this world, well…” He exhaled. “It’s too much for a young man such as yourself, but there is no easy way here. There is a prophecy, you’ve learned, and…well, you are part of it. At least it looks that way. We have been watching you, to see if there were signs, and…” He sat back. “We never expected this. I can’t even explain to you why you were able to do what you did. I can, however, tell you how I can do it.”

  Petro’s eyes zeroed in on Vetus Sepher.

  “What I am to tell you cannot go beyond the two of us. I must have your trust in this,” Vetus Sepher said.

  Petro nodded.

  “Good. We call it time shifting. Spearca is experiencing changes in time, but it affects everything and everyone. It’s when the world jumps backward, and everything and everybody jumps with her.” Petro was about to speak, but then Vetus Sepher raised his hand to quiet him. “Hold your thought. Certain Numas—not all—have been entrusted with wearing a device that allows us to experience the time jump. Think of it this way: we all experience time at the moment it occurs but when a shift happens we are all carried along the time jump, and our minds and actions are reset. This device”—he showed Petro his belt buckle—“allows me and others who have it to remember what happened. We all go through the experience, just like everyone else, but we don’t forget. But you don’t need this device, and that’s what makes you different.”

  Petro leaned on his thoughts, turning inward. He could see what Vetus Sepher meant. “So what I’ve experienced was not seeing the future. It was going back in time through this time shift. Do the Numas control when a time shift happens?”

  Vetus Sepher sat up straight. “No, we don’t. It’s random—happens when it happens. There’s no known pattern we can discern.”

  “There is a pattern—at least, I think there is. If I am the one to fulfill the prophecy of the Coming, then maybe when I’m in mortal danger, Spearca shifts time. I just thought of that,” Petro said. And when he said it, he knew he could use this to his advantage, to put a stop to the Father’s schemes against Dugual.

  “It’s possible, but from what we’ve witnessed, it’s random.”

  “It is random, most of the time,” Petro blurted out. “But we both know I should have died. We both know I’m alive for a reason. That cannot be random. That cannot be coincidence.”

  Vetus Sepher nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean. We know there is a purpose for the time shifts, and we believe there will be a great upheaval on Spearca when all we know changes.”

  Petro leaned forward. “How do you know?”

  Vetus Sepher let out his breath. “We don’t actually know. What we do know is that time shifts are happening. Petro, tell me, what did you do to change the outcome with the boar?”

  The air passed through the tree limbs above, and the songbirds played their sweet music in the trees.

  Petro swallowed hard. “Someone tampered with my shotgun shells. I found yellow shells painted over with green, to make them look like slugs.”

  The moment was thick between them, Vetus Sepher was silent, and Petro looked off into the woods around them.

  “We will need to look into this, and we’ll need to send out scouts to Dugual. If any scouts spot danger coming, we can at least notify King Amerstall of it,” Vetus Sepher said. “Much has happened, and there is much more to come, Petro. Do you understand?”

  Petro knew deep down that everything had changed—his entire life had changed. Nothing was what it seemed. And yes, he did understand what Vetus Sepher meant. “I’m ready.” He reached out with his hand. Vetus Sepher took it.

  “Good. There is much to do yet—several more years to prepare you for what is to come. And do we know what is to come? No, we don’t, and that is why we prepare and must be ready; you must be ready. God has chosen you, Petro.” Vetus Sepher held up his hands, and Petro followed along as they chanted:

  “All be the same, night or day…”

  “For You who are with us, be still and listen to our brothers speak. They come to us from the grave and spread their wisdom…”

  “And for our brothers we are forever grateful…”

  “And hear us, O Lord, for we live in You, as You live in us. We are Your vessels, and You are our will…”

  “And as we are in You and You are in us, our lives are eternal.”

  The witch came, and though I did not want her aid, it was worth immeasurably more than my own pride. I need time: time for what I must do, time to find a way to extend my life and stave off what plagues my body, time to find the hidden truth the Numas hide from us all, time to see a new generation of my family line, and to see them war, to see them well, to see them rule.

  —From The Journal of the Father, King of Tallud, by the Father

  A splash, and water enveloped the Father’s body; he held his breath and swam under the surface of his garden pool. He kicked like a frog, powering himself from one side to the other, taking his time, letting tiny bubbles of air trickle up until they broke the water’s plane. He reached the other side of
the pool, turned his body, and kicked off the wall, kicking as he went along; more bubbles trailed behind him. He stopped in the center of the pool and looked up into the stars high above.

  “I must wait. I must not give into my impulses, for if I do, all will surely be lost. Time is what I need, and I have that now.”

  He dove back under the water and swam along with such grace, gliding as if he were born to it. When he reached the other side, he come up out of the water, facing the wall, and lifted himself out. A servant rushed to his side, wrapped his waist with a towel, and then draped him with a robe.

  He walked to the gazebo, upright, dignified, self-aware. “I will find a way to extend my life. I will live on, perhaps not in this body but in another. There are ways, my scientists have boasted, and they know me well. I reward those who provide results, and if their boasts are nothing but lies, then they shall be rewarded with the same.”

  The Father plucked a grape from its bowl and bit down on it. The sweet flavor ran over his tongue and down his throat.

  Maybe he could not live for eternity—he knew the current advances in technology would not allow it. But for another quarter of a life, perhaps a half of life, or double a life…There were possibilities. He only needed to extend his life perhaps one tenth of his age now to fulfill his legacy, and then it would be done. Spearca would forever be ruled by his line, and his line alone.

  Author’s Note:

  Here we are, and I am thrilled that you’ve read Tokus Numas. I’ve put in countless hours to bring this story to life, and there is a tremendous amount of content that never made it into this first book. I hope you find the time to leave a review. Your reviews mean a lot to me, and constructive feedback is always welcomed. I’ve been at this writing game for nine years now, in my spare time, and I’ve not published much to date. This is because I want to create high-quality stories, and I want to ensure that the reader enjoys what I’ve placed on the page. I know that at times it can be a challenge to read a book—to go into a world you know nothing about, hoping the author can give you something for your time. My goal is to be able to provide a story worthy of your time. Please visit Amazon.com and GoodReads.com, and find my book. I’d like to hear from you.