The False Martyr

by H. Nathan Wilcox

  Yet, he saw still the possibility that the Lawbreakers could return, could reestablish their power over the world, so he put protections in place to keep them away. He wrote his great book so that future generations could understand the Order and how to manipulate it. He tasked a quintet of his most accomplished apprentices – the Five, the Hand, the Pentagram – with maintaining the patterns he had created and placed his most dedicated commander at the head of the great Empire he had created, giving him ultimate authority to ensure the dictates of the five were followed.

  Over and over, Lius had read Valatarian’s great book. A majority of it followed the versions he had studied his entire life. Many of the phrases, the laws, the warnings, the overall history – the arc of the savior’s achievements, the battle against the Lawbreakers, the Exile – were the same. These sections were clearly written for the commoners, for those who needed only to obey, to align their lives to the Order, and maintain the patterns set by their savior. Those people needed a guide as well, a moral underpinning for their leaders’ insistence that they subvert the freewill that their creators had given them. So these sections had been removed from the original text, simplified, massaged, and repackaged into what Lius had always thought of as The Book of Valatarian.

  But that book in all its forms, dating back to original texts to the newer version propagated since the Reinterpretation, lacked the truth of what their savior had done to defeat the Lawbreakers. They withheld the fact that the Order was a thing that could be seen and understood, was a thing that could be manipulated and controlled, that it was not an all-powerful force created by Hileil, but rather a machine that had been built and maintained by a small set of men, that it was them rather than a distant god to which they were aligning themselves. But far more frightening than even that revelation were the things that their savior had done to create the Tapestry that they followed, the sacrifices he made, the blood he and his followers spilled to ensure that their patterns held.

  Just as you did that night two weeks ago, Lius reminded himself.

  No victory was ever achieved without sacrifice, Valatarian said. For months I fought this. How could I sentence thousands to their deaths? How could I make the decisions that would send them to their graves? There must be another way, I told myself. But I eat the lizards and scorpions. I manipulate the Tapestry to bring them to me. I kill them to maintain myself. Their sacrifice allows me to live, just as the sacrifices of cows and chickens and pigs allow all those people to live. The Order is sacrifice. Every creature is sacrificed to the survival of every other. Death is as much a part of the Order as birth. Only by embracing death, by acknowledging and accepting it, could I create the patterns that would save humanity as a whole.

  The passage strengthened Lius resolve. He had found and memorized it only after that night, but he came back to it often now, used it to remind himself what was at stake. He had read enough of the Tapestry now to know that he was not engaged in a battle for the heart of the Empire but rather for the continued existence of the Order. When he had received Valatarian’s book, Xi Valati Maciam had told him that he was the last of the Weavers, that it was up to him to lay a foundation and wait for the one that would restore their power. Lius now knew that the foundation was one of study, of patterns, of outcomes planned, protected, and executed to ensure that the powers that had invaded their world would be defeated. And if he failed to do his part the Order would fall. No matter how terrible, any sacrifice was justified.

  Again, Lius tried to read those patterns. He sat with legs tucked beneath him, hands on his knees, back straight, eyes closed, body relaxed, breathes slow and steady. Yet as calm as his body was, his mind stretched and strained, struggled to find the patterns, to understand what they meant, and what was needed to maintain them. He had been doing this with almost his every waking moment for the past two weeks, but he only felt that he understood the Tapestry slightly better than he had before all this began. What he could understand was that great effort had been put into creating the patterns he saw. He could see where the possibilities had been manipulated, where the strings had been twisted to create new patterns that were often as counter to the Order as the chaotic forces they sought to defeat. These patterns had been created over centuries, maintained, manipulated, redirected through great effort. And they had a purpose, they pointed toward something, someone, to a great culmination that Lius could not hope to understand if he studied it for a lifetime.

  What he could see was that he, this camp, Jaret, were all small parts of those patterns. They had their own purpose, but that intersected with others, influencing their outcomes, supporting them as they built toward this great finale. And it was with those patterns that Lius concerned himself. He knew his limitation, knew the range of his vision. It was enough that he understand the strands around him, how they fed into and supported the larger patterns that he had no hope of comprehending.

  He traced another strand now, confirmed that it was time for it to play its part. But that part was not in the pattern that Jaret was building. It was to link them to the larger, more significant pattern, to find the lynchpin to all of this and bring their patterns together. What happened then, Lius could not tell, but he knew that he had to put the pieces into motion. And now was the time.

  Opening his eyes, Lius came back to his body and took a deep breath. He allowed himself a moment to adjust to the light that filled his eyes, the sweat that covered his body, the ache in his knees, and tingling in his feet. Then slowly, he rose and tried to walk. He had to find Quinn, needed to send the young man on his way.

  THE END of BOOK TWO

  Author’s Note: Thank you for reading The False Martyr. I hope that you enjoyed it (if not, how did you possibly make it this far?). I am not writing for money or glory but would greatly appreciate it if you would share your thoughts about this book with a review on whatever site you downloaded it from (and please, keep in mind that I’m doing this for free: no editors were paid, no publishers were consulted, no outside consultations took place). Please, also spread the word. Tell your friends, family, colleagues, and anyone else who will listen about these books. The more people that read them, the more enthusiastic I am to keep it going.

  About the Author: The False Martyr is Nathan's second novel. It is the sequel to From Across the Clouded Range and is the second book in the epic fantasy series, The Pattern’s Purpose. A former management consultant and now full-time homemaker, he has been writing fantasy novels and stories for twenty years. Beyond his lifelong love of fantasy literature, Nathan is a runner, backpacker, outdoor enthusiast, and former triathlete. A graduate of Carleton College, he lives with his family in Greenwood Village, Colorado.

  For more information about H. Nathan Wilcox and The Pattern’s Purpose Books, please visit http://www.hnathanwilcox.com/.