by Dan O'Brien
Book of Seth: Exiled
Dan O’Brien
© 2015 Dan O’Brien
“Not much was known about the world before its breaking, but myth surrounded the coming of the darkness. Some believed that sprawling civilizations bathed in light and opulence had been crushed by darkness. Others believed that the shadow remained.”
–Unknown
The world was littered with the corpses and decaying flesh of fallen men. Their skulls were gaped and drawn from years of nuclear winter. The clothes still attached to their bodies were brittle and worn. Pieces of the fabric flickered in the wind and followed the pockets of wind higher into the frozen peaks surrounding this dead place.
My feet moved over the dusty earth.
I kicked the powdery snow and watched as the lifeless buildings around me took shape.
Shadows howled and screamed.
They were the voices of my tribe past and present.
They were a mockery of flesh and reality.
Their meaning was coarse and volatile, accusatory.
“Life is gone. Humanity has gone from this place. Only the Fallen dare to come. Only they possess the boldness necessary to defy the decree of the tribes,” called out a voice.
I turned to find the voice, but all I found was the same unmoving landscape as before. My panicked breaths came out in billowing clouds.
“Are you a defiler? Do you dare to search for the Shaman, to awaken the Believer and flood the world with humanity once again?” The voice mocked me. It was not familiar––the raspy, overbearing tone of an older man. The voice knew the necessity of a forceful tone; a commanding presence.
“The Believer is not a myth. It is a path of the Truth, a road to understanding.” The voice had changed to that of a little girl. She giggled with each syllable.
“To find the Believer is a life’s endeavor––and to find the Shaman is another. But to believe, to want to herald the new humanity, can take an eternity. Are you strong enough to show the child its way? To take away its childhood like so many others.” The voice morphed again. This time it emerged as a fatherly tone: reassuring and understanding, yet still accusatory.
“The Believer,” I whispered. My voice was trapped in the confines of my mind.
Night had fallen and the ashen skies revealed nothing.
“Yes, the Believer: the child who bears the powers of humanity––the power of the soul, the power of the mind. To harness such strength would mean the restoration of your kind, of humanity.”
The buildings disappeared and were replaced by the tranquil scene of ages ago. The green plains and cascading mountains seemed so surreal; white peaks stood out upon the horizon. The air was still cold and my lungs hurt from the transition. The buildings had regressed in age, their silvery luster and magnificence having been restored through a power unbeknownst to me.
The childish voice returned. “Your world was once like this, pristine and glamorous. Your efforts seemingly directed toward complementing your environment, becoming in tune with nature.” Her juvenile tones rebounded off the modern office buildings and empty street corners that stretched out as far as I could see.
The fatherly tone seemed to move about him, as if he were a school teacher lecturing in an assembly hall. “You destroyed what you see. Your weapons, your anger, your ignorance made this world the frozen wasteland within which you now struggle to survive. Do you wish to risk this precious image again? To soil another perfect visage?” His grand tones made sure to reach every corner of understating and thought.
“We cannot defeat them, not with a hundred Believers could we defeat the dark armies of the Umordoc. Their eyes sear through flesh and their weapons strike like lightning. We could never defeat a power so great,” I replied in defeat.
I had no one to focus my anger upon, so my chin fell against my chest. The lack of my wraps became apparent only now that I looked down. I was clothed in a dark fabric that was separated into two pieces; and upon my feet were shiny black covering with laces of some sort.
“The Umordoc are beasts, foot soldiers of something more sinister. The Intelligence controls their every movement, directs them to a purpose that we are unaware of.”
“Who are you? Why have I been brought here?” I queried.
“We are the Three. I am Talmar, the ward of wisdom and understanding,” boomed the older of the three voices.
“I am called Meinen, the ward of compassion and dreams,” called the childish voice.
“I am Culouth, the ward of despair and defeat. I am the darkest of the Three, the guide that no one chooses. None of us are choices. Instead, we come to those who need it. Our voices are something that remains of the human race. We are meant to serve as a guide for the Believer, to restore us.”
“So then am I the Believer?” My voice seemed so insignificant compared to these ethereal beings. I could smell here; the frozen plains had for so long robbed me of my sense of smell. The ability to associate experiences and moments of my life were so vital. Here, everything became more real to me, more alive. Wasn’t this place was supposed to be a nether place, a place of nothing?
“No, you are a leader, a guider. Yours is a life of choices; among your kind is the Believer. To make them understand, they must experience loss––a loss of such magnitude that it unlocks the dormant energy that will save humanity.” The fatherly voice was softer now, not nearly as assaulting as it had been. Although, it seemed to have bitterness laced within it.
“Why have you brought me here? Am I a spectacle? A laughable example of the helpless human race?” My anger was now transparent. My voice flooded with emotion and vengeance: a feeling of pure, unadulterated anger directed at these three omniscient voices.
“You were brought here because you are charged,” spoke the childish laughter. Her voice was as kind and peaceful as if could be, yet the feeling of resentment lingered.
I could feel it as if it were form.
“Charged?” I questioned quietly.
“Yes, you are to awaken the Believer. Its path is yours to unlock and unless you can do so, then your world will forever be a wasteland of misery and forgotten memories.”
“It is no easy task that we lay before you. You have many miles to go before you see your home; and before then, you may lose hope or even watch as the world you know crumbles. Beware the southern shores. They hold the secrets to unlocking the Believer’s powers. The currents there have spawned strange things. Even the mighty Shaman knows better than to navigate the misty, frozen oceans.”
The voices had ceased to have differences. Their thoughts and outbursts ran together as one voice.
They were one being passing on information that was more riddle than fact.
“I cannot do such a thing. I am not strong enough,” I protested.
“We respectfully disagree. We have searched for millennia for the Believer and its guider. We have found them. There is no one else. You possess more strength than you know. You are willing to carry burdens that are not your own. You are a survivor.”
The mixture of the voices was perverse: the girlish laughter distorted the booming wisdom of the grandfatherly voice. The final voice seemed to possess no tone, only words.
“No, I cannot,” I reiterated.
The world began to fade around me; the shimmering visage of the buildings and rolling hills dissipated into nothingness.
The cold, frozen terrain of the world I knew seemed to rush toward me form the horizon.
“Go now. You are needed. We shall speak again, when the time is necessary.”
The frozen world returned. The bitter bite of the wintry gales assaulted my face
and I looked around in panic. The folds of my wraps were snug against my crouched body. The cave in which I slept was empty, although I could hear the scrapping footfalls that were no doubt a man.
I stood, using my arms to support my weight, and grasped the slender blade at my side. Its tip was lathered in a synthetic poison that the village alchemists had conjured. The handle was of coarse construction. The grips were strong and ridged. The curve of the blade was made to open the wound as much as possible to bleed the target. I gripped it tightly, not wanting some random pitfall to knock the priceless tool from my grasp.
I rounded the corner and the shadows were more pronounced now. They were neither detailed nor serpentine.
I turned the planedge so that the tip was facing the frozen earth and the hilt was facing upward, a stabbing posture.
The shadow was stationed at the mouth of the cave.
I slid along the freezing wall. My wraps absorbed the paralyzing cold that assaulted my body.
I could hear the voices now, their tones low and whispered.
I immediately recognized the wonder-filled inflection that belonged to Ryan.
“I wonder where he is. He should have been back by now,” my brother mused.
His boyish charm was hidden beneath his mask, which covered the majority of his features. Reflective goggles covered his eyes, the lenses brazen and dirty.
The woman to the right of him shrugged unknowingly.
She was familiar. Had she been with us the entire time?
“I’m sure he’s fine, Ryan. He’s your brother and our leader. Three wolves wouldn’t take him so easily,” replied the girl. She held her hands over her eyes to shield away the ice that blew in the mountain winds.
“I know that, Summer. I’m just worried. He’s not the kind to linger or lose his way.”
I emerged from the shadow. I tucked my planedge neatly beneath my coat again and I made sure to duck my head as the winds assaulted me. “I am here, Ryan. There is no need to worry.” My voice sounded more haggard than it had ever felt from battle. The disturbing dreams had drained my strength and left me a little worse for wear.
“Thank the Believer. I thought something had happened. Did those things get away?” My brother moved in close; the sparkle in his eyes registered as concern.
“They were the beasts that Frederick had raved about earlier on the trip,” I replied, my hands enjoying the warmth of my coat pockets.
The girl coughed lightly and looked off into the distance, her posture that of uncertainty. “We’re close now.”
“What?” I muttered. I turned away from my brother and focused on the smaller frame of Summer.
“The cliffs end here and then we hit open plains again a few kilometers to the south of here,” she replied distantly.
Ryan moved close and wrapped his arms around her––an act I had never witnessed him doing.
She laid her head against his shoulder, finding comfort in the act.
“How did you know that?” She seemed embarrassed by my inquisition, so I spoke again quickly to ease her apprehension. “You are correct, of course. I was under the impression that you were found in the ruins outside of the northern camp. I did not know that you were familiar with the charts this far south.”
Ryan looked at me, his irritation evident in his eyes. “She’s…”
“She is what?” I interrupted. I could feel that I was pushing too hard now, but it was necessary.
“It’s true: I was found, but not in the way that you understand. I have no memories, only images of a past that I do not know if I experienced or not. I’m not even sure if I am who I believe I am.” Her words were slow and pronounced. The glossiness of what little I could see of her eyes sufficed to say that she was upset by her situation.
“Are you a demi?” I asked. The word escaped my lips before I could stop myself. Demi were creations of the Umordoc sent out into the wilderness to infiltrate the remnants of the tribes. There had been one in our tribe when we had originally rooted farther south, where the cold was not quite so severe. They were synthesized and grafted to resemble humans; although, they possessed a neural network that could be used as a remote explosive device. The tribe of the Mythun had been wiped out by such a being. The demi had wandered farther south into our camp claiming to be a survivor, but my father had sensed the lack of humanity.
“By the Fallen, Seth, why would you say such a thing?” questioned my brother with fire in his eyes.
I had never seen my brother act so foolishly. “Because I have to. You know that one of them wiped out the Mythun and nearly destroyed us as well. It is a risk that I must take––and an avenue that should have already been investigated.”
I felt no anger toward my brother. It was merely that he allowed himself to be swayed so quickly, allowing the primal instincts of old to drive his thoughts. The necessity of survival had taken the passenger seat for a moment.
“I did not think to. I’m sorry,” stammered my brother. His grip upon Summer failed for a moment, and then released completely when he met my gaze.
I moved toward her and she looked at me. Her eyes were captivating beneath the slits that revealed her pupils.
“I am sorry to accuse you, Summer. It is not our intention to alienate any member of the human race, but you must understand our need to conduct such tests,” I implored.
Her eyes conveyed an understanding that I had not expected. She nodded her head, the gales blowing the loose ends of her face-wrap in contorted patterns. “I understand and I will concede to whatever tests need to be run to prove my humanity. I even doubt what I am, so I understand your unwillingness to believe. It’s more than understandable.”
Her eyes never left my brother. His slumped posture seemed to bring the glossiness back to her eyes.
The Fallen cultivated anonymity: Identical mundane wraps: the faded white and grays meant to melt into the environment. We could never see the intricacies that made us human. To never witness the little things that separated us from primates, except when we were in deep hibernation within the earth, was difficult for the youngest of us. The caverns of the Fallen were warm enough to sustain removing the outermost wraps and live modestly, while still maintaining our individuality. Out on the tundra, we were unable to see one another––especially those of us who were charged with collecting resources far out into the unknown. My brother and I had not been home for many moons, so long that he had forgotten what many of our tribesman looked like. We were a divided and unfocused group of primates. There was a great scientist many ages ago who was revered as a genius among geniuses and he spoke of a time when we would revert back to our primal state––fighting for survival because of our ignorance.
That time had come and gone.
“Seth, listen to me. She can’t be a demi. I swear that she cannot. Our father felt the other one and the same blood flows through my veins. I feel that she’s good,” pleaded Ryan. The urgency in his voice was unbecoming of him.
“I know that you feel something here…” I began.
“No, there’s no way that you could. I feel this with my heart, with my soul,” snapped Ryan. He moved forward and challenged me.
“Ryan, you are acting irrationally. We have a greater purpose than whatever you are feeling here. We have to get these people to safety. The resources must be brought to the Fallen. You know this is the most important thing.”
Ryan lowered his head again and shook it angrily. “More important than love?”
Summer’s eyes were pooled with tears now. Her face was hidden beneath the mask, but her feelings were expressed fully in her eyes.
“Ryan….” I was dumbstruck.
I had not expected those words. Love was rarely found, but instead grown after years of companionship and a need to survive. This was something that could tear down the principles that bound the Fallen. To hold something more dearly than survival was blasphemy in the court of the Fallen; an untruth was what the elders would have deemed it.
/> “I don’t care about the damn creeds and laws of the Fallen. I feel something here that’s pure and strong.”
I smacked him then.
The full force of my blow knocked him off balance and he sat down in the drifts of the snow.
His mask slid from his face and his delicate features were exposed to the frozen gales.
His eyes were wild and awestruck. “You hit me? I can’t believe you hit me.”
“I had to. You are speaking like an insane fool. Whatever you feel now must be stifled. We have to make sure what we came all this way for is done. Even in your manic state, you must understand the necessity for this?”
The group had gathered around us during the argument. I could see their bewildered faces watching the tense scene.
I turned to them and motioned with my hands for them to be calm. “We must be on our way soon. The gales are increasing and we have only a short distance to go before we can drop off these cliffs and make our way back along the plains.”
“What about the beasts atop the mountains?” Frederick asked worriedly.
“They have been dealt with, Frederick. There is no cause for alarm. We are within moons of the Fallen and it would be best if we made haste.” I turned and grabbed the pack in the snow near Summer––the extra pack she had carried while I battled the hybrids. Strapping it across my back, I started walking forward. I didn’t bother to turn back and see if they understood; instead, I pushed on through the gales, knowing that what time we wasted here would cost us dearly.
THE OPEN ICE PLAINS were called the Barren Maiden by our people. Our father had spoken to us of the day when the ice would melt away––when we could live among the lands and not be trapped deep within the dank caverns of the earth. It would be a time when we would not cower from the echoing thunder of the scout ships that hovered above. We would not have to hide like vermin as they passed overhead, burying ourselves deep in the ice to evade their thermal scanners.
My feet moved without thought or direction. The thin, metallic spikes on the bottom of my boots gripped the ice as I continued on across the sea of blinding white snowdrifts. My brother and I had not spoken a word since the incident atop the cliffs. He and Summer had remained at the back of our progression. They volunteered, but I knew that he was still angry with me. His feelings were hurt from my callous train of thought. I knew what had to be done and I did it. I would not waver in my duties, for my duties were the survival of our people.