Book of Seth: Judgment: A Fallen Chronicles Book

by Dan O'Brien

  Book of Seth: Judgment

  Dan O’Brien

  ©2015 Dan O’Brien

  “Each man is chosen a path at birth, given a pre-determined destination. When the child understands his place, he can choose to take that path. Choice separates us. Just because something has been chosen for you, doesn’t mean you have to accept it.”

  –Writings of the Believer

  Our chief was a brazen man named Higald––his strength unmatched among our tribe. A shock of white hair flowed down his back, restrained by a thick black band that kept it from splashing over his broad features. His pale blue eyes were pure spheres of a gentle sea. His smooth face was youthful; in reality, he was a full cycle of moons my senior. Powerful arms of coiled muscle crossed his chest as he waited patiently for the congregation to quiet down. He raised one of his scarred, bleached hands and motioned for silence. “Praise be to the Believer. If I may please have your attention.” The mixed mutterings stopped and all eyes focused on Higald and the three councilmen and councilwomen to each side: the Council of Seven. “The scout team has returned. They have brought with them a piece of our history.”

  I moved forward through the masses, trying to get along the wall if I could. The entire village had gathered for this meeting––the better part of several hundred people. The exact amount had more than likely had dwindled since I was last here. The three women to Higald’s right were of the same build and facial type: the three sorceresses of the Fallen. Their long black hair and gray eyes were an oddity among the village. Their place had been chosen long before their birth. They predicted the coming of seasons, the change of the winds, and the births of our tribe. They were mystics among our people and wore the ceremonial wraps of the Council. The red color was a luxury when dyes and extravagant colors were almost nonexistent. Mostly, the garb was handed down from generation to generation, the gift staying within the family. Mirana, Miryane, and Mirandia were sisters, all many moon cycles younger than me. Each blessed with the Sight.

  The three to Higald’s left were the three warlocks of the Fallen. Their black hair and gray eyes made them look much like the sisters; yet, they were all from different families. The only thing that made them appear similar was that each of them cut their beard close to the jawline. They were gaunt and thin, as anyone would be being locked deep beneath the earth with minimal rations. They were seers as well; their gifts were that of time. Together, they could see the rifts and pitfalls of our future, past, and present. Their eyes were gray all the way through. It was a sign of engineered breeding, making sure to keep the grace and gift of their families within the sect. They were Thyren, Thetres, and Tresnre, all much younger than me; they were closer in age to my brother. Their vanity was exposed in the brilliant yellow wraps that hung loosely off of their bodies.

  Higald turned to the three sisters and nodded, and then did the same to the three warlocks. He gestured to them for the populace.

  Sitting back against his throne of bone, he drew his black wrap around him.

  It was strange how silent the world beneath became when no one moved or spoke.

  The resounding silence was a non-existence.

  Thyren stood first. The pale knuckles of his hands gripped the folds of his bright wrap. “We saw these objects during a trance. The abandoned base to the north contained something of value, something of substance.”

  “Fate directed us…” began Thetres

  “But for what reason is beyond our understanding,” finished Tresnre.

  The warlocks had a way of completing thoughts between them, making the answers seem ethereal and mystical. Their voices were calm, much like the rest of the Fallen.

  “The Voices told us to send the scouts north. There they would find a piece of our future that was linked with our past and needed to be retrieved here in the present.”

  They found it best to speak in riddles, to dazzle the minds of the villagers.

  They were of the opinion that the people of the Fallen were not wise enough to understand the Voices. It was rumored that the warlocks had spoken of banishment for the lowest members of the tribe. Their ignorance and uselessness was seen as a dredge on the progression of our society.

  “This equipment was to be a generator of sorts, something that would provide energy that far surpassed the harnessing of the core,” marveled Thetres, his hands moving in sweeping gestures. Like a magician, his words transformed the slack faces of the audience into bewildered and astonished glances. His gaze fell upon me now, the possessed eyes pulling me toward the Council seats.

  I made my way forward in order to answer a confusing barrage of questions.

  “Ah, here is the Master Huntsman who braved the tundra to recover the generator. His strength is a true testament to the future of the Fallen,” boomed Thyren. His pale, crooked hand pointed out my position in the crowd. I smiled despite myself because I understood the deception in their words––their lack of empathy for their fellow man. I jumped up the steps and landed next to the warlocks.

  My bleached wraps seemed out of the ordinary amidst the royal clothing.

  I nodded to the solemn gathering.

  Tresnre began where his Thyren had left off. “As you all remember, Seth’s father was a monument among men, his constitution a fortress for our beliefs. He had on many occasions delivered our tribe from the shadow and the grasp of the Umordoc.”

  At the mention of the nether men, a gasp spread through the crowd.

  The silence sounded now like the hiss of a grand serpent.

  I intervened. The talk of my father was enough to make me want to end this conversation before it became a sermon. “Thank you for your kind words, Master Warlock. I know that my father cared very much for our tribe. All of his beliefs were passed down through me, as mine shall be passed down through my son someday.” My eyes wandered lazily over the crowd and settled on Leane. Her dark eyes were unwavering and saw through my soul. I paused, struck by her presence and realized that I had fallen silent amidst my tirade.

  “Seth, I feel it is prudent that we discuss the events of your journey and the items that were collected.” Miryane was the first of the sorceresses to speak. Her voice was sullen and ever-present. She moved with a grace that was not seen very often among the tribe. Her legs, although hidden beneath the robes, were muscular and long.

  It took me a moment to regain my composure. Upon doing so, I turned back to Miryane and bowed slightly, recognizing her suggestion. “Yes, I agree that the details of our expedition are of importance here. I will gladly begin with the Council’s approval.”

  The seven nodded solemnly and gestured in a grand sweeping motion to the ready crowd. “The mission was fruitful. The items we were sent to recover were indeed in the destination as foreseen by the Three.” Although I specified neither the sisters nor the warlocks, it was understood that the warlocks were responsible for this particular prediction. “Although we did encounter hardship along the way, we were able to return, valuables in tow. We honor the memory of those who have passed on by remembering their bravery and courage.”

  Higald came forward, his head bowed in reverence of the fallen members of my party. Lifting his mighty head, his blue eyes were both calm and the edge of a raging storm. “I implore you all to go home tonight to the comfort of your warm homes and relish in the company of the family and friends who journeyed into the unknown. And to those who lost a loved one along the way, I am so very sorry. Their fates have been given to the Believer and their deaths were for the sanctity of our people and our way of life.”

  The warlocks and the sorceresses remained seated, their eyes closed as the assemblage groan
ed and then began to disperse. The grand chamber of the meeting hall was more than large enough to house the entirety of the tribe. Yet, it seemed so dismal and cramped when the majority of the population had filed through the crudely-draped doors at the far end of the room.

  Higald placed his hand on my shoulder as I turned to leave.

  I watched my brother file out the doors with Summer at his side.

  “Is there something else?” I queried as I turned to Higald.

  “Actually there is,” he replied simply as he sat back upon his throne.

  “What is it that you require?”

  “We saw something else,” began Thyren, his voice distant.

  “A woman, born on the tundra,” continued Thetres.

  The eerie quality of finishing each other’s sentences was becoming tiresome.

  “She is a danger to the tribe,” warned Tresnre.

  I nodded absently, knowing that they meant Summer.

  They were stepping around the idea as they always did; it was a mechanism to feel the truth from another instead of making an accusation.

  Thus, they were never in error.

  “Is this true, Seth?” queried Higald.

  Higald, although older than me, was raised alongside me. His place as chief marked the passing of his father. We had depended on one another for support and advice, brothers from another family.

  I paused for a moment. I did not want to give them anything before I had a chance to come to my own conclusions about Summer. “We did find a survivor to the north, but I do not know where she was born.”

  The three warlocks looked at me with suspicious eyes. Despite their mystical nature, it was no secret that they feared the Armen line. We were anomalies. We had survived on the tundra through countless missions and had no designs to run the Fallen as some would have hypothesized––as they themselves had foreseen.

  “Will you speak to this woman, Seth? Discern the truth for us?” asked Higald.

  “You know that I will. When I have the answers you seek, I will come back here, before the Council,” I replied with as much enthusiasm I could muster. The wound at my side had begun to ache and my knee felt as if it had frozen solid and would never move again.

  “The generator was retrieved successfully?” queried Mirana.

  I nodded and began to turn. I could feel their eyes upon me, their invisible judgment.

  “Beware the foolishness of youth and emotion, Master Huntsman,” spoke Miryane.

  “She will betray us. It is in her nature. They have foreseen it. We have foreseen her passing and the damage it will cause,” finished Mirandia.

  I nodded again. Not bothering to turn around, I pushed through the worn fabrics of the doorway and limped across the earthen rock. I made my way to the home about which I had dreamed for some time.

  I STOOD AT THE CENTER of my living space. The ceiling came down such that I had to duck ever so slightly in order to move about the minimal space. An entrance carved of stone with a dark fabric hung from the top separated me from the world. I placed my satchel and pack down, less the items that I had turned over to reclamation for inspection. Rolling out the filled sack I used for a pillow, I pushed it far into the corner, making sure to conserve the space necessary to lie down. Stretching the fur blanket across the ground, I opened it and slid into the warm, snug blankets. I prepared to pull them across my face, but a gentle knock by the entrance interrupted me.

  A head poked through the fabric.

  The thinning gray hair that covered the pale white head, coupled with the rusted spectacles drooping comically from his face, revealed the man instantly to me.

  I motioned for Mihen to come forward. I drew my knees up so that he could sit near the entrance.

  He crossed his legs beneath him.

  “Praise be to the Believer,” he announced with a curt bow of his head.

  I returned the nod, though I felt as if I could easily fall asleep from exhaustion. “Praise be to the Believer,” I answered half-heartedly.

  “Seth, there is something of which we need to speak. You have been away for some time.” He was the oldest man among the Fallen and a revered scientist, really the only true scientist among our tribe. He wore shabby, worn fabrics that hung from him like paper and hid his gaunt, malnourished figure.

  “What is more important than sleep, Mihen? I have not rested for the better part of several moons. I am wasted from the tundra,” I replied with a heavy sigh.

  The man would not have disturbed me if it was not urgent. I knew this; yet, my body required sleep and rest.

  “We had an outsider happen upon our location while you were in the north, a man by the name of Gerian. He was from a tribe farther to the west. They had been wiped out completely. He spoke of a demi.”

  “A demi. By the Believer, not again.” I threw the blankets away in frustration.

  “He said that it destroyed his entire village. He said it was a woman.”

  “A woman?”

  “Yes, a young woman.” Mihen fixed me with a knowing look.

  I sighed and replaced my sidearm in its holster and the planedge inside the sheath hidden in my wraps along my waist. Standing, I grasped my blades and their sheath, moving past Mihen into the free space of the common area once again. I tied the sheath around my back and tightened it until I could feel that it was snug. “My brother is convinced of this woman’s true nature. We must speak to her before the Council gets them and does something rash.”

  “I agree, Master Huntsman, however…”

  “What?” I interrupted.

  “The generator you retrieved fits perfectly into the device in the machine at the end of the south tunnels. I need for you to come inspect it and discern its true use. I have my own theories, but your observations are trustworthy and sound.”

  “We will deal with that later. For now, I need you to come with me to my brother’s domicile. He will be emotional and if I go alone, it might erupt into violence. But if you are there, he might listen to your reasoning first.”

  “As you wish, Seth.”

  Mihen was a good man, though eccentric in his increasing age.

  I motioned for him to follow me as we walked across the open area of the community to Ryan’s home on the opposite end of our tiny cave in the yawning darkness.

  RYAN STOOPED DOWN in the corner. Igniting the glow lamp positioned there, he looked at the narrow confines of his space. The light burned across the room and soon they could see each other completely.

  “This is very small,” Summer commented. Her features were striking with the mask pulled back from her face.

  His space was larger than Seth’s.

  Seth had the smallest domicile of all of the members of the Fallen because he chose to sacrifice his space for people who had families.

  “It’s not so bad. We spend very little time in our domiciles, except for sleeping. I read old things, literature that we excavate from ancient ruins. Would you like to see them?” he queried with a youthful exuberance.

  She nodded meekly as he searched through the stacks upon stacks of papers and books that he had piled in the other free corner of his space.

  He pulled a magazine from the center and flipped through the pages until he recognized something

  “See this right here?” He held up the magazine that showed an overhead view of a vast forest, the lush emerald visage a dream for the sheltered people trapped within the earth.

  “That’s amazing,” she marveled.

  “Yes, this is what lined the lands a long time ago, before the coming of the Umordoc and the scarring of Terra. My father believed that it was possible to find such lands again––that they existed somewhere if they still existed in our memory.”

  “Your father sounds like a great man.”

  “He was. He was the bravest of all the Fallen. He stood his ground with the Umordoc and walked away. The outer wrappings my brother and I wear are from their hides.”

  “Your brother’s a great wa
rrior as well,” she mused, drawing a sullen look from Ryan.

  “I know that. I never mean to let him down, but it seems that I do so often. I try hard to be like him, like our father was, but I can’t help but dream. Sometimes, it’s all I have to keep me going.” Ryan lowered his head.

  Summer grasped his chin. Holding it in her much smaller hands, she looked at him––her eyes wide and loving. “You don’t let your brother down. He doesn’t think poorly of you; surely, you can see that. He only wishes for your safety and to see that you can someday take his place,” she reasoned carefully, her bright blue eyes glassy.

  “My brother isn’t going to die anytime soon. He’s too stubborn,” joked Ryan, breaking the tense moment and returning to his stacks of books and papers, gleefully searching through them like a child with a new toy. “It seems so long since I have been home. I missed my books. I can read them anew now, as if I never had before. You can read them with me.”

  “I would enjoy that.”

  Ryan leapt past her in a furious burst of movement. His left hand was curled into a fist across his chest and in his right hand was his planedge. The tip was duller than his brother’s from lack of use, but no less deadly in his hands.

  “Ryan, drop your weapon.”

  “Seth, is that you?”

  “Yes, we need to speak again. It is important.” I pushed through the fabric and Summer immediately crossed the room and sat next to Ryan, his brow already furrowed and his face flushed. “Ryan, this is difficult for me,” I began.

  “Are you here to make more accusations?” he spat venomously.

  “No, Mihen came to me with information that could potentially cause harm. I came to you first––to both warn you and find out the truth for myself.”

  “What is it Mihen?” Ryan queried, the anger in his voice subsiding slightly.

  “A traveler happened upon us. The scouts found him wandering just outside the entrance, his materials exhausted and his wraps torn. He spoke of his tribe being decimated by a demi. A woman was masquerading as a traveler, much like your young lady here. The Council has not taken an official statement from him, as he is still bedridden.”