Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One)

by Trey Copeland

  Known Afterlife

  The Provider, Volume One

  by Trey Copeland

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter 1

  Steffor knew from experience that the serpent would not strike. One more errant stride and the two-ton reptile would cover the hundred-foot stretch of branch between them in a blink. But not an inch closer. Steffor sat down on the smooth patch of bark, confident the ancient carnivore would neither attack nor move from his perceived concealment under the current conditions.

  Comfortably situated in a grooved pocket, naturally formed by one of the many waterspouts that drained from the green canopy above onto the small branch, Steffor leaned back and contemplated the predictable nature of snakes. The snake, and dozens of other reptiles for that matter, had managed to survive since before the record of time, before the emergence of man, by relying on precisely honed calculations; the threads used to weave the very fabric of its genetic make-up. The serpent had survived because it was secure in its strengths while being mortally aware of its weaknesses.

  But we allow it to survive. If we, the Guardians, were so inclined, we could destroy every species of viper and constrictor known to the Provider. But we do not. We choose to live with the snake, actually going out of our way to ensure its survival.

  Steffor concentrated on the camouflaged trap set by the serpent, admiring its involved skill and attention to detail. "You're a wily veteran, aren't you," Steffor said, loud enough for the creature to sense the vibrations of his voice.

  The trap was set perfectly, hidden deep within one of nature's many intersections overgrown with bushy evergreen vines. The three small branches forming the fork, each less than thirty feet wide, sprouted upward from the larger limb and grew several hundred feet into the open sky before mingling into the broad-leafed canopy above. The serpent hid snugly within the plentiful spade leaves and prominent root veins. Having curled the bottom third of its long, emerald-colored body around the three sub-branches, while the remaining two thirds lay coiled, it waited patiently, ready to strike at any unsuspecting prey traveling along the trail.

  "You'll catch a hearty meal by the end of this day, that much I am sure," Steffor chuckled. "Certainly more fulfilling than my paltry carcass." The truth of the statement sobered him; the subtext behind the compulsion was to ponder the predictability of snakes and the symbolic distinction separating man from other animals.

  From the west, sunrays crept through an interlacing maze of stem and branch as chirps, purrs and croaks rose from the surrounding wilderness and ushered in the gentle press of morning. Steffor set his mind adrift on the cool breeze sweeping across the branch and considered man's dominion over the Provider's wild kingdom, a quandary vexing him of late.

  As an apprentice, tasked with rescuing isolated harvest Shifters living in faraway estuary villages, he and his fellow Guardians-in-training had helped relocate dozens of snakes. For that matter, he had practiced his budding shifting skills on a myriad of creatures posing a lethal threat to the defenseless Citizens.

  The work epitomized the symbiotic relationship of Guardian and the other three races. The experience taught them early about the essence of their role, both within the Provider's ordained society and nature itself. It demonstrated first-hand how their unique ability to shift the Source could be applied—among other actions—to "persuade" predators to find prey elsewhere and consequently preserve the harmonious balance man had fostered with his fellow animals.

  Intuitively, Steffor sensed those ancient, preordained roles were the root cause of his contemplation. Despite our souls inhabiting the body and mind of the only apparent life forms capable of controlling the Provider's boundless energy, are we any less predictable? Diminutive in size and population compared to the other animals and plant species, man's ancestors had discovered how to shift the Source out of the same primal need to survive.

  Have we not come to rely on our own set of instincts, forged into our makeup over thousands of generations? Does our spiritual connection to Source and Provider make us any different? Steffor did not ask these questions out of concern for man's ongoing ability to maintain their utopian existence. It was simply an undeniable intuition, telling him the Provider's Citizens had reached both a physical and spiritual crossroads.

  The distinct sound of the Source shifted off stem and leaf—a subtle mixture of dampish thuds and electric hums—emanated from the canopy above and disrupted his ruminations. Steffor leaped from his resting place and turned around just in time to see Vejax burst from the canopy flying head first. With the practiced ease of a bird landing on its perch, the Guardian completed a half-flip, shifted a blue convex burst of the Source beneath his feet to break his fall and stuck a perfect landing.

  "Huh? What d'ya think of that kid?" his friend jabbed, striking a mock victory pose with arms outstretched. "You think you got what it takes to hang with that kind of talent today?"

  "Clearly I should turn back now and save myself the humiliation," Steffor replied with a smirk as he moved toward Vejax.

  "No, don't do that. There is no other I would rather defeat today than you," Vejax professed, cocky as ever. "It is refreshing to have some decent competition for once."

  Steffor, showing no sign of intimidation to the man fifty years his senior, quipped, "I am simply honored to be in the same race with two legendary Guardians such as Grimlock and yourself, much less for the opportunity to be the third qualifier in this year's annual championship."

  Vejax winced at the backhanded compliment as Steffor's smirk evolved into a satisfied grin. Aware of the depths of Vejax's inflated ego when it came to the dive, Steffor knew the comparison to Grimlock—an inferior dive competitor to Vejax—was a jab hitting the mark. Vejax was the reigning champion for the past eighteen years. He was at the top of his game and everyone knew it. A nineteenth straight victory today would lock his name into the Deeds with the most overall and consecutive dive championships in history, breaking a record over four hundred years old in the process.

  The two shared a rugged embrace before Vejax turned sideways and, with an exaggerated genuflection accompanied by a flick of his wrist, gestured Steffor to lead the way. Before proceeding, Steffor looked over his shoulder and bid farewell to the snake.

  "May the eternal balance of life and death be preserved in your hunt today, old warrior."

  A half mile from their mutual starting point, they came to a fork in the branch where it merged with its twin and the primary bough from which both grew. Without pause, they turned to the southeast at the intersection and continued on their way down the twin: a thinner version of its sibling that grew steadily downward with sharp bends. As they hiked side-by-side down the narrow path shifted into the flaky, scree-like bark overgrown with dense vegetation, Vejax asked, "How do you plan on avoiding my power?"

  "The Provider always shows the way," Steffor said as he shrugged his massive shoulders.

  Not satisfied, Vejax pushed the issue. "Many a more seasoned Guardian has thought the same and paid dearly for the lack of respect. What is it, my young and inexperienced friend, which makes you think things will be different for you today?"

  Every Guardian, be him an apprentice or seasoned Teuton, respected Vejax and his ability to shift the Source, especially when diving. The sensation of being near a Guardian Punching the Provider is a riveting experience for any spectator. It is the sensation that draws every Citizen from every region to every dive, be it a regional qualifier or today's annual championship. On the other hand, the sensation for a Guardian simultaneously attempting to do the same is quite different. For most Guardians, the sensation was nothing
short of terrifying.

  Steffor reflected on the first time he had shifted the Source while diving. Recently anointed as a full-fledged Guardian, and therefore qualified to compete in any of the Guardian Games, the first event he chose to compete in, unlike most new Guardians, was the dive. His opponent, a Teuton Guardian named Traiken, had won the dive championship sixteen times and qualified for the main event dozens of times in the past seventy-eight years.

  Past his prime, Traiken still had plenty to offer the crowd and his fellow competitors, especially an over-eager sixteen year-old Steffor. Like legends before him, Traiken competed for the love of it, both as competitor and teacher. Steffor learned that day what it meant to have the Source sucked from your very core. The raw exposure to life without the Provider's energy is a sensation very few survived, one Steffor vowed to never have occur again.

  In concept, Steffor knew the sensation of losing the Source was not real. The Provider's energy is limitless to all who chose to live the Certain Way. Every Citizen learned this creed early in life and each practiced and experienced it according to their race and life experience. The dive tested a Guardian like none other, leading every Citizen to chant before and after each race: "The dive fulfills the faith of all!"

  "Faith. That is how I know today will be different for you, Master Teuton Vejax," Steffor finally replied.

  "Hmph!" Vejax said through tense nostrils.

  The unruly vegetation growing around and above their crudely shifted trail gradually thinned the lower they traveled, where it eventually cleared as the branch narrowed to half its original width and leveled out. Familiar with this part of the journey, the two veered off the path together and peered over the edge. On a clear day, the rare vantage would provide a scenic view of the lush Deagron Fields miles below. But the sun had yet to burn off the thick morning mist, limiting their view to few patches of grassland. Still, for people conditioned to living in a three-dimensional network of bark, wood and leaf, the novelty of seeing open land never waned.

  They proceeded down the trail and after fifteen minutes of walking in silence, the two companions reached the branch's unique end: a fusion of the branch they stood upon with one of similar size, descending in similar fashion that originated from the northwest. The Guardians halted before the rustic archway shifted into the point of intersection and sat down before its dark entrance.

  With eyes closed, the men synchronized their breathing and in moments, each began to meditate. Steffor elevated his mind from the endless flow of thought, clearing it of all but one clear image: the archway. His inner eye focused on the smoothed surface of the archway’s center as he patiently waited to receive the Provider's customized message.

  Steffor welcomed the time for meaningful contemplation and visualized the archway as a symbolic rendition of his beliefs in the infinite connection of life, that nothing was ever isolated from the Provider. Strengthened by the image, his message from the Provider finally appeared.

  Join me and fulfill your destiny. Let fear rule you and failure is certain.

  A hitch in the cadence of their synchronized breaths communicated each had received their message from the Provider. Without comment, the two rose, entered the dark space past the archway and proceeded with their journey. Shortly enclosed within a dark, descending hallway, a modicum of light, leaking from a perpendicular slit cut into the left wall, revealed the narrow passage soon after they entered. The slit gradually widened as they continued down the shifted hall that turned inward, to the right. Ten minutes into their descent, the left wall had disappeared entirely, exposing the Guardians to open sky and the sprawling Deagron Fields far below.

  A few strides after the hall's dramatic transformation, they reached the first step of Armotto's Staircase: a spiral staircase, shifted into the slender branch spawned from the hallowed intersection above. The "steps" were taller than most men and required a Guardian's dexterity and grit to descend without flailing over the open left side. With Steffor following Vejax, they started down the harrowing path, acrobatically jumping from one landing to the other, content to remain silent and start their mental preparation for the dive.

  Knowing the journey's end was nearby, Steffor embraced the silence and spent the time reflecting on the Provider's recent message. Always different but pertinent to his state of mind and life experience, the message bestowed at the intersection was designed to help initiate the deep meditation required to compete in the dive.

  To date, Steffor's messages before a dive had been inspirational with black and white interpretations, such as Conquer thyself and victory is certain or The Guardian knows no greater joy then that which he bestows onto his fellow Citizen. Up until today, the Provider’s message never used the word "fear" or "failure".

  Does the Provider sense a disturbance in my soul?

  Steffor pondered the thought provoking question while resisting the strong temptation to inquire what message Vejax received. Customized for Vejax and his present relationship with the Provider, Vejax’s message would have little application to Steffor at this moment in time.

  "Faith you say," Vejax said over his shoulder, finally retorting to Steffor's earlier statement. "I have faith. I believe the Provider will grant me victory. My faith is no different than a harvest Shifter or field Mystic, yet neither one of them possess the skills necessary to go down this ancient trail, much less dive." With the sound of his own words restoring his bountiful confidence, he quickly added, "My faith equals both talent and power. I am in my prime. You—a naive novice with freakish luck about to run dry—have much to learn. You will need more than faith if you intend to survive the day."

  Steffor grimaced in response to his friend's statement. It was not the words clamping his thoughts in uncertainty; they were all true, from the need to respect Vejax's power to his own freakish luck. No, it was his perspective on life, fueling his faith that caused him to pause in solemn introspection. Up to this moment, Steffor had given this unique paradigm little thought.

  Since watching his first "live" dive race at age eleven, a race won by Vejax, Steffor's mission in life had been to be the greatest dive champion in history. Why now, fourteen years later, moments before competing in his first dive championship, does he question why and how he had managed to manifest his life so perfectly? If Vejax only knew how much of an understatement 'freakish luck' was in describing how I came to this moment.

  Steffor let the troubling question drift from his mind as he looked down at his friend's head and shoulders. He admired the Teuton's braided ponytail extending down to the base of his broad back, ending with three short tails from the last knot. Steffor reached around to feel his own ponytail ending at the base of his neck, a stark reminder of his youth and his mentor's vast experience.

  Other than the length and color of their ponytails—Steffor rich auburn, Vejax jet black—there was very little separating the two physically. Both men stood a full head taller and weighed twice that of an average Citizen, inhabiting bodies created to protect the Provider's Citizens: a muscular build with broad backs and powerful limbs, equipped with heightened senses. Physical traits today, more often than not, relegated to competing in the Guardian Games.

  Content to focus his energy on the next colossal step and continue with his mental preparations for the dive race now rapidly approaching—in addition to simply being lost for words—Steffor let Vejax's comment hang in the open the remainder of the trek down the staircase.

  Their vertical passage ended at the corner of a large deck shifted from the remnant material of the staircase. The floor of Relston's Landing, patterned with alternating herringbone grains, shined with a rich veneer. Shifted from the edge of the floor, a chest high wall bordered the square deck on all four sides, giving the landing the appearance of an open box. Ornate etchings shifted along each wall depicted the ongoing events throughout the dive's colorful and long history. Last year’s championship, depicted on the wall closest to the entrance, captured the essence of Vejax's runaw
ay victory: standing on the Deagron Fields with arms held high in victory long before either opponent cleared the last amphitheater.

  In the far corner adjacent from the staircase, Grimlock sat cross-legged in front of a round opening in the floor. Grimlock by all standards was a giant: a head taller and twice the mass of an average sized Guardian. Nobody was more surprised than Grimlock to see him in this year's dive championship. Grimlock and his ability to dive were just now hitting stride. A champion many times over in the joust and wrestling, life had just started to slow down long enough for him to open the secrets required to dive. Where Grimlock was the epitome of beginner's luck, Steffor was simply an enigma.

  As always, Grimlock's baby face and jovial smile negated all size intimidation and the three quickly commenced with their customary greeting: the crossing of right forearms in tandem with a firm embrace with the left arm, ended with a vigorous thump to the back.

  "What took you so long?" Grimlock asked with mock puzzlement. Steffor and Vejax smirked at the obvious joke, well aware that Grimlock's journey was a fraction of their own. He could have waited atop the staircase but neither were disappointed he did not. Grimlock, all kindness aside, tended to ramble about the mundane and made it difficult to concentrate. Ironically, it was his ability to channel that single mindedness contributing to his recent success in the dive.

  Civilities completed, the three men turned to the wide opening in the floor and looked down the long chute that would take them the remainder of the way to the Deagron Fields.

  Grimlock faced them and said, "May the Provider guide your path today."

  "May the Provider guide yours as well," Steffor and Vejax replied in kind.

  With that, Grimlock jumped into the opening feet first and disappeared down the chute. Steffor turned to face Vejax, anticipating his friend’s probing stare. Vejax will be spectacular today and create history in his own unique way. The image filled Steffor’s heart with joy, enabling him to remove lingering thoughts of doubt, tucking them away to ponder another day. Soon they will begin the long ascent to the top of the world and finally start the dive championship; his mind, body and soul had already started the process of drawing in the Source.