Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One)

by Trey Copeland

  "Is that Clarkston's veadle stew?" he asked as he sat down and grabbed a bowl.

  "And a pint of his jinus stout," she said with a sigh, sitting down to join him.

  They ate and drank in comfortable silence and enjoyed the majestic view. Their meal finished, Martna turned to face him, crossed her legs, straitened her back and closed her eyes. He matched her position and within moments, synchronized his breath to her steady cadence, relaxed his mind and finally released his troubled thoughts.

  Ginllats had traveled well above Toliver's evergreen canopy by the time Steffor’s head nodded with a jerk, snapping him from the blissful conscious unconsciousness experienced by those lost in the state of lucid theta. Martna, still seated across from him, stirred and looked over, groggy and bleary eyed.

  "Thank you Steffor. It has been too long," she said, standing up.

  "Too long indeed," Steffor replied, standing up to face her. "Thank you Martna, your presence here...now...was exactly what I needed."

  Both moved to the other in that moment and embraced, strong and supportive like Guardians, close and familiar like former lovers. They held each other for several long seconds before Martna pulled her chin off his shoulder, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him firmly on the forehead.

  "It is good to see you amongst the living Steffor," she said, stepping back to look at him one more time. The second she left the room, he collapsed on the pallet and embraced a deep, dreamless sleep.

  *****

  Steffor awoke to the blended scent of piney resin permeating from the walls of his room and triffle root tea that emanated from somewhere down the hall. Sitting up, he filled the basin across from his bed with cold water and washed with the accompanied dulsa leaf, exfoliating a layer of grime from the day prior. Looking out past the terrace to see dawn was only moments away, he hurriedly reformed his garments and headed out the doorway.

  He did not pass nor hear another soul during his travels across the complex of halls and steps. He found this odd, considering the training facility was normally teaming with activity by this point. Then, ashamed by his negligence, caught up in his own world, he remembered the Forging Ceremony was today. Most everyone must have left hours ago, completing any demanding tasks before arriving for the ceremony.

  The realization pushed aside his concerns about Calivera, replacing them with arguably a more contemplative and pressing issue. How did he plan to participate in the ceremony as one of the chosen without connecting to the Mysticnet or wielding the Source?

  He was no closer to answering the question when he entered the town-side entrance hall fifteen minutes later. Steffor made his way over to the breakfast counter located on the north wall and poured a mug of hot tea stationed upon the long counter. He followed the high arching curved wall as he turned around and looked out the triangular skylights shifted into the domed ceiling high above to view a blended sky of cranberry and gray. Grabbing a warm scone, he crossed the long gathering room, weaving through sectional couches, lounge chairs, tables and desks that occupied the open space, and out the archway entrance.

  Half done with his cup of tea, relishing the stimulating buzz, Steffor walked to the far left corner of the large veranda and casually leaned his elbows onto the ornate railing to watch the sunrise from the southeast. A clear day, the panoramic vista was breath taking, capturing the tiered town directly below basked in golden light and the Forging River, formed at the base of the mountain, sparkling like a jeweled necklace as it flowed down the sloping bough, all the way down to Teuton Valley miles away.

  Sight of the sacred land and the Forging Tree squarely in its midst broke his trance, reminding him he was no closer to finding a solution to his quandary.

  "Ninety two years I have called this place home and the novelty of watching that sunrise has yet to wane."

  Steffor turned toward the archway opening to see Kilton advance in his direction. The sight of Kilton, the most influential person in his life, was immediately heartwarming.

  "I have missed you Steffor."

  "As I have you Master Kilton."

  Right hands clasped, forearms crossed and each matched the other's strong press. A minute later, Kilton stepped back and searched Steffor's tear swelled eyes, probing his aching heart with tender care. Holding his breath, he was relieved beyond measure to see Kilton's face register the familiar essence of the Steffor he once knew.

  "The House is clear of all but us. Would you be so kind as to assist an old man and accompany me to the ceremony," Kilton said, leaning dramatically on his staff.

  "It would be my honor." Steffor openly smiled at the comment, measuring his elder with a skilled eye. Over two centuries old, graying temples, distinguished creases along an otherwise soft face and a Guardian Tail loop thrice around reaching the small of his back, were the only physical traits revealing his age. Still gifted with immense physical strength like all Guardians, Kilton's stature was small for the warrior race yet, as was the case whenever in his presence, Steffor always managed to feel dwarfed by the man.

  This feeling had little to do with Kilton's extensive acts of heroism or recorded victories in the Games. No, it was Kilton's consistent and unparalleled ability to treat all of the Provider's creatures with love, no matter the circumstances, that kept the young Guardian in awe of his master. Kilton truly advanced every soul he encountered, a living example of how to live the Certain Way.

  In short order, they reached the lower avenues of town, where waterfall and mountainside transitioned into a narrow river with choppy rapids and ridged bark. Residents lined the streets to bid them farewell, the appearance of Kilton always a joyous event, much less when accompanied by the popular and now mysterious Steffor, traveling to Teuton Valley together for the rare event of anointing the next Teuton. It was a special day indeed.

  Steffor, waving enthusiastically and shaking out stretched arms and hands, searched the crowd hoping to catch a glimpse of Calivera but found no sign of her.

  "Did you find who you were looking for?" Kilton asked once they cleared the town, having traveled about a mile south past the fork he and Calivera last parted.

  "What, uh…no, I did not," Steffor stammered.

  "Was it the lovely Healer I have heard so much about, the one responsible for bringing you back to us?"

  "Yes. Her name is Calivera. Do you think she was lovely?"

  "Aye, from the Mysticnet images I saw, she was very beautiful. But, after a long life full of intimate submersions within a healers table, I am afraid I lost my ability to be an objective judge when it comes to the physical beauty of Healers," he said with a knowing wink. "But, if your Calivera is the same tall blonde who arrived in town last evening, she is lovelier then most, causing quite a stir amongst the young Shifters and Guardians around town before departing at dawn."

  "Yes, that would be the same Healer," Steffor said, pondering Kilton's comments. "While not to your frequency, I too have been under the post treatment spell of a Healer, but I can honestly say the feelings I have for Calivera are different...they go beyond."

  "Considering she rescued your soul from a foreign abyss, I'd say so."

  "How did you know of our…experience? I mean, I know very little outside of what she told me and, of course, the lingering feeling of being connected to her."

  "Steffor, there is very little The Four do not know."

  What didn't The Four know? Steffor let Kilton’s comment drift in the open and considered his own question about The Four in a new light. Comprised of four Citizens, each representing one of the four races, the current Four had a combined life experience of over eight hundred years.

  Wisdom aside, The Four was privy to information not revealed to the whole. Until recently, Steffor had never concerned himself with what the ancient covey discussed or knew, comforted like all citizens that The Four were there to shoulder life's bigger burdens for all them. Now, the concept of The Four soured his thoughts; the symbolic tip of an overarching issue that had broken the surface of
consciousness well before his recent experience with the dive.

  "The experience—the accident during the dive, connecting with Calivera—it has altered my perception of the Provider...of my beliefs," Steffor confided.

  "It would be hard to imagine it not. There is no record in the Deeds, public or hidden, that I have ever seen of one coming back to life in the same body."

  "The world I knew before no longer exists and I now question all that has taken its place. Why did the Provider decide I must die in the dive championship only to come back to life with such confusion? What purpose does it serve? How do I know it will not occur again? I cannot shake the feeling that I should not have returned, that all of this is...a mistake."

  "Why does fear always find a way to manifest in our lives?" Kilton's rhetorical question irked Steffor. He needed concrete answers.

  "If my current existence is the manifestation of my deepest fears," addressing Kilton's sapient question directly, "then I have yet to be completely honest with myself. Unfortunately, I am far from connecting all the pieces and time is running short."

  "There is only one Time. One Space. One Source. The Provider is in no hurry, its only mission is to grow. And it grows with patience."

  "In concept, I still believe in that, but the Forging Ceremony is close at hand and if I am to take my rightful place, I must join the other chosen by the end of our short journey. In that, there is no question."

  "But you must join our ancient ritual for reasons outside a sense of duty. In order for a new Teuton to be chosen, the mind and soul must be clear of doubt. For that to occur, you must remain patient and leave the results to the Provider."

  Steffor nodded in frustrated agreement, feeling anything but patient.

  "Tell me Steffor, what do you believe?"

  "My belief in reincarnation has not wavered" Steffor replied, his recent connection with Calivera validating the statement.

  "Good. A Citizen can take on any challenge knowing and trusting that each human incarnation, no matter how difficult or seemingly insignificant, moves us closer to our ultimate purpose: to rejoin The Provider in the conscious participation of divinity."

  Steffor struggled to link his recent experiences to that belief but his bond to Calivera was undeniable, something that could only be explained by a preexistence spanning countless prior lives. He was as sure of this as he was the bark beneath his feet.

  "I find great purpose in being a Citizen, in being a Guardian in this life." As he heard himself speak, the foundation of his refined beliefs in the Provider settled heavier onto his heart. But it was now a narrowcast belief, filtrated into laws of the purest blacks and brightest whites. He found strength of spirit in the emerging, unalterable truth: The Provider exists and to it alone, I owe all allegiance.

  "Good. Embracing the race bestowed in this lifetime allows a Citizen to-"

  "But I do not feel beholden to either," Steffor interjected, stirred by the dissonance in his heart related to the evolution of all Citizens, of the need to be further separated from other life. A sense of urgency, a tugging undercurrent mounting since his recent rebirth, awoke with Kilton's presence.

  Steffor looked to his mentor and found solace in the contentment reflected upon the pleasant face. With an esoteric glint in his eye, Kilton waited for what Steffor had to say next.

  "The Deeds tell us: Transcendence to a higher existence is not the destination, only a new branch in the eternal tree of the Provider. These objectives are fulfilled by the law of reincarnation, are they not?" Kilton nodded in agreement.

  "Why then stratify the Provider's people into four distinct races? Why limit a Citizen's ability to wield the Source? In doing so, do we not limit the scope of experience and growth in each lifetime?"

  "The emergence of the races saved Citizens from certain extinction. The races saved our people from a time of chaos, transitioned us to the era of peace and harmony we experience today. The rise of the races spawned the Deeds, providing us the means to reach transcendence. How can you question the races?" Kilton asked with pure intrigue.

  "I have not forgotten our origins Master Kilton. Nor do I mean any disrespect with my line of questions. I simply no longer comprehend the need for the races." Steffor's new spiritual filter had not just altered his view of the Forging Ceremony, it made him question the very need for the four races: the human avatars a soul inhabits, be it Shifter, Healer, Mystic or Guardian.

  "Why indeed," Kilton said. He said no more, absently nibbling on his lower lip, the rhythmic clack of his staff on bark with every other stride the only sound to follow. Having witnessed the countenance on Kilton's face many times before, Steffor knew the wiser man wrestled with a new, or most likely revised, revelation.

  Kilton sees what is hidden to the rest of us.

  Content to let Kilton ruminate on the topic, another hour passed in silence as they continued down the bough. In that time, the landscape of the bough had changed. The sun had risen above the Toliver region, the strategic openings shifted along vibrant canopy of pine needles and cones beaming life-giving rays along the lake, town and river. The parcels of sunlight shined brightly on the river that was now only slightly below the bark peninsula as cliffs tapered off, replaced by a shoreline of sloped ledges and steps.

  The river continued down the bough in this fashion, slicing through a vast fungi forest that sprawled below. Draped in perpetual shadow, the forest spanned bark on both sides of the river as far as the eye could see. Walking along the wide shoreline with the river to their left and giant mushrooms on the right, an ever-present cool breeze wafted a mixed odor of fertile soil, ripe fruit and fish. The distinct smell reminded Steffor of a time in the not so distant past, when life was much simpler.

  What I would give right now to relive just one night, lost with my fellow apprentice in those vast mushroom colonies.

  Full of some of the Provider's nastiest predators and inherent death traps, the forest was more than a survival training proving ground, it was where Steffor truly learned how to rely on others. Now, seeing life on the Provider in a new light, he discovered a new appreciation for the rich history associated with the ancient pass.

  Over a century post the Razum Massacre, always on the run, trying to stay ahead of their relentless foe, this oasis—known much later in time as the Forging Bough—provided the Provider's forlorn people their first real opportunity to settle down and rebuild. The first harvest Shifters emerged from the mushroom forest during that brief reprieve, learning to shift the once pathogenic organisms into vital sources of food, medicine, shelter and of all things, biological weapons.

  Their trip through the dense, fungi infested, bark peninsulas came to an abrupt end as the canopy above ended, exposing the narrowing bough to the unhindered mid-morning. A half-mile past this stark demarcation, they reached the apex of the river and the bough's only significant bend.

  The extreme drop in elevation amplified the river's acceleration, rushing its waters toward the bough's forked end and the lush, open grassland of the U-shaped Forging Valley below. Nestled between the two branches that spliced east and west from the bough’s end, the earth of Teuton Valley rested on a massive system of capillary stems that fused the two together. From their elevated vantage, the unique expanse of land floated in the open sky as if held aloft by two cupped hands.

  By noon, they reached the valley's steep north wall, where the river crested the forked crook and shot outward in a powerful chute. Steffor followed the waterfall's wild descent, smashing into the inclined wooden wall, fanning into glassy sheets along its smooth surface before it collected into a tall plunge pool formed at the base of the valley floor.

  He allowed his mind to drift, swimming to the bottom of the dark plunge pool before pouring over the curved lip to form anew. As it went down the valley, small estuaries and streams—fed by waterfalls cascading down the branches that formed the valley's east and west walls—bled into the river, causing it to grow in size and speed the farther it travele
d.

  Steffor followed the river as it steadily flowed away from the sheer branch-walls near the falls, through hills and dells populated with fern and lichen groves, past the ever-present Forging Tree centered midway down the valley. Once past the colossal tree, the valley flattened into a vast field of wild flowers and grass that spanned for miles on both sides of the narrow river. Cliff walls widened and gradually diminished into small ridges, no taller than a man by the valley’s end: a thin precipice of interwoven stem edging the valley from which the river crested one final time, showering its life giving fluid onto the plethora of limbs below.

  Their brief respite next to the falls concluded, Kilton led them down the southern branch-ridge. A quarter mile later, they turned down a roadway that weaved down the branch-side to form dozens of narrow streets lined with homes shifted deep into the branch; the plentiful stems, twigs and hearty evergreen leaves aesthetically pleached to create decorative facades, archways, lattices and windows. Children of varying ages littered the streets, the younger playing while the older supervised as the adults were off harvesting the tarroc vines indigenous to the region.

  Once on the valley floor, Kilton walked parallel to the wall for a few yards, parting thickets of bushes and grass with his staff, to a secluded hollow that appeared to form naturally between soil and the convex wall. Steffor followed Kilton down the semi-open hole, sat down next to him with back leaning against the cool earthen rampart. They sat quietly in the empty, shaded space and collected themselves within the peaceful setting.

  "The night after your rebirth," Kilton said few moments later, "the Provider came to me in my dreams, as it so often does. The vision disclosed secrets of a Universe beyond my comprehension, exposing fears deeply buried in my heart. That fear has infected my thoughts since, hindering my ability to focus on anything else. Now, as I bask in your presence, my faith is restored."

  "I am honored but I am not sure if..."