All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923)

by Humphrey, Michael C.

  “Under his mountain?” blurted Lester. “What the heck does that mean?”

  “Well, Tubal built his city at the base of a mountain, the buildings spreading out into the surrounding plains in concentric rings. Have you ever heard of the Balkans? The Tu-Balkans. The name has survived the great flood, and is still in use today. Tubal’s University sat closest to the mountain, and in fact, most of it was actually in and under the mountain. Classes were taught in the mines, in the forges. Tubal-Cain dug into that mountain for iron and other minerals and discovered in the process a core of molten rock, the perfect heat source for his endeavors.

  “The mountain was named after him, and we still use the term today. Tubal-Cain became Tu-Balcain, a word that passed through the flood by word of mouth and entered Roman mythology under the guise of the blacksmith god of fire and volcanoes…Vulcan.”

  “So you’re saying that the word volcano also comes from the name Tubal-Cain?” asked Lester.

  “I am,” said Al. “But that’s just the evidence in its simplicity. It’s the ideas of Cain passing through Tubal-Cain and coming through the flood via Noah’s wife and Ham’s wife that are still very much in existence today.”

  “What ideas were they again?” asked Lester.

  “The search for immortality,” answered Al. “The conspiracy to steal the gift of eternal life. This is what your peeping Tom was after last night, Lester. Somehow the brotherhood of Tubal-Cain discovered a link between their goals and you and sanctioned a clandestine operation to spy on your activities. Obviously my journals are that link, but how they discovered that you had some of them in your possession continues to elude me.”

  “Maybe they followed you to the bar last night,” Lester offered.

  “It’s entirely possible, but I’m still baffled how they managed to trace their conjectures to me at all. It seems we are going to have to start looking over our shoulders.”

  “Great. And here I woke up with a stiff neck.”

  “This is no laughing matter, Les.”

  “If I don’t laugh a little, Al, I may go bonkers.”

  “Understandable.” said Al.

  “But how do you know that these mysterious voyeurs are intellectual descendants of Tubal-Cain, Al? I mean, what if they are just new bad guys?”

  “Remember the calling card that your window watcher left, Lester? The dollar bill? That is one of the most recognizable signs of Cain and Tubal-Cain that we have. In one simple, six-inch piece of paper, Cain’s flat pyramid and all-seeing eye are represented, his invention of weights and measures is depicted and as Tubal-Cain would find pleasing, its value and worth is based on a precious metal.”

  “Oh, right, right,” Lester nodded.

  “Now that I think about it, Les, perhaps you should stay at my place tonight. It’ll be safer. I have some security measures in place, and these men may be getting desperate. I’d hate to think of my journals here alone tonight if these people should come back.” Al smiled.

  “Oh, thanks a lot. You’re not worried about me, are you? It’s your journals that you’re concerned about.”

  “Just kidding around, bud. But seriously, why don’t you gather up some stuff, and we’ll get out of here?”

  “Yeah, all right. You think these Lightmen are coming for me?”

  “No, Lester, I think they are coming for me, but they will use whatever means necessary to get to me and extract the information that they are after. They want to get their hands on my journals to see what information they can possibly glean out of them, but also because they don’t want them in the hands of anyone else…like you. The Lightmen think there is some magical formula in my possession, and they want it for themselves. Not for the good of the world, but for their own selfish greed and lust for power.

  “So far they have maintained their anonymity, sticking to the shadows, patiently watching and waiting. Living in the whispers and surreptitiously probing their leads. But I am not so naïve to believe that at any moment they couldn’t come rushing in like the proverbial bull in the china shop, smashing anything that gets in their way and taking what they want. They have enough money to sweep anything under the rug, buy everyone who can be bought off and kill anyone else. You, my friend, would merely be collateral damage in a war of insatiable gluttony and avarice that has killed millions of innocent people and been fought viciously since the death of my brother Abel.”

  Lester had been fiddling around with the laptop while Al was talking. “Check this out, Al. I think I just figured out who these people are or at least where their secret base is located.”

  “Figured out who who are, Les?” asked Al.

  “The enemy, the Lightmen.” He swung the laptop around to Al. “I just googled Tubal-Cain and look what came up. There’s like four or five references besides Wikipedia. It says here that Tubal-Cain is a secret password of the Freemasons. They’ve got handshakes and lapel pins and golf tournaments that all pay reference to Tubal-Cain. This is crazy. And whoa, look at this,” said Lester, clicking on a website called Tubal-Cain Industrial Steel Technologies.

  “Holy sh…” Lester glanced over at Al before finishing, “…sheetmetal. I can’t believe my eyes. There is actually a company called Tubal-Cain Industries that makes stuff out of metal.”

  “Don’t get too excited, Les,” cautioned Al. “I know it’s odd to find a company with the name of Tubal-Cain in the twenty-first century, but I doubt that its CEO or stockholders are in league with our Lightmen. More than likely this is just a steel fabricating company whose founder decided to tip his hat to the earliest reference of smithing and metalwork production that he could find. Our Lightmen are very well insulated from quick Internet searches. We’re going to have to do some deeper digging to unearth any viable leads to them.”

  Lester looked deflated. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But man, I was just so sure that I’d suddenly found something so obvious that everyone else had missed it.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to keep investigating,” said Al, exiting out of the Internet and logging off, “but I think we should do it from my house.”

  Lester’s lips seemed to pucker up as he nodded. “Okay, Al. I’ll go grab some stuff.”

  I still miss her, Kole couldn’t help thinking again as he poured oil into the pan and waited for it to heat up. He diced onions and peppers into small cubes and piled them on the corner of his chopping block. In a small bowl he crushed stale bread into crumbs with a pestle and cracked two eggs into the mixture. After he had made a paste he added a handful of wild locusts, stirring them around with a wooden spoon until they were covered with the batter. Carefully he scooped them out and dropped them into the hot oil, enjoying the sizzling sound that they made. He skinned and cubed two large potatoes, spooning the chunks into the pan and saving the skins for the remainder of the breadcrumb batter. He stirred the contents of the pan, then scraping the onions and peppers into the palm of his hand, he blended them into the hash as well. He stirred the breakfast stew slowly thinking about the day ahead of him, watching the colorful medley of vegetables, and inhaling its hearty aroma.

  The weather outside his home was almost perfect for what he had in mind. The air was warm but gentle, promising advantageous updrafts. He had selected his jumping off point and was anxious to try his latest design, hopeful that today would prove to be a landmark excursion. It felt better, he often thought, when creation provided his needs in their entirety rather than when he had to supplement them with his own particular gifts. His seedvision. Perhaps it felt more fulfilling because he sensed his Creator’s closeness when the earth was cooperative, all the more since he was now so alone.

  Kole shook his head and felt the lump rise again to his throat. Thinking about Chavvah was still painful. The loss of his friend, his stalwart steed, after so many years and adventures together, remained a gnawing emptiness in his heart. Today
, though, was not a day to mourn. There had been too many days that had been consumed by melancholy and sorrow. This day, this dawn, Kole promised himself, would be one of splendor and excitement. A milestone, thought Kole and smiled to himself. Yes, a milestone. Just like the markers that he had set up along his route.

  Kole gave the contents of the pan another stir and removed it from the heat of the fire. He placed a hot pad on the polished, wooden table that dominated the middle of his cookery and set the pan on it. His plate and two-tined fork were already set in front of his usual chair. He moved his lantern over from the counter to the table and sat down with a sigh. Staring distractedly at the parchment that rested beside his mug of warm tea, his eyes narrowed. He pulled it closer and inspected the intricate, hand-drawn sketch upon its coarse surface. He picked up his sharpened quill and dipped it into a small jar of ink, then made a notation on the chart. Satisfied that the minor change he had made to his map was precise and accurate, he dusted the ink with sand, drying it quickly to prevent smudges. He bowed his head and asked for God’s blessing on his food and his future endeavors before taking his first bite.

  Outside it was still dark, dawn yet another hour or so from breaking. Kole had risen early, eager to start the day, to test his new theories and designs. He had been working on them, crafting them and modifying them for years and today he hoped would be the culmination of all his efforts. Not that he would stop making improvements. Kole had several ideas that seemed far-fetched even to him, but if today turned out the way he planned, nothing would seem impossible.

  Kole rubbed his leg where he had broken it fifty years earlier. It had healed quickly, aided by his ability to use the natural healing harmonics of creation, but he occasionally imagined a phantom pain deep in the bone. Especially on days when he planned to repeat his folly on an even grander scale.

  He ate in silence. The world seemed quiet. Kole could hear the faint song of the natural world around him, singing its soft lullaby of praise, but he had become so accustomed to it that it barely registered. The birds were still asleep in their boughs. The night creatures had all retired to their caves and cool places in anticipation of the approaching dawn. And Chavvah was gone.

  Kole missed her more than he would admit. His unicorn, a name he had fashioned for her species, had died suddenly and without warning. Not from old age, although she had lived and worked beside Kole for centuries, but from a fluke, an accidental mishap, a chance encounter with calamity. Kole had mourned her like a family member, for weeks barely able to do more than feed himself, and still he felt the hollow loss of her deep in his breast. But he had over seven hundred years worth of good memories with her, and he forbid himself to dwell on the negative; most of the time.

  The loss of Chavvah was in some ways more poignant than the loss of Kesitah. His sister had been a part of his youth, had been a promising dream left unfulfilled, but Chavvah had been his pet, an intricate part of his life, his first friend. He had shared his triumphs with her, his daydreams, his hopes. She couldn’t speak to him but she communicated a steadfast loyalty, faith, and love through her actions. She had defended him against wild animals; found food for him when he was weak with hunger. She had carried him home when he’d injured his leg, even though she herself had been wounded.

  So many nights he had fallen asleep to the sound of her breathing, his head pillowed against her flank. So many days he had confessed to her his doubts and found comfort in her presence. He had accepted her loss, as he had learned to accept the loss of Kesitah, but that didn’t make his years any easier. Often he found himself looking around for her, as if his mind refused to believe that she would not come trotting down the path. He spoke to her sometimes still, forgetting momentarily that she was not beside him, keeping pace.

  Today would have been a shining achievement that they would have shared. Chavvah understood the tests that he was performing, seeming to sense the purpose in them sometimes more than he did himself. At the end of a long day, if the experiment had been successful, she would be there, prancing around in congratulatory circles, ready to carry him and his equipment home. Today he would fly in her honor.

  Kole looked down at his plate and realized that he had eaten all his food. Again he sighed and shook the cobwebs from his mind. He rose and rinsed his dishes off in the sink. Years earlier he had piped in water from the spring above his house with a hollow wooden tuber called bamboo. It was lightweight and sturdy, strong and flexible, and it had first given him the idea that his experiments might be possible.

  Kole’s reminiscing had put him in a funk completely at odds with the promise of the day. He decided that without Chavvah physically being present to share in today’s triumph, the tide of anticipation he has been cresting would continue to dim. Only one thing would remedy that. He must include her.

  There was still plenty of time before dawn, and he did not want to begin his drop before the morning winds had settled, so he decided to take a few moments in the lower levels of his house. Brushing the crumbs from the table into his hand, he tossed them out the window and brushed off his fingers with a towel. Taking his lantern with him he headed to the back of the house. His bedroom was off the cookery and he walked briskly through it. The bed was rumpled. No need to make it on a fine morning like this. Let it stay unkempt all day for what it’s worth. By the time Jorel arrived later in the afternoon, to care for his house and sheep while he was gone, he’d be too far away to be reprimanded. That thought made him smile.

  His hand grabbed the brushed metal of the closet handle and he pulled the door open. It was a large room, nearly half the size of his bedroom, and was stuffed with crates full of a lifetime accumulation. His clothes all sat folded neatly and stacked on shelves or hung from rods around the perimeter. Sliding the robes and tunics along the back wall aside, he eyed the rock wall.

  One of the reasons Kole was captivated with this particular spot, when he was choosing a location to build a home for himself, was the cave. Kole’s home was built nestled up to the side of a steep mountain, but this particular section of its rise had a low-grade easy for climbing. A spring half way up made getting water convenient, and it flowed down the slope in a shallow trickle to form a creek that emptied out at the end of the stone canyon.

  Flush against the rocky side of the first rise was an opening, not much more than a crack in the granite really. Kole would have missed it had Chavvah not snorted and sniffed it out. Originally hidden behind a screen of verdant ivy, it was now secreted behind the stone walls of Kole’s house.

  Placing his hands on the cool gray surface of the rock, he listened for the sound of the rock’s vibration, the movement of its smallest parts and particles, the heat and friction that they generated, the substance of their being. He heard the faint harmonies of their shifting and sang silently into their movement with the power of his mind. His song was one of suggestion, and he felt the intermingling of the musics, weaving the actions of higher laws with his own willpower. Suddenly there was a grinding noise, and the once immovable wall of rock moved, sliding sideways and folding in on itself.

  Kole remembered, as he traversed its cool passageway, the first day that he had explored the cave. A bit nervous that it would be the home of a wild animal, Kole had crept slowly and cautiously into the hole. Carrying a makeshift torch, he had explored its length, finding that it delved deep into the mountain’s heart before opening out into a vast chamber. The walls were crystallized from years worth of minerals seeping down through the soil and gleamed and sparkled with gemstones in the firelight. Still to this day, the reflected gleam could cause him to pause with wonder.

  Across the cavernous room the tunnel continued. Kole knew that if he followed it long enough, it would double back on itself and begin to slant steeply upward, eventually opening to the light of day on a small shelf of rock halfway up the mountain. Kole had striven to conceal that entrance as well with naturally-shaped slabs of indi
genous stone. The tunnel had been too narrow to traverse in some places, and Kole had widened it in spots with hand tools and harmonics, bracing the roof with wooden supports where the vibrations of sound hinted at structural stresses until the tones were even and amplified.

  Within the large central crystalline cavern was a strangely eye-catching anomaly; a large boulder three times the height of a man and at least that wide around, leaning up against the far wall. How the stone came to be in the cave, Kole could not imagine. It was far too large to have been rolled through the cave opening and it was unlike any of the other rock that formed the cavern’s walls. How could it have come to be there? Did the Creator simply create it for reasons unknown and place it in the womb of this mountain as some massive, natural monument to his abundant abilities? Some kind of cosmic inside joke?

  There were no pockets of missing rock in the ceiling of the cave, no hollows in the surrounding stone. The boulder, consuming nearly the same amount of space as Kole’s bedroom, was odd for more than just its size and apparent lack of familiar origin. The truly unique aspect of this baffling peculiarity was the fact that it was blue—deep, rich crystalline blue, like the sea at midday, like a butterfly’s wing. At least it seemed blue in the light of Kole’s torches and lanterns—a big, blue aberration.

  Climbing it and sliding down the other side of it, Kole had found a gap between it and the wall. At the bottom of that gap, Kole discovered a hole in the floor of the cave. Wiggling down into it, Kole found that it dropped into a damp tunnel, walls dripping with moisture. A small rivulet of water ran in a narrow channel along the center of the passageway. The tunnel did not go far to his right before narrowing to become a dead end where the water came through the wall, but to his left it ran for nearly a half mile before emptying into the basin of a large underground lake.