by B. J. Keeton
“I like stories,” Ceril said and shrugged. “I wish I had been able to get some more in there about religions in Instances. I think if I dug a little further, I would be able to make some connection between the original Charons and some of the societies who claim to have met their deities. I just didn’t have enough time, not with Bryt’s regimen, too.”
“You’ll get no sympathy from me regarding Bryt,” Roman said. “You know as well as I do that you wouldn’t have had to work double-time as a soldier if you hadn’t killed Ethan Triggs.”
“I know that very well, Roman. Thank you. It’s just, with this Untouchable going around claiming to be a Charon and killing and attacking like he’s doing, I can’t help but think I should have been in an Instance somewhere tracing that particular connection. Figuring out something that would make him tick, you know? See if there’s something from years ago that might get us close to him. Right now, all we’ve got are stories that prove what Saryn said the very first day: some people worshipped—worship—us as gods. So what?”
“You’re smarter than that, Ceril.”
“What?” Ceril asked defensively. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, think about what you just said.”
“That some people worship us as gods? What about it?”
“Ceril, come on. You’re killing me here.”
“No, that was Ethan Triggs.” Ceril stood up. “I killed him here. Right here. Where I’m standing. I’m frustrating you, maybe, but I’m not killing you.”
Roman sighed. “Poor choice of words. I’m sorry.”
“S’okay.”
“But really, Ceril, are you really unable to see the connection here?”
“I think so, Roman. I just don’t get it. Maybe I’m too close to it all. If it didn’t tie directly into one of my chapters, I haven’t been able to think about it.”
“Maybe you’re right. I get that.” Roman stood up and went over to the railing. He leaned over it and said, “Don’t you think, Ceril, that a man who’s claiming to be the Untouchable, who seems to be trying to build an army of impostor Charons, would try to recruit from sympathetic groups to build his ranks, to find people?”
“So?”
“You can’t be this dense,” Roman said. His voice became harder. “Think about it, Ceril, and stop being so obtuse.”
Ceril sighed and began pacing across the terrace. As he did, the Flameblade appeared in one hand and then the other, as though he were juggling the flaming sword without it throwing it into the air.
“Can you stop that?” Roman asked. “With the sword?”
“Oh, sorry,” Ceril said and the sword disappeared but never reappeared. “Just a habit. I don’t even think about it anymore.”
Roman nodded and let the young man think. Ceril stopped pacing after just a few steps and looked at his mentor. “You’re not seriously implying that my research is going to let us find the Untouchable when the best soldiers we’ve got haven’t been able to ferret him out, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” Roman said. “But I’m saying now that you’re finished with your thesis and have everything tied up, we can really look at it and see if your connections lead us any closer to finding him and maybe saving a few lives. I also think that there’s some validity to one of your theories about Instancing and archetypal influence that may be of use in this.”
“What do you mean?” Ceril asked. He thought about that part of his thesis. It was a good idea, but he had no direct proof for it. He thought that adjacent Instances within the same geographic region might develop similar myths and legends. Worlds that existed within the same general area as, say, Ennd's Academy might be more likely to evolve societies that revered technology. There was hard evidence that adjacent Instances were often physically alike. So why could Instances not share some defining characteristic to their legends? It was all just ideas, though—theory.
“I’m saying that I want you to do the research you haven’t had time to do,” Roman said. “That’s all.”
“You want me to Instance hop and see if I can find any connection to the Untouchable, you mean? Something you can use to figure out where he’s hiding, recruiting, something like that?”
“Something like that.”
“Is this when my Rites start?”
Roman nodded. “Oh-six tomorrow morning. Like I told you this morning. If you had been paying attention.” He stood up. “Welcome to the big leagues, Ceril.”
Chapter Nine
Ceril could hear voices outside his door.
He summoned his Flameblade and held it behind his back as he went to investigate. There were a lot of voices, which told him something was probably very wrong. Most of the time, he might hear a few people during the morning chattering away as they went to breakfast or to the gym, but it would take a lot more than just a few people having a conversation to make the commotion he heard. He saw a throng of both Recruits and professors running down the hall. The only thing that was in that direction was the Instance room. He dismissed his Flameblade and stepped back into his quarters to get dressed, and as he passed his desk, he saw the time.
0713
Oh, that’s lovely, Ceril thought. Roman had told him to be ready for his mission—his first Rite—at 0600 sharp. He had overslept by an hour, which meant that he had already missed his briefing and subsequently his departure, since that would be half an hour after the briefing. He was a dead man.
Add in whatever was causing this commotion, and he figured that it was going to be a pretty interesting day. Ceril did not care for interesting days. Since his recruitment as a Charon, he had had more than his share of interesting days. Most of the time, he just wanted to skirt by and finish his work.
By the time he was dressed and ready to leave his quarters, Ceril was part of the final few making their way down the corridor.
A pale blonde ponytail bobbed up and down in front of him. “Hey, Saryn,” Ceril said as he came up behind his friend. “Running late?”
She turned toward him, puzzled. “Ceril?” she asked. “What are you doing back here? I figured you'd be first in line for this.”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I think I was supposed to be. I must have forgotten to set an alarm last night because I was supposed to be up over two hours ago and at my briefing at oh-six. Roman said this one was important, like Rites important, and I’m pretty sure that I screwed myself this time.”
“Rites? He told you about your Rites starting?”
“Yeah. I gave Roman my thesis last night—”
“Congratulations, Ternia!” she said and slapped him hard on the back. “I’m jealous.”
Ceril couldn't help but grin. Their friendship—and personalities—often centered on them being from opposite ends of Erlon. Like Ceril, Ternia was mild. It was a temperate and sunny agricultural oasis, while Saryn and Yagh were just the opposite: dry and often unforgiving.
“When aren’t you jealous of me?” he teased. She slapped his back again, harder. “Oww! Saryn, stop.”
“Oh, lighten up,” she said. “You’re so delicate.”
He smiled. “Don’t tell Bryt that, or he’ll make me spend another few hours in the tanks.”
“Tempting…” she said.
“Shut up. Anyway, what’s going on here?”
“Well,” she said, “right now, you, I, and almost everyone else on board the Sigil, are about to find out just what happens when the ship’s Instancing connection is severed and we drop from hyperspace simultaneously.”
The past few years of training had really educated Ceril. He learned things during his time on the ship that he never would have thought possible, but he had also realized early on that Saryn was always going to be a little ahead of him no matter what he did—except for finishing her thesis. At that moment, though, he had absolutely no idea what Saryn was talking about. She was never that far ahead of him.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “Lost what connection? And we're out of hyperspac
e?” Was the blur gone from his window? Did he even look today? He didn’t think he had. He was too caught up in being late. He took it for granted that it was always there, so he hadn't thought to steal a glance in his panic this morning.
Saryn sighed and playfully dropped her shoulders in exasperation. “Yes, we're out of hyperspace. It happened maybe fifteen, twenty minutes ago.”
“I didn’t think we ever dropped out of hyperspace.”
“I know, right? That's the whole thing, Ternia. I’ve been thinking, though. About hyperspace. Why are we always in it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the Sigil always has a hyperspace envelope around it, right?”
“Until right now, apparently.”
“Right. And hyperspace is just a way to travel,” Saryn said. “It makes us faster, friction and all that, yadda yadda yadda, yeah?”
Ceril nodded.
“Well, where are we going? What’s so far away that we’ve had to stay enveloped by hyperspace for at least six years? Probably longer than that. We don’t even know when they actually departed.”
“What’s your point?”
“You really are a little dense sometimes, you know that? We’ve been traveling for who-knows-how-long to who-knows-where, and we’ve suddenly stopped and the connection is broken? Don’t you find it a bit odd to be perpetually traveling with no discernible destination?”
“I can’t say I’ve ever thought about that.”
“I doubt a lot of people have. But I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Now this happened, and I’m kind of wondering if the two things aren’t connected. Did we get to where we’re going?”
Last night’s conversation with Roman came back into Ceril’s mind, and he gulped. “I don’t doubt that we did.” He swallowed again. “Roman told me that my Rites were today.”
Saryn nodded. “Your Rites are today? Be careful, okay, Ceril?”
“As careful as I can be,” he said. “Maybe that’s what some of this is about. Who knows? Anyway, what were you saying about the connection?”
“With Ennd's,” Saryn said. “If my thesis research is anywhere near correct, the Inkwell Sigil has been maintaining a constant connection to Erlon, to Ennd’s. That way, even though the ship was moving through hyperspace and not occupying the same physical space anymore, the portal would still allow for travel between that Instance and wherever the Sigil is. We’ve moved light years away from home, but that open connection makes the universe think we’re standing still, that the whole ship has remained stationary.”
Ceril nodded. He had no idea what Saryn was talking about. “Okay,” he said. He was a newbie philosopher. He liked stories and legends. She was a scientist, a researcher. Scholar was far too broad a term, he thought.
“They’re bending physics, Ceril. They’re tricking the universe. Think of it like it’s a mini-Instance. We broke off a piece of home and carried it with us to trick the universe into believing that we’re still in the same spot. At least, that’s one theory. It’s why my thesis is taking so long.”
“No wonder,” he said. Ceril turned his head to the side, then back toward Saryn. “Do you hear that?”
“Barely,” she said. “I think it’s Roman. Maybe he’s explaining all this.” The duo had finally made their way to the Instance portal. They were at the very far end of the crowd that congregated in front of Roman. The muscle-bound scholar was standing in front of the archway that, until now, had always shimmered with energy.
Now, though, the dull frame looked cheap, fake. “Want to push our way through?” Ceril asked.
“Looks like we're going to have to.”
The crowd of people was focused on Roman’s address. Saryn let Ceril lead and cut a path through the other Charons. Occasionally, someone would grunt or nudge them back or give them a “hey, watch it,” but the pair eventually made their way to the front.
“—are not trapped. There will be a full investigation regarding the cause of this disturbance and we will be in our way,” Roman said. He was a good speaker. He knew how to work the crowd. He scanned the crowed as he spoke, and his eyes fell on Ceril. He frowned, almost glared. It was momentary, but Ceril caught it. “Now, if you'll excuse me,” Roman said, “Professor Lim Nephil from Ennd's Academy will answer any questions you may have.”
What’s Nephil doing here? Ceril thought. He shouldn’t be bringing new Recruits through this late in the year.
Roman interrupted Ceril's thoughts as he came off the stage and took the younger man by a shoulder. Ceril had grown to be a large young man, his chunkiness from adolescence turned into muscle over the years by his soldier training. He was still no match for Roman, though, who stood nearly a foot taller than he did. Ceril allowed himself to be led away from the crowd, where he found himself being pretty much thrown into a small meeting room attached to the portal chamber. The lights were dim, and it took Ceril’s eyes a few moments to adjust.
“Just what the hell do you think you're doing?” Roman said. Ceril looked toward the door that Roman slammed behind them and wondered if anyone outside this room would be able to hear this conversation. “No, they can't hear us, Ceril, if that’s what you’re thinking. So tell me, just what the hell do you think you're doing?”
“I don't understand. I had just come in to see what the big deal was, and you pulled me in here to yell at me.”
“Why were you not at your briefing this morning, Ceril?” Roman might have been angrier than Ceril had ever seen him, and he had been plenty angry after Ethan Triggs’s death. Roman was shaking as he waited for Ceril to answer.
“I overslept, sir,” Ceril said. He tried to keep his voice calm. “I must not have set my alarm when I went to bed last night, and I woke up when people started making noise outside my door. It might have been ten or fifteen minutes ago.”
“You didn't set your alarm? That's your story?”
“It's not my story, sir. It's the truth.”
“Ceril,” said a voice from behind him, “do you have any idea how important your Rites are?” Bryt leaned over the conference. Ceril could see Howser there, too, and a few other professors he had known at Ennd's. What was going on here?
“Yes, sir.”
“It appears that you don’t,” Roman said. “After all of the work you’ve put in over the years, I can’t believe that you would think so little of your Rites. Of us. Of yourself.”
“I didn’t realize that oversleeping was a capital offense, sir,” Ceril said.
“Don’t get smart with me, son,” Roman snapped.
Bryt interrupted their exchange. He said, “You were going to be briefed for a mission that was uniquely suited to you and the team we were sending with you.”
“With me?”
“Yes, you were to be team leader this time around.”
Ceril squinted at him. “Doing what? You said my Rites were going to be looking around to see if I can find connections, and I’ve been doing that solo for a while now.”
Bryt stood up and said, “Yes, you have. It’s a little different than that, though, Ceril. We’ve expected this kind of failure for some time.”
“I didn’t fail!” Ceril shouted. He was getting frustrated with them attacking him like this, but he knew that if he didn’t control himself, his Flameblade might make an appearance. With them already doubting his abilities, the last thing he needed was for them to think his soldier training didn’t take.
“Not you, Ceril. The hyperdrive. The Sigil is an old ship. Older than most people can reasonably comprehend, and she's been traveling a long time. Some of our engineers noticed that there was too much of a variance in the power being fed to the hyperdrive. And into the Instance portal. They calculated that if we didn’t do something soon, we could overload the system.” Bryt touched his forehead lightly with his fingertips. “If that happened, then our lifeline back to Erlon would be severed.”
“But what does this have to do with me?”
“More than you’ve
been told so far, actually,” Bryt said. “But plans have changed somewhat. The base mission remains the same, however. You were initially going to be sent to an Instance where there might be ties to the Untouchable that you would be…uniquely able to utilize. Given our current predicament, we’re going to need you to not only find those ties, Ceril, but use them to physically get back to Erlon.”
“I’m not sure I understand, Bryt.”
“You don’t have to,” Roman said. “That’s why you’ll have your team. You’ve all been chosen specifically for this mission. It’s up to you to figure out how to get yourselves back to Erlon. Back to Ternia, actually, so that you could help elicit some assistance from that end.”
“Why Ternia? Why me?”
“Because, Ceril,” said Bryt, “I don't think that anyone else on board this ship—present company included—would be able to convince your grandfather to come back and see if he can fix what he screwed up in the first place.”
Chapter Ten
Gramps looked at the sky and sighed. Storms were on their way, and from the look of the sky, he would need to secure anything he didn’t want blown away. He loved living in Ternia more than he’d ever loved anywhere else, but the storms could get bad enough that he considered moving. Almost.
Still, such thoughts did him little good at the moment, and he figured that he had maybe half an hour before the worst of the storm came. He spent that time moving whatever he could carry into his storage buildings behind the house.
By the time the storm hit, he was back inside, safe, dry, and sitting in his favorite chair—the one next to the window where he told his grandson stories. He lit a candle and wondered just what was going on with Ceril these days. Nearly five years had passed since he had been allowed to speak with the boy. So much can change in five years, he thought.
He missed Ceril terribly. The boy wouldn’t have had family if it weren’t for him, and then Nephil and those other damned technomages at Ennd's took him and tried to make him one of them. The old man’s stomach clenched at the thought. He had wanted more than that life for Ceril. He just hoped that wherever Ceril was, he was safe and happy.