Song of the Worlds Boxed Set

by Brandon Barr

  “Yes, primarily from Beasts.” Arentiss nodded. “The Beasts are animals that have been inhabited by a spirit creature called an Aeraphim. These Aeraphim seduce the humans on their world. They offer gifts to the humans who follow them and turn kings and warlords to their allegiance. They give power to those who become their puppets.”

  “We call these Beast followers Shadowmen,” said Rueik, a frown marking his youthful face. “Some are very dangerous.”

  “Do you know how many worlds we protect from the Beasts?” asked Arentiss.

  Winter tried to think of a number she might have heard in the past, but it was Aven who broke the silence.

  “I’ve heard it’s close to one thousand,” said her brother.

  “Incorrect,” said Arentiss. “Eighteen-thousand, four hundred and seventy-two as of this morning.”

  “You ignorant farm boy,” tapped Winter.

  Aven struggled to suppress a smile. He tapped back, “Ask her how many boogers she has in her nose.”

  “I see you communicate with your hands,” said Arentiss. “Is this common among the farmers in your community?”

  “No,” said Winter. “It is our own private language. Just Aven and I.”

  “How old were you when you devised it?”

  Rueik put his arm around Arentiss and pulled her off-balance, in what seemed a playful hug. “You’ll get used to this one. If she had her way, she would question you for days. It’s how she gets to know people. She’s a scientist by nature. Literally. She can’t help but pummel you with questions.”

  Arentiss’s eyes showed no emotion. “Rueik is right. I come from a people group known for their scientific acumen. To certain other cultures, our questions may be seen as blunt or shrewd. Or I’m told, annoying. I do not mean to be rude.

  “One more question though, if you don’t mind. Do you have any idea what your role will be as a Guardian?”

  “We are in the dark,” said Winter. “Baron Rhaudius only told us we were joining the Guardians. Nothing more.”

  The muscles on Arentiss’s petite face tightened. Clearly she wanted to question them more.

  “Relic, give us two beds,” said Rueik in a formal voice. From the room’s white tiled floor rose a pair of rectangular beds topped with a cushioned surface. “Lie down. Karience and Alael will be arriving soon.”

  “You speak and the ship listens?” said Winter.

  “It is programmed—I should say, it is…” Rueik laughed through his nose. “You don’t know what the word ‘programmed’ means, do you?”

  “No,” said Winter.

  “It’s something from an advanced world. I came from a world like yours, and it is still difficult to explain. Think of it like magic, although its not. It’s as natural as learning to make syrup from tree sap. One only has to figure it out. It is the same with the ship and many other things. They must be discovered—only, a hundred things must be discovered, one after another, to get to a ship that obeys your voice.”

  “I don’t understand how something like a ship can be discovered,” said Aven. “Or summoning beds to rise from the floor at the command of your words.”

  “Another four to ten thousand years,” said Arentiss, “and your culture will likely have the tools to make ships just like this.”

  Winter placed her hand on one of the rectangular beds. It was soft and pliable. “Are these part of the procedure Karience spoke of?” The idea of having to lie down made her uncomfortable. It suggested something beyond conversation. What was a procedure?

  “Yes,” said Arentiss. “It is painless. Just lie down and relax.”

  Painless? thought Winter. Were procedures usually uncomfortable?

  Winter let go of Aven’s hand and they both sat on the strange beds. Arentiss stood at the foot of Aven’s, while Rueik hovered beside hers.

  “Do your sigils mark your rank?” asked Winter, eyeing the white-red-black patch on Rueik’s white shirt. “I noticed both you and Arentiss have different colors than Karience.”

  “Arentiss and I are Missionaries, marked by the white-red-black on our sigils.”

  “Your world is in transition,” said Arentiss. “Loam has signed the charter and is serving its twenty-eighth year toward the goal of becoming a fully protected, fully privileged world. In twelve more years, you will receive a Cultivator. That individual will see you through twenty more transition years, at the end of which you’ll become an officially recognized member.”

  Rueik rolled his eyes. “What I think Arentiss is trying to tell you is that when a world is in transition, that world must serve as a Missionary enclave for the Guardians, working with the rulers of the planet, like your Royals. Loam has two teams of Missionaries.”

  “We did have two teams,” said Arentiss.

  Rueik appeared thrown off-balance by her remark. A seriousness crept onto his face. “It’s not our role—”

  “I know,” said Arentiss, and turned her eyes on Aven, then to Winter. Winter felt unnerved by the coldness of her stare. “You’ll find out in due time, I’m certain.”

  “Your hands,” said Aven to Arentiss. “May I see them?”

  One side of Arentiss’s mouth curved into a fragile smile. Without a word, she stretched both her hands out, palm up.

  “Your hands are soft, like a child’s, but you look close to my mother’s age when she died.”

  Her smile disappeared and a sharp line formed on her brow. She withdrew her hands. “I am only twenty-eight in Loam’s years. Was your mother a babe when she had you?”

  Winter found it curious that Arentiss would take offense. It was fascinating to realize this woman had a different understanding of her brother’s words. Aven had paid her hands a compliment. Only Royals had smooth hands. Or was it the other comment Aven had made. Did the woman’s advanced culture not value the wisdom and honor of age?

  Aven appeared confused. “My mother was seventeen when she had Winter and I.”

  Rueik intervened. “Arentiss is still new to Loam. Forgive her if she doesn’t understand primworld cultures like you and I come from.”

  “What is a prim culture?” asked Winter.

  “A primitive culture,” said Rueik. “A world that does not have starships and other such things. These advanced worlds are called upworlds.”

  Winter liked Rueik. He was like them, and yet he clearly understood much more about the larger universe. He seemed to enjoy helping them understand new things.

  She turned her head toward Arentiss. “My brother was only asking to find out what it is Missionaries do,” said Winter. “If your hands are not calloused, then you must work more with your mind. What kind of mission do you perform?”

  “Our mission is to blind jump through the portal,” said Arentiss.

  “What is a blind jump?” said Winter.

  Arentiss cocked her head to the side. “Do you not know how the portals work?”

  “No,” said a woman’s voice to their left. “I don’t believe they do.”

  Winter turned. Karience and Alael had silently entered the room.

  CHAPTER 3

  KARIENCE

  Karience looked on at the two young farmers with admiration. They were the common man and woman of Loam she was working for—not the contemptuous royalty she had to navigate weekly. A crown could be so corrupting. But then, so too was the powerful technology at her disposal.

  She was uncomfortable with what she had done to Pike. It felt wrong to alter a human being by force—no matter how good the end results. It was truly an end justifying the means, and it had been her only option. If she didn’t have the Physician, Alael, and his kind at her disposal, what would she have done? The Magnus Empyrean was adamant that she chose whoever Baron Rhaudius recommended, and, to her annoyance, the three were an all or nothing package.

  “Rueik, Arentiss, if you would excuse us.”

  The two departed without a word. Karience made her way over to Aven and Winter, while Alael strode to a small table in the corner and abso
rbed himself in a sheaf of papers.

  Both at seventeen years, these two farmers would have still been considered children on her world, but here on Loam the commoner learned responsibility and a work ethic at a far earlier age. Though they were mature, they were desperately lacking in other areas. They had no idea what they were walking into, although neither did she. Commoners were almost never recommended to positions within the Guardians. On primitive worlds like Loam, it was a queen’s sister’s son, or a king’s bastard daughter, or a faithful friend of a princess or prince who received a recommend. And the Guardians preferred it this way for good reason. Though many of the Royal recommends were ignorant or pompous narcissists, or both, there were always a few who had both character and a capable court education on which she could further build. But with a commoner, you were lucky if they could read or write, and they would certainly be conceptually behind in almost every category. Science, mathematics, languages, psychology, and the type of knowledge one took in by osmosis living on an advanced world. Technology would likely confound them for years, as would gaining a grasp of the wider worlds and varying cultures. There was only one reason that out of one hundred and eighty-nine recommends, Baron Rhaudius's three had won out.

  The farm girl, Winter.

  The girl sat on the examination table, legs tucked against her chest, arms wrapped around them, calmly observing her and Alael. She looked just like the image the little beetle had captured when it brought back Winter’s assessment. She looked like the fabled nymph. Slender, dark hair, skin the color of a dry leaf; an array of feathers tied in her hair. She had looked homely in the image, but in person there was an exquisite allure about her crooked nose and unruly appearance.

  And then there was her brother, Aven. His hair was a mix of dark and blond, and it fell in half curls over his brow. His face was strong, eyes green like the sea overlooked by the Guardian’s Tower; Aven had a beautiful mouth with lips she’d heard again and again speak peace and kindness. He looked skeptically at her now, his eyes probing her.

  The beetle that followed Aven had captured much of his bifurcated psychology. It sprang from a painful loss he’d recently endured; one which she had only glimpsed in fragments. His parents had been killed. And a loved one named Harvest. And others, perhaps grandparents or aunts and uncles? She didn’t know the circumstances other than Baron Rhaudius was involved. Aven’s mind was scarred. She saw these wounds plainly on the young man’s face before her, taking their toll on his handsome features.

  “This must all be very strange to you,” said Karience. “How are you feeling? Uncomfortable? Overwhelmed?”

  “Thankful,” said Winter. “You’ve saved us. I don’t know why we are here, but I promise this: we are hard workers and whatever we can do, we will do it well.”

  Karience felt Winter’s words like a fire on her skin, warming to the point of pain. The girl was so innocent. Naive of the situation she was entering. She wished the circumstances were stable and safe, as they had been before. But things had taken a sinister turn.

  “And Aven, how do you feel?”

  His eyes scanned the room’s interior.

  “Out of place. This is all so strange. These walls, the way the ceiling glows. I don’t know what you expect of us…I know you saved us, and I’m thankful for that, but why are we here? And more than that, why is Pike here?”

  Karience noted the force behind his last question. “The Baron only agreed to release you and Winter if we took Pike. I understand why his presence would upset you. But for now, you will have to trust me. He won’t hurt you while he’s here. I’ll explain that, but another time.” She tried to reassure him with a confident nod. “As to why you are here, we’ll talk about that.”

  “Do the Guardians need farmers?” asked Aven. “Is that why you’ve chosen us?”

  Karience laughed. “By the stars! No! Your duties as a Guardian will be much more interesting. You can rest assured your days of hard labor are done. ”

  Immediately she noticed a change in Aven’s demeanor. She’d clearly said something he found distasteful. He glared at her in wounded silence.

  “Did I say something offensive?”

  “My parents worked land all their lives, and they loved it. I’m a farmer. I hope to have my own farm one day. I don’t know what people from other worlds value, but those are my dreams. That, and to find a mate and have children. That is what I want in life.”

  Karience frowned. Curse those psych reports and her damn assumptions. She was too accustomed to Loam’s nobles, and not its commoners. “Forgive me, Aven. I meant no ill by my words. As a Guardian, you can marry and have children whenever you choose. A farm might be harder to manage while you’re with us, but I suppose it’s possible. You may purchase one, but you’ll be living with us at our tower. And your duties will require you to be on call around the clock.”

  She glanced at Alael. He was fingering his dark beard absently, waiting for her to get on with the day’s errands. She turned to him. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

  He seemed slightly bothered by her request. “I can explain the procedure. It’s protocol.”

  “I’d rather do it myself. I’ve gone over their beetle feeds, I know them better than you. A private discussion is what they need.”

  Alael mumbled an ascent, then left the room.

  Finally, she had the two alone. There was much to tell them, but quickly. She didn’t want to raise any suspicions.

  “Let me explain what your role will be as a Guardian, and then I’ll explain the procedure. First, I assume you do not know the rules of the portal?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Winter. “Arentiss was about to explain when you came in.”

  “It’s a simple concept that goes like this. When a person walks through the portal on their homeworld, they will jump to any random world within our galaxy. Once they’ve arrived on a random world, what do you think happens when they walk back through the portal?”

  Winter said, “Do they go to another random world, or back to their own world?”

  Aven said, “Either that, or they go to a world in one of the seven other galaxies.”

  Karience smiled. “I see Arentiss and Rueik wasted no time acquainting you with a few new concepts.”

  “Why? You think we’re ignorant farmers?” said Aven.

  “The reason I know they told you has nothing to do with your station on Loam. It has to do with the fact that not a single person on your world knows how many galaxies there are. That is, besides the two of you. As Guardians, we forbid ourselves from advancing your knowledge. It is far better for your world to discover it on its own. But, even if the number of galaxies was something you could have known, I would have had a good idea whether you knew the number or not since I put a beetle out on both of you.”

  She let the strange word roll through their mind before continuing. “To evaluate the many candidates recommended for the three positions. We send out bugs. Tiny gnats and beetles that have been made into what we call organic machines…they’re bugs that have been…altered, changed. They watch your movements and…take in your words so that we can see you move through the bug’s eyes and hear you talk through their receptors—their ears, so to speak. We call this a beetle feed. In the end, I receive a summary of who you are and what you do. This helps us know who is a good match for the role we are looking to fill.”

  Karience noticed their fingers speaking to each other. Just like the report described. How long they’d been silently talking just now, she didn’t know.

  Aven looked agitated.

  Winter finally opened her mouth. “You’ve been watching my brother and I through the eyes of insects?”

  “Yes, to see if you were capable for the duty of our order. And it will also make your transition into life with the Guardians easier. So back to our original topic: when a person travels through the portal on their home world, and arrives on a random world, if that person steps back through the portal on that random wor
ld, they will find themselves back on their homeworld. It is a law of the portals. That is where your role comes in. Every world the Guardians protect has Emissaries. This is the duty you will perform. An Emissary allows outsiders to travel directly to our world by accompanying them through the portal. For instance, if I wanted to travel from Loam to my world, I would need you or your sister to accompany me if I wanted to return, for once I’ve reached my world, I would need someone from your world to lead me back through the portal.”

  “How does leading work?” asked Winter.

  “It is what we describe as a person’s wake,” said Karience. “Picture the portal like a lake untouched by the wind. The water is still. If a person walks into the water, their bulk will disturb it, creating ripples. This image can be applied to the portal. When a person passes through, they leave a wake that lasts a short amount of time. This wake allows anyone who follows them through the portal to jump to the same world as the person who went through first. Thus, an Emissary can travel with me to my world by following after me, and then I can travel back to their world by following after them.”

  A smile had spread across Winter’s nymphish face, her orange eyes alight with some thought. Karience gazed quizzically at her and waited for an explanation.

  Winter’s leafy brown skin reddened when she realized she was staring. “I’m sorry, I’m just so happy. You’re telling me that Aven and I will be traveling between worlds?”

  “That is the duty of an Emissary, yes.”

  “It sounds so simple but so exciting,” said Winter.

  Karience noted the different reactions between brother and sister. For all Winter’s excitement, Aven’s face hadn’t shown even a hint of enthusiasm. For someone rescued from a dreary existence as a lordling’s slave, he seemed strangely cold and aloof.

  “What happened to the Emissaries before us?” asked Aven.

  Karience breathed deep. What else was there to say but the truth?

  “Murdered,” she said. The word staled the air in an instant. “As of right now, I cannot tell you further details, but know this, as long as you are within the Guardian’s quarters, you are safe. Whoever the murderer is, they cannot move against us from inside our own walls.”