After Thomas recorded the final number—sixteen--she directed Nathaniel to the box on the wall. “I’ll read the numbers from Thomas’s list, and you touch the matching star.”
Nathaniel positioned himself next to the box, while she stood over the markings on the floor.
“Eight.”
He pressed the eighth button. Much to her delight, the star lit up.
She moved on. “One. Four. Two. Fourteen. Three.”
Her voice grew stronger with each successive number, until she shouted out the last. “Sixteen!”
Nathaniel settled his finger over the sixteenth button, and glanced over his shoulder at her.
She nodded.
He pressed and stepped back from the doors, giving them leeway.
They all waited.
Nothing happened—no movement, no sound, no change in lighting. Nothing. After a few moments, the stars went dim.
***
Orah sat cross-legged on the floor, sullen and silent. When Nathaniel had tried to cheer her up, she’d sent him off with Thomas to explore. Better to brood alone. A half hour later, they returned to report they’d found nothing. The Temple of Truth was as lifeless as the rest of the keepmasters’ city.
Unable to face them, she focused on the floor. “You were right all along, Thomas. I’m not smart enough. The secret of the keep is beyond me.”
Thomas plopped down next to her, brushing her shoulder as he sat. “Not smart enough? You’ve been brilliant. We’d never have come this far without you. Not that Nathaniel and I haven’t contributed, but you were the best.”
She rocked to one side and bumped him playfully, before becoming thoughtful again. “What if you were right about another thing? What if the seekers took too long to arise? What if we did everything as we should, but the doors no longer work?”
Nathaniel had been pacing the room, poking at every crack and corner, but now he spun on his heel and faced her. “Then we’re not to blame. Other generations had the chance, and we’ve accomplished more than all of them. We have nothing to be ashamed of.”
He dropped down on her other side and placed an arm around her as she drew circles in the dust.
She finally looked up. “You’re the best of friends, and I’m so grateful you came with me, but we’re supposed to be the seekers, the most curious and persistent of our generation. Are we now content to accept failure because of the order of things?”
“The order of things.” Nathaniel jumped up and strode to the doors as if he’d suddenly discovered the key. “We haven’t failed yet. You mentioned the word order—the order of the rhyme. Maybe they mean not the numbers in the rhyme, but the lines themselves.”
Thomas looked perplexed, but Orah encouraged Nathaniel to continue.
“There are sixteen stars and sixteen lines to the rhyme. What were the exact last words? ‘When touched by the lines of the rhyme.’” His eyes took on a glow, as if reflecting the light from the stars. “I’ll show you what I mean.”
He found a fresh section of floor and wrote down one through sixteen. “Now, Orah, recite the rhyme, one line at a time.”
She took a breath and glanced to the unseen heavens. “To the North, behind the rock face.”
“No number in that line, so we remove it.” His boot rubbed out the number one.
She stirred and rose to her feet, hovering over his drawings and rattling off the remaining verses.
Twixt water and dark walls of pine
For a full eight days you shall race
One more past four falls in a line
He erased the two, but three and four stayed. When Orah had finished, a new sequence remained: three, four, seven, twelve, fifteen.
She nodded. “It’s worth a try. I’ll read the list and you press the buttons.”
“No. You do it this time.”
Her face grew warm. “It’s not my place. It was your idea.”
He came closer and placed a hand on her cheek, adding his warmth to hers. “Thomas was right. We needed all of us to make it this far. Besides, I’m only guessing. Maybe you’ll change our luck.”
She took his face in her hands, pulled his head down and kissed him. Then she went to the box at the side of the golden doors. “I’m ready.”
Nathaniel read the list, and she touched the stars.
When he called out the final number, her finger hovered. She briefly closed her eyes, a quick prayer to the light. “It’ll work this time, Nathaniel of Little Pond. I can feel it.”
She pressed the final button.
Slowly, the structure came alive. The floor began to vibrate. The grinding of gears, unused for centuries, echoed off the starred dome. In moments, the doors began to swing inward.
The power of the Temple had been thwarted, the challenges of the masters met.
They’d found the keep at last.
PART THREE – THE KEEP
“In searching for the truth be ready for the unexpected.” ~ Heraklietos of Ephesos
Chapter 26 – The Magic Window
The golden doors led to a much less impressive corridor. No vaulted arches or marble columns, no statues or artwork—only windowless walls and a low, flat ceiling—a place built more for utility than splendor. Orah advanced with care, wary of hidden defenses. The power of the Temple had surprised her, and she had no intention of underestimating the keep.
A dozen paces in, she startled to a recurrence of the gears grinding and spun around to catch the doors swinging shut. Thomas raced back and tried to stop them from closing, though each outweighed him tenfold. Nathaniel yanked him free before they crushed him.
“What are you doing?” she said.
Thomas clawed at the metal. “We’ll be trapped in the dark.”
Daylight from outside faded as the doors came together with a thud, but darkness never came. A glow rose all around them, brightest where they stood but with no identifiable source.
On the wall next to the doors, Orah spotted a twin of the box with the sixteen stars. “Don’t worry, Thomas, this isn’t Temple City, and the keep is no prison. The keepmasters have helped us get here and now we’re their guests. Come, both of you, and join with me.”
She reached out, took their hands, and bowed her head. “Blessed is the light that has given us life, allowed us to thrive, and brought us here to this day.”
Thomas winced. “Should you be quoting the book of light in here?”
“I’m praying to the true light, not to the Temple. The keepmasters will understand.”
With their endeavor properly blessed, she led them down the darkened corridor. As they approached the boundary of light, new illumination appeared. The glow, it seemed, would follow them wherever they went.
The corridor ended with two doors, more modest than the golden ones that guarded the keep. Before the three seekers reached them, they slid open on their own, revealing a circular chamber filled with hundreds of seats, all facing forward like a Little Pond classroom, but much larger.
As Orah struggled to guess the room’s purpose, everything went dark, save a sequence of red lights in the floor that outlined an aisle to the front.
“Well,” she said. “What are we waiting for? They’re showing us the way.”
The three followed the lit path and fanned out to explore, Nathaniel to the left, Orah to the right, and Thomas straight ahead.
As she groped for the wall, a crackling sounded behind her like paper being crushed.
A light flashed, and Thomas yelped. “A window... just appeared. That wall turned bright as day.”
Nathaniel rushed to his side. “A window? Where?”
“Don’t you doubt me, Nathaniel! I know what I saw.”
“I don’t doubt anything in this place,” Orah said. “Show us where.”
He spun about, trying to regain his bearings, and pointed to a spot on the darkened wall.
Orah inhaled and blew out two breaths as if about to start a race at festival. Her legs seemed made of water, but she for
ced them to move forward.
The air crackled again and a window appeared with people on its far side. They looked unthreatening, but she backed away before they could see her.
The window disappeared.
She froze in place and listened, but heard only the sound of her breathing and the low hum she’d noted since arriving in the keep.
“Do you believe me now?” Thomas said.
Orah nodded and turned to Nathaniel with a will-you-come-with-me look in her eyes. Before them lay what they’d sought all these weeks, a chance to speak with the masters. She grasped his hand, and together they approached the front of the chamber.
The window reappeared.
“They sense we’re here,” she whispered, “and have opened this window to welcome us.”
“Or eat us for dinner,” Thomas said.
The people became clearer. At a plain metal table sat two men and a woman, all elders. The woman wore her grey hair long, and dressed like a man in trousers. The first man had a full beard, not the jaw-line cut prescribed by the Temple but a bushy beard like an arch vicar, red in color with speckles of grey. The second was clean-shaven but had hair longer than the woman’s, tied in back in a tail.
The man with the beard stood, stared straight at Orah and calmly approached.
She planted her feet so they wouldn’t run away. “I am Orah of Little Pond.” Her voice rose and trembled like a scared little girl pretending to be brave. “We came here following the clues of the keepers, to seek the—”
Oddly, the man ignored her, gazing past her as if deaf and blind.
Nathaniel stepped closer and waved a hand in front of the man’s eyes.
Not a blink.
The man came to a halt and stood at the ready, like a teacher waiting for students to settle before class. Nathaniel made circles with both hands this time.
No response.
He checked with Orah, then inched closer to the window. His finger extended a hair’s breadth at a time, until he touched the man’s nose.
The image dissolved into liquid, like a reflection in the ripples of a pond. Nathaniel jerked his hand away, and the face resumed its form. The keepmaster never lost his composure.
Orah blew out a stream of air as she and Nathaniel retreated to Thomas. What she now realized to be a picture—a moving picture—went dark once more.
“A message from the past,” she said.
Nathaniel agreed, though his eyes flitted everywhere. “Only an image of the old keepmasters.”
“Sure,” Thomas said. “How could they be alive today?”
Orah discovered the window would also brighten if they sat in the chairs. The intent was clear—visitors were to enter the room, take their seats and listen.
The three settled in the front row and waited for the message to restart.
After a few seconds, the man retraced his steps and addressed them with these words: “Greetings, seekers.”
Orah sat transfixed as he welcomed them to the keep with all the manners customary in the Ponds, but she was beyond manners. She slid to the edge of her chair and waited for more. Why have they brought us here?
With niceties finished, the keepmaster began. “We are the founders of the keep, built before the darkness descended on the world. You who have come here have justified our hope, that even after centuries of stagnation some would long for more. You are the courageous few, able to overcome not only the Temple of Light, but the obstacles we placed in your path. You have earned the treasures preserved here.”
Nathaniel sat up taller and Thomas puffed out his chest, but Orah recalled the empty seats on the flying snake, saw the empty seats now, and a fear crept into her heart.
The master continued. “So why the keep? In our time, the Temple had already existed for a hundred years, but the vicars had not yet solidified their dominion over the world. They allowed dissimilar points of view not because they accepted the beliefs of others, but because they lacked the power to suppress them... until the foolishness of our leaders drove the disillusioned into their arms. The vicars began to control everything—the teaching of the young, the exchange of information, travel. We came to accept that no one could reverse their growing power.”
The man in the window pressed closer, his face turned grim.
“Our age of enlightenment was ending. We grieved for the loss of knowledge, the demise of the spirit of innovation, and a number of us resolved to preserve these for the future. We fled to the ruins of the greatest city of our age, through what had become wilderness. There, inside a world-renowned center of learning, the keep was born.
“History has recorded periods of stagnation before, but the human spirit is resilient and has always revived. So we constructed the keep to last a thousand years, if need be, and planted within it the seeds for those who would surely emerge.
“The best of our age—scholars, artists, thinkers—dedicated their lives to recording their knowledge so that, when the time came, the new generation could learn from the past. We began in the year ninety-two of what the Temple cynically called the age of light. As we record this message, the year is one hundred and forty-two. We have finished our task. The rest is up to you.”
Orah whispered to Nathaniel. “Fifty years to finish the keep.”
“And nearly a thousand since they recorded these words.” Even in the faint glow cast by the floor lights, she could see the anger smoldering in his eyes. “It’s a disgrace we’ve taken so long to find the keep, and a miracle it still functions.”
The bearded man returned to his seat, and the woman took his place. She began in a muted voice that gained enthusiasm as she spoke.
“We constructed the keep for long-term use and stored in it all the knowledge of our age. You’ll find a lot to learn here. We’ve made provision for you to stay as long as you wish, with ample food and water. The food has been dried and sealed without air to last for an extended period. It may appear strange to you, but when water is added, it will taste acceptable and provide all your nutritional needs. We embedded panels on the roof that soak up the energy of the sun. There’ll be light wherever you go and a comfortable temperature throughout the year, cool in summer and warm in winter.
“You’ll meet many helpers in the keep, recordings we made to help you learn. You can access them through the same kind of screen on which you’re viewing us now. Each shows a different field of knowledge—history, art, science, and much more.
“The screens will light up as you approach, as this one did. If you ask questions, they’ll respond. If you’re done with a topic, say ‘stop.’ If you’re confused, say ‘help,’ and an explanation will follow.”
She paused to take a sip from a porcelain cup on the table. When she turned back, she had a quiet dignity about her.
“All the exploits of our age, the triumphs and failures, are here. Humankind was imperfect in our day, as I’m sure it will be in yours. In some ages we’ve been at our best and in others our worst, but overall the race moves on. The Temple of Light stopped that progress. You are the spark that will bring it back to life. Accept our knowledge as a bequest from the past. Take what you believe to be good, discard what you think to be bad, but above all, move forward from where we left off. We encourage you to stay, learn, and then teach others.”
The woman resumed her seat, and the final keepmaster, the one with his hair in a tail, took her place. He rocked on the balls of his feet, and his voice rose and fell as he spoke.
“We congratulate you on the success of your revolution. Your presence means the Temple has at last been defeated, or its power so diminished that the keepers felt safe to reveal the rhyme. We can help by arming you with knowledge.
“You are the leaders of a great movement. Bring your followers here. We built the keep to educate hundreds. The keep is yours. Its knowledge will dispel the darkness and light the way so the world may be reborn.”
The window darkened, and the glow from the hidden lights returned. When Orah glanced back
at her friends, their faces had gone pale.
She spoke for them all. “At least now we know what the seekers were supposed to be.”
“Yes,” Thomas said, “and it wasn’t us.”
***
None of them spoke for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Orah clasped her hands between her knees and contemplated the floor while Nathaniel slumped in his chair, his long legs stretched out before him.
Only Thomas stood, circling the chamber as if hoping to find a window with a different message.
After his second loop, Orah could bear his pacing no more. “Come sit, Thomas. We need all our brains to think this through.”
Thomas stopped, but stayed standing. “What’s to think about? The message was clear. We don’t deserve the keepmasters’ congratulations. We’re not what they hoped for. They expected the elders of a new generation, not three young seekers filled with delusions.”
“But seekers nevertheless.”
Thomas spun around, his face flushed. “Don’t you understand? The keepers were supposed to wait for a rebellion to begin, but we took too long. They got desperate and stumbled upon us in their final breath. Our success was luck, not the stuff of legend. We’re not the seekers they expected. We’re... an accident.”
Nathaniel rose, using his height to intimidate Thomas. “You’re right. Our forebears failed, but now there’s only us, and our fate depends on what we make of it. So what if we came here by accident? The bigger concern is what to do next.”
The question hung in the air. Orah pressed her lips into a thin line, for once devoid of answers.
“Well, I know what we should do,” Thomas said, and then paused, waiting for their full attention. “I heard one thing that impressed me. The keepmasters may be useless to protect us, but they’ve left plenty of food. I’m going to find something to eat.”
Orah eased into a smile. “I knew we had a reason to bring you along.”
She joined Thomas and beckoned to Nathaniel. “Better than sitting here feeling glum.”
Nathaniel hesitated as if searching for a more noble answer, some battle to fight, but no enemies lurked in the vicinity, and no great cause flared like a beacon on the horizon. So he followed his friends to explore the keep.
The Seekers: The Children of Darkness (Dystopian Sci-Fi - Book 1) Page 18