“I looked into that a bit—after,” Ebenezer says. “Did some research. Tried to understand him. It wasn’t Zoroaster he talked about though. It was always the name Zurvan, and another one named Gnomo, or gnome something. He kept writing it on the walls of his room.”
“Zurvan is tied to an old heresy in Zoroastrianism,” Tucket says. His eyes have a hazy look and I can tell he’s off in the metaspace and reading something, keeping himself up to speed on the conversation. “A heretical sect around the fifth century BCE. It’s ancient, but it died out and hasn’t been practiced since, at least according to modern Zoroastrians. There aren’t many of those left either.”
“My son would have begged to differ,” Ebenezer says. “It certainly was alive and well to him.”
“What happened?” Mym asks. “Where is Jay now?”
“His friends came to get him,” Jonah says. “Last week. Came in a big truck, all wearing black robes and stuff.”
I look to Ebenezer for confirmation. I get the impression it’s information he would rather not have shared, but he nods. “They came in the night. No explanation. He tried to leave without even saying goodbye. I watched them come down the drive, confronted them outside.” His head has drooped lower during the conversation, but he picks it up and holds it higher now, as if rallying his spirit to be able to continue the tale. “It wasn’t as if they took him. He went with them freely. Happily even, if you could say he was happy anymore. I tried to stop him from leaving, but he was determined.”
“What was his explanation?” I ask. “Did he say where he was going?”
“No. Nothing,” Ebenezer says, his voice seems on the verge of cracking, but he holds it together. “He wouldn’t even speak to me.”
“We found the book though,” Jonah says. “We found his prayer book he’s been writing in. It’s all full of symbols.”
I look at him with interest. “What kind of symbols?”
“Lots of them. Lions and fire and stuff. He drew them.”
Ebenezer has gone quiet and is looking out the window again, absentmindedly fidgeting with the teaspoon on the table next to him.
“We’ve been chasing a symbol ourselves,” I say. “We think it might be tied into this cult of the Eternals somehow. Do you think we could see the book?”
“I’ll take you to Jay’s room!” Jonah pops out of his chair and addresses his dad. “Want to show it to them?”
Ebenezer studies us, his gaze traveling from Tucket to me and finally resting on Mym. While looking at her, he seems on the verge of speaking, but then he merely nods to Jonah and waves a hand dismissively before resuming his contemplation of the outdoors.
The second floor is cozy and inviting—a few quaint bedrooms surrounding a parlor—but we don’t stop there. We continue onward, following Jonah to the foot of a spiral staircase at the rear of the house. He pauses with one foot on the bottom step.
“Dad doesn’t like to go up here, but Jay lets me come up sometimes. On days when he’s feeling happy.”
Something about the boy’s tone makes me think those days must not have been frequent. We climb the stairs after him and emerge into what must have originally been an attic. The peaked roof makes the sides of the room inaccessible to anyone of my height, but the center of the room has been turned into a bedroom, though a fairly Spartan one. Furniture other than the bed is limited to an antique wardrobe and a writing desk covered in candle wax and burnt nubs of extinguished tapers. Their presence must be more symbolic than functional, as the room is artificially lit by imbedded wall lighting and two windows at either end of the room admit the shrouded daylight, illuminating the residence of what I take to be someone with very simple tastes.
The bedroom holds none of the trinkets favored by other teenagers Jay’s age. No rock posters or magazines; no video game consoles or pinup girls. The only items in the room that could be construed as decorations are a handful of scribbled drawings on loose paper stuck to one wall. There are other smaller notes interspersed between them, bits of phrases and quotations. As I step close to investigate, it appears to all be interrelated. The quotes that are cited all bear the same name. Lord Gnomon. One of the drawings near the top of the collection has our flaming, winged circle symbol on it.
Jonah immediately heads for the writing desk and opens the center drawer. He returns to me bearing a hard-backed leather-bound journal. The book is black and has been worn at the corners. The leather bears scars from rough use and occasional encounters with water or tea. The pages have been wrinkled in places and the spine has struggled to maintain its composure.
I open the book and it’s as though I’m looking at an extension of the clippings on the wall. More drawings illuminate some of the pages, but it is mostly text, handwritten by someone scribbling hastily at times and in other moments printed with deliberate care.
What strikes me as odd after a few pages, is that the writing is frequently encapsulated in quotation marks, though it appears to be written in the style of a journal. I can see how Jonah may have interpreted it as a type of prayer book, but the more I look at it, the less it seems like prayer and the more it resembles specific directives. The sentences begin in fits and starts, not always connecting with the ones previous. It’s as if I’m reading one side of a conversation without knowing the other person’s dialogue.
Occasionally Jay has scribbled additional notes in the margins. One particular line strikes me. “My dreams occur during the day now. They say that is an important step. I can speak to him when I want, but I can’t always keep him out.”
“Looks like you two might have a few things in common,” Mym says. I look up and realize she’s been reading it next to me—a fact I was too absorbed to notice before. She looks worried though. I consider the wall full of jumbled messages. Is this what my future is going to look like too?
Jonah has finished showing Tucket around the room and wanders back to my side. “His room didn’t used to look like this. We used to play up here. He doesn’t like to play much anymore though.”
“Jonah, when did Jay start working on this?” I hold up the book and gesture toward the quotations on the wall with it. “How long ago?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Maybe a year. It started before I went to the race. That’s when he made me my helmet. He was mad that I lost it during the race and made me another one. Dad keeps telling me to wear it too. But I told him I didn’t want to. I remembered what you said, and I wasn’t scared anymore.”
I study the boy, remembering the first time I saw him at the chronothon welcome dinner. He had been wearing a multicolored helmet in the shape of a snail.
Mym is looking at me, obviously curious about the conversation.
Jonah looks around the room, but seems ready to move on. “Want to come see my room next?”
I consider the book in my hands. “I’d like to have a little longer look at this. Why don’t you show Tucket and Mym and I’ll catch up.”
Jonah seems satisfied with this and leads Tucket back downstairs, talking animatedly about the Academy. Mym nudges me. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right down, just trying to buy a little time with this. I feel like it might have more clues for us.”
“Okay. I’ll see if I can help keep him entertained.” She kisses me on the cheek and descends the stairs after the others.
Moving to the edge of the bed, I take a seat and go back to browsing the book. The lines of scripted writing end approximately a third of the way in. After that, it takes on the looser freestyle writing of a journal. The handwriting is still the same, but the format is different. These thoughts are not well organized, more stream of consciousness writing, full of the emotions of the moment. It seems Jay had quite a lot to say regarding the first third of the book. Little snippets of journaling mention “The Chronicle,” and “The Lost Star.” From what I gather, he has been trying to write this chronicle from memory, having only heard it spoken somewhere. A sizable feat, as the text is anything but
short. I flip to the most recent entry at the back of the journal. It seems he knew it would be his last.
“They will be here for me tomorrow night. The time has come for me to leave all of this behind. They were very insistent that I take nothing with me, not even spare clothing. I’m tempted to take this journal, but they expect me to know the message from memory now. I worry they may think I’ve failed to learn it all if I bring my notes. It’s okay. I’ve recited it three times without errors this morning. I even dream the words in my sleep. If I can pass along the message, I will be rewarded. They say they have a special assignment for me. I hope I’ll be one of the chosen.”
There are more drawings of the winged sun throughout the journal, along with a label—The Lost Star.
So the symbol and the Lost Star reference are the same thing . . .
Something moves to my right. I look up in surprise to find Darius, Ebenezer’s chrome assistant, staring at me. My heart jolts in my chest. “Whoa. You scared me. Never heard you come in.”
Darius bows slightly, but doesn’t apologize. “I have need of your attention. You must come with me.”
“I told Jonah I’d meet him in—”
“Master Jonah will not ask after you for a few more minutes, you have time to speak to me.”
“How can you know that?”
“All of the manor’s security protocols route through me. I am aware of everything that happens on these grounds. Also, I am capable of very accurate predictions when it comes to the members of this household. Please, I must have your time.”
I set the book down and stand, uneasily. “I guess if it won’t take long . . .”
“It won’t. Now if you’ll please follow me.”
Darius leads me down a back set of steps and onto the rear patio. He doesn’t hesitate there, but leads me around the house and across the side yard to a weatherworn outbuilding at the edge of the woods. Just beyond it, the driveway passes by on its way to the front of the house. I hadn’t noticed the building as we rode in, possibly due to its partial obscurity in the trees.
Once he has reached the door, he unlocks it electronically and reveals an interior full of lawn equipment, both modern and old—contraptions that look to be a collection of remotely operated lawn mowers. None have seats or operating controls, but each one is mounted in a sort of dock, presumably charging up for their next run over the grounds.
Darius instructs me to stand inside the shed. “You are going to send yourself back to Wednesday night. 20:15 Zulu.”
“You want me to jump to the past? I can’t do that right now, I’ve got to—”
“You already have,” Darius replies. “I saw you there.”
This information stops me short. “I was here last Wednesday?”
“Indeed. You witnessed Master Jay’s departure before disappearing. I noted your presence that night but informed no one. The manor analyzed you upon arrival and deemed you to not be a security threat. I had an interest in learning the reason for your visit, and now I know. You are searching for the Lost Star and you’re a friend to Master Jonah.”
“You know about the symbol?”
“Jay didn’t confide his thoughts to his father and brother, but that did not keep him from speaking out loud in his room. The manor heard all of his confessions. It would seem I know him better than anyone.”
“You eavesdropped on him?”
“Master Jay had the option to change the privacy settings on his room to prevent me from listening any time he wanted, but he never excluded me. Perhaps he wanted me to listen. I’ve found that organic humans like yourself sometimes have conflicting and illogical motivations. Jay changed in recent months. He became more hostile to me. As he grew more involved with the Eternals, he began to treat me with less respect. But he knew I could never do him harm. My protocols wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t like me, but he still trusted me.”
“And should we trust you? It’s kind of an unusual point to bring up as you’re suggesting I send myself through time without anything other than your word to go on.”
Darius stares at me, the drizzling rain accumulating in larger beads and running down his metal skull. “You’ve already followed me to this out of the way spot on the grounds, all alone. If I meant to dispose of you, I wouldn’t really need to send you through time. I’d be capable of doing that here.”
I frown at the silver man. “You’re not doing a lot to inspire confidence.”
Darius merely inclines his head closer, as if whispering a secret. “And yet you are still going to go. Interesting, isn’t it?”
The synth is right. My curiosity has the best of me. I scan the floor of the shed, looking for any sign of violence or some indication that my arrival the previous Wednesday went poorly, but the shed seems undisturbed. “When I get there, this area will be clear?”
“Nothing inside has been moved since Tuesday when the yard bots were deployed. You will arrive safely. As I said, I’ve already seen it.”
“And I just have to trust you.”
“It would seem so.”
“Why can’t you just tell me what I’m going to see? If you know, and have all the information anyway, you could save me a trip.”
“My system protocols have been set to keep certain information private. As an employee of the manor I cannot speak of the events I saw Wednesday night or access the security footage for display to a third party. My protocols do not limit me from helping someone else see the original event for themselves, however. If you are truly a friend to Master Jonah, you’ll go and see for yourself.”
I frown at him, but have no rebuttal this time.
I dial the settings on my chronometer and set my hand against the shed wall. “See you in a minute.”
I press the pin and blink.
It’s dark inside the shed. It seems Wednesday night was dry. When I peek my head out the door, the sky above is clear and full of stars. I’m glad Darius has had me jump indoors anyway, since I’ve at least avoided fusing myself with the moths and other insects flitting about the night. I study the landscape of the manor and yard. Somewhere on the property, Darius has been alerted to my presence. I don’t bother to look for cameras or sensors. Any one of the gadgets on the shelves could be broadcasting my movements. I wouldn’t even know where to look.
I concentrate on the task at hand, slinking out of the shed and finding a place to hide in the wooded area near the driveway. I settle down under the boughs of a thick evergreen where I will have a decent view of the property. I don’t have long to wait. Headlights pull into the driveway only moments later, pausing at the gate, then proceeding through.
The black vehicle is nearly silent, no engine rumble or smell of exhaust, just the subtle whir of an electric motor and the crunch of its tires on the driveway stones. The truck doesn’t drive all the way to the house. It stops close to my position and waits. I watch the door of the manor, waiting for a view of Jay, but the first person to appear is actually Ebenezer. He comes from the back of the house and cuts across the yard in a similar path to the route I took. He strides across the lawn and stops in the high beams of the vehicle, staring down the occupants. It takes about ten seconds of this showdown before a door opens on the vehicle and two people step out.
Ebenezer is lit by the headlights, but the new arrivals are shrouded in darkness, only allowing me vague impressions of their forms beneath dark clothing. One of the figures shuffles forward. The other taller man is merely helping him along. I get the impression he’s elderly, and his crackling voice confirms it when he speaks.
“Is he ready? The time of the ascendancy is upon us.”
“He’s just a boy,” Ebenezer replies.
“Age is meaningless. The reign of Zurvan knows no limits, and time will not confine him.”
There is something oddly familiar about the old man’s voice. My brain is struggling to place where I could have met him before. The silhouette of his face is unfamiliar to me, as is the severe stoop of his shoulders. It�
�s only the voice that puzzles me.
“You promised me that this will be the end of it, Elgin,” Ebenezer says. “After tonight my family won’t be a party to any more of your schemes.”
“We do not scheme, Sprocket. This is work of our Lord. If he requires more of you, we will take it. So pray that this is all he asks of you. When the Lost Star returns and he gains his power, none of this will matter. Only his magnanimity spares you now. I recommend you do not test it.”
The reference to the Lost Star makes a connection in my mind. I have a hard time reconciling the bent form of the old man in the driveway to the young boy in the alley in Valencia in 2017, but I’m almost positive it’s the same voice. You’re too late, Traversss. The Lost Star will return. My logical mind struggles with the timeline. If it’s the same person, that means this old dude is like 160 years old. Is that possible this far into the future, or is he a time traveler?
The front door to the manor opens and a young man walks out. Jay is literally an older version of Jonah, so he has the same sandy hair, though now it’s been cut short. Adolescence has stretched him, his limbs yearning for manhood, but lacking the material to fill out. Even with his awkward angles and thin frame, Jay walks with confidence. His journal entries had exposed his nervousness, but it isn’t showing tonight. His father turns as he walks up, perhaps hoping for a last minute change of heart. Jay pauses near him, looking Ebenezer in the eyes, but says nothing. After this moment of silence, he walks up to the old man.
“Good evening, Master Elgin,” Jay says.
“It seems your time has come, young man,” Elgin replies. “I presume you are well prepared?”
“I’m ready,” Jay says. He straightens up a little taller and strides around the men to the open rear door of the vehicle. He casts a single lingering glance at the house, his expression softening, and for a moment he looks like the little boy I know. He then climbs into the dark interior of the truck, slamming the door closed behind him. I follow his last gaze to the manor and notice the face peering out of an upstairs window.
In Times Like These: eBook Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 122