Recreance (The Aeternum Chronicles Book 1)

by H. G. Chambers

  “There are certain natural events in our lives that change us. You yourself have recently experienced one of these events, as you grow from an adolescent into an adult. Never again in life will you experience a physical and psychological change so dramatic, or at least that’s what you’re taught. It was the truth for thousands of years. The biological progression of a human was as predictable as clockwork. Then, everything changed. Thelonious Vaccarus gave mankind the gift of life everlasting, but with this gift came something he could never have predicted.”

  Oren leaned forward in anticipation.

  “The Ministry tells you they must remove dusk-aged citizens in order to keep life sustainable, for the good of all, correct?” Oren nodded. “This is a lie. They remove them because they fear losing control of a world in which other free people hold the power to gather.”

  Khalil held out his pipe in his right hand, palm up. Oren watched in awe as the pipe slowly floated up. Khalil tapped the stem with his index finger and it spun slowly in mid-air. Some of the burning pitch within floated out of the bowl.

  “That’s…impossible” Oren was dumbfounded. He moved closer and put hands above and below the pipe, checking for wires. There were none.

  “Why should it be impossible? When you stand up, you overcome the bonds of gravity. Your very movement through time is an unconscious manifestation of your power over it. What I do is no different; I’ve simply had more time to master my manipulation of these forces. They are natural, and we are natural creatures. We are both separate and one with our existence, and so our existence is both separate and one with us.”

  Oren furrowed his brow, and Khalil continued.

  “There is a single, universal constant underpinning all forces – those known and yet unknown. It is form, and formless. It exists as past, present, and future. It is the reason the sun burns, and why electrons circle the nucleus of an atom. Yes, the natural universe has rules, but these rules alone are like notes on a sheet of paper. The universal energy, the kai, is the instrument that brings the notes to life. It is like water flowing through your fingers. It is the fabric of your being. It is the heartbeat of our world.”

  Oren concentrated, trying to wrap his mind around the words. There was something about them that rang true to him. Some understanding nestled deep within his subconscious.

  Khalil paused, “Where was I? Ah yes, gathering.” The pipe suddenly fell back into his hand. “Gathering is the manifestation of the Universal Constant. In essence, it is the practice of gathering kai, and expending it to exert your will on the natural forces of the universe.

  “When the time is right, some men and women experience a metamorphosis that unveils the kai and its nature to them. When one enters this new state of consciousness, they have kindled. This happens at different times for different people, but always after the age of Ascension.

  “Vaccarus gave humanity the key to this experience by extending life. It is not known if the ability to gather was always there. Perhaps it was a dormant potential, waiting to emerge once humans evolved to live longer. Or maybe it was a result of Vaccarus’ genetic modifications adopted by humans a millennium ago. None can say for sure. What we are sure of is that the power struggle that ensued was devastating, bringing humanity to the brink of extinction.”

  They sat in silence for a long while. Khalil was right. This was a lot to take in all at once. The fire burned low, and finally Oren asked, “Last night, when we were attacked, you…copied us. Was that gathering?”

  Khalil nodded. “It was not copying so much as weaving together alternate possibilities. As I mentioned before, gathering is based on the natural rules of the universe. All physical objects exist simultaneously in multiple states. In the world that you observe, these states have gravitated into a single stream of reality. If one is able to manipulate this determinate gravitational force, then they may weave multiple possibilities into our own stream of existence.”

  “So, those other versions of us, were they really there? Was that…another version of me?”

  “They were possibilities, but not the true paths of this reality. They could only remain in this stream for as long as I willed it.”

  “But I saw you get caught in that bubble. The you that is here now was one of them, doesn’t that mean you aren’t the real you?”

  Khalil smiled, “Tifl, if I explain to you all the mysteries of the universe in one evening, I fear you will go cross-eyed and soak your shirt with drool. The hour is late, and we must continue our journey come morning.”

  “Our journey? Where are we going?” Oren felt directionless since leaving New Arcadia, but he had resolved not to be led around like a child.

  “We head west. There is a refuge beyond the Miralaja where others like us have come together.”

  “Others like us?”

  “Outlaws, in the eyes of the Ministry…Recreants. It is two month’s journey by foot.”

  “Two months…” Oren had never been this far from home in his life, and was only beginning to understand how much his world was changing.

  Khalil nodded, “Yes, enough time to begin the first stage of your training,” Khalil said. Oren looked up at him in surprise.

  “You mean you agree to teach me?”

  “You have begun to understand how little you truly know. This is the first step on the journey toward competence. If what you say is true, and you desire to learn not for vengeance, selfishness, or power, but for self-determination, then your mind will be in the proper receptive state.”

  Oren felt hope welling up inside him.

  “Besides, you are right. I cannot have you following me around like a lost puppy all your life. There will be times when I will not be there to pull you out of the fire.” Khalil reached over beside the stone shelf and lifted a long, curving black stick. It had a strip of leather connecting each end. He tossed it over the fire to Oren, who caught it within inches of his face.

  Upon closer inspection, Oren saw that it was not a stick at all, but a sheath. His eyes grew wide. “A sword,” he whispered.

  “Go ahead,” Khalil nodded.

  Oren held it up in both hands in front of his eyes. The sheath was nondescript. It was soft, and had the texture of animal skin. The hilt was wrapped in smooth black leather. He pulled the hilt and the sheath apart. A small, satisfying metallic click signaled the separation of the two, and the exposed polished steel blade reflected the flickering firelight. Oren had never held a weapon before, much less one this beautiful.

  “This blade is called midnight. If you wish me to train you, then you must swear never to draw it without my permission. When you are ready, you will be free to do so as you wish, but until then you must obey me on this without fail.” Khalil stood up, and looked expectantly at Oren. Oren nodded, clicked the sword back into its sheath and stood.

  “Hold your weapon in your right hand, and place it over your heart.” Oren did as he was asked.

  Khalil stood straight, and formally intoned, “Oren Hart of New Arcadia, you are light-blessed with the honor of training for apprenticeship under the Ko’jin. In acceptance of this honor, you must hereby swear to uphold its three core principles. One, when it is within your power to do so, you will stand and fight for those who can do neither for themselves. Two, under no circumstances shall you exact violence on any who pose no true threat to you or to others. Three, all life, including that of your enemy, is sacred. If a life must be taken, it will be done with compunction and respect for the departed.

  “The Ko’jin believe that no path, regardless of how noble the end goal, shall be taken if it requires you to violate these principles. The Oath of Sacrifice is a lifelong commitment, and should not be taken lightly. If there is any part of you that disagrees with these principles, you must declare it now.” Khalil looked at Oren intently.

  He could tell from the formality of the ceremony that this was more than just a set of rules to follow. It was a philosophy…a way of life that would require him to consciously we
igh every decision he made. Oren thought about the principles. He had never even been in a fight before…he remembered the agents the Ministry had sent after him and his family, and shivered. No, he thought. I will not hide and do nothing while this is happening. Something in Oren’s eyes must have changed, because Khalil nodded and his own expression changed.

  “This is usually done with witnesses, but given the circumstances, we will have to make do with what we have. You will repeat after me,” Khalil’s brown eyes bore into Oren’s. “I, Oren Hart of New Arcadia,”

  Oren repeated “I, Oren Hart of New Arcadia,”

  “Hereby swear by my life, my soul, and all that I hold dear,”

  “Hereby swear by my life, my soul, and all that I hold dear...” Oren felt a transformation unfolding within him.

  “To uphold the core principles of the Ko’jin, no matter the cost.”

  Oren repeated, “To uphold the core principles of the Ko’jin, no matter the cost.”

  “I will live my life with honor, and dedicate it to ending subjugation and injustice whenever it is within my power to do so.”

  The gravity of this oath was not lost on him, but Oren was resolute. He continued, “I will live my life with honor, and dedicate it to ending subjugation and injustice whenever it is within my power to do so.”

  Khalil nodded in approval, and continued, staring into the distance over Oren’s shoulder, “Let it be known that Oren Hart of New Arcadia has sworn the Oath of Sacrifice. Soon, he will count himself among a millennium of warriors who have stood guard over humanity.”

  He looked to Oren and held out his right hand. Oren reached his arm out, and they clasped forearms. Oren’s eyes went wide. The feeling was electric. A charge of energy ran between them, and wispy golden tendrils materialized around Khalil’s arm. They pulsed with white light like a heartbeat. The smoky energy traveled along Oren’s arm. He was euphoric and light-headed. Khalil’s head jerked up, looking at Oren with surprise.

  Is something wrong? Oren thought, but was too swept up in this new experience to ask.

  The feeling was incredible. Oren became one with his surroundings. He could feel the dirt between his shoes and the floor. He could taste the years of sediment in the cavern air. He sensed dust particles crashing into his skin like tiny meteors. The sound of Khalil’s heartbeat thudded in his ears, competing with the wings of a dragonfly hovering somewhere outside the cavern. Along with this came a sense of great anticipation, but it didn’t feel like his own. He looked at Khalil and saw the same anticipation in his eyes. The wispy tendrils sank into Oren’s skin, leaving an organic pattern of branching gold lines climbing up the inside of his forearm.

  “Welcome, young brother, to the Ko’jin. Never again will you face your struggles alone. You have become one with the thousands of Ko’jin warriors before you. You share in their power, their struggles, their knowledge, and their purpose.”

  The ground began to tremble lightly.

  Oren stepped back in awe of the new energy flowing through him. He felt light on his feet, wide-awake, and energized. There was something more…a new presence in his mind. No, not a presence, he thought, but a sea of a thousand silent voices.

  “There is much for you to learn, Tifl. You have become a part of something far greater than yourself.” Khalil was looking at him differently.

  The trembling subsided.

  “You will spend this night outside beyond the cavern entrance, meditating on your new place in the universe.”

  Oren glanced toward the cavern opening. Diffused moonlight filtered through, casting soft shadows on the stone floor. Part of him feared being out in the deadly, rocky desert, but an even greater part was thrilled at the idea of exploring this newly unveiled world. Moreover, he no longer felt the crushing loneliness that had plagued him since the night his parents were murdered.

  “I will know if you are in danger,” Khalil offered, but Oren was already eagerly anticipating being out in the open air. He turned back to face Khalil, filled with emotion.

  “Khalil, I…” he searched for the words, “thank you.”

  “Do not thank me. You owe your thanks to those whom you have been entrusted to defend. To them, you will have many opportunities to repay your gratitude.”

  Oren gripped midnight’s sheath tightly with the four fingers of his right hand, nodded, and turned to walk into the night.

  6

  The Job

  Clementine glanced behind for pursuers and rolled on the throttle. The hover-bike hummed beneath her as it accelerated to near maximum speed. The night air rushed past and the moon shone down, lighting the track ahead.

  That was easy. She grinned and patted the bundle tucked into her jacket’s hidden pocket.

  Through her helmet, Clem could hear the deep resonating hum of a hover-trans pulling out behind her. She glanced back. Boiling rat-fie, she cursed and put her hand back on the throttle. It wasn’t far behind. A high-powered kill car like that would catch her in seconds. An electrified dart flew over her right shoulder. The bike wobbled as she ducked. Time to go, she thought.

  Without looking, Clementine flipped a small red switch between her seat and the handlebars. A blue glow reflected off the faceplate of her helmet as the lodestone embedded in her bike came to life, rotating in its glass dome.

  The driverless kill car was close now. It caught up faster than she had anticipated. It edged up and bumped the rear of her bike. The impact knocked Clem’s head back and she nearly lost control. With her heart racing, she cranked the throttle, eking out a bit more speed. Just a little further…

  She leaned left and the bike sunk a few inches as it dipped off the levi-track and cut onto a narrow footpath between buildings. She glanced back, and saw the kill car stopped at the end of the alley. A red light shone from the side of the vehicle and she cut right just as a dart flew past where she otherwise would have been.

  Clem made several more turns, snaking her way randomly through the boroughs of sector seventeen. Once she was sure she’d lost the kill-car, she slowed to a stop and caught her breath. That was too close. She accelerated the sleek black hover-bike toward home.

  The tall, nondescript building where she lived wasn’t in the best condition, but then again this part of town wasn’t known for much better. That’s what made it perfect. No one would suspect that a fortune in geo-cash sat within this oversized shack.

  Clem unlocked the front entrance and stepped inside. The faint familiar smell of animal urine poorly masked with rug deodorizer wafted over her. She made her way across the faded red carpet of the lobby. The floorboards beneath it creaked with each step. She walked past the lift, which was still out of order, and approached the freight elevator. Clem pulled a chain attached to the door and it opened begrudgingly with a loud metallic squeal. Normally the jerky ride to the sixth floor was unsettling, but she was too excited about her most recent find to care. Once on her floor, she walked down the hall and unlocked the door with six zero eight written in black marker at the top of the frame. She stepped in and the door clicked shut behind her.

  “Hi Igor, how was your day?” Clementine scratched the stray tomcat under his chin and he let out a companionable “mrow.” Igor watched with his one good eye as Clem set her helmet down on the counter and made her way through the dated one-bedroom apartment. She caught her reflection on the way, and stopped to admire her mid-calf black boots. They were a perfect complement to her leather tights and fitted black leather jacket. Not bad, she thought, smiling. Satisfied, she walked to her room, unconsciously maneuvering around her couch. She sat down on the edge of the bed and gently unwrapped her most recent acquisition. A soft glow emanated from the small, unassuming stone. She brought it close to her face and looked past the glossy surface, into its core. Tiny red ribbons threaded through the translucent blackness. She closed her eyes for a second, and opened them again. The ribbons had all shifted into a new configuration.

  Ever since she learned of their potential, Clementine h
ad been buying, stealing, and collecting as many infinity stones as she could get her hands on. She pulled a lockbox from under her bed, rewrapped the stone and placed it with the others inside. The metal box closed with a click and she slid it back under the bed.

  Igor sauntered into the room and jumped up next to her. She ran a hand down his back. “And now, to celebrate.” She stood up with a smile, made her way into the kitchen and opened the fridge to pull out a hot pepper chocolate bar. It was gone within thirty seconds. Once back in her room, Clem got undressed for bed, took one last peek at her collection of stones, and fell asleep with her hand resting on the box.

  * * *

  Clementine awoke to Igor licking her cheek with his small sandpapery tongue. The sun was high in the sky; its yellow light streamed through her open window. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, then scratched Igor behind the ear. Stifling a yawn, Clem stood and threw on an old pair of blue jeans and a gray hoodie, zipped up in the front. Once the coffee was finished brewing, she drank it black and wolfed down a peanut butter protein bar. “Here you go little scuzz-ball.” She gave Igor one last scratch and filled his food and water bowls. Clem shrugged into her black jacket and slipped out the door.

  A ten minute walk down Concordia Avenue brought her to a one story building with a rusted steel garage door. She rapped her knuckles on the rusty metal.

  “Hatch? Open up! I know you’re in there.” Nobody answered. After a few moments, she heard movement inside. A thick, faded red door beside the garage squealed on its hinges, and a portly, bald man with cool brown skin stepped out. He wore a blue jumpsuit, stained with oil and grease, as usual. The man greeted Clem with an affable grin and warm smiling eyes.

  “Namaste blackbird! Looks like you’ve been having some late night adventures, yes?”

  “Hiya Hatch,” Clem grinned, “Sorry I’m late. Nothing good ever happens around here before midnight. You should know that by now,” she smirked.

  He let out a deep belly laugh, “Have I told you how much you remind me of my daughter? Come! I’ll brew some tea.” He turned and walked inside.