Children of the Void: Book One of the Aionian Saga

by Jack Halls

  Tloltan strode forward to the edge of the pool, and Gideon was sure that she was going to walk straight into it with a huge splash. Instead, a stepping-stone walkway rose up from the depths as she reached the bank, and she walked across the stones toward the waterfall. A stone archway slid out from within the cascade, offering a dry tunnel into the next room. Without slowing down, she entered the tunnel, even as the walkway disappeared behind her.

  On the other side of the waterfall, the tunnel opened up to reveal a tranquil garden atrium. A bewildering variety of plants bordered the room on four sides. Inside this border ran a stone pathway about three meters wide around the circumference of the room. The pathway framed a shallow pond with a rectangular island at its center. On the island sat a tall pagoda, and at the center of it all stood a solitary pink-leafed tree emerging from the pagoda’s roof.

  Tloltan strode forward to the edge of the pond, but this time, she stopped short of it. She kneeled at its edge, removed her shoes, and placed them next to her. She inhaled deeply and looked down into the water, where colorful creatures swam gracefully. The waterfall roared dully from behind the wall, and birds and other creatures called softly from the trees surrounding the pond. It was perhaps the most peaceful place Gideon could have ever imagined.

  Gideon’s focus changed, and instead of looking into the water, he now saw Tloltan’s reflection. She was significantly younger than before. So young, in fact, that Gideon wondered if she was a teenager like him. She looked nervous, but had none of the worry lines that he had seen on her dying face before the dream. His heart sank as he remembered that this young Luzariai woman would one day be the last of her people.

  Tloltan continued to kneel at the edge of the pond for what seemed an hour, but Gideon didn’t mind the wait. He could have stayed there in that sanctuary forever. Eventually, something disturbed the serenity of the water near the island. Flat black stones rose out of the water to form a winding path until they reached Tloltan. She rose as gracefully as any dancer and stepped out onto the path. As she made her way to the island, the stones behind her sank back into the water.

  Gideon could feel the satisfying way her toes sank into the warm sand as she stepped onto the shore of the island. Vines and bushes obscured the interior of the pagoda, so Tloltan circled the perimeter all the way to the opposite side, where a small opening granted access to the inner sanctuary. The white sand continued inside, and a solitary robed Luzariai sat on a stone bench beneath the pink tree at the center.

  Tloltan hesitated a moment, then gathered her confidence and walked into the center of the pagoda. She stopped and bowed slightly. “Greetings, Master Atzak. May the spirits of the Ancients walk with you always.”

  The other Luzariai turned to look at Tloltan for a moment, then stood and returned the bow. He looked as if he’d fall over if he continued to stand for much longer, yet he had youthful eyes that twinkled when he smiled. “Thank you, child,” said Atzak, “but you should know that I’m quite a bit older than many of the ancient spirits you speak of.”

  Tloltan froze, fearing that she had said something wrong, but a wry smile spread across Atzak’s lips. “We can drop the formality,” he said. “If you are to be my Koramoa, you must learn to relax around me. We’re going to work together for a very, very long time.”

  Tloltan blinked. “Master?” she asked.

  Atzak let out a laugh that sounded as if it would shake him to pieces. “Did you expect some sort of test? An interview, perhaps? The moment you stepped into the sands of this sanctuary, they told me that you shall be my Koramoa. Congratulations, Tloltan, you passed.”

  She stood with her mouth wide open. “But Master, I had heard the other candidates speak of grueling tasks that you gave them to accomplish. They emerged from the temple physically and mentally drained. Some of them took days to recover.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Atzak, waiving a bony hand. “Sometimes the sands can’t decide and need to break down a candidate before they can feel them properly. None of the other candidates failed, mind you. They are all exceptional warriors, and eventually they will become Koramoa. Otherwise, I never would have invited them here. In your case, however, there is no need to prove yourself further. The sands have felt you, and they tell me that you will be a most excellent Koramoa.”

  She shook her head. “I am most honored, Master Atzak, but I still do not understand. How can sand feel me or speak to you?”

  Atzak chuckled. “There is still much you need to learn, Tloltan. But that will have to wait for another time. Right now, we have other matters to attend to, but just so you know I’m not an old fool babbling on about magic sand...” He raised his hand and waved it over a spot in the sand. “Will you please show my friend what you can do? I believe she would appreciate a place to sit.”

  Tloltan’s eyes went wide as the sand moved on its own. It formed into four pillars, which grew up out of the sand, then spread out horizontally until they connected, forming a low bench. The sand bench then transformed into stone before her eyes. She looked up at Atzak in shock.

  “Master,” she whispered, “you are indeed as powerful as they say, to command the very elements.”

  “Nonsense,” said Atzak with another waive of his hand. “I commanded nothing. I asked the sands for a favor, and they complied of their own free will. In the tranquility of this sanctuary, they are more apt to comply. Now please, take a seat.” He sat back down on his own identical bench.

  Tloltan gingerly tested the bench before she sat on it. Indeed, it was hard as granite. “But Master, if I asked the sand to do something, it would not do it.”

  “Well, of course not,” he said with a grin. “Why should it? It barely knows you, and you don’t think it would do it anyway. Why should it bother with the effort if you don’t believe anything will happen? But again, we are diverted from more important matters. We can discuss the disposition of sand another day. For now, I need you to hold out your hand.”

  Tloltan did as she was asked. Atzak reached into his robes and extracted a stone hanging from a cord around his neck. Gideon immediately recognized it as the same stone Tloltan had charged him with protecting: the Zaer. Atzak pulled it over his head and held it out slightly above Tloltan’s open palm.

  “Do you know what this is?” he asked. Tloltan stared at the swirling surface of the Zaer and nodded. “Good,” he continued. “I carry the Zaer only when it is necessary. The rest of the time, it is the burden of my Koramoa. To become a Koramoa, you must accept this Zaer and all the responsibly that it entails.

  “Though we have enjoyed many generations of peace, I still remember a time when armies rose up in their greed and arrogance to try to take possession of the Zaer. You must swear to protect it at all costs, even if it means sacrificing your own life, my life, or the lives of innocents. This is the burden every Koramoa must carry. Tloltan, will you accept this burden, and the title of Koramoa?”

  Gideon shuddered as he realized these words were not unlike the ones Tloltan had spoken before he had accepted the Zaer. He hadn’t fully grasped the weight of that commitment. In fact, he was sure he still didn’t.

  Tloltan seemed to be wrestling with the same doubts, but only hesitated a moment before she uttered the words, “I will,” and reached out to take the Zaer. Atzak released it into her hand with a smile on his face. Gideon thought he saw a hint of sadness in that smile, but it faded quickly.

  “Thank you, Koramoa Tloltan,” said Atzak. Gideon could sense a feeling of pride welling up in Tloltan as Atzak uttered her new honorific, accompanied by a small dose of dread. “Now you must accept your armor. It will be your constant companion for the rest of your life. In fact, after you have accepted your armor, removing it will kill you. It is the pride of every Koramoa, and has been the bane of their enemies since ancient times.”

  He waved his hand over the ground in front of them. Something rose out of the sand. As the grains slid away, they revealed a pedestal with a stone box set on top of it. Atzak wave
d his hand over the box, and the lid folded back like paper. Inside the box, a pool of molten gold swirled around like a living thing.

  “Put your hand in the box,” said Atzak, gesturing toward the swirling liquid. Tloltan hesitated, feeling reservations about putting her flesh into a box of molten metal. She looked at Atzak, and the old Roaal nodded. She took a deep breath, then slowly lowered her hand into the box.

  As her fingers touched the liquid, it stopped moving. Relieved to see her hand hadn’t melted away, she lowered the rest of it into the box. The golden metal leapt up her arm, no longer moving as a liquid but unfolding like origami up her arm and across her shoulder. It covered her entire body in seconds, and she stiffened as it moved up her neck. Gideon could feel her panic as it moved up around the back of her skull and over her face.

  Instead of obscuring her vision as it passed over her eyes, the material enhanced it. Somehow, she now had a wider field of view, and colors seemed more vivid, as if she could see more of the light spectrum. Atzak had a faint pink aura around him, and through the walls of the pagoda, she could see similar auras around the underwater creatures of the pond and even the birds and animals in the trees beyond.

  She took a deep breath. The air flowed into her lungs, even though the mask covered her mouth and nose. She flexed and balled her fingers into fists, experimenting with the suit’s range of motion. The armor didn’t restrict her at all, as if it were made of air.

  Atzak stood and smiled. “It looks good on you, Koramoa Tloltan. How does it feel?”

  Tloltan smiled for the first time since entering the temple. “There are no words to describe it,” she said. “I feel as if a part of me was missing, and now I am whole.”

  Atzak nodded. “That is good. It means that your mind is ready to accept the armor.” He put out a hand and touched the suit on her arm, sliding his fingers over it as if examining it for defects. “And I dare say the suit likes you, too. A very good sign.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Awakening

  GIDEON JOLTED AWAKE. He was still in the cave, but night had fallen, and the fire had burned down to embers. The golden band around his wrist still radiated warmth, and Tloltan’s body still lay prone on the rocky floor. It was strange to see her aged, lifeless body after experiencing the vision through the eyes of the vibrant, young Koramoa.

  His father was still the same — chest rising and falling under the parachute — and Gideon went over to check on him. Finding his father’s temperature colder than Gideon would have liked, he stood and added fuel to the fire, stoking the coals until the wood ignited.

  Soon, the small cave was warming up, and Gideon walked over to Tloltan’s body. He stood examining it for a while, then moved forward and grasped Tloltan’s wrist, placing it over her chest. He did the same with the other wrist, crossing them in what seemed an appropriate position.

  He straightened her legs, then stooped and picked up a large stone and placed it by her side. He repeated the process with another, then another, until he had covered her up to her neck. He placed large stones around her head, filling in the gaps with smaller ones. Then he took a large, flat stone and placed it over her face, resting it on the other stones so that it didn’t crush her.

  He dug through the supplies in the cave until he found metal implements that looked like tools. He picked up a log from among the firewood and cleared off the twigs and remaining bark. He then took a flat tool and scraped the surface for half an hour.

  When he was done, the log had a large flat surface on one side. He took a pointed tool and began carving. After several hours, he picked up the log and blew hard to remove the last of the sawdust, then walked over and placed it above Tloltan’s head. He took more stones and buried the sides of the log until only the flat surface showed with the carefully carved words: “Here lies Koramoa Tloltan, the last of the Luzariai. She gave her life to save another, and fulfilled her duties with honor and bravery until the end.” At last, he stood and surveyed his work.

  The fire crackled as Gideon surveyed the grave. He sighed, then cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I don’t know how the Luzariai treat their dead.” His voice sounded too loud to him in the quite of the cave. He spoke a little softer. “If I can, I’ll come back one day and make you a better tomb. I promise.”

  Gideon’s stomach groaned, and he went back to the supplies and pulled out a package. Inside, he found disks about the size and shape of a hockey puck. There was writing on one side, and though he recognized the style of the language from his dream, he had no idea what it said in the real world.

  On the underside, he found a seam with what looked like a zipper tab on one end. Without thinking, he pulled the tab, and immediately the object vibrated and hissed. Dropping the package, he dove behind a boulder. When he didn’t hear an explosion, he peeked around the boulder in time to see the object unfold like a blossoming flower.

  The package smoked, and Gideon was sure that any moment it would explode. It continued to vibrate and expand, letting off a hiss that slowly grew louder. Finally, it stopped vibrating and let out a last slow puff of steam, now perhaps three times its original size. Gideon waited, but after several minutes, the object was still sitting there.

  A scent tickled Gideon’s nose. Though the smell was unlike any he’d ever experienced, Gideon knew it had to be food. Cautiously at first, he walked out from behind the rock and looked at the package. Tendrils of steam danced out of a small hole at the top, filling his nostrils with the promise of hot food.

  The puck had expanded into a bowl with crimped corners in a star pattern. Gently, Gideon gripped two opposing corners and pulled them apart. The hole expanded easily. The bowl was full of a substance that looked like oatmeal and smelled heavenly. He put his hand over the bowl, feeling the steam coming off the food. It was hot, but not so hot that he had to pull his hand away. He dipped two dirty fingers into the mush and blew on the substance. His hunger overcame his fear, and he stuffed his fingers into his mouth.

  The food tasted even better than it smelled. He attacked it with both hands, shoveling the hot mush into his mouth. Soon, he was scrapping out the corners of the little container with his fingers and sucking on them.

  He sat for a moment, content with the feeling of being full for the first time in days. The sudden binge made his stomach ache, but the pleasure of eating a hot meal after days of cold goop was worth it. He looked down at his father and wondered if he’d be able to feed him. The admiral didn’t seem to be wasting away, so obviously Tloltan had found a way to keep him nourished. Gideon picked up another food package and unzipped it. It shook and expanded like the first one, but this time it had a different smell. The contents were some sort of chunky stew, but it still smelled delicious, and after sampling it, he found it to be as palatable as the first.

  After a quick search through Tloltan’s supplies, he found a utensil that looked like a spoon and sat next to his father. As he tried to prop him up, Admiral Killdeer let out a moan. “Dad,” said Gideon, gripping him by the shoulders. His father’s eyes fluttered. “Dad, it’s me, Gideon. I’m here to take you home.”

  He thought about how preposterous that statement was since the Maodoni had blown up the only home Gideon had ever known.

  “Dad, please,” he continued. “Say something.”

  His father’s eyes flickered open and rolled around for a moment before they finally focused. “Gid?” he croaked. “You...” His eyes closed once more, and for a moment, Gideon was worried he would pass out again.

  “Dad, stay with me, stay awake for a second.” His father’s eyelids slowly rolled back up. “Do you think you can eat something?” The admiral didn’t speak, but managed a slow nod. Gideon stood and lifted his father up against a rock, then scooped up a spoonful of stew.

  It took a bit of work, but eventually he got his father to eat. He spoon-fed him until half the bowl was gone and his father held up his hand for Gideon to stop. The admiral cleared his throat, speaking clearly enough to
raise Gideon’s hopes. “That’s good... for now, Gid. I need... water.”

  Gideon stood to look through the gear again, and soon found an opaque bag filled with some sort of liquid. One end had a loop for a handle, and the other end had a valve. Gideon squeezed the valve and upended the bag, releasing a clear liquid. He poured some into his hand and sniffed it. To be sure it wasn’t some sort of propellant, he shook some out onto the fire, causing the flames to hiss and sputter. Gideon held up the bag and put the valve to his lips, allowing a few drops to wet his tongue.

  Convinced it was regular H2O, he took a full gulp. Had he been alone, he would have drained the entire thing right there, but his father needed it more, so he hurried back to his side. To Gideon’s relief, the admiral still sat with his eyes open. Gideon placed the valve to his father’s lips and let a little trickle into his mouth.

  The admiral choked and coughed. “Easy, Dad,” said Gideon, putting the valve to his father’s lips again once the coughing subsided. Admiral Killdeer drank a full liter before he was satisfied, then laid his head back against the rock and breathed deeply.

  Gideon pulled the parachute material back over him. “How do you feel?”

  The admiral let out a small laugh. “Like I just burned up in the atmosphere and slammed into the ground like a meteor, but other than that, I’m fine.” He looked up at Gideon. “How are you, son?”

  Gideon smiled. “Well, since I can walk, I guess I’m doing better than you.”

  His father gave him a steady look. “How are the others?”

  Gideon swallowed hard. How could he possibly start to explain everything? How could he tell him about all the people who had died? “It’s... pretty rough. Maybe you should rest a while before I tell you everything.”