Corell found himself disillusioned, weary of life, and with an altered outlook in a way he could never have foreseen. The thought of remarrying and trying for another heir again seemed unimaginable. Losing this family was simply one too many in a long line of too-familiar losses. Beginning the family process all over again would be a burden he just couldn’t shoulder. The final worn ties to that life slipped away from him the day he walked away from the old farmhouse for the last time.
Once again, Corell was left alone in the world, a world he was pledged to help save. Was the world worth saving? He wasn’t so sure. Based on what he’d seen of it in his lifetime, he had profound doubts.
So many centuries had passed since his father entrusted him with the ring he often wondered why he carried on. In truth, it was an arduous responsibility, a constant weight grinding away at his resolve, testing his determination. Resentment reared its ugly head, threatening to consume him. Believing that saddling him with the world’s fate was in no way fair, he became disenchanted with the whole thing. Nevertheless, he carried on hope that it would work out in the end.
So Corell continued watching and waiting for the anticipated reappearance of Valerie Dunne. Years passed, but now without family obligations or distractions. Finding Valerie Dunne became his sole passion, his obsession.
The ring book was cleverly written, providing hints and allegations about when and where to watch for Valerie Dunne’s reappearance. However, specifics were skillfully omitted, no doubt to protect the author. There was no question the season was ripe for her return; Corell just had to be diligent and patient. Believing the time was upon him, he began watching for her in earnest.
Determined to miss nothing, Corell read and reread Valerie’s book until every word and letter was etched into memory. Even so, he still found certain passages riveting. As the story went, the future of human life on the planet rested on the five rings’ successful transfer back to the book’s author, Valerie Dunne, in the twenty-first century.
The writer explained that she had used the rings’ power to travel far back in the past to escape aliens, preventing the five rings of Hesaurun from being stolen by off-worlders. These Boeckian aliens were intent on the destruction of Earth and enslavement of humankind. Reunited with the rings and armed with a better understanding of future events, Valerie Dunne would use them to erase the deaths of millions of people at the hands of their enemies, the Boecki.
The five rings, she wrote, were gifted to humans by their master, Osomario, and his band of Boecki sympathizers. By doing so, those fugitives hoped to protect and preserve the inhabitants of Earth and neighboring star systems from annihilation.
Anticipating dire times ahead for Earth and its inhabitants, Osomario arranged an ingenious way of monitoring Earth events by binding an animal to the fifth ring. Through that animal, a common household pet on Earth, he was allowed insight into the realm as well as the ring bearers themselves. But what Corell found most intriguing, and what kept him grounded, was the following text;
“Osomario, the renegade Boeckian, searched the cosmos for a worthy candidate to receive his rings. That search ended far sooner than expected when his probe revealed me, Valerie Dunne, an Earther, as the worthy recipient. Never had he expected to find dynamism in an individual equal to his own on the doomed planet he hoped to save.
“The day my parents were killed by Stone, Osomario came to me and made sure I was safe. I didn’t need his help, but he didn’t know that—yet. He recognized the growing power within me and saw to it that I survived. He was there for me when I was most vulnerable. I fought and won a battle against a monster of a man empowered by his powerful Hesauran ring, a ring that he had stolen from the rightful owner. He had a ring, I didn’t, I was only four, and yet I prevailed.
I wondered about his age, so I asked him, ‘How old are you, and how long do the Boecki live?’ His answer was succinct: ‘I do not know. We do not concern ourselves with such asininity.’ Osomario went on to explain, ‘The Boecki are not immortal, but will be extremely difficult to defeat because they are by far the most numerous species in the galaxy. We are so seldom harvested, our numbers double every hundred years. As of this writing the Boecki outnumber all other sentient species combined by a factor of twelve.’
I was astounded by that number. It didn’t seem possible. I wasn’t sure which word baffled me more, Osomario’s use of the word ‘asininity’ or ‘harvested.’ I had a bad feeling about what ‘harvested’ implied, so I saved ‘asininity’ for later. I asked, ‘What do you mean— ‘harvested?’
’Put to use,’he said. Then added, ‘The Boecki waste nothing including their dead, which are recycled.’ I found that somewhat disturbing but understood. Later I searched the word ‘asininity’ (stupidity) and came away impressed by his language skills, and choice of words.”
Seeking the reborn Valerie Dunne and returning his ring to her turned out to be the distraction Corell Paris needed to move on from losing his family. Focusing on this task with a single-mindedness pulled him away from the precipice and took his mind off the secret burden he carried. Once again, Corell’s life had meaning.
Locating Colin Dunne, Valerie’s father hadn’t been difficult because he knew when and where to watch for him. Once he was close, his ring did the rest. All Corell had to do was follow its lead.
But tracking this Stone character was another matter. Valerie’s written recollections provided vivid images of his sadistic nature and atrocities but offered few, if any clues how to track him down. According to the author, this Stone, a former bookie’s debt enforcer, happened onto one of the lesser rings, then made a fortune turning rocks into gold, but not before turning the streets of Seattle into a river of blood.
Corell was well aware that it was only a matter of time before he and Stone crossed paths, and he was ready for it. The decision to burn Stone to the ground, at first sight, was cast in iron. If Stone turned up at Buckingham Palace sitting next to the Queen, Corell intended to light him up on the spot without a second thought. No-fuss, no-muss, no questions asked.
To make matters worse, rumor had it that Stone had added a second ring to his collection, no doubt at the cost of another life. Corell considered this as very bad news; each ring the brute obtained multiplied the power of any ring already in his possession by a factor of ten. Put them in the hands of a bloodthirsty psychopath, and you have yourself the makings of an opponent to be reckoned with.
To have something Stone wanted would be a bad idea. Getting in the way of obtaining something he wanted was an even worse idea. And yet, this was the situation in which Corell found himself—in the way, and with something Stone wanted.
Stone had been hunting him for a long time, and Corell knew it. No physical evidence was required as confirmation because it was something felt rather than seen or heard, a persistent threat warning in his subconscious mind. As the time for action drew near, so did the intensity of the alarm raised. Just as one heeds approaching sirens in the distance, this forewarning of danger that lay ahead was impossible to deny or ignore.
What this ultimately meant for Valerie, he could only guess. But knowing she already survived an attack by Stone, had won, and claimed his rings meant she should be able to do it again. That knowledge raised Corell’s confidence, but she was just a girl with little or no experience right now. In a confrontation with Stone, that lack of experience might be the deciding factor when he went for her. And go for her he would; there was no doubting that. It was a matter not of if it would happen, but when.
However, Valerie had a guardian she was unaware of in Osomario and assets Corell was itching to share with her. He was excited for tomorrow, which couldn’t come soon enough for him, and what he had anticipated for longer than he could remember.
This was an exciting time for Corell. He had survived long enough to witness the ages of Valerie’s recurrence, rebirth, and awakening. But what intrigued him was something he could only make wild guesses at; the probability of a parad
ox.
As he saw it, three versions of Valerie Dunne had occurred, beginning with the original. That is the Valerie Dunne whom Corell craved to know. That Valerie Dunne defeated her enemies, soared to unimaginable heights, eventually rising to command the Boeckian Resistance Union of Worlds. Moreover, she accomplished the impossible by successfully traveling in time and staging her rebirth.
Possible paradox? Sure. If a contradiction in time initiated a reset of our reality, how would one ever know it happened? While he was ready for almost anything, Corell was also determined to miss as little as possible.
“Well,” he said aloud, pulling himself away from the desk. “Guess it’s time to get after it. It’s time for bowling balls and arrows!”
Chapter 10
Arlene Dunne. August 1947.
Her skin felt prickly. While not being entirely unfamiliar, the sensation was one Arlene Dunne felt only on rare occasions. Although there was no discomfort associated with it, it came as
a faint twinge of apprehension, just enough so that it could not be dismissed as irrelevant. The sensation persisted as she went about her work that morning. She thought she saw peripheral movement out of the corner of her eye, just beyond reach, but when she looked found nothing there. The phenomenon could be considered comparable to the feeling of being followed when walking down a dark street at night. Even though nothing or no one is there, instinct compels one to walk just a little faster than usual.
Arlene pushed her notes aside, stretched, and rubbed the back of her neck, hoping to relieve the stress. It didn’t help, and she knew why. Whenever this feeling had ever visited her previously, another ring bearer was in the area. Hesauranaki in the vicinity could mean one thing—trouble. Her guard was up, and it would stay up until the feeling went away, or whoever it was showed themself.
The most obvious culprit would be Stone. Although she had never run into him, he was well-known among the small group of ring bearers as a Hesaurunaki climber. Climbers were people from outside the Dunne family line who pursued power by obtaining Hesauran rings, more often than not by murder.
According to Corell Paris, also a Dunne, this Stone character was responsible for killing Chad Evers, also a climber, and stealing his ring. Reports of Stone’s brutality frightened Arlene. But she was realistic. As she saw it, the problem lay with human nature. When someone learned what a ring could do or observed its power, they became obsessed with possessing it—stopping at nothing to get it. And if one ring was good—two just had to be better! Too much power is never enough. That is just how it is with people, Arlene thought.
Her observation was that people always seemed to want more, including what they didn’t have or already possessed. Too much of a good thing was just enough to get by. Although ugly, these desires were virtually universal with humans. Arlene herself had felt it, the desire to have more power regardless of the cost or what it might take to obtain it. For the most part, she had been able to resist such unsavory urges and retain her objectivity and value system. But too many others hadn’t, which was why ring bearers avoided one another like the plague with few exceptions.
The view from the lab window on the second floor of the Physics Building at Caltech Pasadena overlooked The Guggenheim, Dabney Hall, and several other picturesque buildings. Arlene looked down from that window as students and faculty moved between the Mission-style structures and walkways below. People stood together in small groups talking, but none of them seemed unusual or a threat. Probing body language and faces revealed nothing out of place. When she tired of it, Arlene returned to work, but the sensation continued distracting her.
Arlene’s work involved medical research, led by Professors Pauling, Itano, and Singer, investigating disease-causing hemoglobin abnormalities at the molecular level. Early results were promising; she loved the team and had high expectations for success. But it was hard work requiring long hours and unrelenting concentration.
Arlene hated being interrupted when she was deep in concentration. “Not now, I’m in the zone,” was all anyone on the second floor of the Physics Building needed to hear to know it was time to turn heel and run for safety. And it didn’t matter who it was; it could be Pauling, Singer, or Eleanor Roosevelt, for that matter. No one dared interrupt Arlene when she was trying to concentrate. Arlene Dunne had a reputation as a fighter.
They had all witnessed the soft lines around her blue eyes and mousy brown hair tied neatly in a bun suddenly disappear in an instant, transformed into the head of Medusa. No one who knew Arlene underestimated the conservatively dressed, mild-mannered woman in comfortable shoes after that happened to them. Once was more than enough for anyone.
But Arlene’s internal warning system would not allow her to focus that morning. Unable to concentrate, anxiety had her pacing the floor. Just before noon she gave up, grabbed her bag and signed out, making the excuse she wasn’t feeling well and was going home for the day.
As she stepped out of the air-conditioned Downs Building, summer heat struck her in the face as if stepping into a furnace. In mid-August, the San Gabriel Valley had its own unique way of scalding one’s eyes with intense mid-day glare. Instinctively, Arlene reached into her bag for sunglasses without missing a step. The warmth penetrated to the bone in a moment. Unlike many, she loved the sensation of the sun’s rays penetrating deep into the core. The day was breezy, but otherwise, it was a beautiful day with the fresh scent of sage blowing in from the nearby mountains.
Although California Boulevard was just a short distance from the Downs Building, she remained alert, ever watchful of threats. At the curb, she hailed a cab which took her to her home in the nearby Bungalow Heaven neighborhood. She paid the driver then surveyed the area for trouble before approaching the house.
With shaking hands and nerves frayed, Arlene fumbled through her purse, unable to find her keys. Frustration mounted, absentmindedly patting herself, seeking pockets that weren’t there, ignoring the fact that her summer dress had none. Cursing herself for losing her keys, she lifted a flowerpot on the porch, retrieved a backup key from under it, then let herself in.
Once inside, she dropped her purse onto an end table and collapsed into an easy chair. Relieved to be in the safety of her own home, Arlene breathed easy as she began to unwind. While relaxing, she closed her eyes, mentally retracing her movements that morning as she tried to recall the last time she remembered seeing the keychain. Remembering her habit was to turn the lock from the inside on her way out the door, automatically engaging it, eliminated the possibility she left them at the lab. That left just one possibility: the keys were still in the house hanging on the hook in the kitchen.
Arlene was hungry anyway, so she got up to check for the keys and get herself something to eat. As she rounded the corner, she found herself staring squarely at the chest of a towering man dressed entirely in black. Before she could scream, a thick hand wrapped around her throat while the other pinned her right ring finger hand to her side as she was pushed roughly against the wall in one fluid motion. The notion that this brute knew precisely how to handle a ring bearer hadn’t escaped her notice—nor had the stench of his sardine and cigarette smoke-infused breath. Stone had dropped in for a not-so-friendly visit.
Thrashing and kicking wildly, Arlene fought back with all her strength. But the more she lashed out, the tighter the vice-like grip clamped down on her throat. Instinctively she stopped struggling, and the crushing pain in her windpipe eased. Desperate for any opportunity to turn the odds in her favor, eyes darted left and right, fear-tainted sweat beaded on her forehead. But the building urgency in her lungs to take in air elevated to panic as the tall man bent down to meet her gaze. Dark eyes and scared features met her terrified gaze close-up. His eyes searched her face as if contemplating her future.
“Hello, Arlene,” the big man rumbled, then smiled a twisted grin as he reveled at the terror in her eyes. Stone’s sadistic unblinking stare bored into her soul, purposely taking his time studying her facial features,
drinking in the fear.
“One wrong move, and I’ll rip your throat out —understood?”
Unable to speak and frantic for oxygen, Arlene blinked away tears, nodding a desperate response. Immediately the grip on her throat eased up. With eyes bulging, nostrils flaring, and mouth open wide, Arlene gulped huge breaths of air, one after another in rapid succession. Once she began to recover, Stone leaned back in again, but now his merciless gaze had a death grip on her eyes, and there was no escape.
“Your book. Where is it?” Stone demanded, his voice hard, his face distorted in a frightening snarl. Rage welled inside Arlene at the mention of her ring book. Even if it might mean her life, she had no intention of turning it over to this thug. She was determined to die rather than allow the likes of Stone to have it.
Pushing the panic back, Arlene considered her options, which she knew were few. She had already tried kicking him in the crotch, but she needed something more since that didn’t work. With few alternatives, she decided to stay with the classics. “Want to see it?” she croaked while making her voice sound as natural as possible, then dug the thumb of her free hand into her attacker’s bulging right eye with all her might, twisting as she put her weight into it.
As the thumb hit home, Stone let-go a thunderous roar, releasing Arlene from his grasp. Holding the place where his eye had been, the huge man staggered backward, crashing across the room, smashing into the opposite wall, scattering furniture, and knocking pictures from the wall.
“What? Not what you had planned to see?” Arlene gloated.
Wasting no time she stepped back, held her ring hand in front of her, then sent a gravitational wave at her assailant strong enough to divert an oncoming locomotive. Stone was thrown so violently against the wall the entire back of the house exploded with a BOOM, followed by the clatter of wrecked furniture, shattered plaster, and splintered lumber. The wall vanished as Stone sailed through it like it was made of glass. Arlene watched with satisfaction as the body rolled to a stop in the center of the backyard.
The Rings of Hesaurun Page 25