by Brandt Legg
A gentle knock on the door.
“Food!” squealed Cira.
While Rip called Booker and then grabbed a nap, Gale and Cira munched on pastries, fruit, and steamed vegetables while researching Leonardo da Vinci and following up on a few lingering Nostradamus leads.
Rip’s phone woke him a couple hours later. He recognized the number as Booker’s. It wasn’t his real number, rather a spoofed caller ID that he regularly used. All of his calls, as well as Gale’s and Rip’s, went through an extensive network to make them untraceable. They were also quad-encrypted.
“Anything?” Rip asked.
“They won’t let us view it,” Booker said. “I even tried to buy it.”
“How much did you offer?”
“A billion, but I would have paid more.” Booker sounded frustrated. “Anyway, all is not lost. They did provide loads of data, but I agreed not to share or publish it and definitely cannot disclose who the owner is.”
“What kind of data?”
“I just sent you high resolution infrared reflectogram and X-ray diffraction images, plus sixty other scans done by various techniques.”
“Great! You really came through.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Uhm . . . ”
“Never mind.” Booker laughed. “Call me when you know something.”
Rip studied the material and noticed a tiny mark that seemed familiar. “Do you see that?” he asked Gale.
“Yes,” Gale replied breathlessly. “Circles and dots . . . like on the original casing.”
“Like in the Cosega Sequence, and on the Eysens we have. They both seem to have a specific symbol like this one.”
“But what’s it mean?”
“It means that Leonardo hid the symbol in the Salvator Mundi painting, proving he painted an Eysen. It’s connected—Jesus, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Eysen.”
Twenty-Six
Jofyser leapt on to one of the ramps connecting to the elevated walkway. The nearly twenty-foot jump was too high for the guardians to match.
“This way!” the senior guardian yelled as they dashed to the nearest access point. “In pursuit of the Etheren, suspected smuggler,” he called into his strandband.
The lead gave Jofyser hope that he might be able to escape. The moving sidewalks and ramps were not in fixed positions, and moved with the needs of the pedestrian traffic. Extensions, bridges, additional elevations, and lanes were created instantly, just as others were erased. With his heightened abilities, Jofyser added to the distance between him and his pursuers as he leapt from one platform to the other, dodging unsuspecting people and changing the trajectory of the platforms.
The buildings are my best concealment, he thought. Like trees.
As he streaked across the skybridges snaking between the closely aligned towers, the guardians completely lost sight of him.
Their numbers will quickly grow, and soon there will be aerial support. He looked skyward. Still clear.
I can’t just think about escape, he thought while working to calm his breath. I must deliver the globotite. It was not even an option to hide or destroy the mineral. It was too precious, and he had just learned from a contact at the Etheren mines that this could be the last shipment of it.
Incredible if surviving the Terminus Doom comes down to me, to getting this globotite through.
The realization did not overwhelm the young globe runner, it emboldened him.
Two jet-enabled guardians swooped in from above. Jofyser jumped from the platform and took the forty-foot freefall as if he were walking down a flight of stairs. The flyers pursued, streaming toward him as he made his way through a crowd.
Solas housed millions. The walkways, platforms, and ramps were always crowded. Jofyser slipped into the throngs of people, finding the camouflage greater than he might have had in the forests. As the crowd moved, he followed a large group into a building. As with the sidewalks, the structures were ever-changing; shadows being pushed out by light, beams creating new areas, the constant movement of photons, electrons, atoms, and countless other nano particles. Great, beautiful machines filtering sunlight and combining it with stored starlight, moonlight, thick bolts of captured lightning, all forming a kind of mechanical photosynthesis. Although Jofyser didn’t know the cities, or even exactly how that process worked, he did know how to use everything to his advantage. All Cosegans had a natural kinship with light.
The interior, like each Cosegan building, was sparse, yet warm. The minimalist society shunned physical possessions, with most only having what was absolutely necessary. Instead, they explored the world through Crystal-minds.
A dozen people leaving an elevated lift glanced at him, the distress and fear evident in his face, emotions not often held by Cosegans.
“Do you need help?” one offered.
“Are you okay?” a woman asked.
Several others made similar inquiries or offers of assistance.
He politely pushed past them, knowing at any moment they would discover he was an outlaw. He staggered into the lightning lift, which instantly propelled him eight hundred and thirty stories to the top of the tower. It may have been far from the tallest in the skyline, but at least on the roof he could survey his position better.
More than forty jetpack-equipped flying guardians filled the air above the city. Another sixty or more had been mobilized below.
They are definitely treating me as a smuggler, like this is a globotite crime. He had no one to call. There must be a way through . . . there is always a way.
His eyes darted around, still concealed by the architecture of the roof. He realized he was on one of six identical towers which, like most of the buildings in that section, were linked by moving skybridges. A series of them acted as elevators between the buildings so that a person could start on the third floor of one building and exit on the ninetieth floor of the adjoining one.
By staying in this section, I might be able to avoid detection a little longer.
He needed time to think, yet wondered if he was just delaying the inevitable.
There are too many of them . . .
Now down on a skybridge, he looked around, trying not to stand out among all the passing people. The fact that he was not registered gave him hope that if he escaped, the authorities would not be able to easily find or arrest him. They would definitely search the Etheren settlements.
I’ll have to go farther into the wildlands.
The skybridge concealed him in a group of sixty or more people. Jofyser looked out and could see the guardians, still increasing their numbers.
Others around him began to notice the concentration of flying guardians. “Look down there,” one of them said, pointing to the streets below. “They must be looking for someone.”
“Yes,” another said, stopping. “What could it be?”
“There have been more troubles since the Doom was discovered,” another one said.
Several others agreed. Two of them looked at Jofyser.
“It seems like they’re looking in that direction,” Jofyser said. “Perhaps some Havloses from the market have caused problems.” He felt bad implying something negative about the Havloses, but clearly no Havloses were currently threatened, and he needed to shift the focus off himself. Any of the people around him would merely have to touch their strandband and guardians would be alerted.
One man nodded. “Very likely. Havloses are often at the root of these problems.”
Cosegans, as an enlightened people, did not look down on the Havloses, but many could not help but pity them, believing that they suffered in their society for the crime, illness, and war that still existed among them. Over the most recent millennia, the Cosegans had managed small gains with the Havloses’ leadership—increasing cultural exchanges and helping them to advance in health and technology, and other creative exchanges. But they were still incredibly lagging in many advancements and lifestyle levels of the Cosegans.
The gaggle, mo
ving again, reached the other side of the skybridge. A flyer suddenly appeared and hovered.
“Hey, you! Etheren! Stop or die!”
Twenty-Seven
The outlands radiated with such lush energy that one could easily be convinced that this place was the absolute origin of life itself. The inhabitants of the wilderness areas were the Etherens. These Cosegans had shunned the incredible technological advancements of their brethren, yet had advanced in their own way beyond what their descendants would believe.
Kavid had grown up there. He was a messenger, taking messages and small goods between villages. The job was far from as menial as it sounded. Messengers were loved, even honored, as the connection between the clusters of Etherens spread out across thousands of miles.
“What are you doing with that?” Kavid asked his friend Prayta, both now in their twenties, the two had been close since childhood. “Globotite is a controlled product now.”
“Nothing.” She, like every Etheren, knew The Circle had moved to control the extremely rare mineral and source of livelihood for many Etherens, due to it being a critical component of the Eysens.
“You’re selling it to the scientist in the city again, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“You’re going to bring The Circle down on us, they will clear our lands. Why are you taking such a risk? You don’t need the money.”
“It’s not about the money. He’s the best chance to save us.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Prayta stared at him, silent, defiant.
Kavid’s mouth opened, but words failed him for a moment. Finally he shook his head. “You do? You believe Trynn can do it.”
“I have to believe.”
Kavid still didn’t know what to say. In some ways he wasn’t surprised. She had two children, and wanted them to have a future. He knew in the past that she’d been helping Trynn get the minerals, but he thought she’d stopped. Mostly, he didn’t want to admit to himself that she’d been swayed. “How can you not believe in our ways?”
“I do, you cannot question my faith merely because I am open to other solutions.”
“Then you think the Imazes will succeed?” His piercing blue eyes commanded a boyish face.
“What the Imazes are doing is beyond my understanding and will take far longer than my children’s or grandchildren’s lives to know.”
“And you understand the Eysen? Has Trynn turned you into a scientist?”
“The Eysen is closer to our ways than—”
“Really?” Kavid ducked to avoid four giant butterflies floating by his head. “I guess Trynn taught you the ways of the societies of a thousand, thousand years from now . . . ten thousand, thousands . . . . are you suddenly an engineer, anthropologist, futurist?”
“The Eysen is easier to understand,” Prayta said, noting the butterflies as a good omen. “Not in its specific operations or technical aspects, but the concept.” Her sad, expressive, freckled face held a longing contemplation that went beyond Kavid’s understanding.
“It sounds technological to me.”
“Like us, Trynn is touching lives. That is the difference. He is touching lives through time, and we are touching time through our lives.”
Kavid thought of the Etheren’s ambitions, the idea that they could use their rituals, practices, and vision quests to bring change. “To touch the starlight with our thoughts,” as the shaman put it. “To speak through dreams to our future selves.” It was a slow process, but one that some thought the Etherens were uniquely destined for.
“We must try everything,” Prayta said. “The Imazes, Trynn, and our people. We cannot risk that one of us is wrong. You should welcome this.”
Kavid continued peeling some kind of root vegetable into a large basin. “But what of The Circle? Do you really think they won’t find out?”
“You know we have ways of deterring The Circle.”
“Tell that to Julae.”
“We don’t know that they found her.”
Kavid glanced up. “Found her? Julae is dead.”
“You don’t know that. She could have been using blox.”
Kavid nodded. He was part of a group that practiced an ancient form of telepathy. In that telepathy, the Etherens were marked as different from the other Cosegans. Rather than just reading minds, they could also plant simple basic thoughts, which they mainly used to conceal their work and sometimes their whereabouts. They had hidden villages, secret earth temples, energy vortexes, the mines, and other sacred places.
In recent years they had used blox to conceal the mining operations in locations of the stockpiles of globotite—though “stockpiles” was a big word for their store of minerals, which could easily be carried by one man.
“You know we only use blox to protect the minerals and sacred places.”
“I’m talking about the same thing,” Prayta said, helping him with the roots. “Protecting the minerals.”
“You’re actually talking about treason, going against The Circle by protecting Trynn and the Eysens.”
“So is mining and storing the mineral.”
“That’s different,” he said. “The shaman has sanctioned it.”
“I don’t think it is so different. It is an inconvenient distinction.”
“It’s an important distinction,” he said looking down to a large circle of towering stones as guardians entered the compound. “See, they are coming.”
“It could be a routine visit.”
“You know it’s not. They are probably coming for you.”
Her face filled with panic. “You must take the mineral.”
“I am not risking myself for Trynn's Eysen schemes.”
“Then risk it for me,” she said.
A look of disappointment filled his face, but he nodded and held out his hand.
She slipped him the minerals. The guardians grew closer. “Tell Arso to please take care of my children.”
The guardians checked the hologram, which enlarged from them until it stood next to her, matching identical. They walked over to her. “You must come with us.”
As Prayta was led away, Kavid knew he must do the last thing he wanted. He had to get the globotite to Trynn.
Twenty-Eight
Welhey was taking a chance by contacting Trynn over the strand, but had to hope the encryptions and erasing tracks would hold. “I need to warn you.”
“What?”
“Crackdown, Trynn. They may be coming for you.”
“What’s happened?”
“It’s not just the globe runner in the canyons.”
Trynn thought of Julae. “Do they have her?”
“Not yet. But guardians are closing in on another one as we speak.”
“Where?”
“Right here,” Welhey responded. “In Solas.”
“Where are they getting their information?”
“I don’t know, but they also brought in an Etheren for questioning.”
“Who?”
“Prayta.”
“Oh no . . . is she okay?”
“They have her in for deep questioning.”
Trynn knew that meant mind probing. “Then they didn’t find any globotite on her?”
“No,” he replied. “She would have already been charged, but . . . she must know things.”
More than you know, Trynn thought. “She will not lead them to me.”
“But how can she resist?”
“She has full control over her mind.”
“That good?” Welhey asked, having heard stories about the Etheren abilities.
“The best I’ve seen, other than the shaman.”
“Still, be careful,” he warned. “I fear they are closing in on you.”
“Thanks, and you be careful, too, old friend.”
Trynn, now late to meet someone, in light of Welhey’s warnings, needed to check on Anjee.
Trynn’s assistant answered. They kept the call voice-onl
y, in case someone was watching either one of them.
“Have you heard from Anjee?”
“No.”
“The guardians are cracking down. Can you check?”
After a few moments in which he inquired, his assistant said, “She hasn’t come in today.”
“Can you contact her husband? I’ll wait.”
“Sure.” The assistant made motions in the air screens to bring up Anjee’s husband. After a short time, the assistant returned. “The guardians took her.”
“No,” Trynn breathed. “What charges?”
“Her husband said charges were pending, not yet declared.”
“No,” Trynn repeated.
“What’s going on?”
“Julae missed her delivery. Guardians tracked her in the canyons. She is missing.”
“That’s bad.”
“Guardians are all over a globe runner in Solas. Prayta was arrested.”
“That’s very, very bad.”
“I know.”
“Will they come here?”
“If they find High-peak, then we are through,” he said, thinking of his secret lab facility.
“We’re already through if they’ve interrupted our supply of globotite . . . We must get more soon, there’s not enough to even serve the current far future Eysens. You know what happens if they go dark . . . ”
Trynn did know. Trynn would be cut off from the Eysens that were already in place in the far future. Yet those Eysens would continue to operate as long as they had access to light. However, the worst part was that the control Trynn exercised over the Eysens, and what Rip and the other viewers could access, would end.
“This would cause the Eysens to become more dangerous than we can even imagine,” Trynn admitted. “The damage won’t just be limited to humanity . . . the repercussions could echo across the universe for millions of years.”
This was the seventh time that Trynn had met Dreemelle. He kept track because each encounter with her was something of a life-altering event. She had a timeless beauty that belied her impossibly advanced age. Cosegans measured time, the length of one’s life, and other things, differently than modern humans, who were obsessed with the linear. There was no way to convey her actual age, but she had certainly lived two to three times as long as he had. She looked like a woman from a dream, or a dream herself, with eyes that mesmerized all in her presence.