by Brandt Legg
“Nice.”
Gale nodded, familiar with the Blaxers, Booker’s private army, knowing that they would unquestioningly follow his orders and, especially, go to any lengths to obtain an Eysen. “Okay, let’s hope the writings are right.”
“It was my idea,” Cira said.
“I know,” Rip said. They were each about six feet apart now, canvassing every inch. “And you were right. Booker just got us to the specific wall based on the writings.”
“Booker never did say how he obtained this manuscript, did he?” Gale asked.
“Of course not, and I would hardly call two pages a manuscript.”
“Does he have the rest of it?”
“No, he said these pages were separated from their volume perhaps hundreds of years ago. You can see the toning around the folding here and here. Apparently they were hidden in the back of a family Bible for generations.”
“The Bible? Ironic.”
“Yes, the church seems to swirl through the history of all the Eysens.”
“Whose Bible?”
“He didn’t say,” Rip replied, looking over his shoulder, worried to be so public. “I believe he obtained it in France.”
“But . . . the pages are written in English.”
“The Bible itself was probably written in French. Somewhere, these pages had made their way from England . . . that’s a story I’d like to know.”
“And we think it’s from a friend of Nostradamus?”
“Booker said he traced the connection.”
“Wonder what’s in the missing pages,” Cira said, now about ten feet away.
“Gale,” Rip suddenly said, bringing her back from her thoughts. “Turn slowly. Do you see that man over in the corner?”
“Yes.”
“I think he’s been watching us.”
Gale, Rip, and Cira had been through so much. Gale looked over at their daughter and instinctively walked toward her. Rip self-consciously touched his face. The only way they were able to travel in the open was because of a secret high-tech invention that Booker had somehow obtained, dubbed “vIDs.” The virtual Image Deviation system was able to fool the algorithms that powered facial recognition cameras. The ingenious spray-on application covered a subject’s face with hundreds of nano micro-processors, each thinner than a human hair. The translucent gold specks were virtually undetectable to the naked eye.
“We applied fresh vIDs before we came,” Rip said. “Maybe they don’t work as well as Booker said.”
“I knew it was too dangerous to bring Cira,” Gale said. But they both knew the vow they’d made many years earlier when Cira had almost died at the hands of their enemies. They had decided from that day on, they would live and die together.
“Too dangerous for what?” Cira asked as Gale grabbed her hand. She had grown used to always being with them. Mostly they worked in hiding, but as the search for the other Eysens had intensified, and with the advent of vIDs, they’d been able to venture out more frequently.
Rip looked for their security detail. “I don’t see our team,” he said, trying not to sound panicked.
The three of them moved away from the man as quickly as they could while trying not to tip him off that they knew he was there.
Gale also scanned for the security team, but saw none of them. There should have been sixteen of them mingling in the crowd.
What if they’re already dead?
Thirty-Six
Trynn, still thinking back to the day he and Shanoah first met, recalled his favorite part of their encounter.
“Did you hear that?” Shanoah finally asked, interrupting his diatribe on the aspect of Eysen anomaly interference that he had been working to counter in preparation for the insertion. Trynn stopped and listened. The sound was so loud it was ridiculous that it needed to be pointed out.
“The waterfall.”
“Yes!”
“I didn’t realize we had been walking so long.” He looked at the holographic projection emanating from his strandband and noted a number of interlocking circles. Cosegans tracked time with rotations of the earth, other planets, and the sun. Circles and spheres were integral parts of their language and culture.
“I guess we did,” Shanoah said in her softest tone of the day. “We were so wrapped up in our arguments that I hardly noticed the time go by.”
“Were we arguing? I thought we were discussing. Debating at worst, but not arguing.”
“I think arguing fits.”
“But if we were arguing, that would mean one of us would be right and the other wrong, and I don’t think that’s the case at all.”
“You don’t?”
“Of course not. The Circle made the right choice in selecting the three of us. I listened to each presentation carefully, and the three of us have the best chance of succeeding.”
“You think they will authorize all three of the plans?”
“Why wouldn’t they? There’s no sense in taking a chance on just one. In fact, I think that the Imazes and the Eysen complement each other.”
“How so?”
“We can increase one another’s chances for success, if we work together.”
“Are you proposing cooperation?” Shanoah asked with the confidence of knowing that she would be the favored choice of The Circle if, in fact, they selected all three.
“Where you are proposing to take the Imazes is beyond where and when any known Cosegan explorers have gone. You are proposing to pierce dimensions and skirt the bands of space and time.”
“I have been close,” she said, her pretty face tensing.
“I know, but beyond that certainly lies a dark and confusing place.
“And an extraordinarily beautiful and visionary place, where the stars do things we can’t imagine.”
“Yes, of course,” he said. “No matter what, you must navigate two impossibilities and the potential everything.”
Shanoah nodded, surprised at his grasp of the Imaze’s journey.
“I can help. Let me use the Eysen to guide you.”
She stared at him, noting the tenderness in his expression, and saw her own blossoming feelings mirrored in his eyes. She had recently lost her husband, and Trynn’s brilliance and confidence were magnetic. Yet it was his devotion to her mission, her success, and his willingness to share in all that it was, that made her suddenly believe him. “That is a generous offer,” she said, caught by her own sincerity. “Perhaps we should continue these discussions.”
“I hope so.”
“I mean even once we return to the city.”
“I mean that, too.”
“Should we go to the waterfall?” she asked.
“We must,” he said. “We are here, and who knows when we will be here together again.”
“Yes, who knows what the future holds.”
They walked quietly along the winding path, letting the thundering combustion of the waterfall fill the sound between them, creating a kind of deafening silence. There was nothing else they were able to say as the force of the water overtook them, filled their minds with layers of meditation and an overwhelming sense of being, as if the sound were caressing them, so that they were part of serenity itself.
One of the natural wonders of the Cosegan world, The Eternal Falls, was where the Wild Wandering River ended its twenty-nine hundred mile journey to the sea. Its final few miles traveled through the Forest of Giants, named for its five hundred foot tall StarToucher trees. The river emerged from the trees at an incredible horseshoe-shaped cliff, then plunged more than three thousand feet straight down into the ocean.
People didn’t come to the falls as much for the spectacle, although that was certainly a draw. For many it was for the sound, the vibration of the air, the way the sun played with the water, creating frequencies of light unique to that special place.
“We are people of light and sound,” Trynn said quietly, overtaken with the vibration of the place. “We have harnessed the essence of those energies an
d created magnificence with them.”
Just before the trees opened to an overlook on an outcrop of a high and lonely cliff, Shanoah took his hand without forethought or even understanding “It’s like coming home,” she whispered.
He turned suddenly away to avoid her seeing the tears welling in his eyes. He would confess them much later. At that moment, he had been thinking the exact same words, and not just with the place, but with her as well. In his quick mind, he’d already moved beyond the thoughts of their co-mingled destiny in which they had found one another, and knew the course of their lives and the quest before them meant they would one day lose one another. He pushed that away, knowing there would be other days to mourn the loss of the gift he had just received.
For now, it is a time to celebrate, to cherish these precious moments. To do anything else would be outrageous.
He gripped her hand—a soft, reassuring touch—and then let it slide from his as he said, “The truth is an amazing thing.”
Without responding, she stepped forward, onto the cliff where the view of the three-thousand foot Eternal Falls stunned her, as it did even those who had seen them in person before. The sight of them, their breathtaking magnificence, seemed to expand her emotions and open a direct portal to her dreams.
Thirty-Seven
The Arc met with a small number of The Circle. Welhey, and others she considered to be less loyal, were not present. They gathered in a smaller center hall space created from the illusion of time where sound and elements of the light spectrum converged. They could not be overheard.
“You have each been selected as much by birthright as by your wisdom and experience,” she said. “You know the danger that the Eysen insertions pose. Trynn cannot be allowed another.”
“He seeks help from the Etherens. We need to confiscate his prototype,” one of them said.
“He has gone beyond prototypes,” Shank said. “We must take him into custody.”
“The Imaze launch,” someone said, as if it were an obstacle to arresting him.
“The launch will proceed as scheduled,” Shank said. “Shanoah will not jeopardize the mission. There is a limited window. They must go in the morning.”
“We can wait until then,” the Arc said.
“We cannot.”
“Is that from the committee, or you?” the Arc asked, speaking of the secret committee who oversaw the predictive league—a large group of scientists working on better understanding the Doom and analyzing any methods that could be used to counter the Nostradamus incident.
The committee also managed a highly classified subgroup of the predictive league. They studied all aspects of alternate insertions, and sought to establish other avenues to utilize the Eysens in anti-Doom efforts and defeat the end times, which was why the Arc and committee referred to them as “Enders.” The scientists and engineers of the Enders had been sequestered at a remote location, and were only permitted to leave under escort and with the approval of the committee. The Arc had two reasons to keep them hidden and secret: one, so that Trynn would not learn of them, and two, as to not create more panic among the population.
“As a member of the committee, and as an involvist in Trynn’s activities, it is my learned opinion that each passing moment he is allowed to work, to defy us, to plot and—”
“Your point is duly noted, Shank. However, my decision stands. We cannot risk upsetting the Imaze commander. Trynn will be taken into custody after the Imazes clear the ninth zone—the point of no return.”
A short time later, a full meeting of The Circle convened in the great hall. During further discussions about the repercussions from the Nostradamus incident, Welhey, one of the few on The Circle who advocated for Trynn, carefully listened and watched, waiting for a moment to make his final plea.
“Trynn is still our most gifted Eysenist. We should not waste that knowledge. I propose we reengage him to work on preventing the Doom by far-future manipulations.”
“Outrageous!” Shank shouted.
“Wait, let me finish,” Welhey said, holding up a hand to calm his colleague. “Before we allow Trynn to take actions, he would have to present his plans, each step of the way, to the predictive league or another board of other scientists, and press for approval.”
“There is a rumor that Trynn still works on the far-future,” Jenso said, her words always carrying extra weight due to her work on the great cities and the punctuation of her icy stare. “I know that he is well-liked, but he must not be allowed to defy The Circle, and, more importantly, jeopardize the entire future.”
“What evidence is there that he continues his work?” another asked.
“We lack proof at the moment, but it will come.”
“Have you seen what they, in the far future, call World War II?” Shank asked in a sudden burst as he rose from his seat. “Massive casualties. These are the people we are supposed to put our faith into, our lives, the existence of humanity? They blow up their cities . . . on purpose! Their wars kill millions. They plot and plan and make clumsy weapons, all just to line up and kill each other.”
“They are counting on us,” Welhey said.
“They do not know this is happening,” the Arc countered.
“Trynn thinks we’re counting on them!” Shank shouted, as if announcing a fire had broken out.
“We need to authorize guardians to track Trynn,” another ally of Shank and Jenso added.
“Without proof of anything?” Welhey shot back. “Trynn is an honorable man, he has never defied The Circle.”
“Not that we know of,” Shank shot back.
The Arc rose. “The Circle is convinced that if Trynn sends the Eysens into the far future, the world will end sooner—could even cease instantaneously.”
Welhey wanted to say that not all The Circle believed this, but he knew not to interrupt the Arc.
“The future people aren’t ready yet,” she continued. “They can’t handle this kind of technology, this spiritual knowledge. I doubt they could grasp the understanding of the universe contained in the spheres.”
“The Eysen is a gift to the generations,” a woman said. “Those in the far future are not some strange alien race from a distant galaxy, they are our descendants. We must not abandon them.”
“We shall not abandon them,” the Arc said, as if insulted. “The Imazes leave in the morning—at great risk—with the intent to save them. To save us all.”
“And Trynn?” Jenso asked.
“Trynn will be arrested in the morning. Proof, or no proof.”
Thirty-Eight
Sitting on yellow boulders scattered among finebeale trees on the edge of a great ravine packed full of giant ferns, Trynn studied the old man in front of him. His leathery skin and bristly gray hair showed more age than most Cosegans dared, yet the softness of his wrinkles belied his true age. No one knew how old he was, because nobody had been alive longer than the shaman. Even Grayswa, as the shaman called himself, couldn’t recall how long he’d been alive. The Cosegans mastery of health allowed them to become immune to virtually all viruses, disease, bacteria, etc. They could also regrow and replace organs and limbs as needed, so living to be several hundred years old was not uncommon. However, the shaman had gone well beyond that by utilizing parts of his mind far more than the average Cosegan.
“It is a dangerous thing you are doing, Trynn,” the old man said, his eyes sparkling as if he were a young teenager first discovering what it was like to be in love. It was one of the things Trynn liked best about Grayswa. The old shaman’s eyes looked particularly young and clear, contrasting his otherwise aged appearance. Grayswa was so clearly in love with life, with every person he met. But that day, in those eyes, Trynn saw worry, as was always the case whenever they discussed Eysens in the far future.
“They have forgotten most of what we know,” Grayswa continued. “Our future selves are like young children, but not like our children. Our children live surrounded by all that we know; the great Cosegan di
scoveries permeate everything. The youngest infant among us inhales the extraordinary knowledge we possess.”
Trynn nodded. He understood this, but he had learned never to interrupt the shaman or he would miss the wisdom of a point that sometimes took considerable time to reach.
“We see the Eysen as an encapsulation of all the beauty and wonder of the universe. It is our record. It allows us encyclopedic access to anything we desire from history backwards or forward. But, for them, those simple children of ours in the far future, it is a magic device . . . a weapon.”
The old man was quiet for a long moment. Trynn thought he was through and began to speak. “No, not a weapon. They may try to use it for advantage, but—”
“They make everything into weapons,” Grayswa interrupted with such a stern look that Trynn could not tell if it was meant for him, or the people of Rip and Gale’s time.
Trynn nodded. He could not argue. They were silent again for several minutes. It was not unusual when meeting with the shaman for long periods of time to go by without words. The shaman had the ability to communicate telepathically, and read minds better than anyone Trynn had ever met.
Finally, Trynn reignited the verbal conversation. “But there are some, those that would not weaponize the Eysen. Who seek, like we do, to save humanity. In their time, they strive to regain what was lost to them.”
“There are not many of those,” Grayswa said thoughtfully.
“But there are some,” Trynn said again.
“Yes,” Grayswa whispered, acknowledging the point. “But you cannot be too careful. It is such a dangerous place, that time where they dwell.”
“But it is only there, in those final years, where we have a chance.” He met Grayswa’s eyes. They held a long conversation without words before he finished his verbal statement. “A chance to save it all.”