Game of Destiny, Book I: Willow

by J Seab

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  A couple days later Everam pulled Moon Shadow to a stop before a long, ramshackle building on the outskirts of the village of East Port. Snow immediately turned toward the stacks of eroded stone and corroded chunks of metallic objects scattered about. “Good,” she yapped excitedly. “Junk. Find crunchy.” She hurried off to search, her nose poking into gaps and sniffing at lumps that vaguely resembled something familiar.

  Everam slid off his horse and stretched his cramped legs. “Wait here, Moon Shadow,” he said, caressing her muzzle. He headed for the entrance, resisting the urge to join Snow in her investigation of the jumbled artifacts. Some had what appeared to be writing or designs on them and there were several broken pieces of what looked like parts of a bronze statue, a man on a horse. The heavy corrosion made the statue’s subject difficult to identify. He pulled his eyes away and stepped to the front door. Snow came bouncing over, tail swishing. Everam stooped to ruffle her ears. “Didn’t find any crunchy?” he asked.

  “No crunchy,” Snow said sadly.

  “Well, let’s go inside, Snow girl, maybe we’ll both find something interesting. Looks promising.”

  Everam opened the door, entered, and staggered to a stop.

  He was surrounded by a vast treasure trove.

  Deep shelves, interspersed between tall, narrow windows lined the walls. Every shelf was heavy with an assortment of broken and corroded objects of every shape and composition. Piles spilled onto the floor in front of the shelves littering the area around him. There was barely room to pick his way through to the worktable he spotted tucked away to his left. Snow stayed close to his side, perhaps subdued by the thick dust, clutter, and strangeness of odors from an age long past.

  Unable to resist, Everam paused before a curious object, partly mangled on one side, that sat isolated on a shelf. He blew the dust off. There were two thin, rectangular sections joined together. One was flat. It had a smooth, dull surface. It was the other section that intrigued him most. He brushed at it with his fingers and looked more closely. He sucked in a quick breath. There were several rows of square buttons lined up horizontally. Yes, definitely, he noted excitedly, rubbing the dirt off one of the buttons. There was a letter imprinted on its surface, a G. He wiped off the button next to it. Another letter! He reached for the oddment.

  “Don’t touch that,” a voice yelled from near the worktable.

  A middle-aged, stocky man raced over. His shorts and loose shirt were stained with dirt, his dark hair disarrayed. He waved a deeply tanned arm at Everam, his weathered face scrunched into a scowl. “Who are you?” he demanded, skidding to a stop before Everam. Snow stood stiffly, her ears perked forward.

  Everam reached down and placed a hand on Snow’s head. “Sorry,” he said, “didn’t mean to intrude. I’m Everam, and this is my companion, Snow.”

  “Ello,” Snow said.

  The man stumbled back a pace, staring down at Snow. “A sentient dog!”

  After a moment, Everam asked, “I’m looking for Profeser. Might that be you?”

  The man recovered. “Yes, I’m Profeser, and I don’t take kindly to strangers bursting in here and messing with my research collection,” he said, glancing again at Snow.

  “My apologies,” Everam replied. “I’ve come a long way to speak with you. Targo, in Market Square, said you might be able to help me.”

  “Targo, you say?” Profeser huffed.

  “Yes. I seek a map, an ancient map of before.”

  “That so?” Profeser challenged.

  “Might you have such a thing?” Everam said. “Or know where I might find one?”

  “Maybe I do, but you can’t touch it or even look too hard at it. It’s fragile, very fragile. Unique.” Arms crossed, Profeser glared at Everam. “The first person who wanted to see it wasn’t very careful. Almost destroyed it, poking at it with his grimy finger. If you’re thinking to poke at it then you won’t even see it, you understand?”

  Everam reached out a hand, palm up, voice placating. “Profeser, I understand your concerns. But this involves an issue of vital importance and your map is a critical part of the information I need.”

  “Sounds pretty farfetched,” Profeser said skeptically. “What’s that got to do with ancient geography? Are you from up-country like that other fellow claimed, looking for ruins?”

  “I’m a Historian. My interest concerns the authenticity and relevance of an oddment given to us by a dolfina in Oak Cove.”

  “A dolfina, you say. And you’re a Historian,” Profeser mused. “Everam, you say.” He scratched at the stubble covering his cheeks. His eyes suddenly lighted with recognition. “You’re Phant Everam!”

  “Yes,” Everam answered simply.

  Profeser’s tone abruptly turned conciliatory. “Oh, why didn’t you say so to begin with? Of course I know who you are. I thought you were one of those pesky oddment scavengers, always snooping around looking for trinkets. This is no oddments shop. We do serious science here. We’re rediscovering the past.”

  Snow sat back on her haunches, her posture relaxing. “Ello,” she repeated.

  Profeser smiled at Snow. “And hello to you,” he said. Snow’s tail swished. “Come on, Phant Everam,” he continued, waving an arm. “I’ve got that map you’re looking for. It’s back here, in a special place. I’ll get it for you. More than happy to help a fellow researcher,” he stated, sounding pleased with Everam’s interest.

  Snow snorted something that sounded like “man-talk” and wandered off looking, no doubt, for crunchys.

  Profeser kept a steady commentary going as he unlatched a sturdy wooden cabinet mounted over his workbench and pulled out a long, flat, tightly sealed steel case. “Paper documents such as this are rare indeed, most data was stored in a form called digital in the latter days of the Ancients. That device with the letter blocks you were looking at had something to do with it but we’re still working on understanding that technology. Most of what I find are tiny scraps in a pile of dust and mold. The only reason this one survived is because it was sealed between two transparent sheets of some kind of durable protective covering. It’s a little foggy and marred, but readable.” He set the case on the worktable and turned on two lectric lamps and directed their beams to illuminate the case. “Almost missed it,” he continued as he opened the latches on the case. “Was digging around in some rubble far to the north in East Warves. Found it sandwiched between two big, flat rocks buried beneath small rocks and sand that helped preserve it.” Finally, triumphantly, he swung open the lid and stepped back.

  Everam leaned in closely to examine the interior. Puzzled, he looked back at Profeser. “Is there another cover I must open?”

  “Cover? Why, no, it’s right there, right on top…” His voice trailed off as he stepped closer to point out the map. “It’s not here!” He ran his hand inside the box as if to verify what his eyes told him. “I don’t understand, I’m certain I put it back.” He tilted up the box to look under it and then poked around inside the cabinet. “It’s gone!”

  Chapter 10