Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One) (24 page)

Yes, my instinct on Stalling Alterian at the time was s
pot on. He was a dangerous threat in need of termination.

He hit play again as the camera swung to the back of the room and focused on his imposing figure, a young Cardinal dressed in a fitted beige cassock trimmed with dark green piping and buttons.
I was a strapping bastard back then
, Dramis thought with a mix of admiration and disappointment as he unconsciously pinched the inches of his portly midsection.
I was still playing two or three pick-up games a week back then, one of many sacrifices I have had to make....

The camera had turned to him in response to his boisterous question. "What of God Mr. Alterian? How do you intend on consulting the Almighty about your plans to alter his most coveted creation?" Much as he had that day, Dramis relished the cowed
reactions of those seated in the room at the sound of his booming, authoritative voice that had immediately seized the crowd into a deferent hush. Stalling's enchantment had gone on too long; the time had come to crack the whip and remind everyone of their true reality.

The camera moved back to Stalling as he addressed Clortison's loaded question. "I apologize if what I propose derogates the Almighty and/or his ecumenical leadership," Stalling stated, sounding more annoyed then apologetic. "But I assure yo
u, every one of my concepts was contrived in the same spirit that has allowed Antium's scientific community to flourish over the centuries."

"Really? Please enlighten us as to how your heretical musings are aligned with the Savior and his Father, the one a
nd only true God."

"According to the Gospel of Leviatus, chapter 6, verses 1-2:
‘And God told his chosen people, I am whole and unbroken. I am both lever and rock. I am both water mill and river. All souls will be nourished from my unbroken wholeness.’"

Ye
s, we have leaned on that scripture to justify more than once the continual redaction of our laws to fit the contemporary needs of society.
Most recently evidenced, and the precedent Stalling so aptly referenced, when Drakarle devised a way to both capitalize on and foster the budding Age of Science that Antium had naturally reached over two centuries ago.
It was the solution enabling us to both support the popular veneration growing around the laws of science at that time and, to this day, provide the scientific population a sense of purpose.

"True, the scripture tells us the laws of science are His laws but let us not lose si
ght that science remains beholding to the Savior's one and only divine law: 'Through me, be delivered to our father and his eternal kingdom; for I am the wellspring that nourishes the soul with his endless love.'"

"Your vision of the future encourages man to find salvation through the self versus the unwavering acceptance of Leviatus as your savior. Need I remind you of the many who hav
e suffered the rack for the propagation of ideas arguably less blasphemous?"

"With all due respect, I believe my vision of the future to reflect the very foundation of what Leviatus taught us which was to strive toward becoming one with God himself."

There it was!
The drama that ensued immediately after that bold statement, resulting in Stalling's exile for the next decade, was all Dramis had recalled about his first encounter with Stalling. "To become one with God," Dramis repeated to himself out loud.

Unt
il now, none of the information Janison provided was very useful. Sure, they could study the science behind it all and in a decade or so reengineer some of it to call it their own. But none of it revealed the mysterious power driving it all, the key behind Stalling reaching his true objective. Stalling knew good and well when he decided to play within the rules, despite the public support and popularity he had garnered over the years that the C.O.S. would pull the plug in the end and take over. Janison's intel, at first glance, simply appeared to give us a head start on the inevitable.

"No, the clever boy has played us from the start, letting our own momentum do most the damage," Dramis said, causing a stir amongst his cabinet members seated behind him. "If
not for my instinct to bluff this morning, we would have mortally impaled ourselves on his spear. For that matter, I have no doubt Janison's betrayal was all part of the plan. But it is you that has underestimated me this time Stalling Alterian. It is I who will make the last move and use your life's work to make us stronger than anyone could have ever imagined. Somebody get me Thortizan!"

Chapter 15

Steffor shivered as clammy sweat rolled down his back and smeared into the cold, jagged rock. Exhausted, laboring to catch his breath, he could back up no further. Rock walls elevated high above and surrounded him on each side. In front of him, the gruesome mob blocked his only escape.

Why do they
hate me? What did I do to deserve such malice?

Despite his questions, the evil intentions displayed on the haggard faces did not change. The leader, a vile creature barely resembling his human heritage, seeing Steffor trapped, turned to the rest of them w
ith arms raised like an ape and let loose a grisly roar. The blood lust rose to new heights and Steffor sensed his end was near. How it came at this place, under these conditions, was unclear but the outcome seemed unavoidable just the same.

Out of primal reflex, Steffor crouched low and put clenched fists in front of his face, prepared to fight to the end. For the first time he noticed the blood. Some of it was his own oozing from multiple gashes along his knuckles
, the bone exposed and jutting out on several. To his horror, looking down the length of his arms and torso, he realized most of the blood came from others.

Gory images of his recent past emerged in rapid succession. He recalled, standing in the middle of a dark, damp cave, grotesque
bodies hurled at him from all angles as he fought to survive: fists caving one face in after the other, the nauseating sound of precise bone crushing kicks, powerful arms snapping the neck of any creature foolish enough to get too close. The destructive images, the pure hatred emanating from the horde, the stench of blood and guts dripping down his face; Steffor lost control, doubled over and vomited.

What have I become? How could I commit such horrors? I am here to help create life, not destroy it!

The will to fight gone, Steffor slid down the rock wall and wept. Confused by their adversary's abrupt change, his enemy paused for a brief moment. Then, as of one mind, they lurched and consumed him.

*****

"The link remains severed," the foreign voice said.

"How can that be," Vejax asked. "Did the death of Tillamund also destroy the Mysticnet?"

"I do not know. Possibly. But if I were to guess, I would say Tillamund's sacrifice is connected to the same event," replied the female tenor. "I do know this much, it is all tied to him."

Steffor sensed the stranger and those around her look in his direction as he lay on his back with hands interlocked across his chest. With a deep, wakeful breath, he opened his eyes, sat up and leaned on one arm. Calivera was by his
side, curled up in a peaceful sleep. The smile stretching across his face pained him, beaming like a young boy overrun by joy at the sight of a long lost treasure. Without pause, he bent down and gently kissed her forehead. She inhaled deeply with eyelids quivering in response but continued in her slumber.

"She has been through more than you know recently and in dire need of rest," said the newcomer's voice, sitting a few feet away. "She refused to sleep until you awoke, only succumbing to her body's need m
oments ago." Dressed in the robes of a Mystic—a field Mystic gauging by the rural flora hewn on sleeves and hem—Steffor was startled by the sight of her eyes: wide, clear white pupils, contained by liquid amber irises.

"It is an honor to finally meet you m
aster Steffor," she said with a respectful nod, "my name is Leanor." Reading his perplexed response to her presence, she added: "Please do not concern yourself about my role at this time. While the Provider deemed it important, its value will be revealed to you in due time." Confused as he was, there was a comfort in Leonor's presence, a solace he sensed connected directly to Calivera's wellbeing.

He stood up and stretched his entire body while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He pulled his gaze away from t
he rogue Mystic, toward the sun creeping over the valley's east wall, a fiery protuberance of heat and light. He stood for several moments, squinting at the sun as it warmed his face and allowed his mind to replay recent events.

From his left the sound of
Kilton clearing his throat brought his attention to Kilton, Vejax, Grimlock and Martna stationed a few yards away before the Forging Tree. Loose fitting shorts and tanks that casually blended into the surrounding browns and greens of the tall grass now replaced the dark ceremonial garments adorned with capes and hoods.

Kilton sat cross-legged, patient as ever. His long Teuton Staff rested across his knees with thick forearms resting on top. Laced with a solemn edge, Kilton met Steffor's eye with a welcoming
smile.

To his right, Vejax lay sprawled on his right side, propped up on an elbow, his left hand plucking the matted grass on which his staff lay. His casual manner did little to hide the fear Steffor witnessed in the brief eye contact they shared before
Vejax quickly turned his attention back to finding his next grass victim.

Grimlock and Martna stood next to Vejax. Both panted slightly, coated with a fresh sheen of sweat, having apparently been in the midst of some type exercise moments ago. Typical, Ste
ffor thought with amusement, studying the unlikely pair a moment longer. Grimlock, dwarfing most everyone, appeared even larger next to Martna, his bulging brawn accentuated by his minimal clothing. Martna, taller than most men but average by Guardian standards, the well-favored women looked a gangly child standing before Grimlock's hulking girth.

Despite the vast difference in their physical size, Steffor, intimately familiar with Martna
’s well-defined muscles and deceptive dexterity, knew better then to assume the big man the more adept Guardian. Martna is reining Ascender champion for the past six years for a reason, he reminded himself. They each returned his gaze with a reverent nod.

Steffor reciprocated the respectful gesture before focusing his si
ght on the Forging Tree behind them. Based on his proximity, he realized that he stood in the same spot he was last, before releasing the Source. On impulse, he stepped toward the tree for closer inspection. It was not until he had walked a few steps past his friends that his mind registered the tree's recent transfiguration. The ancient archway, its broad opening and, he sensed, the once hollowed out cavern within no longer existed. In its place was a fresh growth of wood and bark.

Fascinated, not trusting his
eyes from the deception of illusion, he quickened his approach and placed both hands on the new growth. His hands traced the fine line between old growth and new, the slight variances in color the only clue depicting the two. From his left periphery, he noticed a ray of sun reflecting off a mirrored object located under what was once the center of the archway. Steffor turned toward the reflecting light and moved in its direction, his right hand caressing the bark as he went.

"How long have I been unconscious?" Steffor asked, intently investigating the area of new growth.

"It’s hard to say," Kilton replied from only a few yards away on his left, having stood up to observe how Steffor would react to what the rest of them must have been struggling with prior to his awakening. "The rest of us awoke a few hours ago. Assuming today is the morning of the same day the Forging Ceremony took place, I would guess we have been out for five, maybe six hours. What do you sense?"

Steffor cons
idered Kilton's words and question as he attempted to read his own internal clock. Thousands of lives spent connected to the Mysticnet instilled all Citizens with an innate sense of time, both of past and present. Calibrated by heightened senses, Guardians evolved this relationship with time, enabling them to slow it; a supernatural skill, evidenced when competing in the Dive or other events in the Guardian Games.

Try as he might, he could not locate any record of time for the most recent events. In fact,
the only record he could find was that of the time passed since waking this morning. His memories of past events were still intact but there was no time stamp to chronicle its passing.

"I have no measure of past time either," Steffor finally replied

"What of the Source? Can you now take of the Source," Kilton inquired, doing little to hide his disquieted temperament.

"Yes." Steffor offered no elaboration.
Words cannot describe the sensation of how the Source now pulses through my body.
In response to the thought, his soul took a reflexive inhale of the Provider's energy.
My pull on the Source remains beyond measure but now I have command over it. Somehow, it is contained.

"Where are the rest?" Steffor asked.

"After a quick consult with the other Teutons, it was agreed that the conclave should disband and send each Guardian back to their post with haste."

"Why the urgency?"

"The disturbance behind the events that just took place aside," he said, gesturing with his left hand toward both Steffor and Forging Tree, "it was our inability to connect with the Mysticnet that ultimately dictated the decision. We have no way of knowing what is happening with those we are charged to protect." In the background, Vejax, Grimlock and Martna, grumbled their affirmation on the decision.

So, I am no longer the only one, Steffor thought, struck with sudden empathy for his fellow Citizens. Still, he sensed the event was a painful step in their collective growth that must occur if t
he Provider and its people were to evolve.

He moved toward the once center of the archway and his eyes came to rest on the source of reflected light, his Teuton Staff. The "staff" was no longer than his forearm. It rested upon a shifted corbel, sculpted in
to the form of two hands held palm up. Upon closer inspection, the sun's rays did not reflect off it so much as it appeared to absorb the light, then emanate it back out. Its polished luster made it difficult to identify any specific details, possessed by a life of its own with a myriad of swirling colors living within, from burnt orange, to forest green, to jet-black. At one moment, it exhibited qualities of a tight-grained hardwood, at others it appeared more metallic, while at others like polished marble.

"Why did the four of you stay behind?" Steffor asked, breaking the silence that had seized the group upon his discovery of the staff.

"We were told to," replied Kilton.

"By whom?" Steffor asked, his eyes still locked on the staff.

"The Provider."

Steffor
's understanding of the Provider as a benevolent energy that pulsed in every living organisms had expanded with recent events. What had changed, Steffor realized in pondering the presence of his friends, was his view of the Provider as an actual being, similar to himself, a sentient creature cognizant of the universe and its laws, a soul cut from the same piece of fabric, aspiring to ascend to a higher consciousness.

"How did the Provider communicate to you?"

"The message came to us all at the same time, in the same way. It was at the moment when you released the Source back into the world."

"Into Tillamund," Vejax gravely added.

Steffor sensed the other four Guardians now standing next to Kilton, observing him, waiting in anticipation to see what he did next.

"Did he come to each of you with the same dream?"

"No," Grimlock said, "It was an experience akin to the intersection before Armotto's Staircase, the difference being it was over the archway—or what used to be the archway—of the Forging Tree and the message was the same for all of us: 'Steffor and I are one in the same. Protect and serve him as you would me.'"

The desire to sync with his staff grew. It beckoned him in a way that made him feel incomplete, aware of a hole in his heart that he only now disc
overed existed.

The Provider recreates itself in me, in all of us, so that it may flourish. Our purpose is to grow, to relearn what it means to be part of the Provider. We are ready; the time has come to sacrifice what we are for what we could become. I se
e the possible succession of future events; how, as one, we can manifest our growth. I accept my role as the catalyst, and it starts here and now.

Balking one last time, he turned around and addressed his friends. "I do not doubt your devout faith in the P
rovider. Nor could I have formed a better troop to aid me in the events yet to come. A new age is before us. In order to embark on this era, we will all be asked to make sacrifices, the impact of which may never be revealed to us in this lifetime. I ask each of you now, before choosing to follow me in what may come next, to look inside your heart and choose based on what you see there, not because the Provider or I command it."

Each received his statement with varying degrees of shock. Vejax shook his head
in disgust and gave Kilton a look saying:
I told you
. Kilton did nothing to discourage the look, the struggle with his own introspection plain to see on his face. Grimlock was quick to move on, taking Steffor's request at face value, and began to meditate accordingly.

"Why do you ask this of us Steffor," Martna asked. "Is it not enough that the Provider commands us to do so? I do not see the need to choose for myself."