The Seekers: The Children of Darkness (Dystopian Sci-Fi - Book 1) (16 page)

Thomas leaned in and whispered. “What happens next?”

“I’m not sure,” Orah said, “but if I were you, I’d hold on.”

As if on cue, the great wagon of the keepmasters began to
fly.

***

The wagon did not fly, but it moved faster than anything
Orah had believed possible, driving forward with a roar that echoed through the
cave. The light cast from within showed the walls of the tunnel passing in a
flash.

She tried to measure their progress but gave up. They might cross
the world in hours in the heart of this beast.

Then, as suddenly as it had started to fly, the wagon began
to slow. The echo spread into a larger chamber, perhaps bigger than the first,
and they eased to a stop.

Moments later the hatch lifted and they
stumbled out. When the doors closed behind them and the lights faded, Orah stared
into darkness once more.

She wavered and nearly fell, her mind flying past shadows
while her feet stayed rooted to the ground, but even after adjusting to the
loss of speed, she remained unsettled.
Where are we, and what should we do
next?

Then, as her sight adjusted to the darkness,
she noticed a brightening at the front of the chamber.

At the far end, a sliver of light filtered down from above. The
platform ended at the base of a metal staircase, and though the oddly grooved
steps had warped and corroded, they appeared passable.

She set foot on the first tread, glanced up, and a smile
spread across her face.

The topmost stair glowed with the reflected light of the
sun.

Orah emerged onto the ruins of a street broad enough to hold
all the streets of Temple City, but the black rock that covered its surface had
buckled, and tangles of weeds sprouted through the fissures.

What once must have been a bustling park ran along its center,
lined with trees planted at intervals. A few still survived, but most had
succumbed to age and fallen, their rotting stumps visible only as moss-covered
mounds. Scattered among them, bits of fences bordered the remnants of gardens,
now ragged and overgrown, with the occasional wildflower all that remained of
their former splendor.

Ahead, buildings stretched as far as she could see. These
rose to staggering heights, some topped with needle-like towers that stabbed at
the sky, but most had crumbled as if the heavens had struck back, leaving their
bases littered with stones. Vacant windows stared out like hollow eyes, silent
and sad, not monuments but memorials.

Thomas tipped his head back and gaped. “Did the darkness do
this?” His voice sounded hollow, like the empty shells of the ruined city.

“If we’re to believe the keepers,” Orah said, “the
keepmasters built this and the Temple destroyed it.”

Nathaniel fidgeted with the straps of his pack and stared
off into the distance, apparently too impatient for contemplation. “We must be
close. I only hope we don’t find the keep in the same state. Where does the
rhyme lead next?”

Orah shook herself from her reverie. “This has to be the
forest of stone. The rhyme says to head north to the Temple of Truth.”

They stood at the intersection of great roads. With so many
tall buildings, she had trouble getting direction from the sun, but guessed
north would be down the broadest of boulevards—fitting for the approach to the
keep. “This way. The Temple of Truth shouldn’t be far. Even with keepmasters’
magic, this many buildings can’t go on for long.”

They passed buildings beyond counting, each with an entrance
more impressive than any she’d ever seen. Some had walls of black granite,
while others displayed faded murals and the fractured remains of statues, their
broken limbs littering the floor.

So much lost. How could a place so grand have fallen into
such decay?

In the distance, the boulevard ended at a structure far
different from the rest, dwarfed by the surrounding buildings in height, but
ceding nothing in grandeur. Its façade gleamed with white marble, and a broad
staircase rose up to a portico fronted by massive columns, each too wide for Nathaniel’s
arms to embrace.

Anticipation quickened Orah’s pace as they approached. She jogged
along with the others, reciting the third verse between gulps of air.

To the North, through forest of stone

The Temple of Truth you shall see

Once great, it now stands alone

Climb its stairway, fourteen and three

Running as fast as she dared on the uneven surface, she finally
arrived at the first of the steps.

Thomas stared up reverently. “Is this the Temple of Truth?”

Orah counted fourteen stairs of granite, each as pure as the
sundial in her garden. These climbed to a landing, from which three more continued
to the top.

They’d arrived.

Nathaniel made a bow to Orah. “You go first. You’ve earned the
honor.”

She started up the stairs, climbing slowly out of respect
for the new-found Temple, placing one foot in front of the other and holding
her shoulders square. She paused at the landing and gazed back over the ruined
city. When she glanced down, her eyes widened, and she beckoned for her friends
to join her.

A golden plaque inlaid on granite adorned the landing, but its
words, so caked with dust, were hard to read.

“Thomas, give me your water skin.”

She reached out, but he pulled back. “I’m not wasting any
more.”

With an exasperated sigh, she dropped to her knees and began
wiping away the grime. Thomas tried to raise her up, but she twisted away. “Leave
me alone. I believe... even if
you
don’t.”

“It may not be important.”

“Hush, Thomas. This is the Temple of Truth.”

She returned to the plaque, rubbing with the sleeve of her
tunic. Where the dust was too thick, she added spit to the task. At last, the
first part became clear.

The greatest truth must be....

She scrubbed harder, but the next several words were gone,
the metal melded with the stone. Her shoulders strained as she pressed on,
intent on restoring the rest. When she’d finished, she could make out the final
phrase.

...that in every child is the potential for greatness.

She slumped over exhausted, while her friends waited, giving
her time.

Finally, Nathaniel eased her up. “There’s more to discover.”

At the top of the stairs and behind the columns, a corridor
extended in either direction. Several stories high, its arched ceiling must
have once been decorated with artwork, but now only splotches of color remained.

Nathaniel glanced to his left and right. “Which way?”

“’To the East, the entrance shall be.’
We’ve been
heading North. East is to the right.”

She felt more than ready to find the keep and discover its
hidden treasures, but the enormity of the situation slowed her pace. Each
footstep echoed behind her as she strode down the corridor. At its end, the
ceiling opened into a dome painted with white stars on a blue background.

In the back wall of the chamber stood two massive golden
doors with no visible hinge, fitted so tightly together that the seam between
them barely showed. She gaped as if trying to see through them, but only her
reflection stared back, a bedraggled twin trapped in the keep and begging to be
released. The gleaming surface betrayed no lock, no keyhole, no handle, and the
doors seemed bolted shut with such conviction they might have been closed for
all time.

They’d come to the last lines of the rhyme, the final phase
of their journey. Orah approached the doors, eager to touch them, knowing the
keep lay behind. She rapped with her knuckles—they hardly made a sound.

“Do you know how to open them?” Nathaniel said.

“I hope so. We have only two lines left.”

Sixteen stars shall set the doors free

When touched by the lines of the rhyme

Thomas gaped at her and then up at the dome. “There are the
stars, but how do we get to them? Even I can’t climb that high.”

Orah laughed. “I don’t think those are the stars, Thomas. The
ones we’re looking for are much closer.”

She gestured to the shadows at the left of the doorway. A
box made of a substance similar to the coating of the scrolls sat embedded in
the wall. On its surface were four rows of four buttons, marked from one to
sixteen, each in the shape of a star.

“I knew the last lines referred to a puzzle, a sequence of
numbers that would unlock the doors. It took me a while to figure it out. The
one thing I didn’t know was where to find the stars, and now, here they are.”

“Well,” Thomas said. “What are we waiting for?”

“Nothing at all. With your help, I’m ready.” She asked him to
kneel on the floor. “When I studied the verses, I noticed many included numbers,
but none higher than sixteen. The numbers to unlock the doors are in the rhyme.
I’ll recite the verses, and each time I say a number, write it in the dust.
Take care not to miss any.”

She began chanting.

To the North, behind the rock face

Twixt water and dark walls of pine

For a full eight days you shall race

Thomas listened spellbound, unable to take his eyes off her,
and she needed to prod him. “I said eight, Thomas. Write it down.”

He stirred from his stupor and focused on the floor. “Now I
understand.”

One more past four falls in a line

He wrote one and four unprompted, then two for the doors. As
she neared the end of the rhyme, he raised his head. “Is it fourteen and three?
Not seventeen?”

“Yes. That was one of the clues. I wondered why they didn’t
say seventeen and realized that would have exceeded the number of stars.”

After Thomas recorded the final number—sixteen--she directed
Nathaniel to the box on the wall. “I’ll read the numbers from Thomas’s list,
and you touch the matching star.”

Nathaniel positioned himself next to the box, while she
stood over the markings on the floor.

“Eight.”

He pressed the eighth button. Much to her delight, the star
lit up.

She moved on. “One. Four. Two. Fourteen. Three.”

Her voice grew stronger with each successive number, until she
shouted out the last. “Sixteen!”

Nathaniel settled his finger over the sixteenth button, and glanced
over his shoulder at her.

She nodded.

He pressed and stepped back from the doors, giving them
leeway.

They all waited.

Nothing happened—no movement, no sound, no change in
lighting. Nothing. After a few moments, the stars went dim.

***

Orah sat cross-legged on the floor, sullen and silent. When
Nathaniel had tried to cheer her up, she’d sent him off with Thomas to explore.
Better to brood alone. A half hour later, they returned to report they’d found
nothing. The Temple of Truth was as lifeless as the rest of the keepmasters’
city.

Unable to face them, she focused on the floor. “You were
right all along, Thomas. I’m not smart enough. The secret of the keep is beyond
me.”

Thomas plopped down next to her, brushing her shoulder as he
sat. “Not smart enough? You’ve been brilliant. We’d never have come this far
without you. Not that Nathaniel and I haven’t contributed, but you were the
best.”

She rocked to one side and bumped him playfully, before
becoming thoughtful again. “What if you were right about another thing? What if
the seekers took too long to arise? What if we did everything as we should, but
the doors no longer work?”

Nathaniel had been pacing the room, poking at every crack
and corner, but now he spun on his heel and faced her. “Then we’re not to
blame. Other generations had the chance, and we’ve accomplished more than all
of them. We have nothing to be ashamed of.”

He dropped down on her other side and placed an arm around
her as she drew circles in the dust.

She finally looked up. “You’re the best of friends, and I’m so
grateful you came with me, but we’re supposed to be the seekers, the most
curious and persistent of our generation. Are we now content to accept failure
because of the order of things?”

“The order of things.”
Nathaniel jumped up and strode
to the doors as if he’d suddenly discovered the key. “We haven’t failed yet. You
mentioned the word order—the order of the rhyme. Maybe they mean not the
numbers
in
the rhyme, but the
lines
themselves.”

Thomas looked perplexed, but Orah encouraged Nathaniel to
continue.

“There are sixteen stars and sixteen lines to the rhyme.
What were the exact last words?
‘When touched by the lines of the rhyme.’”
His
eyes took on a glow, as if reflecting the light from the stars. “I’ll show you
what I mean.”

He found a fresh section of floor and wrote down one through
sixteen. “Now, Orah, recite the rhyme, one line at a time.”

She took a breath and glanced to the unseen heavens. “
To
the North, behind the rock face.”

“No number in that line, so we remove it.” His boot rubbed
out the number one.

She stirred and rose to her feet, hovering over his drawings
and rattling off the remaining verses.

Twixt water and dark walls of pine

For a full eight days you shall race

One more past four falls in a line

He erased the two, but three and four stayed. When Orah had
finished, a new sequence remained:
three, four, seven, twelve, fifteen.

She nodded. “It’s worth a try. I’ll read the list and you
press the buttons.”

“No. You do it this time.”

Her face grew warm. “It’s not my place. It was your idea.”

He came closer and placed a hand on her cheek, adding his
warmth to hers. “Thomas was right. We needed all of us to make it this far. Besides,
I’m only guessing. Maybe you’ll change our luck.”

She took his face in her hands, pulled his head down and
kissed him. Then she went to the box at the side of the golden doors. “I’m
ready.”

Nathaniel read the list, and she touched the stars.

When he called out the final number, her finger hovered. She
briefly closed her eyes, a quick prayer to the light. “It’ll work this time,
Nathaniel of Little Pond. I can feel it.”

She pressed the final button.

Slowly, the structure came alive. The floor began to
vibrate. The grinding of gears, unused for centuries, echoed off the starred
dome. In moments, the doors began to swing inward.

The power of the Temple had been thwarted, the challenges of
the masters met.

They’d found the keep at last.