The way was often difficult. In many places huge boulders blocked the trail. Many of them were impossible to climb, even for the nimblest, and they were forced to go around. When the land proved too difficult to navigate, they waded into the cool ocean waters often reaching to mid-thigh. Ryder had long since removed the heavy and cumbersome robe, carrying it instead upon his shoulder. He preferred the freedom of movement his loincloth provided.
The Pat’Riark was untiring, as was Mendiko. Ryder could only assume the incredible stamina of each was related to the Gift. As for himself, he could keep up with only a little effort due to his superb physique. Whatever force had brought him to this time had ensured he would be well prepared for its rigors.
Kronus suffered the worst. His stubby legs and rotund frame were ill-suited to the long trek, though his valiant and uncomplaining effort was ample proof of his stalwart spirit. First light was no more than a pale glimmer when his voice cried out at last, tinged equally with pain and exasperation.
“By the Rim, Fortunatus! I beg of you…let us rest awhile.”
The Pat’Riark called a halt and the Tsarkin deposited his weary body on the flattened top of a boulder. The light of Fortunatus’ staff snuffed out and the rising glow of dawn revealed a pitiful sight. The Tsarkin´s thatch of hair was stiff and sand-clogged. A mixture of salt and dust had settled on his bald fore-dome like condiments on a meal. His clothing was disheveled and sweat-stained. His feet—when he was able to struggle out of his boots—resembled wrinkled prunes. His broad nose pinched in distaste, but whether at the sight or the smell was unclear.
“I do not know what fit of madness possessed me to make this wild journey to I know not where.”
“Not a fit of madness but your foolish pride,” Fortunatus corrected in the manner of a teacher admonishing a wayward pupil. “Why did you not arrange a Flitter from the Royal Armory? You would now be sitting in comfort on the Pegasus, awaiting our arrival.”
Kronus grunted something unintelligible and Fortunatus moved to stand over him, as he continued even more sternly.
“Man is a triune being…equal in mind, body, and spirit. In your pursuit of one, you have forgotten the others.”
“Indeed!” Kronus complained with righteous indignation. “My poor limbs now afford me ample proof…a painful reminder that shall no doubt continue for several turns.”
They tried not to smile since his discomfort was plain to see. In spite of this, there remained something comical about the Tsarkin. The lovable thing about him was that he was ever willing and able to laugh at himself.
The sound of the water lapping the shore was soothing. The dawn light cast bronze ripples on the crests, making them look cool and inviting. Ryder grinned at Mendiko and there was an immediate and unspoken agreement. They raced to the water and dived in. Their grunts of pleasure as they rolled and wallowed echoed back to the others.
Kronus eyed them with envy but seemed content to lie where he was, breathing deeply.
The Pat’Riark leaned on his staff and stared out to sea, lost in his own thoughts.
In the water’s welcome chill, Ryder felt the effects of the long night wash away with the dust and sand. The continual bombardment of this strange new world evaporated—at least for a time. The sun rose above the horizon until it was a blazing orb of purest white.
They continued on their way, and the track left the sea and cut inland. The vegetation was sparse at first but thickened. There was more than adequate rainfall to sustain life, for the grasses were lush and green, the flowers alive with color. They came to a river—closer to a creek—narrow and swift flowing, where they paused once more to quench their thirst. The water was cool and crystal clear, and shallow enough to cross with little difficulty. Looking up at the clear but empty blue sky brought another thought to Ryder’s mind.
“I have seen no villages or dwellings of any kind, either along the seashore or on the path we have so far traveled. Surely there is fish and wild game, and those that earn their livelihood catching them?”
Fortunatus was slow to answer. “The world is a far different place from the one you knew ere you slept. The creatures of the sea fared better than those of the land or the air, though they remain a shadow of their former number. The great sea mammals are all but extinct, though the dolphin survives—thanks in most part to the Rudd. On the land, only a handful of species are left. Man, of course, and a descendant of the dog kind—what you now know as the tharfi. Among the others are various types of lizards, rodents, and insects, but only the hardiest breeds.
“The planet has undergone a general re-seeding, though it remains a far cry from its former glory. It is a strange irony that mankind once feared his technology would destroy the Earth. Instead, it has been the instrument of its rebuilding.”
Fortunatus raised his arm as a piercing screech drifted to them on the wind. Overhead, a lone hawk circled, his wingtips barely moving as he rode the high currents. “Of the creatures of the air, none survived. That which you see before you is a product of the Genetic Engineers, reinvented from the vast store of genetic material deposited within the Cloister.”
His arm dropped and an edge of bitterness crept into his tone. “As to why you have seen no sign of habitation, and no fishermen or hunters or farmers, the reason is simple enough. There is little need for the people of Earth to maintain a livelihood any longer. I do not include every individual; though for the most part, they have become little more than leeches. The vastness of the Pentarchy contains a limitless number of planets in the early stages of development, possessing untold quantities of food for the taking. Earth is now a great succubus: a fat, leeching planet of leisure. This is especially true of Brigantia, its capital, which is filled to the brim with seekers of pleasure.
“In truth, the natural has become the unnatural. That is why I would rather walk than ride Flitters. I enjoy the feel of the wind on my face, the clean tang of the salt in my lungs. Though some may refer to me as a fossil, it is because of such things that I prefer to remain on the Sacred Isle of Faer-Alon.” He turned to regard Ryder. “At our journey’s end, you shall see a wonder to make this small effort seem meaningless.” His blue eyes twinkled merrily. “Perhaps even the stalwart Kronus would agree.”
They traveled onward. On two separate occasions, Ryder heard small scuffling sounds in the bushes but could see nothing. Logic told him there had to be some sort of food for the great predator flying above. An hour later, the wind began to freshen and once more they smelled salt on the air.
They came out onto a natural cove shortly thereafter, with an inner coastline that curved southwest. Ryder could see the land stretching away—a long spit ridged with a chain of low, blunt-tipped mountains. By cutting inland they had saved several turns march.
Fortunatus took them to the edge of the high ridge overlooking the harbor, and there Ryder beheld the most beautiful ship he had ever seen. The Magi leader raised his staff and pointed.
“Behold…the winged horse!”
She rode sedately at anchor, midnight black and sleek as a swan. A white pennant, bearing a bright red flame at its center, flew from her masthead, and Ryder learned this was the emblem of the Magi.
They descended along the track. It was treacherously steep, and their passage slow, but at last they put their feet upon the sand.
Kronus stood there gasping and touching himself as though to certify he was real. “I will sing praises to the Source that I am still alive!”
For the first time, Fortunatus laughed. Ryder was amazed at the enchantment of the sound. It was deep and hearty, yet clear as ringing crystal.
The vibrant clamor of a horn split the air, its clarion call bouncing over the water. A longboat hove into sight, the men at the oars heaving for all they were worth. At the prow stood a man dressed as Fortunatus, bearing a long, glittering staff. His frown was severe as he leapt ashore and greeted his leader. The two men stepped to one side and spoke for a moment before Fortunatus returned to them. All traces of humor had deserted him.
“Balthazar has brought dire news from the southern wenlords.” He looked hard at Ryder. “Argus has summoned more than seven score Adepts of the Gardai to the Hall of Swords. Even now he seeks to block your acceptance into the Brotherhood. There are rumors he distorts the truth...but that I cannot believe.”
“He dares much to slander you in your own house,” Mendiko added grimly.
“I should have foreseen this.” Fortunatus sighed. “The sickness has spread even unto the Adepts.”
“You think Zel will come?” Mendiko asked. Hearing the name, Ryder listened with greater attention.
Fortunatus’ answer was decisive. “No…Argus will not wish to share this battle, or the victory he thinks inevitable. But we must leave at once. If Argus can sway only the number of five times five then the appointment is forfeit. Even my voice would be of no avail from that moment on.”
“Then let us pray for winds both fair and steady!” Kronus exclaimed.
The horn’s blast was more urgent as they closed with the ship. They saw a great bustle and haste already in progress. There was a loud clattering as the thick chain was hauled in tight, and the great mainsail began to rise even as they clambered aboard the rope ladder. Before they reached the deck, several crewmembers were already fastening a tackle to lift the longboat.
“Come aft,” Fortunatus commanded, motioning for them to follow him. He peered keenly at Ryder as they walked along the wide deck. “You know of ships of sail from your time?”
“A little,” Ryder replied. He could already see they were underway. The foredeck crew hustled to tighten sheets as the jib fluttered into position. “Nothing the size of this, though.”
Fortunatus nodded. They had reached the wheel and the helmsman stepped aside to let the Magi leader take control. His voice was filled with pride as he explained the ship’s workings. “She is a schooner, designed by Robert the Piper based on old drawings of similar vessels taken from the scrolls. She is one hundred and sixty feet in length...”
He paused, eying Ryder askance. “You know of this measurement from your time?” Ryder nodded and the Magi leader continued without pause.
“…And she is thirty-six at the beam. She draws fifteen feet when fully loaded but she is now lightened somewhat, for our journey is not long. When she is under full sail—six thousand square feet—she cleaves the water like the edge of a sword, her passage as swift as the dolphin.”
The sails were now filling and the ship began to heel over. The motion brought a brief flash of déjà vu to Ryder’s mind, but no more. Fortunatus yelled ahead to the sailing master.
“The wind has shifted, so tighten her up! We shall try to make the point without tacking!”
The deck resounded with the creaking of block and tackle, the excited yells of straining men and the gurgling of rushing water. The ship leapt eagerly ahead, and the wind whistled back from the tautened sails to wash their faces. For a moment, Ryder was certain he had stepped back in time rather than forward.
They made the point with the length of two tall men to spare. Ryder could easily see the bottom and the jagged tips of the reef. And then they were in open water.
The change in motion was instantaneous as the ocean met them and the ship began to lift and roll with the swell. Ryder turned and looked aft, where he saw Mendiko standing by the stern rail, gazing at their frothy wake. He appeared deep in thought. Ryder moved to join him and was forced to dance nimbly to maintain his balance. The land was already losing definition as the larger panorama of the mountains drew into focus. Many of the gray-blue peaks were obscured by clouds.
The two men stood together in companionable silence, listening as Fortunatus shouted small corrections in the sail pattern. His voice died off, signaling he was satisfied.
“It seems we have a brief respite,” Ryder commented. “Now might be a good time to continue my education.”
Mendiko smiled but remained silent.
“I am like a man walking in a dark and strange place, unsure of where to put my foot next,” Ryder prodded. “Tell me about this empire, this Pentarchy of Solarian. From the Earth I once knew to this is an unimaginable leap.”
“I know only the rough tale of history,” Mendiko admitted. “The true fount of knowledge is Kronus. He is both Sentinel of the Scrolls and Chronicler of the Codex. He is master of Earth’s history, both before and after the coming of the Norn.”
They watched the Tsarkin as he lay sprawled against the leeward rail. His face already bore a greenish tinge. Suddenly, they saw him drop his head into the scuppers. His entire frame shook as he spewed out the contents of his stomach.
“Don’t mind him as you see him there,” Mendiko advised. “He is a true lord of the empire, thrice-blessed with high title. To him alone the council has entrusted the Great Seal of the Pentarchy. Never has he proved unworthy.”
Mendiko paused for a moment, reviewing his facts before he continued. “The giant meteor known as the Norn forced the people of the Earth into Cloister. It was their only means of survival. There was a lesser number who fled the planet in whatever ships of the Space Fleet were available. Their fate remains a mystery. Despite the vastness of our colonization, there is no positive record of contact with them. It is doubtful that they survived.”
“No positive record?” Ryder questioned.
Mendiko nodded uncertainly. “There is one oddity. Some—indeed most—consider it mere speculation. They are a strange and elusive race called the Senach, or the Nomads. They are little more than a legend, though questionable evidence of their existence has popped up now and then in various civilizations around the Pentarchy. They seem able to appear and disappear at will. As I have said, most consider any relevance to the lost fleet the boldest fantasy. Though there are a few notable exceptions, among them Kronus himself. I mention this merely as a snippet of history. You may regard it as you will.”
Ryder nodded, filing it away in memory.
“The duration of Cloister was one hundred and twenty-four cycles—years as you used to call them. The destruction of the Norn was great, fulfilling even the direst predictions. As had been foretold…” Here, Mendiko paused to look strangely at Ryder. “…by you apparently, the site of the Cloister was spared destruction. History records that it was rocked for many cycles like the cradle of an infant left untended in a heavy swell. Yet it survived. Those entombed endured many hardships, and these wrought great changes in the social structure. No doubt these were far different from what the original planners had in mind.
“By the time of the Deliverance, a feudal system of government had become firmly established. A new science had been built upon the ruins of the old, split into two distinct and competing systems. First were the Techniks who had kept alive and even improved the technological skills of their forefathers. Second were and the Genetic Engineers who had all but eradicated disease through manipulation of the Genetic Code. As the time of Deliverance approached, it was thought the increase in knowledge would enable men to rebuild what had been destroyed through the ravages of the Norn.
“Yet the effects had been far-reaching, greater than even they had suspected. They emerged to a transformed Earth. Upheavals had shifted the majority of landmasses until most were beyond recognition. Storms, dust, radiation…all had contrived to virtually erase plant and animal life. The only saving grace after so long a time was that both the water and air were usable once more. For the first few cycles, the survivors remained closely tied to the Cloister, daring only short but adventurous trips into what had become the New World.”
Mendiko paused once more as though to structure his thoughts. “I believe the scrolls record the time as the sixth cycle of post-Cloister. Archduke Owen, father of the present Victor, commanded his techniks to begin rebuilding the only shuttle left behind by the departing fleet.
“This decision was to have far-reaching consequences. All went smoothly. The ship was re-assembled and put once more in perfect condition. The archduke himself began the process of learning how to pilot it. This took some time—even with the advances in teaching theory: among them the autolect. And yet, he succeeded, for he was both brilliant and persistent.
“The first mission was a spectacular success according to the records. They visited the remains of the Fleet Observatory as well as the Lunar and Mars colonies, but there were no messages left to posterity. All trace of the Space Fleet had vanished, yet there were many tools and pieces of valuable equipment left behind. There had not been enough room to take them along on whatever journey the survivors had undertaken.
“These proved to be invaluable to the surviving population of Cloister. A second and third ship were constructed, and many more after them. Both the Lunar and Mars colonies were re-activated. Though still tied to Earth, mankind was once more a creature of space.”
Ryder listened in rapt fascination as Mendiko continued to spin history. The ancient facts came more easily to him as he warmed to the tale.
“During this time, the leader of the Genetic Engineers revealed a serum to greatly extend human life. His name was Daedalus Falken, the same Daedalus you have so recently met. He could not keep his discovery secret any longer, though he had managed to do so for a goodly period. He was one hundred and sixty cycles at the time. His peers had long since passed into history, yet he remained, showing only slight effects of aging.
“Even then, it was not a public disclosure. Only the archduke and his barons were privy to the knowledge. They were the nobility of the time, you see. Whether it was avarice or foolhardiness, the proper clinical trials were never carried out before they imbibed the Serum—what they had named the Serum of Longevity.
“By chance, there were no adverse effects on any of the mature members. It was only when the archduke administered it to his young son that the true danger became apparent. But it was too late. The son became not only an immortal but a creature of horror: a drinker of blood. Therein lay the birth of the first Zurd.”
“What are these creatures and why are they so important?” Ryder asked, unable to hold back his interest.
“Let me finish the tale my own way,” Mendiko chided. “It became apparent something was wrong. The child began to undergo a radical metamorphosis. His body lost all pigmentation, gradually at first then more rapidly. Then he stopped eating, refusing any type of food.
“Archduke Owen went nearly mad in his grief and anger, for it was obvious the ailment was tied to the Serum. He would have killed Daedalus but for the intervention of the other nobles. They managed to convince him to let the engineer remain alive since they needed his genius. Of all the Genetic Engineers, he was foremost.
“Daedalus slavered in his gratitude, swearing he would undo the wrong given time. Yet not even he could perform such a miracle. Discovery of the Serum had been largely a matter of accident, though within a short time they learned what should have been obvious from the start. The Serum was not to be administered until a man or woman had reached the age of maturity—considered to be the twentieth cycle. If taken before then, one became the abomination known as Zurd.
“The archduke accepted that his son’s fate was irreversible, but he warned his death would also mark the engineer’s. Whether it was luck or skill, Daedalus learned only blood would suffice as an effective nutrient for the creature now being called Zurd. It could only be taken orally, and not just any blood would suffice. Only human blood of the purest kind, taken from volunteers at first…although later…”
Here Mendiko subsided for a time as though unwilling to continue.
“All this from one object called the Norn and its arrival a matter of happenstance,” Ryder murmured, his mood also affected. “I wonder if such a thing could ever happen again…and whether its effects would be so far reaching?”
Mendiko raised his head and regarded him. “An interesting though terrible thought, Ryder Talisman. Yet who can say what the answer might be? We believe ourselves invincible now, snug within our cocoon of Ryl and Kirlin, backed by the might of the Pentarchy. Yet who can say whether an even stranger event might not bring it all tumbling down again?”
They remained lost in thought for a few moments before Mendiko resumed the thread of his tale.
“Archduke Owen became a recluse, spending most of his time on the shuttles. And with him always travelled his son. He left the running of the new colony to his subordinates—those who became the first wenlords. They began to explore and build new settlements. Whispers became rumors, which spread as they oft do. There were tales of a thing no longer seen. Rumors of a drinker of blood who spent most of its time in dreamsleep.
“Then, in the twenty-fourth cycle of post-Cloister, the archduke’s ship vanished. Eyewitnesses swore one moment it was there, and the next it disappeared. Six moons—as the months were now called—passed by, and most had long since ceased to mourn his death. And then the ship returned with the same mysterious suddenness as it had left. From that re-appearance was born the empire known as the Pentarchy of Solarian. The true ability of the Zurd was the ability to transfer matter, and the son had been late in recognizing his gift.
Mendiko nodded his head and gave a wry smile. “If there is one absolute law in the universe, it is the law of balance: a gift for the taking of so much. Yet even such a wondrous thing must have its limitations. Within the gravitational pull of any planetary body, it does not work. Also, each is limited to a certain amount of mass, the value dependent on the individual’s natural ability.”
“Then how do they manage to transport themselves without accident?” Ryder asked. “Especially if they have never been to an intended location before?”
“Ah…that is where dreamsleep plays its part,” Mendiko replied. “In the state of dreamsleep, which happens after the feeding, they are able to travel in thought, or 'ride the Aether' as they call it. In this way, they can see their destination ahead of time. The actual distances they can travel appear to be limitless, bounded only by the depth of their imagining.
“I begin to understand, even though the whole thing sounds incredible,” Ryder said. “What happened to Owen and his son?”
Mendiko could not resist a grin. “Are you certain I am not boring you? No? Well then, to continue…for the next few cycles many forays were made to neighboring systems—Alpha Centauri and others further afield. But it was a slow process. Too slow for some.
“Daedalus waited, biding his time. At what he deemed the right moment, he proposed to create more Zurd. As you might expect, there was a resurgence of the initial horror, yet he is nothing if not clever. He did not propose to use the existing populace. Instead, he suggested creating them from the vast gene pool saved from pre-Cloister. It was a brilliant if somewhat fiendish plan, and after a time the archduke acquiesced. It is probable that his son convinced him. He wanted others of his kind, companions to lessen the loneliness and horror of his existence.”
So intent had they been in the tale of the Pentarchy, they had not noticed the quiet approach of the Pat’Riark. His sudden intervention surprised them.
“And therein lies the true source of our darkness,” Fortunatus stated solemnly. “For what thing begun in baseness can ever rise above it?”
Mendiko nodded. “You are right, my lord. Yet after the policy was initiated—however base it may have been—expansion of the empire accelerated. This more than any other factor led to the discovery of the Rudd.”
“Isn’t anyone hungry?” Kronus had managed to join them. His pallor had not lost its greenish hue, though the demands of his belly apparently outweighed even the discomfort of seasickness.
Ryder realized he too was hungry. Not surprising for someone who had not eaten in over a millennium. Neither Fortunatus nor Mendiko revealed any such desire.
“We are sustained by the Aether,” Fortunatus explained, noticing his quizzical glance. “You will learn this soon enough. As knowledge of the higher forces increases, the lower appetites diminish.”
Ryder wondered what else was included in ‘lower’ apart from food.
As though he had read this thought, Fortunatus smiled. “For now, you must eat. Your training has not yet begun and your body craves sustenance.”
He took them below, and Ryder was amazed at the size and luxury of the stateroom. There was ample space for even one of his considerable height to stand without fear of banging his head. The joinery of the various woods was exceptional, and the style was a mixture of the exotic and the homespun that was a perfect blend. They grouped themselves around a massive table balanced on gimbals, whose movement countered the rolling motion of the ship.
The food was simple fare, though plentiful. There were various breads and cheeses, and some type of smoked meat that had a pleasing flavor. He and Kronus gulped all heartily and washed everything down with a savory red wine.
“The meat is pheasant, though somewhat altered from its original ancestor,” Fortunatus explained. “And the wine is made from grapes grown in the vineyards of Faer-Alon.” His smile broadened as he watched them eat, enjoying their simple pleasure almost as much as they.
“What of Faer-Alon? And the Rudd, and the other civilizations that make up the Pentarchy?” Now that his belly was full, Ryder found his appetite for the tale had returned two-fold.
“The Rudd and Faerwyn-Joss came to us at almost the same time,” Mendiko began, but paused to stare up at Fortunatus. “You should continue, my lord, since you are their greatest friend.”
Fortunatus did not hesitate. “The Rudd are the water race…the first friends of Man and his most steadfast ally. They come from the planet Rudan. Though a part of our galaxy, it resides in a cluster of solar systems many light years from ours. Archduke Owen encountered them in the twenty-eighth cycle of post-Cloister…”
“Twenty-ninth,” Kronus corrected, still chewing a mouthful of food. He did not notice the lowered brows of Fortunatus, who finally continued.
“In the twenty-ninth cycle, the scout-ship of Owen encountered them. Though it was still unknown to us at the time, they had been steady visitors to this solar system long before recorded history. And equally unknown to us—our protectors.
“In any galaxy there are billions of stars. For whatever reason—a thing known only to the Source—the greater part of these contain satellite bodies of a size large enough to be called planets, yet only a small percentage can sustain life as we know it. And of these, only a few have human or humanoid life. The number is further reduced by the ability of said life to become the dominant species and thus ensure their survival.
“In this galaxy of ours, the Rudd stand as a singularity: an intergalactic race of unmatched technological advancement. It was they who told us of Faerwyn-Joss, the Earth-twin…and they taught us other things.”
“Why were we not aware of them in my time?” Ryder asked.
It was Mendiko who chose to answer. “We did not know of them either. Faerwyn-Joss had no great technological advancement. Less even than Earth. At the time, we were not able to move far beyond our gravitational boundaries. What made us so interesting to the Rudd, and particularly to Owen, was that we were a water world with a dominant species so much like yours we could be kindred race. When the Rudd revealed these facts, he made it his business to find us. We first encountered each other in…” The sword Thane peered at Kronus, who answered without pause.
“The thirtieth cycle.
“Yes.” Fortunatus stroked his beard and nodded his head. “That’s about right. As a matter of fact, there are traces of the Rudd scattered throughout your history. Legends of visitation, scribbling in caves about mysterious gods with extraordinary powers…”
“But not domination,” Ryder interjected.
“No…” Fortunatus agreed, shaking his head. “That is not their way.”
“You said protectors…against whom?”
“As there are many stars in a galaxy, there are untold numbers of galaxies in the universe. Even now, aided by the incredible ability of the Zurd, we have explored only nine. Six of these we share equally with the Rudd and Faerwyn-Joss. One is controlled by the D’ia Mor. The last two are under the dominion of the Grimman-Seth.”
“Don’t forget the Rim,” Kronus advised.
“I have heard you use that word many times,” Ryder noted. “It sounds as though it’s some kind of curse.”
“Indeed,” agreed Mendi