by R F Hurteau
Antiquity’s Gate
Book Three
Strands of Fate
A Novel by
R.F. Hurteau
Copyright © 2019 by R.F. Hurteau
All Rights Reserved.
This work may not be copied, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the publisher. Short excerpts may be used without prior authorization for the purpose of reviews.
For permissions, please contact the publisher at [email protected].
This is a work of fiction. The characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblence to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
ISBN
978-1-951027-06-3 (paperback)
978-1-951027-07-0 (ebook)
978-1-951027-08-7 (hardcover)
Library of Congress Control Number:2019909632
Keep in Touch!
Twitter: @rfhurteau
Email: [email protected]
Website: www.rfhurteau.com
Cover Illustration by Nushie
Twitter: @NushDraws
For Ember.
Your dedication to the things you set your mind to inspires me, and your gift for empathy is beautiful.
A Pravacordian Nursery Rhyme
Through fogs of time where buried deep
The answers lay before the Gate,
The answers from the one who weaves,
The one who holds the strands of fate.
Whence come the ones for whom a year
Is but a flash, and soon forgot?
Their story lost—and oh, the cost!
For angst their choice has wrought.
For long before the battles raged,
Two paths had once diverged
And, taking one, as rose the sun
An enemy emerged.
Now lost to history, long and deep,
Who shoulders such a heavy weight?
Whose burden is the truth which passed?
The one who holds the strands of fate.
One
Flights of Fancy
“HURRY up! You’re going to make us late!”
Eli’s hand was poised over his left foot, a white sock dangling innocently as he sat frozen, staring in wonder at a large bird on his windowsill. It was a rare sight, and he’d been afraid any sudden movement might startle it.
His sister’s voice rang out a second time from the intercom.
“What’s taking you so long?”
Eli shifted his gaze to the green light on the speaker near his bedroom door, scowling at it.
“You’re going to scare it,” he hissed under his breath, knowing the stupid machine probably wouldn’t pick up such a faint whisper.
When he turned back, the bird was gone.
Eli tried to sear the sight into his memory. Black feathers, reflecting purple and blue like the oil slicked ponds of the dead zones. The way it cocked its head and gave him a knowing look. He would cherish every detail, only regretting that the experience had been so fleeting.
He finished shoving his foot into his sock and stood, marching to the door. It slid away at his approach.
He glared accusingly at the place where it disappeared into the wall before shouting down the stairs.
“I was busy! And why do you insist on using that stupid thing all the time? I can hear you just fine without it, it’s not like this place is so enormous or anything.”
Eli and his sister had been placed in corporate orphan housing almost two years ago, but it still didn’t feel like home. The automatic doors, as well as many other amenities, had been touted by their parents as a wonderful upgrade when compared to their old place back in Gables.
But Eli would have given almost anything to go back to their “low tech” home in the suburbs.
At least they’d been together there. At least they’d been a real family.
“Maybe I just don’t want to shout, unlike some people!” Mabel retorted, appearing at the base of the stairs.
She had one hand planted on her hip, the other holding up a somewhat floppy-looking sandwich with harried expectancy. Her sleek brown curls bobbed as they brushed against her shoulders, mirroring her impatience and reminding him of the shimmering bird with the way they caught the light.
Eli deliberately took his time coming down the stairs, bringing his foot down hard on each step to underscore his displeasure. Childish, perhaps. But he was irritated, and he wanted her to know it.
Snatching the sandwich from her waiting hand he took a bite, glaring at her all the while. Large brown eyes stared back at him, unwavering, until at last his will to argue drained away. Mabel had an uncanny ability to rile him up and calm him down again whenever she pleased. It seemed almost a game to her, sometimes.
“Saw a bird,” Eli told her through a mouthful of what tasted like mostly bread, brushing past her as he hunted for his shoes. “On my windowsill.”
“Oh yeah?” Mabel tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to where the toe of one sneaker stuck out from beneath the white sofa. Her voice sounded distracted, but not without a hint of genuine interest. “What kind?”
“Crow, I think.” Eli turned the sandwich over in his hand, looking for a good place to take a bite. “Raven maybe. Not really sure what the difference is…anything on this, or did you just put two pieces of bread together and call it a day?”
Mabel gave an insulted sniffle and stuck her lip out in a pout. “You’re welcome.”
Her tone was haughty as she grabbed the back of his head with one hand and forced him in the direction of the shoes he’d been continuing to ignore. “And it’s got cheese. We have to make everything last till the stipend comes in on Thursday, so maybe just try to be grateful.”
Eli shrugged.
“I’m trying,” he insisted, eyes widening in an expression of feigned innocence. “You just don’t make it very easy, that’s all.”
She gave him a playful punch in the shoulder as she smirked. “Come on, you can eat on the way. I’ve been ready for ages!”
It was already hot as Eli and his sister stepped out their door into the exterior corridor. The air was dry, and he could hear the drone of insects even from three stories up.
He didn’t mind the heat, and he liked the insects. There was so little animal life left in this section of the colonies... he would take what he could get.
Besides, the constant insect noise was certainly preferable to silence. Eli had visited the dead zones with his parents before they had been transferred overseas. The stillness and quiet had been eerie, oppressive. It had felt like the place itself was sapping the life from his body. Even after they’d left, that feeling had lingered for a long time.
“I thought the only benefit of living on our own was not having people boss us around all the time,” Eli complained as they descended the stairs, shoving his now-empty hands deep into his pockets and wishing for another sandwich. “But with you here, it’s like mom never left.”
“Oh, get over it. You’re just grouchy because it’s Ross Day.”
“Of course I am. And why the hell do we need a holiday for everything? What are we even celebrating?”
“The famous Antarctic expedition of James Clark Ross, naturally.” Mabel quipped. “The one that led to the founding of Values International? But you knew that. And anyway, you’re only hurting yourself by pitching a fit about it every single year. Well, yourself and me, since I have to deal with you and your lousy attitude. It’s not like we can go back in time and change things. This is our world, Eli. You’re going to have to accept that eventually.”
Eli made a hmph of disdain but did not reply.
Everything about their existence was ironic. That a corporation with the audacity t
o call itself Values International ruled the world. That not only did people accept this fact, but even went so far as to celebrate it. Each year on Ross day, people from all walks of life turned out in droves to honor the man who had stolen their freedom from them. Thanks to the great James Clark Ross, their country had been dissolved before it ever truly had a chance to find itself.
“Ninety-one years!” Eli blurted.
Mabel rolled her eyes, no doubt anticipating his oncoming, familiar tirade.
It did not deter him.
“That’s how long the United States of America managed to cling to its fragile independence. We were on our way to do great things. And what happened? Squashed beneath the foot of the corporate regime. It boggles my mind, Mabel, that instead of resentment at the death of our promising nation, people throw parties and bow down to the very cause of our destruction—Val Int.”
“Hey,” Mabel nudged him with her elbow and pointed to a nearby poster, her not-so-subtle way of changing the subject. “You keep complaining about my cooking...maybe I should sign you up for one of those. Increase our stipend and give me more to work with!”
Eli glanced over at the attractive, cheerful people in crisp white lab coats on the poster, poised with clipboards and medical instruments in hand. Bold black lettering inquired, “Are you a candidate for one of our clinical trials?”
As they drew closer he was able to make out the smaller words beneath the creepy, smiling figures. “Volunteers always needed at Cedar Grove Innovative Technologies. Compensation guaranteed! Get paid to do good. Cedar Grove...a Values International Subsidiary Company.”
“Sign yourself up,” he muttered, not amused. “I’ll make my own lousy sandwiches.”
Mabel gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh, come on. I’m only joking around.”
Eli stared at her, frustration making his temple throb as he felt his hands balling into fists in his pockets.
“This is not a joke, Mabel!” he spat, a little louder than he’d intended to. “You think it’s coincidence that those posters are all over the corporate orphan ward? They’re trying to entice the poor and ignorant into selling their bodies for money. It’s sick.”
“All right!” His sister cast a nervous glance around the empty street. “I get it, okay? I’m sorry. Just, keep your voice down.”
“Why should I?” Eli shot back. “Corporate orphans are people. We’re people. Not lab rats. And I don’t care if anyone hears me say so. They ignore the facts every day, it’d be refreshing to be heard for once.”
“Well there’s nothing refreshing about going to prison, so just shut it.” Mabel narrowed her eyes in her best approximation of anger. She wasn’t very good at it. “I said I’m sorry. You know I agree with you, Eli. Just...just keep it together.”
Biting his lip on the very real desire to continue shouting, Eli scuffed the toes of his shoes along the sidewalk as they went.
Weak, pathetic-looking trees lined the walk, their scrawny trunks giving way to similarly scrawny branches just a few feet above Eli’s head. The spattering of sickly, yellowing leaves did not shade their travel.
Very little could be grown here without intensive upkeep, and no one cared enough to make the effort. The inhospitable growing conditions were one of the biggest reasons that this place had been transformed into a housing district. It wasn’t good for much else.
A thick silence hung between the siblings as they walked, punctuated only by the unceasing chorus of insects. No one else was around—it seemed that, unlike Eli, all of the other people in the neighborhood actually cared about the festivities. Free stuff, lots of flashy presentations, demonstrations of cutting-edge tech...of course it was appealing. He didn’t fault them for being attracted by the allure of shiny new things and a complimentary meal. It was this same appeal to humanity’s base nature that had gotten them all into this situation to begin with. Always something new and exciting. Always something to make life easier.
But the cost had been so much higher than any of them could afford.
Up until a few years ago, they’d lived in a less-than-affluent section of Gables, but the poorest city dwellers had faced ever increasing rent in a bid to drive them out.
Unlike most of the corporate orphans in the ward, Eli and Mabel had had the opportunity to experience life in the city for thirteen years, albeit on the lowest rungs of the social hierarchy. Seeing both sides of the coin had been eye-opening for Eli, and one that left a bitter aftertaste that had yet to fade.
Because Values International controlled the vast majority of the world’s economic markets, they also controlled the wages. There weren’t a lot of options out there for normal folks.
High paying jobs were reserved for people with connections or who came from rich families living in the inner city. Even though there was no law preventing one from raising above their station and gaining such a position, it just didn’t happen, regardless of education or ability.
Eli’s parents’ meager wages were not enough to sustain their family, forcing them to accept jobs far from the city to repay their debt to Val Int and to provide food for Eli and his sister.
“How’s your apprenticeship going?”
Mabel’s attempt at distracting him from his silent fuming was predictable, but welcome. He had a tendency to fixate on injustice, the myriad examples branching out in his mind like a spiderweb of misery and hopelessness. These events left him drained and depressed for days.
Mabel, it would seem, knew him better than he knew himself.
“Fine. If you call cleaning up after a madman, fetching his lunch and listening to him prattle on about how inept I am as good apprenticeship. All the while not getting paid.”
“Apprentices don’t receive wages.” Mabel gave him a coy smile. “Besides, it can’t be that bad, you did really well on your placement test, having gone to an actual school. That’s more than most corporate orphans can say.”
“Yeah,” Eli scoffed. “And what a great mentor I got as a reward for my brilliance. Doctor Farway is an idiot.”
The Maglev station was scarcely livelier than the barren streets outside, with just a few other stragglers waiting on the platform for the next train to arrive. When it did, gliding soundlessly up to the platform, Eli boarded behind his sister. The conductor waved them past with a smile and an exclamation of “Happy Ross Day!”
Though Mabel returned the greeting enthusiastically, Eli’s only reply was a sharp look of disdain. This same conductor would normally greet them with an outstretched hand and a hungry look, eager to take their fare and get them off his train as fast as possible.
Exorbitant fares tended to be a good deterrent from the poorer wards entering the city. Corporate orphans on their way to job assignments didn’t need to go all the way into Gables, and the cost of those shorter hops were much less prohibitive. Most of the industries that employed kids like Eli ringed Gables in a wide circle, leaving a healthy gap between the factories and the wealthy they served.
But on holidays, everyone travelled everywhere for free.
How generous of Val Int to facilitate such festivity and joy, Eli thought bitterly.
Mabel, always the more outgoing of the twins, found them a seat and soon struck up a conversation with an older lady sitting across the aisle, leaving him to ruminate in peace.
Disembarking at Central Station, Eli hesitated.
Being here felt wrong. Once it had been home, but now the city felt alien. They’d driven him out; why hadn’t he had the good sense to stay away?
Mabel, absorbed in her conversation, wasn’t looking where she was going and bumped into him when she reached the base of the steps.
“Hey! Outta the way, Eli, there are people behind us, ya know!”
“Sorry.”
He stepped down onto the platform and out of the way of the other passengers.
Central Station was crowded, people streaming in all directions, their garish festival attire all vying for his eye’s attention. The interior of the
enormous building was decorated in the customary Ross Day fashion.
Personally, Eli found the scene gaudy and unappealing, but Mabel squealed with delight and rushed past him, straight into the river of people.
He struggled to stay close, but it was like being caught in a riptide, feeling himself being pushed and pulled by the flow of the crowd. The cacophony of excited chatter crashed over him, drowning out his thoughts.
Eli wasn’t concerned so much with losing track of Mabel as he was with being unable to reach her. The throng of people seemed endless, and pulsed as if it were a single, massive organism.
His fragile hope that things outside would be more tolerable was dashed the moment they reached the exit and passed beneath the massive doorframe.
“Oh yes,” Eli commented sarcastically as he forced himself past a rather large woman who had just spilled a potent red liquid down the front of her dress, “This is much better.”
Mabel gave him a mischievous grin and pressed on.
The crowd and the oppressive heat began stirring up Eli’s anxiety. “Why does it have to be so hot? With all this technology, they can’t make it any cooler?”
His sister didn’t answer. She didn’t speak much at all on their way toward the main event. She was too busy looking around at the brightly colored people. Fortunately, Eli was only made to go to the city on holidays. Although he would have been more than happy to avoid it all together, he didn’t feel right letting his sister come to a place like this on her own.
It wasn’t violence he was worried about—crime rates in cities were extremely low, a fact that Val Int touted like a medal of honor. It was a sense of foreboding, a sense that they were not wanted, not welcome.
Mabel didn’t seem to feel it, and that made Eli feel all the more protective of her.
