The Chronotrace Sequence- The Complete Box Set

by D J Edwardson

  Adan let out a heavy sigh. He should not have gotten his hopes up.

  “Don’t ever give up looking, Adan,” Senya said. “The maneusis often says to us, ‘Never give up. Because giving up is only trading a smaller problem for a larger one.’ Everything, in the end, is passing—even death.”

  Adan wondered how she could say such a thing when the pain of her husband’s death was still so clearly evident on her face.

  She smiled then, and the sadness in the room faded as quickly as it had come. “I want to show you something I think you’ll like,” she said, drifting over to the apparatus with the threads.

  “This is my loom. My mother gave it to me. It’s quite old. I’ve had to repair it many times, but it has held up surprisingly well considering how much I use it.” She sat down at the stool in front of it.

  “What does it do?” Adan asked.

  “I use it to make fabric. Other women in the village make the thread for me and then I weave it together here on my loom.”

  Senya pulled out a small, elongated oval frame with a cylinder of thread inside it.

  “This is the shuttle,” she said. “I move it back and forth, and little by little, the cloth gets woven.” As she pulled it between the layers of threads running up and down the loom, the string from the shuttle stretched across them. Then she pulled down the large central beam and stepped on the slats under her feet. The upper beam lifted itself once more and she tossed the shuttle back through. She repeated this several times and the small strip of fabric at the base of the frame grew by a sliver with each pass.

  “That’s amazing,” Adan said. It seemed to him almost like the shifter—transforming one thing into another.

  “Mama is teaching me, too,” Lila said proudly, coming up behind her mother and sliding onto her lap. Halel came over to stand beside her as well, both of them watching intently as Senya completed pass after pass.

  Adan found the rhythm of her work mesmerizing as she threaded the shuttle back and forth. Her movements were fluid, yet precise. The shuttle moved so rapidly it looked as if it bounced effortlessly between her hands.

  “I could do this forever,” Senya said. “I used to sit here and watch my mother weaving when I was a little ishta myself. ‘It is blessed labor,’ she’d say, and she was right. She would sing the ancient songs and whisper the words of wisdom to herself. ‘When we create,’ she said, ‘we are only acting after the fashion of Numinae, and he is pleased when his children follow in his ways.’ My mind is never more at peace and my spirit never more at ease than when I’m weaving. Time passes so—”

  She never finished what she meant to say, for at that moment Jarem burst into the room.

  “Mother, they’re coming.”

  The loom went still and the shuttle unraveled onto the floor.

  “Halel, Lila—take Adan with you and warn Nacio. Jarem, come with me,” Senya ordered, springing to her feet and disappearing through the curtains with Jarem at her heels.

  In an instant, Halel was kneeling on the ground, flinging wide the trap door. A haze of light shot up from the opening. A metal ladder inside led down into a passage below. Without a word, Lila shimmied down and stood, looking up at Adan.

  “Tst, tst,” she whispered, and motioned anxiously for him to follow. But staring at the ladder, Adan hesitated. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go down it. Then, without warning, Halel’s slender hands grabbed him by the shoulders, whipping him around and shoving him into the opening. Adan was shocked by how strong he was for his size.

  As Adan careened down the ladder, his hands and feet managed to catch just enough of the rungs to avoid a complete fall. Dodging out of the way of Halel, who came down practically on top of him, he turned to face a dim passage with a sturdy-looking stone door at the other end. A single, fist-sized blue rock lit the corridor. It rested on a small metal shelf jutting out of the wall.

  Halel rapped on the door with his knuckles several times. A moment later, it flew open and Will stood before them. From the grim look on his face, it was obvious the shifter had not been fixed. He motioned Adan and the children inside and shut the door.

  The underground room they entered was littered with all manner of devices and storage compartments. It looked like the inside of the shelter, only worse, but Adan had little time to pay attention to the details.

  “Are you close at all?” Halel asked. “Mother can only give you a little more time.”

  “No, there’s no point,” Will said. “I’m still missing components. Mendigo has changed all the access codes to his logs and I’ve had to spend most of my time looking for everything by hand. It’s pointless. It could take all day to find the other parts.”

  “So what do we do?” Halel asked, his voice cracking.

  “Even if we could make it out through the tunnel, we won’t survive in the desert without the shifter. And Adan is in no shape to run anyway.”

  “I could try,” Adan offered.

  “Yes, I know, but it wouldn’t matter. We’d never outrun them.”

  Will’s eyes blazed with the same resolve Adan had seen many times before.

  “The only thing is for me to go up and let them take me,” Will said.

  “No, Nacio. You can’t,” Halel protested.

  “Oh, please!” Lila shrieked and started to cry.

  “There’s no other way and there’s no point in fighting it,” Will said.

  “What will happen to you?” Adan asked.

  “That’s not important—”

  “You don’t think they’ll kill you?” Halel asked.

  A fresh wave of weakness went through Adan.

  “Don’t say that,” Lila wailed.

  Adan looked down at his hands and saw they were shaking. He could not believe this was happening. These people seemed so gentle and loving. He found it hard to believe they could possibly mean Will any harm.

  “That will be for the maneusis to decide,” Will said. “But since he supported my banishment before, I doubt we can count on him having compassion on me now.”

  “No. They won’t do that to you. I won’t let them—” Halel cried out, but Will cut him off.

  “I know you would do whatever you could, but you’re just a boy, Halel. Children, listen to me. I love you both, but I have to face this alone. If you truly want to help, take Adan into the tunnel and wait until the old ones have gone. There’s no reason he should have to suffer because of me. Maybe you could find another knit that would take him in somewhere else in the Viscera—”

  “No, I’m going with you,” Adan said firmly, trying to match Will’s resolve. He folded his hands together to keep them from shaking.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t. They might punish you as well and I won’t risk that.”

  “Even if they do take me, I want to go with you—whatever happens.” Adan hardly knew what he was saying, but he was not about to let Will go back up there alone.

  A terrible banging noise erupted outside in the hallway, cutting the conversation short.

  “The bolt won’t hold for long. We should go,” Halel urged.

  Lila was crying and clinging to Will, “Don’t go, Naci, please don’t go,” she kept repeating over and over.

  Will looked Adan in the eye. “All right. If that’s your decision you can come. We’ll probably both go down to the depths with judgment stones hung around our necks, but we’ll fall together, then.”

  Fourteen

  The Maneusis

  Will went up the ladder first and slid the bolt aside. The door burst open and a flurry of hands reached down and jerked him through.

  Adan rushed up behind him. He didn’t care about falling this time. He fumbled along the rungs as quickly as he could, but by the time he reached the top, there was no one left near the opening. Though the room was crowded with people, no one seemed to notice him; they were all wrapped up in a heated discussion. Everyone was using the strange dialect which Adan could not comprehend, but whatever was being said, Sen
ya was clearly upset about it.

  Will stood nearby, gripped on either side by taller Welkin. Of all the people in the room, he looked the least interested in what was going on. He barely spoke at all and when he did, he said very little.

  Standing in front of the curtains and blocking the exit was Dreas. He was staring blankly at the floor, looking very much like he wanted to be elsewhere. He and Will seemed to be doing their best to ignore each other’s presence. The two men guarding Will were silent as well. They were dressed like Dreas with their long hair swept back and metal batons hanging at their waists.

  The short man speaking with Senya had on a burgundy robe with a wide navy sash around his waist. His clothes were tattered and faded, but the patterns stitched on the sash looked like the cloud designs along the walls of the hogar. Despite the many lines on his face, his expressions were difficult to read. He kept his eyes half shut and moved very little, so that at times he looked like he was half asleep. The most striking thing about him was his hair: it was completely gray. Adan had never seen anyone with hair that color. Like the others, he wore it long and swept behind him. Everyone, especially Senya, seemed to be listening intently to what he had to say.

  Another Welkin standing beside the gray-haired man spoke more than the others. He was taller than everyone else, too, and had a barrel chest. He wore a long, brown coat over an even darker brown tunic. His hair was black, but tinged with flecks of gray at the temples. He had a booming voice to match his frame. Senya’s reaction to his words was altogether different from those of the smaller man. Every time he spoke she struggled to contain her emotions.

  By the time Lila and Halel emerged from below, the conversation had come to a standstill. Senya wore a defeated look on her face. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Lila ran to her and buried herself in the folds of her robes, whimpering loudly. It was only then that the others seemed to notice Adan and the children.

  The large Welkin turned to address Will, gesturing towards Adan while he spoke. Will did not reply except to shrug his shoulders. At this response, the man grew visibly agitated, stepping towards Will and rattling off a few dozen harsh-sounding words.

  Will stared at him intently for a moment and then gave a terse reply.

  Though Adan hadn’t detected anything threatening in Will’s tone or look, whatever he said only served to stir up the other man further. He threw up his hands and turned to the gray-haired man, as if looking for sympathy or support.

  The smaller Welkin responded in a low voice. At his words, the tension in the barrel-chested man’s expression diminished and he turned and took a step towards Adan. As he did so, Will’s face at last began to show some concern.

  “You’re not from here, are you?” the big man said, surprising Adan by speaking words he could understand. Adan was so taken aback he did not respond.

  “Yes, I understand the old cant. My name is Malloc,” the man said, extending his large, sinewy hand. He grabbed hold of one of Adan’s hands and gave it a shake. His skin felt like it was made of char.

  “My name is Adan,” he said, pulling his hand away and wondering why Malloc had grabbed it in the first place.

  “You’re with Nacio, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. What are you going to do to him?” Adan asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

  “What we do with all traitors who violate the will of the old ones. He never told you that he had been banished from the Viscera?”

  “Yes, he told me. But we were desperate. The shifter broke and we had no—”

  “Did he not tell you what the punishment would be if he returned? That he was told not to come back on pain of death?” Malloc asked.

  “That’s not true!” Senya shouted. Then she said something to the gray-haired man in the other tongue. He nodded and in turn whispered to Malloc.

  The big man cleared his throat. “Fine, Senya. You’re right, he is allowed to show penance and attempt restitution for his deeds, but we all know he hasn’t done that. Look at him. He snuck back in like a desert raider to use you and steal from Mendigo’s shop.”

  “Have you no compassion, Malloc?” Senya said.

  Malloc ignored her. “And even if he wanted to, he could never repay the deaths of Uron and his friends.”

  “Don’t make this personal,” Will said coolly. “I’ve told you a thousand times, their deaths were an accident, Malloc. I loved Uron like a brother—”

  “You lie! You filled his head with those cursed Waymen tales and foolish dreams and then you led him to his death!”

  The gray-haired man intervened with a few soft words, but Malloc refused to calm down this time. He kept on, his deep voice laced with emotion.

  “And you’d still be corrupting the rest of the knit if you hadn’t been banished. Maybe if you’d changed and given up spreading those ridiculous lies you could have been forgiven, at least by the rest of the knit. But as if that wasn’t enough, you’re running with the Waymen now. Perhaps they’re foolish enough to believe in your tales. Paradise in the wastes. The eternal city. Ha! The storm take you for all I care, but you will not drag my knit down with you.”

  “It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not, Malloc,” Will retorted, finally showing a hint of passion in his voice. “Oasis is real. Where do you think Mendigo got all of his—”

  “You’ve been out under the storm too long, necio! We didn’t come here to listen to your sorry lies again.” Malloc raged, shouting over Will’s voice. “But as you say, let’s not make this personal. I’m here representing the old ones and a decision must be made. Unless you can show you’ve changed and the maneusis grants you mercy, your life is forfeit.” He stared Will down, looking for some sort of response. When he failed to get one, he continued.

  “Before we fetch the judgment stone, tell me who this stranger is that you’ve brought among us.” Malloc crossed his arms, a smug look on his face. He seemed to have calmed down, but he looked as intimidating as ever.

  “You speak his language, ask him yourself,” Will said.

  “I can always ask him after you’re dead,” Malloc said hotly. When Will did not reply, it seemed to take the edge off Malloc’s anger, if only for a moment. “What do I care if you don’t want to answer,” the big man scoffed. “You’d probably just lie to us anyway.”

  He turned and stepped back towards Adan. “I can see you do not understand our language. I did not think any of the Waymen cared to learn the old cant, so I’ll give you that much. Tell me, which one of the thrals are you from?”

  Adan hesitated, unsure of how to answer in the face of such hostility.

  “Tell me, Wayman, where are you from? I know the names of most of the thrals that run in this part of the Vast.”

  “I-I’m not a Wayman. At least I don’t know for sure whether I am or not.”

  “You’re not going to tell us anything, either? You’d better start talking or you may find yourself tossed into the depths along with your traitorous friend.”

  “But I really don’t know where I’m from—”

  “Do you expect us to believe that?”

  “He’s like Nacio when he first came,” Senya explained. ”He doesn’t remember his past.”

  “But he knows something. I can see it in his eyes. He’s been running with Nacio up there in the storms. There’s no doubt about that.”

  Malloc moved closer to Adan, so close Adan could smell the pungent odor coming from his body. “What is he planning? Is he going to hit only this knit or others too? And how did you learn the old cant? Is Nacio teaching you the old ways as well? Answer me or you’ll take the long drink with him, I swear!”

  The questions came so quickly Adan only half heard them. He backed against the side of the hut, trying to keep his distance.

  The big man no doubt would have kept going if the gray-haired Welkin had not stepped forward and put a bony hand on his shoulder. Malloc relented, allowing himself to be pulled away by the other’s frail grip.

  The small m
an moved to stand in front of Adan, studying his face for some time before he spoke.

  “I speak little old tongue, but understand sufficient,” he said. “I am maneusis. Forgive Malloc. He been living angry. He have big hurt here.” He pointed to his chest. “Son is dead. No forgiveness.”

  He pointed with two fingers to his own eyes and then to Adan’s, “Numinae got his eye on you. Nacio rebel against old ones, not respect our ways. Now he come back. You his friend. You must to speak with us. Speak if Nacio repent so we forgive. If not, we judge. Justice? Mercy? You help maneusis decide.”

  Adan was touched by the man’s simple words. His gentle manner reminded him of Senya. There was a spark of understanding in his eyes that belied his halted speech.

  “He’s a good man.” Adan said, speaking slowly so that the maneusis wouldn’t miss anything. “He wants to help the Welkin. Please don’t kill him. He—”

  Adan said more, but no one heard the words. At that moment the entire hogar, and no doubt all of the surrounding settlement, reverberated with a cacophony of sound, burying what he said under waves and waves of noise. Low, whistling notes blasted from everywhere at once.

  When it died down enough so they could hear themselves speak again, the room broke out into a chaotic racket almost as confusing as the noises they replaced. Everyone talked at once. From the looks on their faces, something terrible had just happened.

  “What’s going on?” Adan shouted above the din. Forgotten amidst the clamor, he slid over towards Will. The keepers had loosened their grip on him, though Dreas still stood in front of the exit.

  “The horns of warning. There are Waymen inside the Viscera—an unknown number, but highly dangerous from the sounds of it. I’ve never heard the alarms so loud before.”

  “What’s going to happen?”

  “They’ll send out every man of fighting age they can spare to stop them.”

  “But what about us? Will they let us go free?”