The Chronotrace Sequence- The Complete Box Set

by D J Edwardson

  “I, Sparc, the Reeve of Gyre, speak to you on behalf of all of the other Reeves to whom you have sworn your lives.”

  A mighty shout rose from the multitude, “The dust take us!” The ground reverberated with the noise.

  “We may have been enemies in the past, we may have shed each other’s blood, but we have not forgotten the old tales which have been handed down. These are what bind us. These are stronger than our petty feuds and our thirst for vengeance.”

  The crowd erupted. Sparc’s fervent words possessed a certain hypnotic power which even Adan could sense.

  “Our people left the sheltered life beneath the sand to seek the promise which the Welkin have forsaken. People of the sky!” He spat on the ground. “Bah! They are people of the dust. We are the true descendants of the Werin. We are the ones who have toiled and suffered here in the sands and braved the storms for time beyond counting. And now at last, our destiny is upon us!”

  Again the crowd roared. They grew more and more agitated the longer he spoke. Sparc motioned with his hands for them to quiet down, but the tumult barely dimmed.

  “The tales told around the fire are about to be fulfilled.” More shouts rose up. Beads of moisture trickled down Sparc’s forehead. Durm stood beside him, his smile looking more twisted than ever in the shifting torchlight.

  “We have gathered here because the city—the eternal city of Tasada—lies not two days march from here.” There were more cries. Shouts of “Tasada!” rang out across the mass of people.

  “The great seer has been there and seen its wonders. It is a paradise of food, shelter, and the untold treasures of the ancients. Its magic is so powerful not even the storms dare disturb it.”

  The crowd screamed wildly. Sparc seemed not to notice, his face flushed, the sweat dripping off in sheets as his voice crescendoed.

  “And it shall be ours, my fellow shivs. The great seer knows the ancient magic.” He gestured towards Will who stepped up on the rock beside him. As he arose, the shouting faded abruptly, replaced by low undertones of awe and wonder. “He has come to show us the way. He will lead us to our destiny!”

  The Waymen shouted with one voice, raising their arms in the air, “We are many! We are one!” The ground shook again. “The dust take us!” they chanted, over and over again, whipping themselves into a frenzy. Sparc’s eyes blazed, but not from the torchlight. It looked as if madness pulsed inside them. His clothes were run through with damp streaks. The muscles on his neck popped out like a corrugated pillar of flesh. He was screaming into the cylinder now, and even so his voice could barely be heard above the cacophony.

  “We are more than a throng of Waymen. We are a mighty storm—the greatest storm the Vast has ever known!” The crowd shrieked into the night, thrusting their weapons into the air. Sparc raised his own weapon and shook it as if threatening some invisible enemy above.

  “We will do the impossible. We will cross the blood rocks of the Desiccant Flats and live to tell the tale. And then we shall fall upon Tasada and claim the eternal city for ourselves. The last great raid is upon us. For the glory of the Waymen! For the glory of the thrals! To the cutting, shivs! To the cutting!”

  The mob exploded, gyrating recklessly in one giant, frothing mass. All was noise, one prolonged, torturous note.

  Adan did not think the scene could grow anymore chaotic, but it did. Too late, he saw the massive surge come pouring into the clearing, rushing towards the Reeve.

  In the upheaval which ensued, Adan found himself crushed by a mass of bodies from all sides. First Sparc and then Will were lifted above the tumultuous throng and carried off into the churning madness.

  A moment later, Adan was swallowed up in the pandemonium. He struggled desperately against the suffocating swarm, but it was like trying to wrestle the wind. Arms and legs slammed against him with jarring force, battering him from all directions until he no longer knew where he was. Discordant shouting pelted his ears as the celebration transformed into a full out riot. From within the crushing press, they cursed, insulted, and mocked each other. If ever he managed to find the sky for a gasp of air, the simmering clog of humanity pummeled and trampled him back down into the sand.

  Adan cried out for help, but his voice was smothered by the din. He fell to his knees and hunkered down, trying to protect himself, but he had already been the victim of a dozen blows. Another one to the chest knocked the wind straight out of him. He pitched forward, gasping for air. No sooner had he drawn his first breath and gotten back on his hands and knees than he received a savage blow to the head.

  He blacked out, but it must not have been long because when he came to, the riot still raged around him. Blood flowed freely down his forehead and from several cuts on his arms. Someone pulled him to his feet and dragged him through the endless crush. He couldn’t see who had gotten hold of him because he was being dragged backwards, but he heard the voice of whoever it was screaming at the Waymen to get out of his way.

  At one point, the man let go and Adan turned around to see who it was. But all he saw were two Waymen slugging away at each other until one of them fell and disappeared beneath the teeming mob. The one who had won the fight jerked Adan violently forward as they continued to cut through the crowd.

  Finally the pack began to thin. They no longer had to push as hard to make progress. Men still slammed into them, knocking them about, but they eventually made their way into open space.

  “Are you all right?” the man yelled. The noise was still tremendous, even though they had escaped the worst of the riot.

  “No,” Adan shouted back. “I got nearly beaten to death back there.” By now his sleeves were so soaked with blood that he could no longer adequately keep it out of his eyes.

  “We’ll find the seer and get you some more solec,” the man said. His burgundy headband and thoughtful eyes told Adan this was the same Wayman who had tended to him in his tent.

  “Who are you? What is your name?” Adan yelled.

  “I am called Zain.”

  Adan placed his blood-stained hand on the man’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze the way he had seen the Welkin do.

  “Thank you, Zain, for saving my life.”

  Zain regarded him with a gentle look, “Not all of us are savages. Besides, I am sure that the great seer would not want his companion trampled to death on the eve of our march to the eternal city. Come, let us find a safe place to tend to your injuries.”

  Limping and breathing heavily, Adan fought back the pain and followed Zain into the night.

  Thirty-One

  Something on the Horizon

  Zain left Adan and went off to fetch some solec. He was in a safe place, out of sight from the chaos and near the edge of a large stretch of ground covered by a porous gray material. Though a few Waymen worked nearby, they had not been involved in the riot. They were using vases, large pouches, and wide, concave discs to gather water from the strange substance on the ground. Wherever they tread, they left shallow imprints, but these impressions quickly faded away. A few torches set on poles in the surrounding sand gave them light while they worked.

  They pressed the discs into the surface and liquid seeped in from around the edges. When it was covered, a few Waymen worked together to raise it up and pour the liquid into one of the vases or pouches.

  After filling one of the pouches, two Waymen came over and offered Adan a drink.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Water,” one of them said.

  Adan’s throat was parched. He eagerly put the pouch to his lips and took a large gulp, and almost choked. It was extremely bitter—nothing like the delicious water he had tasted in the Viscera. As bad as it was, he cleared his throat and forced down several more gulps in an effort to quench his thirst. He thanked them and they returned to their work.

  As he sat waiting, he considered suppressing his pain with the bioseine, but decided against it. It wouldn’t heal his wounds, and Zain would be back soon. The throbbing had actually s
ubsided somewhat and he preferred to endure a little pain rather than the awful numbness of ceding control to his bioseine.

  Indeed, Zain was not long in returning with the solec. He quickly applied the orange paste to Adan’s skin and the invigorating warmth spread immediately across his body. The paste was thicker than almamenth and had little crystals in it. There was also a wonderful, pungent fragrance to it that made Adan forget the brackish taste of the water still lingering in his mouth. In little time at all the sting of his many bruises and wounds vanished completely.

  Adan breathed deeply, enjoying the renewed strength flowing through his body while Zain cleaned his forehead and arms with a damp cloth.

  “Zain, what is that gray material they’re getting the water from?” Adan asked.

  “It’s called a vadi,” Zain said, sealing up the ointment jar. “Waymen always make their camps near rocks like that. If not for the vadis, we could not survive out here.”

  “That can’t be rock, it’s too soft,” Adan said, though he had to admit that, now that Zain said it, it really did look like rock from a distance.

  “It is living rock. It does not become hard until it dries up.”

  “Living rock? What do you mean?”

  “Well, just the way it sounds. Rock that is alive. Though not alive in the same way as you or me. We can die, but it lives on. It is a great mystery that not even the wisest understand.”

  “How strange. So it can dry up? What do you do when that happens?” Adan asked.

  “We travel to another vadi. In time, this one will fill up again and we will return. That is the life of a Wayman. Always on the move.”

  The sounds of the riot were dying down over the crest of the sandy hill. Adan regarded the man thoughtfully.

  “Zain, why aren’t you like the other Waymen? You are kinder, more gentle.”

  Zain bowed his head respectfully, “Thank you for your words. If I have any virtue, however, it is because of Numinae. He is the giver of all good things to those who will receive them. And he gave me my parents, who taught me other ways. Though I was born a Wayman, you see, they were not. They were Welkin and did not forget their past.”

  So not all Waymen were like Sparc and Nox. That was good to know. Adan recalled how Senya’s mother had taught her the words of wisdom. Perhaps Zain’s parents had done something similar.

  “So if your parents were born Welkin, how did they come to live out here?” Adan asked.

  “Captured, just like all the Welkin who are pressed into service in the thrals. Whenever the Waymen want to swell their numbers, they go into the Viscera and capture as many as they can.”

  So the scientists were not the only ones capturing people in the Vast. Had Waymen raiders captured Adan or his family at some point? Did someone out here in these nomadic bands know who he was? Before he could ask anything more a group of Waymen approached them.

  “Ha! I told you he’d be here!” shouted the unmistakable voice of Nox.

  Will walked alongside him, with a half dozen other Waymen trailing behind.

  Zain bowed at their approach. “Great seer, I found your servant in danger from the throng. But he has been made well again, through the power of your healing arts.”

  The Waymen stared at Adan, keeping their distance. Only Nox and Will stepped closer.

  “Thank you, Zain,” Will said, “You bring honor to the Waymen.”

  Zain smiled and bowed once more. “Unless you require my services further, I shall return to tend the other wounded.”

  “You are free to go.” Will nodded as Zain bowed a final time and took his leave.

  “Thank you, Zain. I won’t forget you,” Adan called after him, but if Zain heard, he did not turn back to acknowledge it.

  “That man saved my life,” Adan told Will.

  “We’re lucky he found you. Most Waymen would have let you die and not given it a second thought. I tried to get away to find out what happened to you, but the Waymen were too frenzied to listen to anything I said. They wouldn’t let me go.”

  “Ha! You two are awfully quiet,” Nox said, interrupting their mental exchange. “Now is no time for thinking. We must get back to the Reeves. They can be rather short-tempered at times.” Nox glanced over his shoulder back at the other Waymen. “Oh, not Sparc, of course—I meant the others—the ones from the enemy thrals—those other Reeves.”

  “Well, I suppose the riot has died down by now. If you think it’s safe then?” Will said.

  “Oh, yes. It was on its way down by the time I found you. Me and some of the other sunders, we took the edge off the scrum when we laid out a few shivs in the sand—only the roughest of the lot of course—to set an example. We scrubbed the rust off a few others as well, though.” Nox broke out in his typical laughter, humorless and cruel.

  “Ah, I see,” Will replied, unsmiling, “Then, let’s be going.”

  Nox’s laughter died away as quickly as it came. He clapped his hands together and the Waymen parted as he led Will and Adan to the head of the group.

  “This one is the biggest fool of them all,” Will added with a thought.

  Adan did not disagree.

  Their next meeting with the Waymen took place on the same stone where Sparc had given his speech. This time the only ones present were Sparc and the Reeves from the other thrals, a few of their guards, and several canters with painted faces, including Durm, who stood in Sparc’s shadow.

  The meeting did not last long. It had more to do with formalities and posturing than anything else. The various leaders made boasts about the great feats they would achieve in the coming conflict and did their best to pay homage to the great seer, mentioning various aspects of the legends which referred either to him or to Tasada.

  Adan found it difficult to separate the reality from all the bragging and hyperbole, principally because the legends did not seem to really agree with each other all that much. In fact, they were so conflicted that by the end of the meeting, he had an even hazier understanding of what the Waymen actually believed. But no one seemed to object to the discrepancies, and each tale was received as enthusiastically as the one before it. Perhaps it was just that Adan lacked the understanding to reconcile the many disparate stories, but he wondered how the Reeves and the others could find them so inspiring in the face of such contradictions.

  After all the speeches and swaggering, the meeting ended and the Reeves departed to organize their men for the coming march to Tasada.

  Will and Adan were escorted to where thral Gyre was assembling. Nox and several others were there, barking out orders. They hurled insults at their men freely, reserving special condemnation for those who had been the most battered and wounded during the riot. They were not so much angry at them for getting caught up in the brawl as for not coming out with fewer knocks and bruises to show from it. None of the men said anything in return to these harangues.

  Adan felt ambivalent about what lay ahead for these men. They were certainly a harsh and cruel people, but he was afraid for them all the same. That many of them would die seemed certain. And yet, most of them seemed more than anxious to begin the march. He wondered if they would be as enthusiastic if they knew what truly awaited them. Not magic and demons, but the deadly weapons and technology of Oasis.

  First light came and went and still all of the thrals had not arrived at the assembly point. Nox left, but returned later and gave them an update on what was causing the delay.

  “Two of the thrals have been rusting each other out over the scuffle last night. They are cowards and shims, the lot of them. One Reeve says he lost twenty men and he’s blaming the shivs from the other thral, saying they have to give up a portion of their spoils over it. Bah! When has a Wayman ever blinked at the death of his fellows? Sparc will straighten them out, though.”

  When the rest of the thrals finally did appear some time later, Sparc moved to the front where he set about mobilizing his men. All down the line, the other Reeves did the same.

  “Shi
vs!” Sparc shouted. “Fate has granted you extra rest so that you can run all the harder to make up for it. Now we are ready at last. Behold the greatest throng the Vast has ever known. Remember this day. For on it, we begin the march to Tasada. We march to glory. And may the desert swallow any who are too slow to follow!”

  Those in his thral gave a clamoring shout in reply, “The dust take us!”

  The cry echoed down the line.

  As they headed out, Adan could scarcely take in the massive formation. It stretched to where he could just barely see the ends of it on either side and was more than twenty ranks deep. The host drifted down the slope, line after line, kicking up clouds of dust which rose up, gradually engulfing the ones who came behind.

  “You’re sure this is going to work? You’re sure this is the best way to stop Oasis?” Adan asked.

  “It will work. Trust me. If there was any other way I wouldn’t be doing this.”

  “You still haven’t told me what happens after I deliver the virus.”

  Will’s mind clouded over like the dust clouds behind them. He remained distant as they hit the base of the slope and the pace quickened. Soon, they were running even faster than they had during the nighttime run.

  “We’ll take over Oasis,” Will answered finally. “And I’ll have access to the Collective technology. The Welkin won’t have to live in fear anymore.”

  “But won’t the Waymen have control of it? Won’t we just be trading one form of oppression for another?”

  “I didn’t say they would get the technology, I said I will.”

  “So you’re just using them?”

  “That’s not what I meant. I just meant that they won’t be a threat to the Welkin. They don’t know how to use Oasis technology. None of them even have a bioseine. They’ll still need me to run the city.”

  Was Will planning on controlling the entire city himself? Was such a thing even possible? It didn’t seem like a good idea giving that much control to a single person. Will would never do anything to hurt the Welkin, that much Adan knew. And he didn’t seem to be the kind of person who was in this for power or personal gain. But this seemed like a precarious plan. Adan would just have to trust that Will knew what he was doing.