The Seeker - Finna's Quest
Page 1
The Seeker - Finna’s Quest - Book One
Finna’s Quest
E L Russell
E C Russell
Edited by Tina Winograd
Copyright
Copyright © 2017 Enos Russell
All rights reserved.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Prologue
1. The Tournament
2. Finna’s Fear
3. Queen Eleanor
4. Inspiration
5. The Journey Begins
6. A Scavenger
7. Confronting the Enemy
8. The Next Thing
9. Asia Minor
10. Angels and Hell
11. Antioch
12. The Quest
13. Aleppo
14. Back in the Desert
15. Decisions
16. Treachery
17. A Way Out
18. A New Quest
19. Changes
20. Patmos
21. Leeth
22. Heraklion
23. Dia
24. Escape into Death
25. Success
26. Treasure
27. Greek Fire
28. Finna tells Jamal
29. Loss
30. Leeth Intervenes
31. A New Life
32. Medicine
33. Seth
34. Leeth Explains
35. Finna Doubts
36. A Gift
37. A Test
38. Finna Makes a Point
39. The Ambush
40. Training Day
41. Finna Fights
42. Jamal Learns
43. Another Planet
44. More Skills
45. Castle Star Point
46. Vald
47. Schism
48. The Wars
49. The Maelstrom
50. Respect
51. First Combat
52. Second Combat
53. First Casualties
54. The Watching Hole
55. Strategic Retreat
56. Defeat
57. A Possible Solution
58. Another Redo
59. The Complete Team
60. Revelations
61. Gleaning
62. A New Word
63. Death and Corruption
64. Vald’s Pitch
65. Turncoats
66. Mother’s Plan
67. Real Torg Time
68. New Skills
69. Perspective
70. Stuck
71. Collection
72. Caught
73. Parallax
74. Unexpected Encounter
75. Undo, Redo
Also by E L Russell
About the Author
Finna’s Revenge - Book 2
Acknowledgments
To my critique group for their suggestions, and their support. You kept the bar high with your expectations and your own stories.
Keep writing!
Dedication
To the next generation of writers, each talented and otherwise gifted offspring:
Angus, Chloe, Tobin, and Jengo - you have inspired us think of the possible. Thank you all for taking the stage in our stories.
Introduction
THE SEEKER – Finna’s Quest, High Concept Science Fiction, is the first novel and the Origin Story of a seminal series that pre-dates all of our publish stories. Follow Finna on her thousand-year mission to lays the foundation for the emergence of Homo Evolutis, the already named, next human species; one destined to rule the galaxy.
The Pitch says it all.
While Finna crusades for Eleanor of Aquitaine, a time traveler kidnaps her to fight in a feudal Steampunk war across the galaxy.
The SEEKER series is the story of an epic struggle through space and time taking the reader through the beginning of the Crusades into our near future.
Book Two - THE SEEKER - Finna’s Revenge
Read chapter 1 of the next book at the conclusion of
Finna’s Quest.
Prologue
It Begins
He swung his long sword, and another Persian head fell to the blood-covered floor of the small sanctuary. His backstroke fatally sliced the intestines of the next attacker and with a step forward he impaled his bloody blade into the throat of a third. Drained, he retreated to a corner to catch his breath. Fatigue shackled his arms as sure as any enemy. Blood made the grip on his sword slick and unsure, but the sound of approaching footsteps on the twisted stone staircase sent adrenaline racing through him. Trapped in this bloody crusade with a heavy sword, he wished for his Smith and Wesson. Accepting his fate, he reached for his short sword and took a deep breath. Although he knew it was hopeless, he charged the emerging Lance tips at the top of the stairs.
* * *
Leeth found himself weightless in a black void. Another freaking time shift. Cool air rushed into his lungs, and his erratic heart forced blood through veins he knew to be too small. Incredibly relieved to be alive, his only thoughts reflected his unexpected transition. What a rush. The Time Overlords had pulled him out of harm's way at the last second. He hoped they would forgive him his timeline disruptions, but knew it was not to be.
Seven somber faces sat behind a stone cold table and glared at him. The gray-walled room, lacking doors and windows reflected their closed, dogmatic minds. Not a hint of humor marred their dour faces. He snorted. Their pristine white robes seemed incongruous for the anticipated “Riot Act” about to be served. It didn’t seem fair. It was, after all, their mandate that had sent him back in time in the first place.
Leeth broadened his stance for better balance while stars winked around the fog still clouding his vision. As hard as he tried to face up to these men, the ones about to pass judgment on him and set punishment, fatigue overwhelmed him, and he couldn't lift his head.
A growing pool of blood spread around his feet. His filthy, torn Templar tunic was covered in dirt, blood, barf and horseshit, and if his aching body had been skewered as anticipated, he was too numb to notice. The buzzing in his ears grew louder, and he fought to maintain his balance. He wondered if, at the end of this inquisition, he might prefer to be back in the bloody crusades.
He teetered toward the long thin granite table, which separated the seven chairs of the Overlords and the one for him. He needed to sit before he collapsed and stepped toward his chair.
“Halt.”
The command jarred him, and adrenaline kept him standing. He regained his balance. The Overlord sitting in the center of the row of white robes raised his hand. "You will first go to the showers and receive medical treatment. You will be escorted back to us within sixty seconds of our time. Say nothing of your travels, Leeth, and do not attempt to escape.”
Leeth’s four-hour medical treatment did not include food or water nor did it include comfortable clothes. The medical staff of Seekers dressed him like a monk in a coarse, gray robe before returning him clean, bandaged, starved, and thirsty to the Time Overlords. In their time, he had been gone fifty-seven seconds.
The Overlord who had excused him gave him a curt nod and equally curt command. “Sit. We have much to say. You, however, will tell us of your failures first.”
His eyes burned from lack of sleep and his limbs were almost too heavy to move. With a deep breath of air to fuel his motion, he pulled back the plain metal chair and fell into it.
A pitcher of water and an empty glass appeared in front of him.
Using both hands, he poured a glass and drank it down, then al
most dozed off.
“You need not speak mind-to-mind here, Brother Leeth. Do you remember me?”
It was the very Overlord who’d done all the talking. To be more precise, his non-stop rant had chastised and threatened him for over an hour about the consequences of his missteps and errors in judgment.
Leeth cleared his throat. “Yes, you are Horace.”
“Speak with respect, Brother Leeth. I am Father Horace to you.”
The six other Overlords remained mute, and he eyed them with suspicion. It didn't take a genius to figure out from their rapidly changing expressions they were engaged in a private mind-to-mind chatter. "Will you be sending me back, Father?" he asked, acquiescing to the rebuke, although it stuck in his craw. He raised his chin to make himself taller, a weak protest, but it made him feel marginally better. He'd screwed up, and he knew it.
Horace raised a hand, and Leeth understood the private conversations had ended. Their attention returned to him, and a dribble of sweat wended its way down his itchy back while heat suffused his neck. He took another deep breath to slow his heart from beating more blood to his face. Dammit. He looked as guilty as a kid with a frog in his back pocket at the junior high dance.
Without waiting for Horace to speak, he said. “Am I to assume from your rescue of me there is a plan for my full redemption?”
Horace looked down his nose. “Someone in your position should assume nothing, Brother Leeth.”
“Then tell me why I’m here, Father.”
The bastard was leaving him hanging on purpose. The stern faces across from him changed, eyebrows rose, frowns deepened, and lips pinched. The mental communication, which excluded him, did not look good.
Horace’s fingers danced a nervous drum roll on the table as the unheard conversation took place. Finally, he said, “Enough.” He pointed a finger at Leeth. “You, sir, seemed to make every effort to satisfy your lust for extensive slaughter.”
Slaughter was never part of Leeth’s persona.
“Do not allow the excitement of the moment to get in the way of your mission. Leeth Letholdus must live out his normal life, or there will be grave consequences for Earth. Can you change your behavior?”
Bloodlust? He was just trying to survive. An Overlord at the end of the table extended his hand to speak, and while his expression was not quite so hostile, he was likely to carry much weight in the outcome of the impending punishment. Leeth knew for a fact the big guns sat closer to the center. Nonetheless, the man spoke.
“Father, he must see the record.”
Mental-muttering followed until Horace snapped. “Enough. Leeth, open your mind, and observe the consequences your disruptive actions made to Earth’s timeline.” He glanced at the other Overlords. “This is what is at stake for all of us.”
Leeth saw space filled with blankets of colored stars hung against deep blackness. Then he saw an Earthrise as seen from someone standing on the moon. Oh, yes, he had seen it many times from early exploration of Earth satellite. The emerging appearance of the blue and white globe was one he would never forget. Momentarily, he smiled in the joy of seeing his Earth from this vantage point.
Suddenly, all tranquility disappeared. Hoards of incoming meteorites streaked through Earth's high atmosphere. He lurched forward for a better view as hundreds of fragments of iron and rock fell toward the planet. Transforming into massive fireballs, they careened into the Earth's surface and erupted in towering columns of molten ejecta that fell with mesmerizing slowness back onto a molten fury. Oceans and continents vanished silently within the white heat. He couldn't close his eyes or shut his mind to the horror.
Leeth sat in mummified shock. “Holy Christ. When does that happen?”
In a much-subdued voice, the head Overlord said, "It can never occur."
The Overlord to Horace’s right stood. “We have followed this timeline many, many times and the only positive outcome rests on her survival, and you are crucial to this scenario.”
Me? The Overlord pointed at him while talking about some unknown her.
“You are the only one known to us who can exist outside a host and on your own, anywhere in the timeline.”
Leeth pushed his chair back and slapped the table. “Hold on here. What’s going on? Help who? I wasn’t assigned to anyone except this Leeth guy, whose name you keep calling me. Since when can a person who is gleaning in the mind of one person decide to exist on his own? Look, you sent me back as a historian to view the First Crusade from Leeth Letholdus' mind. You gave me a sorry excuse for a host. The feeble bastard died on me during our first attempt to scale Jerusalem's wall and left me to fend for myself in that time period until you pulled me out."
Horace leaned forward. “Yes, but he didn’t die. You did. That is, your body, the one buried in the basement for more than a thousand years after that one died trying to scale that Jerusalem wall.”
Stunned, Leeth fought back. “He, or his body, was sure as hell not contributing much when you pulled me out.”
Grim faces stared at him, unmoved by his account. “You overcame your host instead of letting him do anything. You assumed control of his body and led the attack on the city, killing dozens.”
"What the hell was I supposed to do? I was halfway up the freaking ladder when things went dark, and some twenty thousand Muslims jumped me. I followed all your rules and did nothing that might change the timeline until that moment. I was only defending myself.”
A fourth Overlord thumped the table. "Two things must happen. One, you must return to Jerusalem, and it must be as Leeth. You must live out Leeth's recorded life according to our rules, so there are no disruptions to the timeline. Two, you must become the monitor for someone special, so she lives long enough to fulfill her role. She is the person who plays a critical role in saving Earth from the destruction you witnessed moments ago.”
“Why me?”
The Time Overlord sighed. “Aren’t you listening? We have no idea how it happened that you did what you did.. We may learn the technique in a few years or a few centuries from now, but meanwhile, we don't know if it can be repeated. You alone stand before us fully capable of successfully completing the task." He locked his eyes on Leeth. "You will go back and continue as Leeth. The man you were no longer exists.”
They were scaring him. He didn't want to return to the middle of the Crusades. As far as he knew, nobody lived. "Aaron. My name is Aaron, and I am not going back.”
Horace wiggled his finger. “You do not live here anymore. Aaron died of a massive heart attack while gleaning in Leeth’s mind in 1099.
Well shit. That was a game changer. Aaron folded his arms. Leeth’s arms. What the hell? This would take some getting used to. He looked down at his hands. There were small scars on them he didn’t remember. He’d thought the chair was small. Now he realized his legs were longer. What nonsense was this? He had his mind and some crusader's body. A small smile played at his lips when he thought of his niece, Chloe. Biogenetics mastermind that she was, she would be blown away by his situation. The fleeting smile had faded before it was visible.
“Is that why there are no mirrors in the medical facility?”
Horace pressed his hands onto the table and almost rose. “Must I remind you of what’s at stake here, Leeth? You will return to the time just after you scale Jerusalem’s wall and we will assure you leave that battle alive.”
He’d used the name with emphasis. The bastard was probably enjoying all this. “You mentioned a woman.”
“Just so. You will monitor and protect the young woman living in that time until she fulfills her destiny and you will do it as a fully functional Seeker who has gone through a Second Awakening. You will be able to reposition and move through time and space on your own. He paused and glanced down the table to Brother Braylus, the Overlord who had spoken on Leeth’s behalf for medical help. “Thank you for volunteering to aid Leeth in this mission.”
Leeth stood, no longer caring if it went against protocol. Tired a
s he was, he could hardly concentrate. What he thought they were suggesting was that he return to the First Crusade in the eleven hundreds. Only they wanted him to leave the fighting and help some girl he'd never heard of, let alone seen so that she could save the Earth some hundreds of years in the future. He ran his hand through his hair and found it long, and silky, very different from his somewhat wiry think curls.