“I know all this,” said the boy with a sigh. “And yet I love her, even as I love you. Even now I see all that she will do to me, and yet I love her, not because of who she is, but because of who I am.”
The boy paused for a moment, as if carefully considering his next words, then turned to the old man and spoke.
“I will enter this world Father. I will create it, love it, and die for it. And in the end I will bring my Beloved to you, Father, for I can think of no greater gift. From before always you have poured out your life for me, now it is time that I pour out my life for her, and in so doing pour out my life for you!”
The pair stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity, then a gentle tear rolled down the old man’s cheek and he spoke.
“My Son, in you I am truly well pleased. Go, and bring many with you glory.”
The boy smiled, turned, and plunged into the current.
Then the scene changed again, and Garin found himself beside the boy as he dove deeper and deeper into the darkness. Down they went, far below the bright surface of the sea, into the cold depths where nothing can live. The burning water seemed to open and unfold around them as they descended, until at last they hung in the heart of an icy void. With deliberate movements the boy stretched out his arms, took a deep breath, and cried out at the top of his lungs in a voice wracked with pain.
“LET THERE BE LIGHT!”
The last thing Garin saw as the vision faded was a drop of blood falling from each of the boy’s hands into the now brilliant darkness.
***
“Do you now understand?”
The words shook Garin from his reverie and brought him to himself. He was back in the Temple with Kyr by his side.
“Somewhat,” said Garin slowly, pondering what he had just witnessed.
“Mortal minds can not truly comprehend that which transpired between me and my father before times flowed,” said Kyr. “But what I have shown you is an image, an eidolon, of that which passed between us in that far off age, and of what passes between us still.”
Garin fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the sudden knowledge of whom he was speaking to.
“My Lord!” he cried out, “My Lord and my God!”
“You are right to give me those titles,” said Kyr with a smile. “Indeed you have called me thus ever since we met, for the name I gave you in the streets of Scintillus means master in the ancient tongue of the Ekklesia. But I also have another name. In the depths of time, on a dark world, I gave myself to renew the life of the cosmos, and the time is soon coming when the cosmos will burst forth with the fruit of that life. When that day comes all will call me redeemer, and know me as I am. Do you believe this?”
“Yes,” said Garin. “Ever since I dreamed of the map I have wanted to believe, but now that I have seen you as you are I know the words you speak are true.”
“Before that day arrives,” continued Kyr, “a final time of repentance will be offered to the people of Phaneros. For millennia now the Conclave has oppressed my Beloved, my Ekklesia. They have borne it with grace and dignity, waiting patiently for a time when my story can again be spoken among the worlds so that the people of the Conclave might understand, and in understanding turn and believe. But even now a battle rages within the heart of Phaneros, a battle that, if lost, will prevent this time from coming, leaving the souls of all within the Conclave imprisoned in the darkness.”
As Kyr spoke, tears began rolling down his face.
“I love them, Garin,” he said. “I love them so much. And now I ask if you will go for me? Will you return to Phaneros and be my last prophet, paving the way for the final restoration of all things?”
“I will,” said Garin without hesitation, “though I do not know the words to say.”
“Do not fear,” said Kyr. “I will place my Spirit, the fiery ocean of love that burned between me and my Father before all worlds, within you. He will give you the words. Now, are you ready to receive this power, and this charge?”
“Yes,” said Garin.
“Then stand fast before the throne,” said Kyr.
All at once the veil was torn away and the glory of the Uncreated One burst upon Garin like a searing wind from the mouth of a blast furnace. Then the blazing form on the throne before him rose, and Garin heard words proceed from the heart of the fire.
“WHOM SHALL I SEND, AND WHO SHALL GO FOR US?”
“Here am I, said Garin, “send me.”
“THEN LET THE FLAME OF OUR SPIRIT TOUCH YOUR LIPS SO THAT YOU MAY BE PURIFIED AND EMPOWERED FOR THE TASK THAT LIES AHEAD.”
As the words echoed through the temple one of the living creatures, a six winged dragon with scales of golden fire, flew from the throne to the seven-flamed altar. Taking a live coal in its hand, the creature flew to Garin and touched it to his lips and his forehead. A wave of searing pain surged through Garin’s body, followed by an inrush of power so intense that he felt as if he would burst.
“GO!” thundered the Uncreated One. “GO AND BE OUR VOICE IN A TIME THAT HAS FORGOTTEN US.”
“Yes,” said Kyr. “Go, and herald the sunrise of a new morning.”
Garin bowed deeply toward the throne, then turned toward the temple door and began to walk away. He knew he had a long journey ahead of him.
“My son,” said Kyr, “where are you going?”
“To fulfill my mission,” said Garin in confusion. “I must reach Phaneros before I can begin.”
Kyr laughed.
“My child, in this place all worlds are present. The Great ‘hedron, the Cube of Cubes, the Mount of Sacrifice, even the worlds of the Conclave are but a step away. Behold.”
Kyr gestured to his left and the air beside him shimmered and parted, revealing the bridge of a worldship. The scene was chaotic. His father hung limply between two guards in black power armor. Trielle was there also, enfolded in the wings of glorious creature unlike any he had ever seen before. The cloaked figure of the Entrope stood proudly at the center, his arms outstretched in a gesture of command. And at its very edge, where the polished gold of the bridge met the glistening sapphire of the temple floor, rose a tall doorframe made of stars and darkness: the terminus of the Sovereign Road. Taking a deep breath, Garin walked forward and stepped through.
Chapter 37: A New Sunrise
“Entrope, over a hundred worlds have been lost thus far.”
“Excellent,” replied the Entrope. “Continue the barrage at the current intensity.”
The expression on Yithra-gor’s face was one of abject despair, a mirror of Gedron’s own emotions. Only a few moments ago the Entrope had instructed him to give a running update on the storms’ progress. Yithra-gor had reflexively looked to Gedron for assistance as he had done so many times in the past, but, held captive by the Entrope’s guard, there was little Gedron could do.
Across the bridge, Gedron could see the ring of guards surrounding Anacrysis. He knew that the Anastasi could easily overpower them had he been alone. With Trielle to protect, however, he was effectively trapped as well. And even if one of them could have broken free, it was too late to stop the storms. In less than an hour they would reach the Guard, and, soon after, the inner worlds. All hope gone, Gedron closed his eyes and waited for the end.
“No, Entrope! You will not continue!”
Gedron’s eyes snapped open. The voice seemed strangely familiar, yet rang with an intensity Gedron had never heard before. The Entrope quickly turned about in rage.
“Who dares gainsay me?”
“I do.”
Gedron watched as a glowing crack appeared in the air to his right. The crack swiftly widened, opening like a door into a space filled with almost palpable brilliance. In the midst of the light Gedron could just make out the faint silhouette of a boy, and as the form stepped through the door and the light faded Gedron’s eyes widened in surprise and joy.
“Garin!”
“Who is this?” said the Entrope in confusion and rage.
“My
son, Entrope!” said Gedron with pride,
Garin turned to the Entrope, raising his right hand in a gesture of authority and strength.
“Entrope, hear the words of the Ever-Living One. Too long have you oppressed the people of the Sur Ekklesia, and this day your evil has become complete. Therefore you and your servants will be bound, that the cosmos may have a measure of freedom before the end.”
“You have no power over me,” snarled the Entrope. “Guards, escort this child from the bridge.”
The guards holding Gedron abruptly released him and he collapsed to the floor. As he watched them advance on Garin a sudden burst of determination filled him. He would not let them hurt his son. Taking a deep breath, Gedron struggled to his feet. Then Garin looked at him, smiled, and shook his head.
“Don’t be afraid, Father. I can handle this.”
Stretching out his right hand, Garin fixed the guards with a hard, piercing stare and gave a simple command.
“Stop!”
It was as if the guards had struck an invisible barrier. Though they struggled with all their strength, writhing and twisting in an effort to obey their master, they could not break through. Garin nodded and turned back to the Entrope, a grim look on his face.
“You say I have no power over you,” said Garin. “Yet I tell you this day that you would have no power at all unless it was given as a gift by the Most High. Today, that gift is revoked.”
Then Garin’s eyes softened, and his next words were spoken in a gentle, almost pleading whisper.
“There is still hope for you, Entrope. I have been to the other worlds. I have seen your master defeated by Love, and I come here to offer that love to the Conclave. Now, I offer it to you. Renounce your current path! Even you are not beyond redemption.”
“If I am not beyond redemption then I hereby cast myself past its reach,” hissed the Entrope. “I do not want your love. I desire only oblivion, an oblivion that will soon consume us all.”
The Entrope turned as he spoke, glancing toward Yithra-Gor in a silent question.
“Another fifty worlds have been lost,” he whispered.
The Entrope turned back to Garin with a wicked smile and said nothing more.
Gedron sighed. “You leave me no choice, Entrope.”
Again he raised his right hand, this time extending it toward the Entrope, and the words that came from his mouth struck with the force of a meteor.
“Because you have spurned the offer of redemption you will be cast out of the life of the Conclave, imprisoned by the power of this decree in the dungeon you call your home for one hundred years, until the last times of the Ekklesia have come to completion.”
With a roar the Entrope lunged at Garin, but his feet remained rooted to the floor. His face twisted in rage, and he spat at Garin.
“Go now,” said Garin softly. “Leave this place.”
The Entrope’s every muscle tensed with resistance, but he could no more disobey the force of that command than he could the law of gravity. With slow, tense steps, the Entrope and his guards marched off the bridge and soon were gone.
“Father,” said Garin, “there is much I need to tell you, but there will be time for that later.”
“Perhaps not,” said Anacrysis grimly as he stared at the holographic images of the entropy storms. “I know of nothing that can stop what the Entrope has unleashed.”
“Garin, what can we do?” said Trielle. Gedron could see the fear in her eyes.
“Trielle, you believed in me as much as you could, even when I thought I might be mad,” said Garin. Hold onto that faith just a little while longer.”
With measured steps, Garin ascended the control dais and turned to Gedron.
“Can you open a visual channel to the rest of the ships?” he asked.
“Garin, this ship can broadcast to the entire Conclave,” said Gedron.
“Even better,” said Garin with a smile.
Still weak from the shocks of the energy batons, Gedron staggered to a nearby infochryst and motioned for Yithra-gor to join him. The pair worked feverishly, and after a few moments a ring of holographic images drawn from all the worlds of the Conclave sprang to life around Garin. Garin surveyed the images, briefly taking stock of each, then raised his hands in an ancient gesture of declamation and began to speak.
“People of the Conclave, I am Garin son of Gedron. Not long ago I thought as you do, my life centered on my own selfish desires. But I was given a glimpse of something more: the possibility that there might be realms beyond dying cosmos in which we dwell, the possibility that the world itself is rich with a meaning beyond that which we impose. I have come now to tell you that these are not mere possibilities, but the truth.”
“Our world, our cosmos, is no accident, but was created in love by Love Himself. Yet in our selfishness we have denied Him at every turn. When He first came to us on Sha-Ka-Ri we slaughtered Him, and when He again came to us as Lord of the Dar Eklesia we made war on Him, banishing His people to a lonely moon circling a forsaken brown dwarf. And yet His love for us has not diminished. Again he calls for us to lay down our selfishness, our Axioms, everything that we have used to shield us from Himself, and receive our lives anew in return, for a day is soon coming when the cosmos as we know it will end and a new creation break forth newly minted from its ashes. I ask you now, when that last day comes, on whose side will you stand? One hundred years. One hundred years will be given to you to make this choice.”
As Gedron heard the words, his heart was stirred to life. Then he looked again at the image of the entropy storms and a wave of doubt and despair crashed over him, drowning his newborn faith. One hundred years? The storms would reach Scintillus within hours. Suddenly he realized that Garin was looking at him, and he raised his eyes to meet his son’s. Their gaze locked for a few moments, then Garin turned back to the ring of holograms and spoke.
“For many of you my words have created nothing but inner turmoil. You want to believe that there is something beyond the walls of space and time. You want to know that the hope I hold out is real and not just an illusion with which to pass the time until the final death of the cosmos. But you see the storm that rages around us, a storm that threatens to extinguish all life in the Conclave and, ultimately, you do not know whether I can be trusted. Therefore, I ask you this. What is more probable? That a new creation will be born after the world in which we live passes away, or that a boy can speak to a dead star and command it to burn!”
For long moments no one moved on the bridge. No one dared to. Then Yithra-Gor bent down to examine a nearby infochryst.
“High Gravitist! Look!”
The infochryst displayed the relative mix of helium and hydrogen within Vai’s core. Gedron frowned. The values were changing rapidly.
“Something must be wrong,” said Yithra-Gor.
“No,” said Gedron with a sudden burst of excitement, “There is nothing wrong here. Yithra, order the fleet to stop the barrage and retreat to a safe perimeter. Two million miles from Vai should be adequate.”
With slow steps Gedron ascended the control dais to stand beside his son. He looked to his left. The holographic connection with the Magog was still active.
“Chromatocron,” said Gedron, “I would advise that you move your worldship to a safe distance. Check the core readings from Vai if you wish to know the reason.”
With a wave of his hand he dismissed the hologram and called up a realtime image of Vai.
***
Deep within the core of the dead star a light began to burn, a crack in the surface of the cosmos leading to the worlds beyond. And from those worlds about poured a fresh influx of hydrogen gas, the primal element of creation. Higher and higher the concentrations rose, until at last a critical threshold was reached.
And Vai’s core ignited.
The first prominence pierced the star’s photosphere just as the last of the Ethereavers reached a safe perimeter, a brilliant arc of searing flame that leaped from the
swirling mass of dull red plasma into the corona and crashed down millions of miles away. A few moments later there was another, and then a third. A billion blinding flares of light erupted across the photosphere as white-hop supergranulations flashed through the surface. The photosphere grew brighter and brighter until, in a rush of golden incandescence, the plasma burst into flame, showering the Conclave with living sunlight.
***
Far above, in the Sepulcher of Suns, Hyperion Starfather knelt at the bed of his dying child. Beside him stood Vasya and Verduun, holding bread and wine in their aged hands. Suddenly Vai’s eyes snapped open, their once dull surfaces flaring a brilliant gold. A nimbus of bright rainbows surrounded him, and in a wash of silver light the lines of age fled from his face like shadows before daybreak. With a shout he leaped from the bed, his youth restored.
Hyperion stood, a broad, glad smile on his face. Calling to his sons, he raised his voice in a mighty hymn of thankfulness. The night was not yet over, but now there was a brightness on the horizon.
The dawn would soon be here.
***
Gedron gazed in wonder as Vai burned with new brilliance. What once was a dead star was now brighter and more vibrant than its brothers. A broad smile grew on his face as he gloried in the light.
“High Gravitist, the entropy storm is abating.”
Gedron turned toward Yithra-Gor and nodded.
“Yes, the renewed solar wind should be enough to hold back the entropy clouds.” He paused for a moment, remembering Garin’s words.
“At least,” he said at last, “for a little while.”
Calling Trielle to his side, Gedron knelt before his children.
“I need to apologize to you both,” he said as tears ran down his face. “I have spend most of my life pursuing my own goals, but you have showed me a better way. I only hope that it is not too late to start again.”
“There is time, Father,” said Garin with a smile. “He has given us all time.”
The Sovereign Road Page 34
