Heirs of Eternity (Euphoria Duology Book 1)

by Franc Ingram

  By: Franc Ingram

  Text Copyright © 2017 Franc Ingram

  Cover Art Copyright © 2016 Ernesto McKenzie jr

  Map Copyright © 2017 Debra Calhoun

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1541284333x

  ISBN-13: 978-1541284333

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any form or means without the written permission of the publisher.

  In memory of:

  Hazel P. Loving mom and great reader of books

  Cover Art: Ernesto McKenzie jr.

  junproject-13.deviantart.com

  Edited by: Cynthia Boswell

  boswellprofessionalwritingservices.wordpress.com

  Map: Debra Calhoun

  www.facebook.com/designsbydebra.calhoun

  CHAPTER ONE: SOLON

  Oleana sat cross-legged on the worn blue rug of her motel room floor. The hard wood planks beneath creaked every time she took a deep breath. She tried to lock onto the bio signal she’d traveled a thousand miles to find, but her tongue felt like a hairy caterpillar rubbing the roof of her mouth raw, and some errant drummer decided to swing away at the inside of her skull. The winded grunts of her son, Lorn, practicing his fighting techniques on the hill just beyond her window didn’t help her concentration either.

  Every living thing on Euphoria gave off a unique bio signal due to the smart-particle cloud used to seed the planet, and make it suitable for colonization. Oleana had the rare ability to hear those signals, but finding one out of so many often proved difficult. Squeezing her eyes shut, Oleana pushed away the world of flesh, blood, and pain to immerse herself in the digital river that lay just behind the curtain. Oleana could hear the signals of everything within a hundred miles. Most of it was just white noise she could ignore, but hybrids like Lorn and herself stood out like stars in the night sky.

  Her enhanced ears caught the signal and she translated it into a blip on her mental map. Lorn blazed like the sun against the mostly dull-gray map. There was another signal within fifty miles. Its steady glow reminded Oleana of an old star, past the chaotic energy of youth, but still strong. Oleana recognized it, knew who the unique frequency belonged to, and while pinpointing it did make Oleana smile, it wasn’t the one she was looking for.

  Three lifetimes she spent searching for the other Heirs of Eternity. Three all too short lifetimes wasted, and here she was again expending her life in pursuit of others.

  Frustrated, Oleana gave up her intense listening and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly against the early sun pouring in through the open curtains. After glancing out the window to check on her son’s location, Oleana reached for the one thing she knew would never disappoint her, her flask.

  The curved metal canister with its black leather case was the first thing Oleana bought after leaving her parents’ home fifteen years ago. It reminded her of both the family she would never return to, and the brief time in her life when she thought she could be free. She’d placed it on the wicker nightstand next to her bed the night before, within easy reach for an early morning pick me up. She’d done her share of drinking the night before but nothing cured her hangover like a long hard drink.

  When her hand hit empty air, Oleana raced through several worst-case possibilities. Maybe she’d had too much to drink and dropped the flask carelessly somewhere, or worse, left it at the bar. A prize like that wouldn’t stay discarded for long at the type of places she hung out at. Oleana scanned the rest of the room, not a great feat with the place being so small. She saw the familiar shape poking out of the top of her boot, which was leaning against the far edge of her bed.

  Relief flooded through Oleana, but when she moved to grab the flask she remembered while it was common for her to stash the flask in her shoes for safe keeping. She had avoided that spot of late, because it was too far to reach in the bitter cold mornings of the northern cities.

  If Oleana had any choice, she would have avoided the north all together, or at least until the height of summer, when she could move around outside without wearing three layers of clothing, hat, gloves, and a scarf. Instead, she was forced to cram Lorn and herself onto a fishing boat, with what belongings they could carry, and make the rough journey to the northern realm of Arismas. Another three days’ travel by carriage and they made it to the southwest gate of Solon, the second largest city in the realm, and the last stretch of civilization before the frozen tundra that spread across the northern tip of the continent.

  Oleana snatched the flask and shook it, already knowing what she'd find, it was empty. She undid the cap and tilted it up to her lips, just to be certain. Nothing came out. The container even smelled of cold metal instead of warm alcohol.

  Thinking of how to make the culprit pay, Oleana pulled on her crumpled clothes from the day before, laced up the boots that once held the evidence, and tied her black dreadlocks into a ponytail, making sure each precious lock was in place. She grabbed her twin sais, which she’d stashed under the mattress. Lorn was going to get a real life sparring lesson today.

  The grassy hill, which the Solon Inn called a backyard, was crunchy with the sprinkling of snow that fell during the night. Oleana reached to pull up the fur-lined hood of her coat, its rich brown color matching her deep brown skin, and realized she'd stormed off without it, leaving her nothing but a wool sweater to shield her from the cold.

  Lorn danced atop the hill, practicing fast footwork with his thrust and jabs. Puberty had taken its toll on his coordination, turning the much-practiced sequences into an awkward mess, with his newly elongated limbs flailing about. He’d gone from looking Oleana in the eye to being a foot taller than her, with him standing at 6’2”. His once pudgy frame was now lean and long. Lorn didn't allow the setback to bother him though. He had increased his practice times, and started back at the basics. From what Oleana could see, it was paying off.

  With revenge on her mind, Oleana circled around the base of the hill, putting the sun and Lorn's back in front of her. She made sure her foot was well placed before taking a step. Lorn had the hearing of a bat, which meant Oleana needed all her stealth and speed to sneak up on him. Her twin sais, with their long, sharpened middle prong about half the size of her forearm, and two short prongs on each side acting as guards, were raised high, one pointed out for attack, the other flat against her forearm for defense.

  She reached the crest of the hill with no sign that Lorn noticed her approach. He lunged forward. Oleana sucked in a deep breath waiting for the backstroke. When Lorn pulled back, she lunged forward, her blade headed straight for the unprotected right side of his ribcage. The dull inner edge of her blade slowed as it came against the thick material of the boy's fur-lined coat.

  Lorn recovered quickly, turning on the ball of his foot, pushing his elbow back and out, deflecting her blade and giving him enough time to present his. Lorn swung hard at her head, forcing Oleana to drop low, killing her forward momentum.

  Oleana guarded high and cut low at Lorn's shins, but he was too fast. The boy jumped back and planted his feet square on the higher, flat part of the hill. Oleana popped up, leading with both blades. Her thighs complained, burning as she moved. They weren't prepared for such strenuous activity so early in the morning. Lorn blocked down, and out, with the flat line of his short sword, the impact jarring Oleana's cold hands. The force of his attack pushed Oleana down the hill several steps.

  Digging her toes into the earth, Oleana attacked high to push the boy back, her hands shaking and shoulders straining with the effort required to hold him off. Lorn resisted with all he had, and Oleana knew she couldn’t hold him off for long, so she didn't try. She pulled b
ack and kicked out at his exposed midsection, allowing the hill and gravity do most of the work as she fell back, with Lorn tumbling over her and down the slick slope.

  Oleana tucked into a tight roll, recovering her feet with little effort. Lorn lost hold of his sword as it embedded itself in the ground, hammered in by the weight of his body. He tilted enough to keep from getting his ribs broken by the hilt of his sword, but landed awkwardly on his face.

  Oleana raced over, pushing him over with her foot and laying the point of her blade under his chin. Lorn groaned low and long, his chest heavying in ragged breaths, sweat glistening on his forehead. For a moment Oleana wondered if she'd gone too far, pushed the boy too hard, until she felt something hard scrape against the top of her hip. She looked down to find Lorn pointing a dagger at her belly.

  “Do you concede?" he asked. His eyes were closed but he couldn’t hide the grin spread all over his face.

  "Draw," she said, tapping her blade against his neck. Much of her anger had subsided. Instead Oleana was proud of how well her son did.

  “Draw,” Lorn sighed in conciliation. He opened his dark green eyes, squinting through the sun’s bright rays as his gaze found Oleana’s. “Hey what's with the aggressive ambush anyway?”

  Oleana pulled back, sitting down next to her son. "Why the empty flask?"

  Lorn slowly pulled his legs in and sat up, but he kept the blade out as if expecting another attack. He brushed his sandy brown curls out of his face. "You know better than I that the closer we get to Solon the more danger we face. We both need clear heads as we enter the next phase."

  “My head is always clear," Oleana insisted

  Lorn sat up in a hurry. "You stumbled into bed last night, mumbled something about flowers, and fell into such a deep sleep I could’ve set your bed on fire and you wouldn't have noticed. How is that clear headed?" Lorn asked, with a perplexed look on his face.

  Oleana jumped up, the fire in her chest enough to banish the chill that had settled in her bones. "No matter what happened last night, I still managed to knock you on your butt this morning," Oleana replied, her chin jutting up in defiance.

  Lorn snorted. "It was a draw, and if I was close to the worse we’re likely to face I might be impressed, but I'm a baby compared to Cornelius and his sort."

  "Don't!" Oleana ordered, her teeth snapping down on the word like a vice, and a chill running down her spine. "Don't use that name. Besides, I tell you what to worry about, not the other way around. You don't have to remind me what we’ll face. I've faced them before." Oleana realized how crazed she must look, wide-eyed, face burning, and emphasizing her point with the point of a blade. She backed off. “I have it under control, under complete control.” Oleana avoided Lorn’s stare, focusing on brushing the debris from her clothing. It was too early in the morning for such an old argument. With her adrenaline-high fading, Oleana was increasingly aware of how wet her clothes were, and how frigid the air felt. She cleared her throat. "Since you're so active you can pack up all our stuff while I go grab me something to eat."

  "Can you bring me back something?" Lorn pleaded, allowing the mention of food to overcome any previous argument. "I'm starving."

  "Young men who overstep their place forage for themselves," Oleana shouted over her shoulder, already heading back down the hill. "I'm pretty sure I smelled pumpkin muffins on my way out. I could eat three of those," she added for good measure.

  "Not fair," Lorn grumbled.

  "That's life." Oleana yelled back. Lorn was sure to learn that truth fast.

  100101

  The Solon Inn technically lay outside of the great city Solon. It was the northern-most point of the suburb Erald on east gate of the great wall, nestled in a valley between lush rolling hills. Nothing else sat close by but the farms and pastures that kept the city Solon fed. The heart of the city was three miles away. Lorn said he was fine with walking it, and taking in the scenery, but Oleana wanted to get the job done and get out as quickly as possible.

  That meant taking the carriage with its two horses into the heart of town. It also meant sharing the ride with two other passengers. Oleana should have considered herself lucky it was only two. Thousands of students and tourists flocked to Solon every year, to visit the Thousand Years Library and buy one-of-a-kind items from the open-air market. The start of spring usually marked the start of the busy season for tourism, but the Inn was mostly vacant and the four of them were the only ones headed into the city.

  The young couple that shared the carriage were tourists, visiting the College of the Founders for the first time. Oleana knew this because the couple took the fifteen-minute ride as an opportunity to explain their entire life story to a captive audience. They couldn’t just tell the story, they were all smiles, bubbly, and just a little too loud. Oleana, who was growing more desperate for a good drink as the seconds dragged on, gave them nothing back but the occasional, noncommittal nod. Lorn, being his usual friendly self, stoked the fire with his barrage of excited questions, and tidbits of his own life.

  Briefly, Oleana wondered if she should give in to her perverse side and tell them she'd met the founder of the college up close and personal. Not the three whose statues dotted the city, even though she knew one of them very well. No, she was talking about the originator of the oldest school, the School of Technology, the ultra, Cornelius.

  Cornelius, like the few other ultras still around, was a creature of legend due to his makeup of human and Euphorian DNA, enhanced by a computer neural network care of the abundance of smart particles laced in his bloodstream. While the realm of Gaeth was the only realm still directly ruled by an ultra, Cornelius’ dark shadow still hung over the city of Solon.

  Oleana wondered would their travelling companions still be as bubbly and friendly if they knew how close she’d been to Cornelius? Would they assume Oleana and her son worshiped Cornelius as their god as a growing number of people did? Would they explode with excitement? Either way, Oleana worried that the revelation would just elicit another set of annoying questions and she just wasn't up for it.

  Just thinking about Cornelius made Oleana edgy. She crossed her arms over her abdomen protectively, remembering the searing pain of his sword as it sliced through her insides the last time they ran into each other. She could still remember the look of amused satisfaction on Cornelius’ face as he watched her bleed out. That was a long time ago, and Oleana had no intention of repeating her mistakes.

  "Mother, are you even listening?"

  Oleana rubbed at her eyes, banishing haunted images from her mind's eye. The excited couple gifted her with a confused, and disapproving look. It was a look she’d become familiar with, something she experienced every time Lorn called her ‘mother’ in public. Lorn’s height and weight belied his age, making him appear much older than his fifteen years. With Oleana having just seen her thirtieth winter, her giving birth to Lorn seemed improbable.

  They weren't wrong. Lorn wasn't Oleana's natural child. He was an orphan she'd stumbled upon whilst trying to run away from her responsibilities years ago. As soon as she saw his dirty little face and those wide, inquisitive eyes Oleana knew she couldn't run away from him.

  "Mom, they want to know what part of the college we were going to first,” Lorn explained. “I realize I failed to ask you before, and I can't believe it slipped my mind. I was just so excited to see Solon! Well nervous and excited,” Lorn chattered with increasing speed. “Well more like terrified and excited. Goodness, I didn't even stop to think exactly where we were going to start our…umm…vacation. Right, vacation!"

  Oleana gave her son a stern look. He'd almost said too much, forgotten their cover. "The Thousand Years Library."

  "Wow," the woman's face lit up. She'd told Oleana her name but it was forgotten as quickly as it was said. "How did you manage to get a pass for there?"

  "Yeah," the man added, "I tried to get our names on the list last week and was told we would be put on the waitlist, but it could be a few weeks before
a spot opened up. We can only pray to the Twelve that our turn comes up before we have to go back home."

  "Well Mom knows…uhm." Lorn stumbled over his own tongue. "She knows someone that works at the library. Managed to get us passes," he finished weakly.

  "You’re very fortunate," the man said. His eyes took on a look Oleana interpreted as him trying to picture what the inside of the library looked like.

  The driver rapped on the side of the carriage. "Founders College. Everyone out."

  Oleana snatched up her satchel and made it out the door before he even finished speaking. She stretched her back, looking up into the bright blue afternoon sky, desperate for wide open spaces. Euphoria’s rings were faintly visible between the clouds along the horizon.

  The sight of the collegiate buildings brought a smile to her face. That was, until she spotted how close they were to Mount Elmire, the home of Cornelius. The twin peak mountain range with its dark gray rocky terrain cast a shadow over the city, and her mood. Of all the places her quest could have lead, it had to bring her right under the nose of Cornelius, the man who'd caused her enough pain for a thousand lifetimes.

  Lorn patted her back. "Don't worry. I'm sure we won't be here long," he said over her shoulder. "And I know our next stop will be far away from here. Maybe close to the wild zone. I can't wait to go there. Then maybe to Failsea." Lorn's concerned tone quickly morphed back into his usual excited chatter.

  Oleana pulled her gaze away from the mountain, and back to the city around her. There was plenty of work to be done without being distracted by old fears. "Focus on Solon first," Oleana admonished Lorn. He nodded as if he were sufficiently chastised, but he rocked back and forth on his tip toes. Oleana briefly considered throwing snow at Lorn to calm him down. She knew from experience there was little that could curb his enthusiasm, and the snow would just make her hand cold.