World in Chains- The Complete Series

by Ryan W. Mueller

  The forest thickened, and soon their path became difficult to navigate. Berig tensed at every sound. A loud footstep. An owl hooting in the distance. A few times, he thought he heard voices nearby, but then he figured he was imagining things.

  The longer they walked, though, the more his skin prickled. Soon he heard the voices again, louder. He couldn't be imagining them.

  Heart pounding, he held up a hand. "I hear voices."

  "Keep moving," said the smuggler, pulling him forward.

  Berig broke free from his grip. "You're heading right toward the voices."

  "I know."

  Berig, Lara, and Aric all looked at him with wide eyes.

  "Over here!" he called out. Then he lowered his voice. "It's nothing personal. I just like to make money, and the border guards pay well."

  Lara glared at him. "You lead people to their deaths for money. That's disgusting!"

  "You're the ones who choose to risk your lives," he said. "I can't help it if you're so stupid that you'd risk your lives and trust a man you just met."

  Sounds came from all around them. Twigs snapping. Leaves rustling. Tense voices. A few moments later, soldiers appeared, dressed in armor unlike anything Berig had ever seen. It was black and looked sturdy, but it was also cushioned, unlike plate armor back home.

  The soldiers pointed strange devices at the party, holding these devices in both hands. Berig didn't need to know what exactly they were to know that they were weapons, and probably much deadlier than anything Berig had ever encountered.

  One soldier stepped forward. "You've done well," he said to the smuggler. "Two of my men will escort you back across the border and deliver your payment."

  The smuggler smiled. "It's been a pleasure working with you."

  The soldier ignored him, turning his attention to Berig's party. "Another three trying to cross into the empire. I assume you know the law."

  Berig's throat felt dry. "Do you really execute everyone who crosses?"

  "That's our policy."

  Berig glanced at his companions. They were all armed, but they stood no chance against all the soldiers who'd surrounded them.

  "Now lay down your weapons," said the man. "Slowly."

  They all placed their weapons on the ground. There was no point trying anything, not right now. At the very least, it looked like they might face a trial of some sort. After all, the soldiers hadn't killed them right here. Maybe there was still a chance.

  "You are under arrest," said the man. "You have the right to a trial, but that's about it."

  "Is there any reason to stand trial?" Lara asked.

  The soldier considered for a moment. "It isn't unheard of for judges to take a more lenient approach. But I wouldn't depend on it." He turned to his men. "Take 'em to the prison."

  Chapter 6: The President

  Nadia couldn't stop staring as Captain Cress led them through the palace. Everywhere she turned, there were strange sights she couldn't even describe. Glowing lights of all colors. Bizarre mechanical beings hovering through the halls. Doors that opened with a low hiss as people approached. The residents of the palace walked by, wearing clothes that looked pristine, as if they'd been made by perfect machines.

  She saw computers all over the palace. People were working at many of these computers, handling the devices with a level of ease that astonished her.

  The corridors twisted along. Nadia, Markus, and Captain Cress followed a few spiraling staircases upward. At last, they stood before a large door. Lights glowed upon a panel at its side, and two guards stood outside the door, alert and unmoving.

  "I have the two the president's been waiting for," said Captain Cress.

  The guards nodded, and one of them entered the room, the door opening with that strange hissing sound. There was a quiet conversation, and then the guard returned, motioning for them to step inside. Nadia's stomach clenched as she followed Captain Cress through the door.

  The room beyond was perhaps even more lavish than the rest of the palace. Everything seemed to gleam. The wooden furniture. The metallic walls. The chandeliers hanging far above.

  At the far end of the room, a man set behind a wooden desk. He was middle-aged and clean-shaven, with dark hair and an expression that said crossing him would be the last thing you ever did. He stood as they entered, and then came forward to greet them.

  "I'm President Marten Davison," he said. He shook her hand and then Markus's. "You must be Nadia and Markus. I've been waiting for you." He turned his gaze to Captain Cress. "You may go. I'll make sure you're compensated."

  Captain Cress inclined his head respectfully before leaving the chamber. The doors closed behind him, and even the guards stepped out of the room. Nadia exchanged a nervous glance with Markus. What did the president want from them?

  "You're probably wondering why I've gone to all this trouble," the president said, motioning for them to take a seat in two chairs in front of the desk. Once he sat down across from them, he said, "To tell you the truth, it's rather complicated."

  "I don't appreciate being a prisoner when I've done nothing wrong," Nadia said.

  "I understand, but it was unavoidable. As a Technomage, I have read the Webs of Fate, and it seems that you two are perhaps two of the most important people who have ever lived. So many major strands cluster around you. It's absolutely fascinating."

  Nadia sighed. "Can we never escape the Webs of Fate?"

  "That's actually why I brought you here," the president said. "You have heard of Krinir, haven't you?"

  Nadia and Markus both shook their heads.

  The president stroked his chin, as if taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "To understand what I want from you, you must understand the history of our world. No doubt you've heard claims of how everything happened, but here in the New Earth Empire, we have the actual records. We know the truth of how we came to be here."

  Nadia leaned forward with interest, though she didn't trust the man.

  "It is true that technology led to the destruction of the Old World, but technology is not truly to blame. It is merely a tool. The blame for ending the world before falls to the human beings who made the decisions to use that technology unwisely. When two of the world's great religions went to war, they used bombs so destructive they clogged the air with debris. The sun's warmth couldn't penetrate all this debris, and so the world grew frigidly cold.

  "In this time, when humanity nearly died out, the gods chose a few groups of people to cross over to this new world, Terra—or as we like to call it, New Earth. This world was much like Earth, but it didn't have humans on it. When we arrived, most of us came with nothing but the clothes on our backs, but a few people managed to sneak in Old World secrets. That's how we ended up with a place like the New Earth Empire.

  "But some of the gods aren't happy that we've retained Old World technology, and even improved upon it. Lionar and Rador would see us live like savages, but Krinir believes in our right to possess this technology. Like us, he sees that human political systems and human religions are the problem. Technology is not. It makes our lives better in every way imaginable."

  Nadia couldn't help but remember some of the things Warrick had said back in Riverside, when he'd given that speech she'd hated so much. And if this Krinir, whoever he was, disagreed with Warrick, then he had to be on the right side.

  "This is where you come in," the president said. "The Webs reveal that you are a threat to Krinir. For the moment, he is trapped in the Shadowed Land, but that may not remain the case. If and when he emerges, I need your promise that you will not oppose him."

  The president was clearly a practiced liar, but Nadia could see deception in his eyes. He may not have directly lied about anything, but there was something he wasn't telling them.

  Markus gave him a stern look. "How can we promise something like that when we know so little about him?"

  "I could simply kill you," the president said, his gaze turning icy. "Would you prefer that?"
r />   Nadia looked into his eyes, feeling chilled by what she saw there. "Tell us more about Krinir."

  "You've heard of the Great War, haven't you?"

  Nadia and Markus both nodded.

  "All right. The Great War was, more or less, a war between Lionar's supporters and Krinir's supporters—and, by extension, between the gods themselves. Lionar favored the gods' new plan for mankind: magic. Krinir favored both magic and technology."

  Nadia considered for a moment. "But how do you know that technology is the right path to take? It did destroy the world once. Couldn't it do the same again?"

  "It could, but we have expressly forbidden development of the weapons that destroyed the Old World. These weapons were called nuclear bombs, and they were the most destructive things we ever invented. We have deleted all information about them from our databases."

  "But couldn't somebody develop them again?" Nadia asked.

  "That is why we are so protective of our secrets. We understand the danger involved. Unfortunately, some areas of research tread too close to the knowledge of how to make these bombs. If we let that research spread to the rest of the world, somebody would take advantage of that and develop these bombs. Then we'd all be in danger."

  Nadia leaned forward in her chair, trying to take in everything he'd said. "I still don't quite understand. Why did you fight the Great War then? Couldn't you have just done what you're doing now: hiding your knowledge from the rest of the world?"

  "That is not our ultimate goal. No, we seek to bring our prosperity to the rest of the world. The best way to do that is with Krinir back in this world. Our technology is powerful, yes, but so are the sorcerers of Luminia. They would defeat us again without Krinir's help."

  "But Krinir failed in the Great War," Markus said, startling Nadia. "Won't he fail again?"

  "We have reason to believe he won't fail this time," the president said. His expression tightened, and Nadia knew he would not clarify that response any further.

  "That's not much of an answer," Markus said.

  "Krinir has his secrets, and so do we. We must protect them."

  Markus narrowed his eyes. "And you expect us to promise that we'll mind our own business? Why should we?"

  The president's smile was chilling. "As I said before, I can have you killed. It would be an unnecessary loss, though. Two powerful Weavers like yourselves should not be killed needlessly. The world could use people like you."

  Again, there was something deceitful in his words, but as Nadia saw it, they had to pretend they agreed with him. She had no idea if it was the right choice, but she could always change her mind later. "We will not oppose Krinir."

  Markus gave her a doubtful look.

  "I don't believe you," the president said. "I think you'll need a little more time to think this over." He pushed a button, and a guard stepped into the office a few moments later. The president gestured at Nadia and Markus. "Take them to one of our guest chambers. They may wander the palace freely, but they are not permitted to leave. Understood?"

  "Yes, Mr. President," said the guard. He turned to Nadia and Markus. "Please come with me. And don't try anything. You might be prisoners, but you'll be treated well if you cooperate."

  "I wouldn't be so sure about that," Markus muttered. The guard didn't seem to hear him.

  They stepped out of the president's office. Out in the corridor, the guard halted their progress, then took a small white device from his pocket.

  "Please give me your hand," he said to Nadia. She obeyed, knowing there was no point opposing him. He pressed a small opening in the device against her hand. A moment later, she felt a slight sting.

  "What was that?" she asked, more curious than annoyed.

  "They're called tracking bots," said the guard as he repeated the procedure with Markus. "They flow all through your bodies, like creatures so small you can't even see them. They allow us to track your location and prevent you from leaving the palace. You'll set off all kinds of alarms if you try to escape, and we'll find you before you get far."

  "So we are prisoners?" Nadia asked.

  The guard nodded. "For now."

  Nadia had the feeling their stay here was not intended to be temporary. After all, how could she ever convince the president that they wouldn't oppose Krinir? And what had the president failed to tell them? If he saw them as a threat to Krinir, why didn't he simply kill them and eliminate that threat? It couldn't be the simple fact that they were weavers.

  No. Something else was at play here. Something dark and mysterious.

  And why hadn't the president said anything about Rador's role in the Great War? He was a god as well, but it seemed as if he'd vanished. Strange.

  And what about God? What was His role in all this? Did He even exist?

  As a prisoner, she doubted she'd get the answers to her questions. She couldn't trust anyone who took them prisoner, no matter how comfortable the prison. She had to find a way out of this. But how could she escape when these bots were tracking their location?

  It didn't matter. She would find a way. She always did.

  But how much would it cost her?

  Chapter 7: An Unexpected Visitor

  Berig and Aric shared a small but clean prison cell. It was well-lit, and no foul smells hung in the air. In all, it was nothing like what Berig had expected. Nothing in the New Earth Empire was at all familiar. Strange lights glowed everywhere. People spent much of their time looking at what they called screens. These screens contained letters, numbers, and even pictures.

  As they'd passed one room, Berig had noticed these screens showing different parts of the prison. He even saw himself on one of those screens, and when he waved, the Berig on the video screen waved back. It was like staring into a mirror, but not quite.

  He sagged against the stone wall, wishing he could feel more of a sense of wonder. Instead, despair settled over him like a heavy blanket. "Guess this is how we're gonna die."

  Aric was silent for a few seconds. "Normally, I'd find something positive to say, but I've got nothing. Nobody knows we're here. Nobody can save us."

  "Maybe we'll just have to save ourselves."

  "How?"

  "No idea," Berig said. As far as he could tell, this was more secure than any prison he'd ever seen. The doors were not barred. Instead, they were solid doors with small windows. The guards had pressed their hands to a handprint on the door to open it. Berig didn't know how that worked, but he figured only certain people could open the doors.

  Berig and Aric couldn't sleep. They were still awake when a guard showed up with a small meal of eggs, bacon, and bread. It was plain fare, but it tasted delicious.

  "Why would they waste food on prisoners like this?" Berig asked.

  Aric swallowed a mouthful. "No idea. They've treated us decently—well, apart from the fact that they're gonna execute us. Doesn't make any sense."

  "Maybe they ain't gonna execute us."

  "Why would they make an exception?"

  Berig almost laughed. It felt as if he and Aric had switched personalities. Now Berig was the one trying to look on the positive side of things.

  It was ironic. He'd finally changed as a person just in time to die.

  Again, he felt like laughing.

  Their cell contained more luxuries Berig hadn't expected. He'd heard that nobles back in the Empire had indoor plumbing, but he'd never seen it for himself. When he turned a knob on the small sink, water flowed from the faucet. There was even water in a contraption the guards had called a toilet. It was like a chamber pot, but when he pressed a lever on it, all his waste would disappear. It would have been exciting if not for his impending execution.

  A week passed in a steady rhythm of boredom. They were fed three times a day, but they were never let out of their cell. Berig had learned long ago how to survive such boredom. Aric, however, was constantly pacing, looking more anxious with every passing hour.

  At last, a guard opened the door and did not hold plates of f
ood in his hands. He motioned for them to approach. "It's time for your trial. Follow me."

  Another guard pointed a long, metallic object at them. Blue light came from the object, forming a force field around them. The guards had done this on the way in as well, and had explained what they were doing.

  It was still strange. Berig reached out to touch the force field. His hand couldn't push through it no matter how hard he tried.

  They walked the halls of the prison, then reached a strange set of gleaming silver doors. A few more guards stood off to the right, with Lara standing in front of them, surrounded by a force field. One of the guards pressed a button on the wall, and about half a minute later, the silver doors hissed open. Inside was a small rectangular room.

  "Get inside," said one of the guards. Berig, Aric, and Lara obeyed. The doors closed behind them, and Berig felt sudden tightness in his chest.

  "What is this place?" he asked.

  "An elevator," said one of the guards. "It'll take us to the top floor."

  Another guard pressed a button on the wall, and soon the elevator began moving. The movement was gentle, but Berig still felt sick. How did something like this work? How could the New Earth Empire keep such wondrous things from the rest of the world?

  Soon the elevator stopped, and the guards led the three of them out. The top floor of the prison looked a lot different from the place where they'd been staying. Instead of dull gray walls, Berig saw rich reddish wood and gleaming white tiles.

  The guards directed them through a pair of large and elaborate wooden doors. The room on the other side contained numerous wooden benches. A lone man with a bushy white mustache sat at the far end of the room, behind a wooden desk on an elevated platform. The man's expression was severe.

  Berig had been before a judge before. He knew the look in the man's eyes. It plainly said that he intended to give them the harshest sentence possible.

  The guards marched them to a bench at the front of the room, then took a few steps back. The judge looked down at them, his eyes narrowed in disgust.