Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One)

by Trey Copeland

  "There is a log in the Mysticnet," Kilton interrupted, "accessible only to The Four, pertinent to your concerns about the races. Given the circumstances of recent events, I wish to share it with you if willing."

  "My trust in your wisdom has never wavered but I cannot, for I have lost the ability to sync with the whole."

  "Your current dysfunction is not an issue; through the use of my staff I can show you. Do you wish to see?"

  "Yes."

  "Know this Steffor; the decision to share this piece of history is made on instinct alone. Too much has happened for me to dismiss your experiences and concerns of late as coincidence. That be as it may, it is far from clear to me as what may come of it. Do you understand?"

  "Yes. I understand."

  "Good. Stand with me." Steffor stood up, the curve ceiling less than an inch from his head, and faced the earthen wall they were just leaning on. Kilton firmly drove the end of his staff into the ground then closed his eyes and connected to Tillamund: Kilton's Mystic equivalent, one of The Four, keeper of the Mysticnet and Master of the Forging Tree. A second later, a silver beam shot from the knotted end of Kilton's staff, toward the wall a few feet away.

  Animated images with grainy edges appeared on the wall, showing an aerial view of the Razum Buttress. The two dimensional projection was a far cry from syncing directly to the Mysticnet where all the senses are sated with vivid detail, reliving the past experiences of any Citizen as if it were their own.

  "If you were to sync directly to a Mystic, the experience would not be much different then what you see now," Kilton explained as if reading his thoughts.

  "Why?"

  "The scenes that follow display the key events that took place during the Razum Massacre, centuries before the first Mystic was to evolve."

  "Are you telling me we have had Mysticnet logs of the event all along?"

  "While lost to the Mysticnet as we know it, we are connected to the past consciousness of all souls. Tillamund is the first and only Mystic known to the Provider gifted with the ability to splice those faded memories of the few that survived the incident—distant echoes of their original—and compile them to recreate an accurate depiction of what actually happened."

  "I see," Steffor replied, wondering what other treasures The Four had excavated from the ancient past, undisclosed to the present whole.

  "I will recite the legend as you watch if you wish."

  "Yes, please do," Steffor said, sensing the answers to his question captured in the space between legend and actual events.

  "Prior to the races, we were a simple society, living a hunter-gatherer subsistence on the Provider’s largest limb. Scattered clans for several generations, we eventually aggregated into one large tribe."

  As Kilton narrated, the opening scene panned down to encompass the first Razum settlement: a large village comprised of simple but efficient structures constructed from dead leaves, twigs and hides, strategically built at the base of a high cliff. Beyond the cliff, ascending like a stepped mountain, a series of mesas rose for miles before melding into the Trunk.

  Their backs secure and defendable within the cliff's shadow, huts, storage houses, town centers and markets spiraled outward onto the limb covered by wild grass, moss, flower and small forests of tall shrub and bush. Multiple streams, originating from the Trunk's run-off to flow down the tiered mesas, laced the village, providing plenty of fresh water to support human, plant and other animal life alike.

  "As we live with today, the threat of geiker, zapture, serpent and other predators were constant but the mild temperatures, bounty of game and edible plants made the location ideal for growth. Soon Razum stretched for miles across the lush buttress and our numbers grew in accordance to the Provider. Life for us during this prehistoric age was a peaceful one, if not mundane. The arrival of the Deagrons forever ended this tranquil existence."

  Kilton's diction soothed Steffor, slipping his breath into a steady pattern as he watched the moving pictures display the generations of fruitful growth.

  "To this day, the word Deagron promotes fear within all of us. According to the legends of our forefathers, the Deagrons arrived from the heavens aboard a blazing white comet," the scene changed, showing the comet flying through the cosmos, passing countless stars and planets before approaching a small star encircled by six orbital rings, each consisting mostly of ice, rocky debris and dust. The shot then moved in to ride just above the comet as it raced toward a small planet located within the third ring. The meteor is last seen rushing toward a lush forest, before crashing with an awesome white explosion.

  "A century would pass after the comet sighting before our first and fatal encounter with the Deagrons," the images reverted to the Razum Settlement, now bustling with activity and expanding farther down the limb.

  "At that time, our ability to travel vertically was limited to simple ropes and ladders. Between the bountiful game and fruit baring plants of the surrounding territory and the danger associated with traveling outside the village, the vast majority of the limb remained unexplored. Of the rare excursions that did occur, they were to the edges of the buttress, miles from the protective confines of the settlement. As it is today, Danilkara's thick network of leafy branches prevented viewing much past a half mile below the buttress, limiting our understanding of the Provider to the buttress surface, Sofelarus's canopy above and large swaths of the heavens displayed within the open horizon in-between."

  "Mystic scholars agree life on the Provider's earth, prior to the Deagron's arrival, was bountiful and rich with the Source. A stark contrast to the desolated grassland it is today." The Razum images faded out, replaced by images of lesser quality—more animated in comparison—depicting an oval continent from which the Provider grew, edged by a root-mountain range enclosing forests populated by a huge variety of tree species, plant life and creatures.

  "It is not known how many Deagrons were first to arrive on the comet but the chaotic decimation of the land over a short time period provides plenty of evidence that they flourished, rapidly. We still know little to this day about the Deagrons but all research indicates they existed to feed. The Deagrons fed on anything that pulsated with the Source: bark, leaf, branch, bough or creatures, but humans, to our discovered horror, became their preference."

  "Their food source depleted after a century of unchecked gorging, their numbers swelled out of control, triggering inevitable Deagron migration up the Provider's Trunk." The animation sped up to show a century of decimation over a few seconds, distinguishing the Deagrons as indistinguishable specks swarming over the land then up the Trunk, devouring all life in their path, leaving nothing but dilapidated sapwood in their wake as they progressed toward the Razum Buttress.

  "For weeks, foreign clacks and buzzes filled the air with a deafening force as the Deagrons approached with deliberate purpose," the closer, more vivid images of the settlement reappeared with the hoard of alien creatures approaching from all sides.

  "The sound—not as concentrated as the zapture clap but as powerful in its volume and with a higher frequency—debilitating as it was, it was not the first act of violence to hit the settlement. It was the stench, a nauseating wave of putrefaction that clung to everything, causing the eyes to tear in pain and consuming all taste and smell."

  "Within a few days of hearing the first sounds, waves of the hulking, insectoid creatures had converged on the outskirts of Razum." Kilton's voice hitched with emotion as he struggled to go on. Steffor was awash with empathy, seized by familiar uncertainty whenever he heard the story recited, now accentuated by the disturbing graphics.

  How would I have measured up under those hopeless conditions? Would I have made a difference? Would my sacrifice have saved enough? Any? Despite the hypocritical stance to the very question that brought this sacred legend to the surface, he found relief in and swelled with gratitude for being a Guardian in this lifetime.

  Steffor, gripped by visceral presage, knew there was no turning back. Th
e answer is close at hand.

  The gruesome assault continued to play out and Kilton picked back up his narration, his voice sapped of energy but determined to finish. "Our simple structures and primitive weapons provided us no defense against the Deagrons." The next scene to unfold was of several brave but pathetic attempts made by the warriors to ward off the advancing beasts. With the ease of a geiker trapping a lost child in the jungle, thick hides deflected arrows and serrated mandibles longer than a man was tall snapped off spear heads and mowed down the defenders like a sickle did wheat.

  The ensuing assault was as slow as it was relentless. Many tried to flee but the throng of Deagrons was too dense by that point. Herded toward the high cliff wall, the hideous pen captured tens of thousands; a living enclosure of razor edged and barbed appendages protruding from the black, oil slicked exoskeletons crowned by rows of ever surveying compound eyes the size of a fist, mounted on a narrow crested heads.

  "The vile stench and hypersonic clacks, amplified by their numbers and close proximity, became a potent concoction the closer they came, rendering anyone within a dozen feet of the ring into a convulsive mound of flesh, wishing for a quick death. And, while it was not quick, death came."

  With systematic efficiency, the Deagrons gorged on the comatose fallen. Thick, muscular tails, twice the length of their bodies, forked at the end into interdependent arms with fingered extensions, probed the tangled mass of bodies before selecting its next victim. Wrapped securely around an ankle or wrist, the dexterous tail would dangle the twitching body in front of jagged maw as barbs, hooks and serrated edges fed on flesh and bone. After each feeding, the creatures shuddered with what could only be described as pleasure.

  "Man was a delicacy the Deagrons appeared to savor with every bite. As the weeks passed, the plight of those on the edges soon became enviable to those packed in the center. Indeed, many of us, laying witness to the slaughter of all they loved too much to bare, willingly chose a spastic coma over painful consciousness."

  "As we know and continue to learn, human evolution is as influenced by a need to survive as it is by time. The Source pulsed through all of us at that time as strong as it does today. A few sages existed that grasped the fundamentals of how to live the Certain Way but command of the Source was raw and adolescent, shifting the Source more out of reaction than premeditated design. No one is certain of the exact formula of experiences that triggered the change in Toliver—though, to this date, none have grown tired of debating the subject—but most agree, if he had not, we would not be here today."

  The perspective changed to focus on the shrinking perimeter, on a young man standing amongst the convulsed, many of whom must have been his family and closest friends. Eyes shut, face devoid of emotion, a dozen Deagron tails within striking distance violently lashing about, Toliver stood strong and erect, his arms at his side with feet squarely planted, confronting his foe with stoic resolve.

  At first, no one around Toliver appeared to notice that he showed no ill effects from the repellent sounds or lethal stench; the majority, resolved to their fate, having grown numb to the violence around them, simply shut down and ignored the basic receptors tuned to human observation. It was not until those who were next in line to become part of the feeding frenzy that anyone noticed how tails and appendages flinched back every time they came close to Toliver.

  Out of instinct, on the verge of falling victim to the Deagrons repellent aura, Amotto, the man standing a few yards behind Toliver, gathered his wife and children and moved to stand next to the rigid youth. As if entering an oasis, the space around Toliver repelled the burst-pulsed clicks and debilitating fetor, replacing them with fresh air carried by a cool, whistling breeze.

  Following Armotto's example, several other groups gathered around Toliver. Then, without warning, the Deagrons closest to them launched backward with violent force as if shoved by a giant, invisible hand. The scene panned in tight on Toliver, his eyes now wide open and filled with intense purpose. Then, making a T with outstretched arms and clinched fists, he sent another, more powerful wave of the mighty hand into the mob of Deagrons, scattering dozens of the beasts in every direction.

  Their haze lifted—figuratively and literally—more and more people moved to bunch tight around Toliver. With systematic determination, Toliver parted the sea of Deagrons and led those willing and able toward freedom."

  The first Source Sphere, Steffor reflected, a raw version of what Guardians practiced today; the strength and breadth of which no one has ever been able to duplicate. Toliver's inability to contain the Source was the primary reason he managed to save the handful of souls that he did. The rest, the vast majority of the human population living amongst the Provider's holy limbs during that fateful age, too far from the protective confines of Toliver's budding power, fell victim to the Deagrons.

  Kilton released a long sigh and the projection from his staff ended. Drained, he turned back around and slouched down against the wall. For the first time, Kilton looked old to Steffor.

  As Kilton rested, Steffor contemplated the events just witnessed. The Razum Massacre was a story rarely revisited. This was in part due to the complete lack of any Mysticnet images—at least those accessible to the common Citizen—the word-of-mouth responsibility of passing the legend from one generation to the next relegated to a handful of bard Mystics and Teutons.

  Steffor concluded the main reason very few revisited this crucial event in history—and undoubtedly why The Four have withheld this rendition—was due to the unfathomable anguish experienced by so many. Thousands of years later, the emotional wound dealt by the Deagrons to our collective psyche has yet to heal.

  "I am grateful you chose to share this with me. And while it reaffirms how and why the races were formed, for me, it shows more of why they still exist," Steffor stated.

  "How so?" Kilton asked, his eyes distant and unfocused.

  "As we know, the few who participated in Toliver's Exodus started to exhibit the traits and skills of the four races soon after." The combination of stressful events, along with Toliver exposing them to shifted Source, awoke the dormant skills in each. Amotto was the next, becoming the first Shifter to emerge, shifting the crude trail up the Trunk that enabled those early survivors to escape."

  "Thousands of life-times later, despite our eventual resurgence and lasting victory over our enemy, the trauma inflicted by the Deagrons still persists," Steffor said, thinking out loud, "having etched scars deep into our souls. What soul among us today has not lived hundreds, if not thousands, of short, frantic incarnations during the Deagron Age? Reincarnated souls living in those desperate times fought to survive and propagate, knowing the experience gleamed from the dismal existence, no matter how brief or small or seemingly insignificant, would be added to the collective; toward the growth and survival of the next generation, a generation we ourselves would be part of."

  Steffor shuddered with realization as the final pieces started to fall in place. "The races were all spawned by our primal need to survive. But the mechanism that saved us from certain extinction has become the impediment preventing us from taking the next step in our evolution."

  "Impediment? The advanced existence we experience today is undeniably tied to the evolution of the races."

  "Yes but the drive to survive, triggered by our deep seeded fear of the Deagrons, still exists in our unconsciousness. Despite this need to survive being absent for over a millennia, its pervasive influence still dictates our thoughts, actions and beliefs today."

  Steffor's heart raced as his mind moved ahead of his words. He needed the revelation to settle, for the spirit and body to catch up to his calculating brain. Kilton stood back up and placed his hands on Steffor's shoulders. Steffor mirrored the action and looked deeply into the other's eyes.

  Leaning forehead to forehead, they stayed locked in the embrace for several minutes. Kilton's earlier fatigue was gone and Steffor sensed a new peace dwelling within his friend. Pulling back, Kilton
broke the silence with a statement Steffor would never forget: "You are destined to be the First Ascendant."

  Kilton delivered the statement in a flat, neutral tone, as if reciting a popular verse from the Deeds, an irrefutable truism. Steffor stepped back, fumbling with his reply. "You honor me with your words master but there is little doubt in the world that it is you who will first rejoin the Provider."

  Kilton listened patiently to Steffor's protest, a gentle smile forming in the corner of his mouth, a soft laughter in his eyes. Knowing nothing would change Kilton's resolve, Steffor protested anyways, irritated by the sudden, youthful squeak of emotion edging his words. "Your advancements are unparalleled while mine have just begun to grace the Deeds. My path is unclear. How can you make this assertion?"

  Reading his thoughts before he could voice them, Kilton replied in the same level tone. "The Deeds tell us: The answer to every question is within the Self. Every Citizen believes these words but none live them such as you."

  Kilton's statement inexplicably moved Steffor, furnishing support of his fragile revelation about the four races. With less effort required than he would have thought, he fought the compulsion to deny his importance and chose instead to embrace it. As he did so, he saw a new side of himself mirrored in Kilton's face, the peace one experiences when in the undeniable presence of the Provider.

  "Events in your very near future will liberate all of us to a higher truth. Stay active. Stay patient. Most of all, trust the Provider with the results. Know this Steffor; the choices you make going forward dictate not only the fate of the Provider and its people, but of worlds yet to come."

  Chapter 10

  Antone removed his link visor and rubbed his aching temples. The marketing term reviewed and approved by his legal team 'Your ability to learn is limited only by your desire' held new and pertinent meaning. He had widened the pipe as fast as was humanly possible, consequently increasing his capacity to learn past most, but digesting and mastering the advanced principles of quantum field theory in a few hours was too much to ask...though he had asked it of himself anyway.