Reborn (The Cartographer Book 2)

by Craig Gaydas

  Grillick chuckled. “I admit it is enough to blow one's mind. It was many moons ago when I discovered the truth behind timelines. Sometimes I wonder if I blew a cerebral gasket back then trying to piece it all together.” He dug a finger into his ear and pulled out a large glob of greenish wax. “Sorry mister glob of wax but we are no longer accepting passengers for this flight.” He flicked it aside with a scowl before looking at his watch. “Uh oh, we are late. I better get you to Vanth,” he gasped.

  Watching the interaction between him and his earwax I found myself agreeing with his assessment. Perhaps he did blow a cerebral gasket years ago.

  Fear

  Grillick led me to a set of dark, oversized doors with a large, red bird engulfed in flame etched on the surface. It didn't look very inviting. I paused, fearing what might wait on the other side.

  He noticed my apprehension. “Vanth can be…quirky…but effective. You will go in a mouse and come out a lion.”

  “I'm not here to become a lion,” I mumbled.

  I looked down at him and he looked up at me, matching my gaze. Suddenly he began scratching at his beard as if something was irritating him. He stopped and pulled out a metal bolt and tossed it aside with a look of disdain. “Strange,” he muttered. “That must have been left over from the Mitochondria Capacitance Meter. Useless thing blew up in the lab.” He conducted one final sweep of his beard. “That appears to be it.” He tossed me a smile. “I'm sorry what were you saying?”

  “Never mind.” I moved to open the door but he grabbed my arm.

  “NO, WAIT!” Grillick shouted. He shoved me aside violently.

  “What the—” I blurted with surprise.

  “No, no, no, NO!” Grillick stomped his foot in irritation. “Vanth enjoys his privacy and prefers seclusion,” he replied, drawing a deep breath. “The door is warded.”

  “Warded?” I repeated.

  “Yes, yes, YES!” he replied impatiently. “Anyone who touches it wakes the Phoenix.” Grillick pointed at the bird on the door. Carefully, he moved to the side and opened a panel in the wall. Underneath was a smooth, glass interface which was currently blank. Grillick pressed his face into it and a bluish light engulfed his face.

  “Welcome, Grillick the Artificer,” a pleasant female voice chirped from the interface. The door swung inward slowly. The creak that followed sounded like ancient hinges screaming for oil.

  “Now, let's go before you blow us all into the next universe.” He muttered several curses under his breath before leading me through the door.

  The room inside was dimly lit by a single lamp attached to a desk in the corner of the room. Bookshelves lined the walls. Books were stuffed into them like sausage into a casing. When I passed one I thought the breeze of my passing would cause it to burst and rain books all over the place. A hooded figure sat in an oversized chair that looked to be carved from bone. Its bleached whiteness shined with an internal luster which kept the shadows at bay. In the dimly lit room it was impossible to see his face. The hood covered his face and the shadows made it seem like I was looking down a deep well. The armrests of the chair had been carved into serpent heads and his hands were gripping them tightly. With dread I looked for Grillick but he was no longer by my side. He remained next to the door.

  “Don't look at me.” He squeaked. “I'm not going in there.”

  “What the—” I stopped myself before I said something I would later regret. Cautiously I turned toward the hooded figure. He remained seated, completely motionless—dark and silent like the shadows. The door slammed shut behind me and I knew Grillick had left.

  “Son of a bitch,” I griped.

  “There is no need for that language here,” the hooded figure boomed. Inside the confines of the room, his voice was that of God. He rose from the chair and pulled back the hood. His face was pale, rivaling only the whiteness of his chair. His skin, like the chair, glowed with its own luminescence. The shadows feared him and remained in their respective corners. I wasn't sure if it was the effect of being inside such a dimly lit room, but it seemed that the being standing before me radiated power. He was barrel-chested and stood over six feet, but despite his size he was as graceful as a cat. He glided toward me, almost floating above the cobblestone floor. His eyes were milky white like someone affected with cataracts. His eyes were more oblong than a human's, forming boomerangs along the side of his face. His eyebrows seemed to be missing—either that or they blended in with his paleness.

  “I'm s-s-sorry,” I stuttered, shrinking against the door. My back slammed against it as Vanth towered over me. He leaned in to the point where I tasted the smell of musty tomes and mildew radiating off him. His nostrils, the size of quarters, flared as he sniffed the air around me.

  “I smell your fear, human.” As he continued to study me his movements suggested that he was blind. He smelled the air around me and traced my face with cold fingers.

  My fear subsided and became disappointment. “You have to be kidding me.”

  He leaned back with an expression of confusion. “Excuse me?”

  I peeled my back from the door and folded my arms in irritation. “You're blind, aren't you?”

  He paused. “Blind is a relative term,” he replied with a frown. “I see more than you realize.”

  “Great. Grillick said you would help train me to fight. You were supposed to make me some sort of lean, mean fighting machine,” I replied with dismay.

  Vanth bellowed laughter but there was no humor in it. “Who do you think I am? Do you think I am some simple potter and you are this block of clay to be molded into whatever your little heart desires?” He stepped aside and touched the wall with his index finger. Light bathed the room, drowning out the shadows cast from the desk lamp. “I am here to teach you the things you need, not the things you want. Today is the day to let go of the things that no longer serve you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means everything,” he replied gruffly. “Your training hinges on your ability to let go. Let go of your weaknesses. Let go of the past. Embrace your strengths. Prepare for the future.”

  “Thanks a lot Sun Tzu,” I replied, dripping with sarcasm. “What do you suppose I let go of first?”

  “Your attitude, for one thing,” he replied, unsmiling. “Aside from that, what do you think is your biggest weakness?”

  The question caught me by surprise. I pondered it for a long time before answering. What would be considered a weakness to him? I was skinny, not very strong, not that attractive, my hair sucked, I couldn't run very fast, I wasn't athletic. The “weaknesses” poured into my brain like water from a faucet until I looked down at the hand Grillick designed. The loss of my hand culminated from my inability to do what needed to be done to save the ones I loved. In the end my weakness caused me to get captured twice, get several people killed, created failures of epic proportions. I took a deep breath and said the word slowly. “Fear.” When I muttered the word his scowl faded.

  “Fear?” He seemed amused.

  I nodded. “I can't stop being a scared kid. I realize I am no longer some naïve teenager from Earth. I need to put my big boy pants on and become a man.”

  Vanth folded his arms across his barrel chest. “Fear is a tool. Use it. Wield it like a weapon and strike your enemies down with it. Learn that and nothing can stop you.”

  His words reminded me of something and I chuckled.

  “What's so funny?” he demanded.

  My smile faded quickly. “Sorry, I was thinking of something someone said long ago. A former President of the United States once said; 'the only thing you have to fear is fear itself'.”

  For several moments he stood and stared at me. Finally he shook his head in dismay. “That is a statement for the weak. Never fear an emotion, control it.”

  “Well, anyway,” I muttered. “It's probably my biggest weakness. That and these skinny arms,” I added. He glanced at them with a disinterested look. When I looked at them, however, I gri
maced. I hadn't exactly been eating well these past few months and it showed in my arms. They looked as if they could scare off a few crows.

  “So be it.” He retrieved a six-foot-long staff from the corner of the room. The shaft was an angry gray, like a stormy sky. At the top of the staff was a carving which resembled a lantern and at the bottom was a baseball-sized knob shaped like a skull. Two black gems, similar to onyx, were embedded in the eye sockets. “If you are prepared to forget the past, improve the present and lay the path for the future, follow me and begin your voyage.”

  Without taking my eyes off the staff I nodded and followed him out the door.

  Training

  Day 1

  Sunlight fell on my face, waking me. I stretched and felt a renewed sense of purpose after my conversation with Vanth. Outside my window, the barren wasteland of Exorg 1 greeted me. Even though I was anxious regarding my upcoming training, I looked forward to conquering my fears. Clasping my hands over my head I stretched one last time before strolling over to the mobile Sustanant. Grillick had been kind enough to bring one in yesterday.

  “Time for me to start my voyage to the unknown,” I said with a yawn. “Let's start it with a coffee.”

  I punched in “COFFEE” and the door slid open, revealing a steaming cup of the black stuff. With a smile I grabbed the cup and lifted it to my lips. It only took one sip for the smile to fade.

  “My God, this tastes like used motor oil,” I spat. I put the cup down and punched in an order for water. As soon as the door opened I guzzled the water down in the hope it would drown out the taste of engine. I also ordered some toast with butter which tasted bland, but I was able to choke it down.

  A knock at the door interrupted my breakfast. “Come in,” I shouted through mouthfuls of toast.

  Grillick entered along with one of his armored soldiers. I swallowed hard. What does he need a soldier for? He quickly put my suspicions to rest. “Good morning, Nathan. I trust you slept well? This here is Sergeant Cantrell, he will show you around the complex before you meet with Vanth today.”

  When the soldier removed his helmet I recognized him as the person in the train tunnel on Gorganna. “I'm no babysitter so let's make this quick,” he grumbled.

  “Sergeant Cantrell's pleasance has no equal,” Grillick countered sarcastically. “Fortunately for him the tour will have to be quick because Vanth is expecting you in one hour.”

  “Bah,” the sergeant barked. “Follow me and try to keep up.”

  I followed him out the door and tried to keep up as best I could. For every step he took I had to take two. He was a big man and his legs were long. In the beginning of the tour I could tell he wanted to get it over quickly but eventually he slowed and explained areas more thoroughly, especially when it came to the barracks area and mess hall. The entire complex was designed as a perfect circle. The walls of the halls were constructed of some sort of gray synthetic material that lit up as we walked past. Vanth's complex had been designed with four guest rooms, a medical facility, a mess hall, a barracks, a weapons storage room and his office. Every room surrounded what Cantrell referred to as “The Octagon”—a room designed with eight angled walls that served as a training room. “Oh, you are gonna have fun in here,” Cantrell scoffed when we passed by the room.

  The tour ended in front of Vanth's office. Unlike my first visit, this time the door was open. “This is where our little tour comes to an end,” Cantrell said gruffly. “Hopefully he doesn't break you like he did with the last one.” He hitched his belt and stomped off towards the barracks.

  “Gee, thanks,” I muttered before stepping into Vanth's office. I found him hunched over a tome as big as a dictionary with a single candle burning nearby. A feeling of déjà vu came over me as I recalled our first meeting.

  “Good morning, Nathan,” he said without looking up from the tome. “Are you ready to become the person the universe needs you to be.”

  I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Wow, the entire universe,” I mumbled. “No pressure, I guess.”

  Vanth stared at me, and despite his blindness I felt his cloudy eyes studying me. He lifted his hood over his head, enveloping his face in shadow. “There will be pressure. You will deal with it or you will die.” He grabbed his staff and led me from the room.

  I chewed a fingernail off on the way to the training room. To say I was nervous would be like saying a tornado was just a mild breeze. Set panic mode to DEFCON 1 please. When we entered the training room I was convinced I would piss myself.

  Cantrell rushed me through the room during the tour so I didn't get a chance to take in everything around me. Now that we were about to start training I examined the room with a bit more scrutiny. Paintings of people (some slightly human, others with faces so unearthly they seemed to be yanked directly from the nightmares of hell) lined almost every inch of the walls.

  “Who are they?” I motioned to the images, but then I remembered he was blind and mentally facepalmed myself before adding, “The people on the walls.”

  Vanth placed his hand upon the closest wall, covering one of the images. He closed his eyes and spoke slowly and methodically. “They came to me seeking the way. Some days I can feel their souls crying out. They beg me for a second chance; one that I cannot give.”

  “A straight answer would be nice sometimes,” I grumbled.

  Vanth let out a long, deep sigh. “This is your first day so I will forgive your impatience. Just remember that I will not always be so forgiving.” He clutched his staff tightly and the skull scraped ominously against the stone-tiled floor. “They failed their training and paid for that failure with their lives.”

  I swallowed hard and studied their faces. There had to have been hundreds of pictures hanging on the walls. Some looked like warriors, others could have been no older than kids. Just like me.

  Vanth led me to the center of the room which was separated by four foot metal poles scattered around the area, forming a smaller octagon. The “mini-octagon” was roughly thirty feet from corner to corner. The floor felt soft underneath my boots, sort of like the wrestling mats we had at our school gym. “This is where most of your combat training will take place.”

  “Is this where they failed?” I asked, indicating the people on the wall.

  “That question is the first in what will surely be a long list of failures on your part. Let us pray that you do not fail when it counts.” Vanth scowled and gripped his staff tightly. “Do not focus on the where or how, focus on the why. Your question should have been: 'Why did they fail'?” He leaned against a nearby pole and rested his chin against his staff before closing his eyes. “They all failed for various reasons. Several did not believe my words. A few did not listen to my words. Others did not hear my words.”

  I had no clue what the difference was between the three but decided to remain silent. It didn't seem to be the proper time to be asking such questions. Vanth left the inner octagon and I followed but he held up his hand.

  “Wait here,” he commanded. “Your training will begin shortly. This part is just an assessment and will not be used toward the final judgment.”

  I stiffened. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “You fight.” Vanth turned and slammed his staff into a notch in the ground. Electricity passed between the poles, forming an electric fence. The center of the floor began to glow bright orange and an image formed above it. At first it was nothing more than a dark-colored shadow. As the seconds passed it swirled, molded and morphed like a large black chunk of modeling clay. Eventually it stopped and took on the form of a man. When the transformation was complete, Shai stood at the center of the room, tossing me the same smug smile I left him with. I looked to Vanth for guidance. He held out his hand, palm facing me as if he were expecting me to high-five him. “Go.”

  I turned my attention to my adversary who looked at me like a predator and I was the prey. I clenched my right hand and looked at it, recalling what he did to me which only filled me
with rage. He took a step forward and my mind went blank. Everything was covered in a red blanket of rage. I rushed him with the intent of caving in his smug face and pummeling it until it was nothing more than a slush pile.

  He apparently had other ideas. He easily side-stepped my advance and punched me in the side, knocking the wind out of me and bringing me to my knees.

  “No,” I gasped and got back up on one knee.

  Shai knocked me to the floor with a blow to the back of my head. It felt like he dropped an anvil on it. I laid face down on the ground, gasping for air as the world dimmed around me. I turned to see his boots. I felt like I had just been run over by a bus. I struggled to move and braced for a blow which never came.

  “There is more work to be done than I had originally estimated,” Vanth said. The fence disappeared and he entered the ring. Shai was gone.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked, struggling to catch my breath.

  “That was your first test to measure your ability in battle. I have concluded that you have none.” He brought the staff down and clubbed me over the head.

  “Ow, what the—,” I cried.

  “That was for being absolutely terrible in a simple skirmish. What would have happened had there been two adversaries? What would have happened if there were ten?” He tapped the staff on the ground impatiently.

  “I probably would have gotten my butt kicked,” I mumbled. I rubbed my head and would not have been surprised had I felt a lantern-shaped indentation in my skull.

  “You would be dead,” he clarified.

  “So does that mean I fail?” He was right. If I couldn't beat a holographic image of Shai, how was I supposed to beat the real version? I have never felt more disappointed.

  “No.” He clutched the staff in both hands and leaned on it. “I was disappointed by your performance but not surprised. You were never expected to beat him. You can savor one small victory. You got up and continued to fight. That is a start.”

  “But I lost,” I argued.