The Awakening (The Fempiror Chronicles Book 1)

by George Willson

  “Here we are,” Zechariah said suddenly.

  David looked up out of his thoughts to see a store called “The Lost Art of Jijunga” that blended into the rest of the stores in Erim with its gray-on-gray color scheme. The letter design, though in the common language, resembled the Felletterusk characters that Zechariah had shown David as they had been traveling.

  “What’s Jijunga?” David asked, pointing to the new word on the sign.

  Zechariah shrugged with a smile. “I really don’t know,” he said. “Tiberius made it up. I think it’s supposed to be some kind of meditation.”

  David stared after Zechariah as he entered the shop. While there were many things Zechariah knew, he was largely unconcerned with the things that he knew nothing about, and he had no problem sharing that he did not know. He wondered for a moment what some of the older women of Hauginstown would pretend to know about Jijunga before he followed Zechariah inside.

  They entered a wide-open room with a wooden floor and a large soft mat that covered almost the entire surface. The back of the room had a single door leading into the rear portion of the building, and David could only guess at how much went on behind that wall. Whatever Tiberius used this space for, it certainly did not look like a store. Hauginstown had nothing like it, so David could not fathom what it was for.

  As if on cue, a man walked out of the back room. He looked older than Zechariah did with short white hair and a white beard, neatly trimmed, but dressed as modern as the rest of the town, with brown breeches, tan stockings and shirt, and a brown waistcoat. His shoes, David noticed, were simply tied, like David’s were, as opposed to the higher end buckles that he had seen in a lot of the town. Tiberius was either poor or modest, and as the clothes appeared to be in very good condition, David leaned toward modesty.

  Upon seeing Zechariah, Tiberius smiled. “Zechariah,” he exclaimed.

  “How are you doing, Tiberius?” Zechariah asked moving towards him. They embraced like old friends in a brief hug continuing to greet each other.

  Zechariah stepped back, gently grabbed David by the shoulder, and pulled him forward. Tiberius’ expression faltered slightly as he looked at the newcomer, but Zechariah remained upbeat.

  “David, this is Tiberius,” Zechariah explained. “He trained and commanded the Rastem for their original battles back in the war. He also served to train or support almost every Rastem since, and most Rastem still look to him as their commander, though he is too humble to admit it.”

  “How do you do,” David greeted Tiberius. Tiberius watched David warily. David averted his eyes uneasily. He glanced at Zechariah who only nodded towards Tiberius. David looked back at Tiberius who had not moved.

  “So how do you come to be with us, young one?” Tiberius asked.

  David shifted his feet nervously. Zechariah had not mentioned anything like this would be coming. “Well,” David began, “I was walking home, and this man stopped me in the town square. He had taken an older man from our town and had him in this cave out east of town.”

  “By the old mill?” Zechariah spoke up, surprised. David looked at him and nodded. Zechariah shook his head. “There’s never been a cave out there.”

  “I know,” David said. “But there was the other night. My beloved fell into it through the floor of the mill.”

  “So there was a cave where there wasn’t one before,” Tiberius clarified. David nodded. “And,” Tiberius continued, turning to Zechariah, “you say that there wasn’t one there before.”

  “That’s right,” Zechariah said.

  Tiberius nodded. “And how long was it since you’d been there, Zechariah?”

  Zechariah looked away for a moment. He appeared to be thinking very hard about this. Tiberius raised his eyebrows.

  “Long enough for a Fempiror to dig a cave?” Tiberius asked.

  “Yes, at least that long,” Zechariah replied.

  Tiberius nodded and paced the floor briefly. David’s eyes followed him as he moved. “So this person you met in the town square that you also saw in this cave that was not there before,” Tiberius continued. “What did he do?”

  David recounted the coldness of the stabbing, the burning of the change, and waking up in Zechariah’s room. Tiberius asked further questions to satisfy what David assumed to be suspicions about David turning up the way he did. He turned away from David again when David finished his tale with the entry into Erim.

  Throughout this, Tiberius did not address Zechariah, nor did he allow Zechariah to respond to David when David asked about certain points of the journey that he did not understand. Tiberius only wanted to know what David knew without the embellishment of a four-hundred-year-old Fempiror who knew everything already.

  Suddenly, Tiberius swung his arm around and stopped his fist only inches from David’s face. David cringed but had the blow continued, Tiberius would have hit him. Tiberius relaxed.

  “Why did you do that?” David asked, surprised.

  “I wanted to see your reaction,” Tiberius said without a trace of humor.

  “Why?” David asked with more than a hint of disdain in his voice.

  “Because you have told me that you have been a rather repressed tailor’s apprentice your entire life,” Tiberius responded. “If you were lying to me, your reflexes as a trained fighter would have taken precedence over this act and tried to block me. However, you responded like a common person. You did nothing but flinch.”

  “You’re convinced?” Zechariah asked.

  “Indeed,” he said, looking at Zechariah. “Well, what do you want to do with him? You’ve been away from Erim a long time. Did you come back to let me deal with him so you could continue your crusade?”

  “Deal with me?” David asked in surprise.

  “This boy and the one who changed him is more proof of the Tepish return,” Zechariah said, his excitement rekindled.

  Tiberius closed his eyes and shook his head. “More Tepish reports, Zechariah? Why do you persist in this?”

  “I have spoken to Head Karian and I’m meeting with the council tonight,” Zechariah said.

  Tiberius’ eyes widened in disbelief. “You called an emergency meeting?”

  “Tiberius, the Tepish have returned. This encounter is proof.”

  “The encounter will be dismissed as an isolated incident.”

  “They need to know.”

  “They don’t care,” Tiberius said, finishing the conversation.

  Zechariah clenched his fists in frustration. Tiberius’ expression remained unchanged.

  “Zechariah,” Tiberius said, “mere mentions of the Tepish Order were outlawed years ago.”

  “We have to face this,” Zechariah insisted. “If we don’t, the Tepish way will be law, and our lives won’t be the only ones ended.”

  “Look, Zechariah, things aren’t going well in Erim,” Tiberius said. “It may not be Tepish-related, but lines are being drawn between humans and Fempiror. It’s not obvious, but it’s happening. There are some who don’t even speak to humans. Many of the stores close during the day now. I don’t know where this is coming from, but the changing of a boy into a Fempiror won’t get you many sympathetic ears – code or no code.” Tiberius looked at Zechariah, hopeful that Zechariah might change his mind about the council, but Zechariah remained resolute.

  Tiberius shook his head. “It’s too late to stop this,” he said, “but we might be able to use it to our advantage.”

  Zechariah suddenly turned hopeful. “What do you have in mind?” he asked.

  “They will make it well known that you were removed from the council for the same presentation that you are making today,” Tiberius said.

  “That was not a vain mission,” Zechariah chimed in, cutting Tiberius off. “We knew that the Tepish emerged and massed at that location.”

  “The location had no evidence of habitation,” Tiberius reminded Zechariah. “In twenty-five years, no one’s found anything, including you.”

  “Nothing anyo
ne has lived to tell about,” Zechariah said with a grumble.

  “Speak the truth, Zechariah,” Tiberius said. “If this goes as badly as I suspect it will, and you suggest the Tepish, you’ll be captured. If you try to run, they get you with Chasers.” Zechariah looked at him questioningly. “Oh yes,” Tiberius said, “it has been a while, hasn’t it?

  “Chasers are like Levi-Carts, but smaller and faster. Everything has changed since you left. Even if they had solid proof, I suspect they’d cover it up.”

  David looked between Tiberius and Zechariah. Zechariah was shaking his head.

  “Excuse me,” David said. Tiberius and Zechariah looked at him. “Why am I here? I don’t wish to be a burden, but if I’m just something to be dealt with, I’d like to know.”

  “David,” Zechariah sighed, “there are dark times ahead. You must have some knowledge of how to defend yourself, or you cannot survive.”

  “But I don’t belong here,” David insisted.

  “Many have come who don’t belong,” Tiberius said matter-of-factly. “Over time, willingly or unwillingly, they learn.”

  “It’s not that I’m unwilling to learn, it’s simply a matter of knowing what is to become of me,” David said. Truth be told, he had no interest in fighting. He only wanted to learn what he needed to know to allow him to return home, although he was gathering from Zechariah little by little that that day would never come.

  David looked at Zechariah. “You said that we aren’t allowed to live among humans until trained and conditioned,” David reminded him. “So what does that mean? How do I need to be trained and conditioned to be set free?”

  Zechariah nodded to Tiberius. Tiberius walked to a large cylindrical container containing six wooden practice swords. Tiberius pulled one of the simply designed swords out of the container. It had a straight hilt that would accommodate two hands, a simple cross-guard, and a straight, cylindrical “blade” that was roughly thirty inches long.

  “Catch,” Tiberius said and without a pause, tossed it to David. It sailed smoothly through the air, a lazy spin placed on it by Tiberius. David reflexively raised his hand and caught the wooden sword by the hilt, blade standing up.

  “What are we doing?” David asked. This was not the churning stick from his lonely alley. This was something more real – more serious. David observed how light and solid it felt in his hand and part of him liked it.

  “If you think you want to go back home,” Tiberius said, “which is the intention of most who come into this life unexpectedly, then you need to be ready for what you may come against. You have to know that changing anyone is wrong. You have to be ready to run if attacked, and if it comes to it, fight your way out if cornered. Most importantly, you have to be able to hold your own against someone who intends to transmutate someone illegally. I have no doubts that you can get away from a group of angry humans, but facing off against a member of our own race will take time to learn. Zechariah will most likely perform most of your training in his own time, but we can give you a taste of it here while we have a moment just to give you an idea of what you’re getting into.”

  David felt butterflies in his stomach. He looked at the sword he had caught much to the satisfaction of the older Fempiror. He nodded nervously.

  “What you’re holding,” Tiberius continued, “is a practice long sword. Beginners use them for assaults, or arms exercises, so they don’t hurt themselves.”

  “Or you?” David asked.

  Tiberius smiled grimly. “If the thought would make you feel better, then yes.”

  David shook his head. Of course, he would never be able to touch either of these two fighters. He had never held anything like this before, and he would look like a newborn compared to them while attempting to swing it.

  “The idea behind the wood we use in these is that they don’t break during hours of hard practice,” Tiberius said, “But I think those of us who have used them have broken at least one.”

  “Or a dozen,” Zechariah chimed in.

  Tiberius nodded with a genuine smile finally. Some of his hard exterior had started to melt away as he spoke, and Zechariah’s comment seemed to speed the process a little more.

  “The sword is the main weapon of the Rastem,” Tiberius continued, “It is your defense and your inner strength.” He took one of the wooden swords in his right hand and walked back over to stand in front of David. David looked up at him. “Now,” Tiberius said, “try to hit me.”

  David looked at the sword in his hand. None of this felt natural, but he felt like he was rather bound to try this exercise in order to try to get back home.

  He swung the sword lazily in a high forward arc. In a blinding fast move, Tiberius went from standing with the sword relaxed at his side, to blocking the blow with ease.

  “That was nothing,” Tiberius said. “You didn’t even try.”

  It was true, of course. David had just swung the sword, not knowing anything about what he was doing. He swung it again, a little harder this time. Again, Tiberius blocked it.

  “Better,” Tiberius said. “But really put your strength into it. You’ve got a lot more of it now, and you’re barely tapping into it. You can even dig into some of that anger and frustration I’m sure you have about losing everything.”

  Tiberius was right about the anger and frustration he had been suppressing. He took a couple more swings. Tiberius blocked both of them easily again.

  “Come on,” Tiberius urged. “Really hit me!”

  David tried again, this time swinging harder. Tiberius stopped every single blow. The one-sided assault was wearing on David. He swung faster and harder, putting himself into it now.

  “Good,” Tiberius said between blocks. “Very good. Now we’re getting somewhere. You still can’t hit me, though.”

  David stopped for a moment, breathing heavily. Tiberius gestured for David to come at him. With a roar, David swung hard and fast against Tiberius. He was kicking more dust off his clothes into a small cloud around them. Blow after blow fell furiously against Tiberius blocks, which David could still not get through.

  Now he was getting frustrated. He noted that he was backing Tiberius toward a wall of the shop, and the old man appeared to be getting a little concern etched in his face. David had youth on his side and struck even harder. He finally had Tiberius against a wall. He was going to win this.

  Without warning, Tiberius struck back. In one move, Tiberius knocked David’s sword out of the way and touched the blunt tip of the wooden sword gently against David’s chest. David stood still, completely stunned as to how a fight he thought he was winning had turned so suddenly.

  “What happened?” David asked.

  “I fought back,” Tiberius said simply. “I think you missed that all I had done to that point was block you. Swinging is easy. Stopping the swing is what takes skill.”

  Tiberius took a wide swing at David. David moved the sword and blocked him. Tiberius smiled. “Very good.”

  Tiberius and David turned to Zechariah to find they had another visitor. Standing next to Zechariah, David could see that the visitor was taller than Zechariah was with slim, chiseled features, a small mouth, and deep blue eyes behind which seemed to hide many mysteries. His white hair was trimmed short and he was clean-shaven, a stark contrast to the wild, unkempt look of Zechariah. He was dressed as what could only be a member of the council in a long blue velvet robe with yellow embroidery descending in a V-shape from his neck to about two-thirds of the way down the front of the robe. The sleeves were long and wide; his hat was made of the same fabric as the robe and was a simple flat crown style with no brim.

  “David,” Tiberius said with a smile, “This is Vladimir, a Rastem who fought by our side back in the Felletterusk War, and a member of the council as you can probably see.”

  Vladimir looked very amused by the assault David had just had with Tiberius.

  “You know, Tiberius,” Vladimir said, “if you were looking for an easy fight, I could have broug
ht Jarvis in here, and it would have at least looked legitimate.”

  Having met Jarvis, David could not help but chuckle at the jab Vladimir had clearly made against Head Karian’s assistant. Tiberius and Zechariah laughed as well.

  “No, I was just introducing Zechariah’s young friend here to swordplay,” Tiberius said.

  “Mind if I have a go?” Vladimir asked. “I want to make sure I don’t get beaten by a young one.”

  “Well,” Tiberius said, “I’m a little winded, but perhaps Zechariah can provide a formidable opponent for you. It’ll also let David see some action between some real fighters.”

  Vladimir turned to Zechariah with a smile. “All right, Zechariah, shall we see how rusty you've gotten out there in Hauginstown?”

  “Do you think you can finally beat him?” Tiberius asked.

  Vladimir smiled confidently – almost cocky. “I keep up my training,” he said.

  “Vladimir’s been trying to beat me for years,” Zechariah said to David. “He’s never been able to do it.”

  “And maybe today’s my day,” Vladimir said.

  Tiberius tossed the wooden sword to Vladimir as David handed his to Zechariah. Vladimir caught Tiberius’ sword easily and twirled it with that same cocky confidence around his fingers before settling it into his hand. Zechariah, by contrast, only held the sword at his side, making Vladimir’s hand tricks seem interesting, but David wondered if the tricks translated into skill.

  “How are you lately?” Zechariah asked Vladimir as they walked to the center of the room.

  “Disturbed, I would say,” Vladimir said seriously. “I received an urgent communication stating a code fifty-seven meeting was called for tonight. I knew only the great Zechariah would do such a thing. In fact, he's the only one outside the council who knows what one is.”

  “How long have you been on the council?” Zechariah asked.

  “I replaced you twenty-five years ago,” Vladimir replied. “It reduced the brunt of your loss.”

  “Really?” Zechariah said, surprised. “You know, in all this time, no one has ever mentioned you were on the council. Not even when I approached them fifteen years ago. There were only six members present for that meeting, so I assume you were unable to attend.”