Awakenings

by C. D. Espeseth

  “That we are, Steven. We’ll leave you to it then, I’m sure you and your crew have quite a bit to do today.”

  “Oh, ain’t that the truth, sir. No rest for the wicked,” Steven said with a wave. He pulled a length of the new ‘electrical wire’ through a device which Wayran recognised as a modified Spierling brand wire cutter.

  “Always nice to see a man who enjoys his work.” Fellow Callahan smiled as he led them through the doors of the Artificium.

  As they entered, Wayran noticed yet another difference. Several of the Jendar relics which had been adorning the entranceway had been taken down leaving large gaps in the brilliant display.

  “Well, look who it is, I was wondering when you’d show up again!” Bree Olmson said from her workbench near the front door. Though, as Wayran took a closer look, it was not the same workbench she had had before.

  “Nice workbench,” Wayran commented, “though it doesn’t seem the same without the entrails of a Jendar relic decorating its top.”

  “Oh, this isn’t my desk.” Bree held up her hand. “I’ve been promoted I’ll have you know. I’m almost a full Chronicler now. No, I’ve got my own office in the new wing, only a few doors down from our new resident boy genius. This desk, this is … what was your name again?” Bree looked at the shy young man who had just popped his head out from around the corner.

  “Isham, miss,” the young man said with a bowed head.

  “That’s it. This is Isham’s desk. He’s on greeting duty now.” Bree grinned with satisfaction. “Yep, it’s finally a good time to be a Chronicler. Things are happening, Wayran, I tell ya. Should have stayed with us instead of joining the military.”

  Wayran rolled his eyes at that. Hindsight, he thought, if only. Maybe there was still a way? No, not without alienating himself from his family, as there were some rather serious consequences to desertion. He was also not in the mood for going over all the mistakes he had made recently. “Yes, it seems like it. Is Chronicler Talbot in? We need to have a look at the book I found.”

  “Ah, yes,” Bree said. “I was wondering when you’d get back for that. Isham, go see if Chronicler Talbot has a minute for our guests here.”

  “Yes, miss.” Isham nodded and marked his spot in the book on his desk before hurrying down the hall.

  “Sorry, Wayran,” Bree said with a smile. “I know you always used to be able to just kind of walk in to see Chronicler Talbot, it’s just the new boss has us all really busy now. He’s got schedules and rotas set as well as preferential orders of research topics. It’s all tightened up pretty quickly. Someone as senior as Chronicler Talbot now oversees dozens of projects. Don’t even get me started on how many Chronicler Rutherford is personally managing now, it must be close to a hundred. Mr Euchre is pumping money into anything we might be able to recreate these days and Chronicler Rutherford is the best at recreating what the Jendar refer to as ‘historical technology’. It’s all very exciting. Things we have only ever read about are now actually becoming things we can touch and use.”

  Fellow Callahan looked very interested, but also slightly worried. “Is anyone asking the question about what sort of impact these ancient marvels might have on the greater world of today? Is anyone asking whether these contraptions should be brought back?”

  Bree’s back stiffened. “No disrespect, Fellow, but the Chroniclers have had people anxious or outright hostile towards us for a long time now, and it’s exactly that sort of thinking which has held us back for so long. It’s time for change as Mr Euchre says. He’s a true visionary, sees us all in a future where you might travel from Wadachi to New Toeron in less than a day! There are these things called trains that the people before the Jendar had. Giant steam-powered metal carts which rolled along on shining metal tracks all across the continent. Can you imagine that?”

  “Sounds like unholy blasphemy,” Adel said and then put a hand to her mouth. “Sorry, it’s just Father would definitely not approve of all this.”

  Fellow Callahan and Bree both looked about to say something, and Wayran had a hunch an argument was imminent.

  Thankfully, Isham hurried back towards them down the hall. “Chronicler Talbot has a moment now. You’ll find him in the new wing, in workshop four. I’ll escort you if you’ll just follow me.” Isham bowed slightly and extended a hand for them to follow.

  “Another time, Miss Olmson,” Fellow Callahan said as he passed. “Just remember, it is an academic’s responsibility to question everything, which includes should we as well as could we. Wonders abound in our wide world, but some of them we may not be ready for. Just think about it is all I ask. I’m not asking you to try and stop progress, I’m just saying be careful.”

  Bree looked somewhat chagrined but also as if she would take Fellow Callahan’s words seriously. “I will, Fellow Callahan.”

  They left and followed Isham through a much more chaotic Artificium than Wayran had ever seen before. There were dozens of people scurrying about in the halls, moving from place to place with a sense of purpose and pride. Every time Wayran had been here before you’d be lucky to meet a single person in the halls, as the few Chroniclers he remembered being here were usually squirrelled away in some corner reading a book or tinkering with some broken down Jendar artefact.

  How things had changed.

  “I don’t ever remember seeing this many Chroniclers about, Isham. Where did they all come from?”

  “Recruitment drives within the city have brought in many new faces, but most are Chroniclers from all over the Nine Nations, everyone has been turning up in droves once they heard large amounts of funding might be available for their research.”

  “That would do it all right.” Wayran laughed. He shrugged, remembering the many times he had visited this place and only seen thin old men and women looking like they desperately needed a solid meal rather than another book. Yet most of them would spend their money on tools or equipment for their experiments or on the next odd Jendar relic someone had found and dragged in. Money and legitimacy had always been in short supply within the Artificiae scattered around Salucia.

  Before long they came to a new door which opened into a newly constructed laboratory and work area. Chronicler Talbot was grinning from ear to ear as he talked to a very tall and very rich looking young man. The young man had his back to them, but Chronicler Talbot waved them in once he saw Wayran and Fellow Callahan.

  “Fellow Callahan, good to see you sir, and accompanied by none other than our famous explorer, Wayran Spierling. To what do we owe the honour?” Chronicler Talbot spread his big hands as if to embrace them.

  It was then the tall man turned to face them, and Wayran froze in his tracks and felt the air leave him as if he had been hit in the gut.

  It was him.

  The tall man from his nightmares, the man who would kill Wayran in his dreams nearly every night, stood across from him, smiling.

  “No,” Wayran mouthed, though no more than a whisper escaped his lips. His heart felt like it would burst, and his spine went rigid as his hands started to shake.

  The man noticed and tilted his head to study him further, squinting slightly like a curious wolf, just like he did in the dreams before he killed Wayran.

  Wayran felt his legs start to falter, but then suddenly someone was holding his hand. A hand so strong and solid that he latched onto it.

  He looked down and only now noticed Adel standing beside him. Her hand held his, and she too was staring at Thannis.

  “Thannis,” Adel said, “the constabulary was looking for you. Hope you aren’t in any trouble.”

  Thannis turned his stare to Adel, and Wayran felt the entire room fill to choking with promised violence between the two.

  Through her hand, Wayran felt how tense Adel’s body was. She was coiled like a viper.

  Wayran finally found the strength back in his legs, and air finally returned to his lungs. He gave Adel’s hand a squeeze and then let go, giving her the freedom to move if things were about
to erupt.

  Yet Adel’s threat slid off Thannis as if he were oil. His smile widened, and he laughed. “Adel Corbin was it? Ah yes, I remember you now, the strange country-girl from the ferry. Apologies, you seem to think we are on familiar terms. I must have given you the impression that we were more than just travel companions when we talked last, Ms Corbin. You may refer to me as Mr Euchre, just like everyone else.”

  Adel’s jaw tightened, and she was about to say something when Fellow Callahan stepped in front of Adel and grasped Chronicler Talbot’s hand.

  “Good to see you again, Chronicler, yes, much has changed since we last talked. You must fill us in on it all. Is there a place we may wait for you while you conclude your business with Mr Euchre?” Fellow Callahan smiled apologetically and gave a slight bow to both Chronicler Talbot and this Mr Euchre.

  “No need, good Fellow,” Thannis said. “I have already had my report from Chronicler Talbot. I have other matters to attend to. Chronicler Sanders!” Thannis called to a short and somewhat portly young man busy on the desk in the far corner. The young man had what looked like nearly a dozen Jendar surfaces activated, and his fingers were dancing through glowing blue images hovering above the surfaces at a speed faster than Wayran could keep track of.

  “Chronicler Sanders.” Thannis’s jaw tightened as he breathed out slowly “Jachem Sanders.”

  The man’s head popped up, and he turned to face them. “Yes? What is it, Mr Euchre? I was in the middle of something.”

  Thannis clenched his jaw yet again as the insolence of his newest recruit having finally chipped away at his practised facade. “Excuse me,” he said. “My newest prodigy also has trouble understanding the subtle nuances of polite culture.” Thannis’s smile returned as he left, yet his comment was meant solely for Adel.

  “Yes, sir. Of course. I’m sure young Jachem has no doubt unlocked a dozen more secrets in this past hour.” Chronicler Talbot’s large jowls bobbed under his chin as he laughed nervously and his face noticeably went a dark shade of pink as he humbled himself before Thannis. “I shall have my report on my own research sent to you by the end of the day, Mr Euchre, sir.”

  “Very good.” Thannis nodded and turned sharply on his heel to join Jachem at the desk as the young Chronicler Sanders seemed to have already lost interest in whatever was going on with the group of people behind him. His hands flashed in a series of motions like that of an orchestral conductor and the blue flickering images above the Jendar technology jumped to his every command.

  Chronicler Talbot directed them hurriedly over to a far corner of the room where the door to an impressive office stood and gestured them inside.

  “Wayran?” Chronicler Talbot said, only narrowly beating Fellow Callahan to it. “What was that? Do you know Mr Euchre somehow? The look on your face was as if you’d just seen a ghost.”

  “I ... well, it’s hard to explain. I’ve had a repeating dream for years now. Not every night, but usually at least a few times a week. Matoh knows about them. But ...Thannis, I mean Mr Euchre, well, I swear he was one of the people I kept seeing in my dreams. But I’ve never met him in person before.”

  “He did something bad in them, didn’t he?” Adel asked. She still looked like she was about to spring into action, her eyes scanned the far side of the room where Thannis and Chronicler Sanders talked like a wolf watching a rival.

  “Yes, but I don’t know what that means. The dream is so strange, and there are so many parts of it which I don’t understand at all.”

  “Well that is a very odd coincidence indeed, but at least that’s all they are. Right? Just dreams?” Chronicler Talbot’s face had finally lost its crimson shade of pink and was back to normal, but he seemed to be trying to reassure himself as much as Wayran.

  “I’m not so sure of that, my friend,” Fellow Callahan said. “Young Wayran here appears to have the gift of foresight. He told you of how he saved Matoh in the Wastes? Has he told you what happened at the initiation ceremony?”

  “I’ve only heard second hand,” Chronicler Talbot answered, holding his hands to his chest in shock.

  “Wayran has had a vision, one which hits too close to the secret beliefs of the Quinnites. Secrets which he could never have known or deciphered by chance.” Fellow Callahan paused and held Chronicler Talbot’s eyes. “He knows of Kali, and the need for the keys of salvation.”

  Chronicler Talbot thumped down into his chair and looked as if he might have a stroke.

  “Not only that. He’s seen her. He knows where she is.”

  “The Jendar ruin.” Chronicler Talbot turned to Wayran as he opened a drawer of his desk. “Where you found this. She was there, wasn’t she?” He pulled out the journal of Robert Mannford and handed it back to Wayran.

  “Yes.” Wayran took the book gladly, somehow just holding it again made a great weight lift from his shoulders. He was meant to find this, and this book was part of it all, a clue to the mystery of the great danger he had seen in his vision. “Though I had no idea what I was looking at when I was there the first time. Kali is a great machine, a machine that runs through the core of the great complex itself. Matoh and I only saw glimpses of her as we fumbled our way through, but the vision I had put all the pieces together. Kali is Mannford’s greatest creation and somehow has the power to destroy the world once again. I think she was behind the Ciwix all those years ago.”

  Everyone tried to comprehend what Wayran was saying, but Adel shook her head. “How does Thannis connect to any of this? The constabulary want to ask him some questions, but I doubt it has anything to do with some ancient machine. What is it that Thannis does in your dream?”

  “Well …” Wayran swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat, “… in most of the dreams, he ... kills me.”

  “Kills you?!” Adel gasped along with Chronicler Talbot.

  “Why?” Fellow Callahan had been listening quietly with keen interest. “Why does he kill you?”

  Wayran tried to think, not having thought about why something happened in his dream, as he just assumed it was something wrong with him, but now that he thought about it … “He stops me from opening the door, from getting into the tower. He chases me and then kills me as I’m trying to put a key into the door. It’s like he wants to stop me, wants me to give him the key.”

  “No doubt Mr Euchre has some part to play in all of this,” Fellow Callahan said, “yet what it may be is still vague at best.”

  “Chronicler Talbot,” Wayran began, “how much of this journal were you able to translate? The clues to all of this are in here.” Wayran held up the journal.

  “Not much, I’m afraid. Much of it is not just simple Jendar. Many of the passages and entries seem to be written in some sort of cypher. I was making some headway on it, but then Mr Euchre turned the whole place on its head, and we have prioritised research now. My plate is full with researching everything we can about the technology in use before the Jendar Empire rose to power, with a priority on anything which may be possible to recreate now. The incredible wealth being thrown our way has opened up an astounding amount of possibilities. Mr Euchre has even promised to keep us safe from any Singer retaliation to our discoveries. No offence, Fellow Callahan, I know you are close with many within the Faith.”

  “None taken. Their inquisition was always an abomination to the Tenets of the Elohim in my mind. Your brethren suffered at the hands of zealots for too long, so I am happy for your new-found safety.” Fellow Callahan put a reassuring hand on Chronicler Talbot’s shoulder.

  “Can’t you prioritise this research then? I saw something terrible in those visions. Destruction and death on such a scale that the Union Wars would pale in comparison. What could be more important than that?” Wayran felt the desperation in his voice but couldn’t help it. He was desperate. He needed help, he needed to figure this all out.

  “I’m sorry, Wayran. It sounds terrible, but I’ll need more to go on than that. What will I tell Mr Euchre? That one of the leading C
hroniclers has decided to drop anything tied to his funding to follow a hunch? I trust you Wayran, and I know you wouldn’t ask if you didn’t think it was important, but if I don’t take this opportunity we have, the rest of my order might disown me. Plus, we have a chance here for true legitimacy. All those who died under religious persecution, believing the work we did was worth giving up their lives for, would haunt me till my final days if I didn’t give it my all to build the institution they dreamed of.”

  Chronicler Talbot looked heartbroken, but Wayran could see the resolve in his statement as well.

  “Look, I’ll give you what I have so far, but even our newest member, the young genius, Chronicler Sanders over there–” Talbot pointed to the bench where Jachem worked. “Even he has had trouble cracking the cypher, and he’s found a way to unlock nearly a hundred of the Jendar relics since he started.”

  “So it’s hopeless then?” Wayran asked feeling his hope wither and die as Chronicler Talbot sifted through the piles of notes on his desk until he found the work he had done on the journal.

  “No, you are a very clever young man yourself, and it may be we have been looking at it all wrong. You have this gift of foresight, as Fellow Callahan says. Maybe you will be able to see something the rest of us cannot.” Chronicler Talbot gently pushed the journal back to Wayran’s chest along with his set of notes on the journal and gave him a smile. “Not that I believe in Halom, or an all-seeing deity watching over us, but if there is some greater force at work here, perhaps it guided you to the journal in the first place for a reason.”

  Fellow Callahan smiled at that.

  “I’ll help,” Adel said suddenly, and when they all looked at her, she blushed. “If I can, that is, though I don’t know what that might be.”