Everwinter: The Forerunner Archives (32 page)

I'll never succumb to the True Body Plan.

I can't.

Not now that I've read the Forerunner Archives.

All I can do is be thankful. The threat of Everwinter was extinguished, and now we live a world of relative peace.

There's even talk of outlawing shooting irons!

I really can't see that happening in total, but I think a lot of people will give them up.

What do we need them for anymore?

Yeah, we get the odd Everwinter mutant in Eversummer, but they're society is so fractured, they won't rise up again.

Maybe we can even make peace with them.

Wouldn't that be something?

It'd be a step in the right direction.

Now if only we could get this stupid religion to go away.

Thou shalt not suffer a mutant to live? Ha!

What do we have to fear from mutations within our own ranks? The true threat was extinguished before I was
even born.

The True Body Plan has no relevance in this bold new world.
 

Why can't anybody see that?

Well, maybe I'll make them see.

3088

Well, it happened.

I can't say they didn't warn me.

A group of Assassins raided the house last night.

They took all of us into custody.

Even little Jonathan.

My greatest fear is not the Judgment that is sure to come, but for the future of my son. He'll be an orphan, and likely raised in the Monastery by the Deacons. He'll never know the truth about his
father. He’ll never know how he tried to make the world a better place by rooting out the cancer within.

The True Body Pla
n.

One man with a few followers just isn't enough to make a difference.

Well, at least I can die with a clear conscience.

I did what was right.

I wonder what will become of these words.

The Forerunner Archives.

What will the Assassins do with it once they discover it on my body? Will they even search me before the Judgment?

They didn't bother when we were taken from home.

Oh, Jonathan. Please. If you do manage to make something of yourself in this wreck of world...

Suffer a mutant to live.

46.

"Juno! Juno! Wake up!"

I open my eyes.

I'm greeted with a familiar smile, a runny nose, and bloodshot, watery blue eyes that are a twin to my own.

"Traylor!" I exclaim, bolting
up into a sitting position. I'm still on the floor by hearth, the fire smoldered down to nothing but coals. The others are here too.

Ursa, Navani, Glamis, Altair.

All my friends are with me.

"What happened?" I ask, still disoriented with sleep. I'd been having the craziest dream about the Forerunners...

My hand brushes something beside me and I look down.

I gasp.

It wasn't a dream.

Th
e Forerunner Archives sits in my lap, like an ember burning through my legs.

"They did it!" Traylor exclaims
through a stuffy nose, the pure joy prevalent in his every aspect. He's clearly still sick, but recovering. "Altair and Glamis got me the antivirals!" He looks up at Altair with the reverence he'd previously reserved for our Father.

"How... How long have I been out?" I ask, recalling that it was supposed to take them a day to get to Endura and back.

The others all defer to Navani. "Thirty hours," she replies. "I went out to check my fishing lines and a few other traps I have in the area and, when I got back, you were out cold. I was only gone for a few hours." She smirks. "I let you sleep."

I shake my head, incredulous. "I guess I needed it," I say.

"We all did," Ursa comes in. "The darklag finally caught up to us, I think. Even I slept for a good eighteen hours. Traylor just woke up a few minutes ago." She gives the little guy a rub on the head.

I get up
, my spine popping as I stretch. Then I wrap a startled Altair into a death grip hug.

"Thank you," I whisper in his ear.

He pulls away from me and smiles. "Anytime," he replies.

I turn to Glamis too, expressing my gratitude.

"How'd it go out there?" I ask.

Glamis
shrugs. "Nothing we's could not handles. Midgets in Endura very accommodatings. We's did not have to threatens any of thems!"

Altair laughs, a rare sound. "Yeah, I think just about anyone would be accommodating aft
er taking a look at you, Glamis," he says.

We all laugh.

"So what now?" I ask. I'd be happy enough just staying here for the rest of my life with these people.

Altair shrugs. "We stay a few mor
e days, let Traylor get healthier, then we move on. Everwinter is just over the horizon."

I nod, trying not to show my disappointment.
 

I exchange a few more hugs with the others, including a huge one for Traylor. He pushes me away after a full
minute of squeezing him tight. I let him go.

As the others laugh and smile and get reacquainted, I sneak back over to the fire. There, I stoop down and pick up The Fo
rerunner Archives. I'd read a lot of it already, skipping over a lot of the filler–it's hardly a thick volume–but what I had gleaned from it will haunt me for the rest of my life. 

The Forerunners weren't terrible at all.

They were victims of circumstance.

The world stopped spinning…

I look up at the ceiling of the cabin, imagining the sky beyond. There used to be cycles of light and dark on this planet, day and night. And each was only a matter of hours long. A world like that is just unfathomable to my mind. Well, at least I can take solace in one thing: I was right to love the Forerunners.

They didn't destroy the world. The world destroyed itself.

I stare at the cover of The Forerunner Archives, running my fingers over the supple leather.

"You alright?" a soft voice suddenly asks from behind me.

I turn to greet the concerned face of Navani. "Yeah," I nod. "Just a little overwhelmed, I guess."

"How much did you read?" she asks.

"More than enough," I recall. "More than I'd ever hoped for." I hesitate, still staring at the book. "Are there other copies?" I ask.

Navani shrugs. "There were, at
one time. Now...I doubt it."

"How many people know about it?" I ask, the implications for my world just now coming clear in my mind
. "If this gets out, it could change a lot of things."

Navani nods. "That's why so few know about it."

I nod back. The last few entries in the book come flooding back to mind. Well, the last one, particularly. The man who'd written it, he'd mentioned a son named Jonathan. A child orphaned by a Judgment and raised by the Deacons.

Was that my
Father?

My
Father never talked about his childhood.

Ever.

I know almost nothing of it.

"You should take it with you," Navani's voice cuts into my thoughts, bringing me out of my reverie.

"What?" I ask, shaking my head.

"The book," she says. "I want you to have it." I open my mouth to protest. "I insist," she says before I get anything out. "I've read it so many times, I've practically got it memorized anyway."
 

I sigh and nod, accepting the gift.

"Thank you," I say, running my fingers yet again over the cover. I look to the other side of the room at my friends. Traylor is up on Glamis' shoulders, laughing hysterically while Ursa and Altair look on.

"Does he know about the book?" I ask, referring to Altair.

Navani nods. "All Assassins do. It's part of our heritage."

"Yeah," I say. "I know."

I smile and, at that moment, as if he somehow knows we are talking about him, Altair's gaze meets my own from across the room.

47.

"What is this stuff we're walking on?" I ask, kicking at the hard packed, cracked surface.

Altair shrugs. "I've heard it referred to as
crete
," he replies.

"So it's manmade then?"

He nods. "Supposedly the Forerunners covered the face of the world with the stuff at one time in order to accommodate their vehicles."

"Cool," is my only reply.

It's been three days since we left Navani. 

I barely got to know the woman, but already I regret not having done so better. Of course, we
’d asked her to come with us. And, of course, she'd declined. She'd built a life for herself out on that frozen lake, lonely as it is. I don't blame her. There's only chaos where we're headed.

The crete road crunches noisily under our feet
–me, Altair, Traylor, Ursa, and Glamis. Traylor still coughs now and again, but the worst is behind him. It's dark and bitterly cold, the sun just a few painted rays above the horizon to our rear. There's a good dusting of snow on the ground now, and it's steadily building. It's starting to look like the sand dunes on the beach near Krakelyn. 

The sight
of snow still blows my mind.

I've had that happen to me a lot recently.

The world used to spin...

The landscape around us is bleak and barren.

After leaving Navani's lake, the forest thinned considerably, eventually giving way to wide plains broken by thrusting rock outcroppings. The road branches now and again, but Altair seems to know where he's going. The Fringe town of Endura lies ahead, but Altair says we're going to bypass it, just to be safe. We pass a few desiccated buildings on our route, mostly rundown factories or the like, but come across few other signs of civilization.

No other travelers on the road, that's for sure.

"I'm hungry," Traylor complains from Glamis' shoulders. The big brute reaches into a satchel he carries around his waist, pulling out some of the dried fish and game meat Navani provided us before setting out. It's salty stuff, but good.

We all partake in a little.

An hour later, we hear growling.

It's echoing toward us from a poi
nt not far up the road. The path rises there, and whatever's making the noise must be just on the other side.

Altair pushes in front of the group. "Stay fifty paces behind me," he tells us, moving ahead, throwing stars at the ready. A passage from the Forerunner Archives
–stashed safely in my pack–comes to my mind. It mentions that the Assassins used swords at one time. Altair doesn't have one though, and I've seen very few of the weapons in my lifetime. Knives are much more common.

I can't help but wonder why that is.

Altair crests the rise, stopping at the top. He studies whatever is on the other side for a good minute, then waves for us to join him. I want to run up there, but Ursa urges caution. We move slowly. The growling sounds become more pronounced as we get closer to their source. I can't help but imagine a pack of wild dogs at a feeding frenzy. We get to the top and I see that I'm actually right. 

Sort of.

There's a massive vehicle stalled at the side of the road, unlike any I've seen before; a Forerunner remnant sitting on eight massive balloon tires. There's an equally massive cab, behind which is a large, open air container. The container is tilted, filled to the brim with corpses, half of which have been dumped onto the ground due to the severe angle. Around the pile, a pack of six wolves tear at the carcasses, ripping already rotten meat from crumbling bones.

The wolves are mutants.

We haven't seen a lot of animals since this journey through insanity began, but the few we have were
relatively
normal. There were a few mutant birds I remember seeing in the southern cities, and one horse, but it seems the Final Judgment had been mostly reserved for humans.

Mostly
.

The wolves are huge, their backs arching at our appearance, growling protectively over their scavengings. Their fur is falling out in clumps, revealing red, rash-ridden skin beneath. Boils cover the scruff around their mouths, leaking clearish fluids. A few are limping, obviously injured, making them all the more dangerous. They move away from the vehicle and start up the road toward us.

My heart pounds. "Um, Altair..." I whisper toward my Assassin savior.

Altair rem
ains cool and collected, opening his black tunic and pulling something from an inner pocket. It's a small, round object, with a wick like a candle coming off the top.