Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One) (28 page)

The new generation of Citizens now perceived the Provider's gift as a means to improve their natural surrounding
s, giving birth to the first architects, engineers, builders, agriculturist, physicians, and psychologist.

Shifters rejuvenated bark, x
ylem and pith, cultivated groves of lichens and bushes, and revitalized the multitude of knot ponds and lakes. With the foundation of the beloved Razum City well in the making, man began to explore their world in earnest, sending droves of hearty harvest Shifters, field Mystics and Guardians on long excursions to establish many of the farming settlements that flourished today.

It was a fragile time for Citizens, when the memories of a brutal existence still pervaded the social psyche but were slowly giving
way to the cautious optimism spurred by relative peace experienced over the prior three decades. And as had always been the way of the Provider's people, optimism began to prevail.

The most important discovery of that fragile period was that of the Deagron
Fields and Belly Briar. Led by three Guardians—Sevorist, Fregak and Triffor—the unprecedented expedition down the lower region of the Trunk resulted in the discovery of both the Deagron Fields and the mysterious root ranges and canyons of the Belly Briar.

The hidden footage began with the three Guardians standing at the edge of Deagron Fields, looking up toward the mountainous range of roots, a majestic tableau of intersecting ridges and deep canyons. The range sprawled in every direction with the base of
the Trunk miles away from where they stood. The three were in the midst of an energetic debate, adamantly pointing toward the tremendous root architecture.

"There," Sevorist stated with authority, pointing with his left hand, running it up and down along a
n imaginary line, "that is the ridge we descended." The other two followed the line of his hand but appeared apprehensive. It had been over a year since the trio last navigated the foreign land surrounding the root system and, while they were certain they were near the range of roots they entered from, finding the best way to reenter was proving more difficult than any of them had imagined.

"I just don't remember being so close to that fissure," Fregak said. They all studied the ominous opening in the Trunk
centered between two of the thirteen gargantuan base roots they had identified in their recent survey, each reaching an elevation of over three thousand feet before melding into the Trunk. From their current vantage, they could only see the top half of the huge crack, its peak stretching several hundred feet above the two base roots, as the remainder of the widening maw was lost to smaller roots and canyons.

"Its proximity to the path we descended has not changed, only our perspective," Sevorist countered.
"We'll enter the network of lower ridges here," he said, pointing to a small root a few feet away. Only ten feet wide, the root's gradual growth into the dark soil of the Deagron Fields provided a natural ramp in which to enter the Belly Briar.

"We'll use
the canyon and fissure to guide us and work our way toward the slope of either base root. From there, we can locate plenty of paths to ascend the Trunk. Let us be on our way."

They hoisted their packs, laden with various treasures including the first samp
les of meteor taken from a mile wide crater—the origins for the material to create the first Guardian Garments—but dwindling of much needed food and water. The images that followed showed the three making slow progress toward the Trunk. Several times, they had to double back as the sub root they traveled would intersect with another, presenting a sheer cliff or other type impasse. After three days of frustrating travel, they had managed to penetrate deep into the catacomb of roots but soon found themselves lost within the steep ranges.

"See there," Sevorist stated from atop a large root running parallel to the Trunk, pointing at the area between them and the fissure, "the sub roots diminish in size and frequency the closer we get to the Trunk."

"Aye, the closer we get to the base of that fissure," Fregak added, doing little to hide his fright of the dark hollow. Triffor expressed a similar fear as he nodded in agreement to his friend's observation.

"Indeed," Sevorist responded. His brow creased w
ith concern, making the diagonal scar running from his right temple to the left side of his chin to swell a plump purple. They studied each other in that moment, testing each other’s resolve to go forward, providing Steffor and his companions a rare view of three heroes.

Fregak and Triffor, both sixteen years old the day they left on their perilous journey, were of the first generation of Guardians to be formally trained
—many of the exercises used to hone their budding abilities into pliable skills are still practiced today by Guardian apprentices—versus "in the field training" so many others had to experience prior. Both left their homes anxious to prove themselves and contribute growth to their budding society. Cut from the prototypical, burly physique known to Guardians, the downy beards and freckled faces were all that remained of the doughy juveniles that departed three years prior. The trek had hardened each, forcing them to come to terms with what they were capable.

Sevorist by comparison was a grizzle
d veteran born at the peak of the Guardian Age. More than a century old, the lore of Sevorist rivals most other Guardians to date, the Deeds recording his name dozens of times for acts of valor and skill. In his prime, armed with experience and determination, he was the ideal candidate to explore the uncharted nether regions of the world.

True to form, allowing his actions and proven wisdom to instill confidence within his companions, he turned back to the Trunk and finished explaining the revised plan. "We
will stay to the ground as much as possible until we reach the opening of the fissure. Once there, we will find the best path and ascend the cliff side accordingly."

"Understood," Fregak and Triffor replied, appreciative of the right to voice their concer
ns but more grateful for their leaders ability to make a decision.

The plan, as it related to their forward progress, proved to be a sound one. The canyon floor was a patchwork of marshes, segregated by an erratic criss-cross of smaller roots. The Guardian
s scaled the multitude of root barriers with relative ease and trudged the muddy marshland in-between without incident.

As they progressed, the sunlight reaching the inner canyon steadily diminished. By the end of the sixth day, direct sunlight had all tog
ether ceased, the light reaching the ridge tops creating a bright dusk by day and an impenetrable darkness by night. Marshland transitioned into a stifling bog, gone were the small islands and strips of dry land in which they had camped, along with the abundant rushes, reeds and typha, of which the shoots and nodes of several species had supplied the men with a pleasant and nutritious energy-rich food source.

On the eleventh day after entering the Belly Briar, the trio scaled a sub root connected horizontal
ly to the base roots framing the ominous fissure with steep, inclined canyon walls. The sub root they stood upon formed a natural rampart wall that traveled for several miles to the east and west, where it eventually folded into the mountainous base roots. Across several acres of open bog, the dark fissure predominated to the north.

A gray haze hung low over the land like an oppressive, wet blanket. Odd peat mounds quilted the murky, oil slicked, waters in an unnatural pattern. A thin line of land ascending
into the vast hollow demarcated the bog's end. "The shoreline," Sevorist said, "once there we will find our passage out of this smothering place."

Sevorist led the way though the knee-deep muck and wet vegetation. Hours later, coated in mire, they reached
the shoreline that was nothing more than a strip of wet peat. The ground swayed under their steps and a faint ripple of movement dispersed around them as they dropped in the exhaustion.

"I don't feel...proper," Fregak stated once they had a brief rest on
the soggy beach.

"Aye, I have a queer stirring in me as well," Triffor said in agreement, rubbing his temples with the palm of his hands.

Sevorist, not sharing the state of his constitution, stood up to study the western root precipice. "Our twilight will be gone shortly. Let us investigate the west base root first; it would be ideal if we could retrace our original path back up the Trunk." Without question, the two younger Guardians gathered their packs and followed.

With the water's stagnant edge to their
left and the fissure's dark entrance to their right, the men kept their eyes forward and set out with a determined pace. The dull twilight of the canyon was a sunny day compared to the black curtain concealing what lay beyond the nefarious cavern that appeared possessed with a life its own. Whatever dimension lay beyond, it did not require a Guardian's senses to know not to enter.

Relieved to reach the precipice less th
an an hour later, desperation to escape the alien place mounting with every passing minute, their anxiety eased more by an odd discovery. Skilled climbers, empowered by supernatural strength and agility, the best ascent they had dared hope for was a harrowing route formed by scattered knots, odd striations and inward growths along the slope. To their joy, they found the cliff covered by a multitude of deformed outgrowths. Despite their grotesque appearance, the protrusions presented countless vertical paths from which to choose, providing the drained Guardians a welcome and easy trek to the summit.

"What are they?" Triffor asked, caution countering his excitement.

"Burls I suppose, but like none I have ever seen..." Sevorist trailed off as he ran his hand over one of the gnarled growths.

"What are these," Fregak said, pointing to a spot a few y
ards to their right. Gathered against the side of the root, just outside the dark cavern, was a pile of what appeared to be flat, wood chunks. The impulse to investigate temporarily overriding their need to escape the oppressive setting, the three moved over for a closer inspection. The objects varied slightly in size and shape but were clearly the same species: oblong squares, six to eight inches thick, up to two feet wide and hard outer surface with a dull polish.

"It is light," Triffor said with surprise
as he hefted one of the objects with both hands. "Is it hollow inside? A petrified gourd maybe?"

"Let
’s find out," Sevorist said, giving Fregak a quick nod. Triffor straitened his arms, spread his legs shoulder width apart and faced Fregak. Fregak inhaled deeply, called the Source to his left fist and with one quick motion, the lingering blue trailer of energy the only evidence of the thrust, punctured a hole into the object. The object broke in half and Triffor laid the separate pieces on the ground before them. The inside was a fibrous webbing of strong integrity. Near where it split, was a ball made from layered leaves, brown and moist. Sevorist tore into the ball and found a dozen smaller, tan balls that look like skinned fruit.

"A seed," Sevorist hypot
hesized. Before either of his companions could comment, a deep moan escaped from the cavern, shaking the ground and Guardians with an intense vibration.

"Brace your self lads," Sevorist said a second later, pointing down the thin beach in the direction the
y had just come. A wave of land, a mound of peat rippling across the shoreline, rushed toward them with awesome speed. The three had just enough time to face the onslaught of earth and leap over before it crashed into the wall behind them. They fought to gain their balance as the ground beneath them lurched with aftershock.

"Fregak, put one in Triffor's pack," he commanded, "it is time for us to leave."

Fregak did as he was told, grabbing the closest seed while Triffor emptied most the contents of his pack onto the ground. With the seed securely stowed, the two Guardians turned to follow Sevorist who was already forty yards up the cliff. By shifting propulsive bursts of the Source beneath their feet, the Guardians bounded up the scattered but plentiful burls with amazing speed. Within a few minutes, they had maneuvered over to the center ridge, half way up the summit.

"A few more lunges boys and we'll be there," Sevorist yelled down to his companions, squatting on a volcano shaped burl. Instincts turned his a
ttention from his trailing friends back to the fissure opening now parallel to his position. With greater force than before, the guttural moan reverberated throughout the canyon. From his elevated vantage, he observed an area on the beach, near the center of the fissure, systematically submerged below the water line by some kind of unseen impact. The force jolted the fluid ground with violent force, sending set after set of land waves down both sides of the beach and across the bog.

"Something large comes our way," he said with a calm belying the fear he saw on the faces of his young companions as they came level to his spot. "Double time boys! Don't look back. I will cover the rear. No matter what happens, you must get within range
of a Mystic, the knowledge of our expedition is too crucial. Understood?" Both nodded with understanding and without hesitating another second, lunged to their next landing.

Sevorist turned back to see a dense, black smoke seeping from the fissure. Fracture
d, purple bursts ignited within the smoke, accompanied by a loud, clacking ululation as the Deagron Maker emerged from the bowels of the world.