The Dark Masters: The Post-Apocalyptic Epic Sci-Fi Fantasy of Earth's Future: Tales Of Nevaeh, #2

THE DARK

MASTERS

Tales of Nevaeh, Volume II

By

David Wind

The Dark Masters

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places or incidents are coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2015 by David Wind. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact David Wind.

ISBN-10: 0990003558

ISBN-13: 978-0-9900035-5-7

Cover design by Steven Novak

Map by Jamie Noble

Editorial & Proofing, J. Lacie Redding, Pelican Proofing.

© Copyright 2015 by David Wind

Second Edition, October 2018

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A listing of David Wind’s previous novels are at the end of this book.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank everyone who has helped me on this journey into the future. To Bonnie Wind for all her support and love, and to my fabulous Beta readers, Terry Vanlandingham, Effrosyni Moschoudi, Nicholas Rossis, Amanda Tibbets & Mike Kaufman. 

To

Bonnie Marilyn

....what people call magic is but the witnessing of a science they cannot comprehend....

—Areenna of Freemorn, Age twelve, 5267

MAP OF NEVAEH

PROLOGUE

SHE LAY ON the cavern floor, unmoving, her twisted limbs spread awkwardly as she stared at the high ceiling above. She had failed, and with failure came fear. Her masters would soon know of this failure, if they did not already have the knowledge.

Trembling on the rock floor, exhausted from the battle fought with the forces she had never encountered before, she pleaded with her masters even as she built the message of her failure to them.

She was explicit within the message, sparing no detail of what had happened and filled the mist-carried, winged messenger with her impression of the powers that had defeated her creations and herself. At the end of the woeful tale, she added her plea for mercy, knowing well the answer might never come.

There was no choice. There was no one other than her dark masters, the rulers of her world, the ones who had entrusted this part of the world to her with the most important task of all: to destroy Roth, his woman, his child, and the woman-child called Areenna, just as she had killed the woman-child’s mother with a lingering painful death.

She dragged herself from the floor and half-walked half-scuttled to where the winged mist awaited outside the cavern. She drew in all the strength she could muster and once her message was complete, and the mist swirled about her impatiently, she would either live or die at their whim. Yet, until that day came, she would not cease her attempts to finish what her masters had decreed.

I will destroy them, I will do as you have commanded. Or I will give my life in the attempt.

A rush of confidence filled her when she swirled her hands and called up the formula to send the message on its winged way.

She completed the message and the mist disappeared. She saw not the cloud-filled heavens above, but the faces of the four she had sworn to destroy. From within the black remnants of what once was her soul came a haunting laugh, for she knew what was coming.

CHAPTER 1

Areenna of Freemorn sat stone still: her breathing soundless, her senses ranging, searching. Hidden by the branches of a low-hanging gazebow tree, she eased her tense muscles before making her next move.

Challenging her inner strength while willing her body to rest and recover, she could not help but marvel at how much had happened in the few months following their testing on the Island. 

She had changed in so many ways, there were times when she barely recognized herself. Her strength and her powers had increased more than she’d ever imagined possible—far more than the short eighteen years she’d lived. Her ability to meld her mind with his was as if they were one person. Harder though, was the knowledge that the emotions within her could not rise to the barest of thoughts—not yet.

From above, Gaalrie’s warning tugged within her mind and she stopped thinking. He comes. She stood, let her senses expand, and shot off into the thicker woods.

Racing through the forest, zigzagging between trees like a mad weaver creating a bewildering drapery, Areenna moved with the swiftness of a rantor on hunt. Above her, the foundling treygone she had rescued and bonded with four years before flew in pace with her running, its six-foot wingspread rode the currents above the treetops. The thickness of the forest prevented her from seeing her pursuer through her aoutem’s eyes, yet she knew he was close and coming fast; exactly where she wasn’t sure, for he had blocked himself well. She paused for a breath.

To her left was another giant gazebow tree, its long and heavy branches curved downward to kiss the ground, offering her a degree of protection. To her right stood a tall pine, hundreds of years old, its trunk almost as wide as the gazebow.

Standing between the two trees, Areenna sought him with her mind. There! He was close. She could not read him through the block, but recognized the complete absence of anything as the block he’d raised around himself. She closed her eyes and drew on her inner power, seeking one of the new abilities gifted to her on the Island. When the heat roared through her abdomen, she created a mind picture of herself and set it under the gazebow tree. She positioned the vision so only the barest glimpse of her arm and shoulder was visible. She moved behind the bole of the tall pine and drew her short-sword. Gaalrie settled on a branch above her. She slowed her breathing, knowing she could not hold this ability for long.

Thirty seconds later came the faint echoes of dead twigs and old leaves crunching beneath boots. She drew in a slow breath.

Emerging from behind a small cluster of trees to her left, tall and broad, black hair hanging to his shoulders, and gray eyes searching everywhere, Mikaal of Tolemac stepped between the gazebow and the pine, took three steps, and turned. He spotted the mind picture hidden by the branches.

When he moved toward the gazebow, she launched herself from behind the tree. She was on him in three strides, her shortsword swinging in a deadly killing stroke.

Before the blade reached him, he spun and caught her sword on his longsword. The ring of metal upon metal echoed loudly in the quiet forest. A smile broke across his face. Good!

"Good? Is that all it was? she asked aloud, lowering her sword, and sheathing it. Anyone else would not have known I was behind them."

I am not anyone else, Mikaal told her in their wordless way.

True, she replied, returning his smile with her own. Let’s rest for a minute. We’ve been at this for hours.

Mikaal lowered himself to the mossy grass and Areenna did the same. Sighing pleasantly, she looked at the sky. The sun had crested three hours earlier and was deep into its western descent. Rays of staggered sunlight, filtered beams of yellow and white, slipped through the tree branches of the forest near the border of Tolemac, at the edge of the Southern Outlands. These shafts of light, like fences separating the trees, marked the boundaries of the training field Areenna and Mikaal had been using for the past months. Here, away from prying eyes, and for days at a time, they worked on their abilities, sharpening them, practicing each until they were available at the merest hint of a thought.

Here, they worked on their physical fighting abilities—sword work, bow work and knife training. Mikaal, halfway through his twentieth year, was the equal of any warrior of Nevaeh; at eighteen, Areenna, under his tutelage was not far behind.

Yet more potent than the training of blade and shaft was the understanding of their special abilities. Areenna’s abilities had grown twenty-fold since the Island. Still her most powerful weapon was the blue-white light she could wield to stop or destroy an opponent, while Mikaal’s ability with fire had grown into a weapon both fierce and fearful.

My father’s Sixes will be here shortly, Mikaal announced, offering her water from his gourd. The ‘Six groups’ were his father’s specially trained guards—trained in the same manner Roth had been trained in the twenty-second century, before boarding the starship that had kept him alive and in stasis for three thousand years.

Our final training, yes? she asked, using thought rather than word as she removed her padded leather tunic to allow her skin to cool in the chilled air. The short-sleeved undergarment was damp with sweat. While the weather in Tolemac was never too cold, this winter had been one of the coldest in many years. For them, it was beneficial, as they had spent the past months acclimating themselves to the cold, in preparation for the Frozen Mountains of the northwest.

The only bad part of the winter was that instead of leaving for the northwest when they had planned to, the heavy blizzards in the northwest and western dominions caused them a month-long delay.

Watching her, Mikaal traced her features, taking in the smooth lines of her cheekbones set beneath sea green eyes and hesitated only momentarily on her full mouth before dropping to her exposed arms. The lean muscles of her upper arms glowed in the afternoon light. If we are to leave in three days, today will be our last here, Mikaal agreed.

Are you sure about the Six?

Mikaal’s smile was gentle, his nod emphatic. They will be a good test. We must know whether we can handle fighters of their level, individually and as a team.

But we already know this.

His smile faded, his voice turned low and serious. We, you and I, are good against one or two, but there are no fighters in Nevaeh who are their equal. If we can hold our own against six of them, we will know we are ready, physically, to do what we must.

We cannot use our abilities with them. It will not be easy.

True. Then, aloud, he reminded her, Today isn’t about how we combine our powers; it’s about how we blend together in physical battle. He sat straighter, the water skein in his hand forgotten. His eyes glazed momentarily. They come. Put on your leather, they are near.

Areenna put on her padded leather tunic, closed her eyes, and pushed out with her mind. Gaalrie left her roost and flew low through the trees. She joined with Gaalrie and through her aoutem’s eyes, saw the Six moving silently through the woods. She watched their progress while she closed her padded leather tunic, which she would wear beneath the special armor Roth created for her as he had Mikaal.

Join with me, she requested.

Mikaal immediately connected with her. Since their testing on the Island, their joining had become fast and natural. He settled within her thoughts, and watched through Gaalrie’s eyes as the six warriors wove toward them in silent passage.

Charka’s warning came as a tweak to their shared minds when the men passed the kraal and closed in on them. When Mikaal stood, Areenna did the same.

Leave your sword sheathed until the last second. Let them think us unprepared.

Your father said he will have my armor ready tomorrow, Areenna said aloud. They have surrounded us, she added silently.

I know, he responded, to both her voiced words and her silent ones as well. Now!

They spun, drawing their weapons, and ending up back to back, as the six men charged from behind trees, racing toward Areenna and Mikaal with their swords held high.

Like all Nevaen men, they were tall, broad, and powerful. Today they wore full battle armor—their bodies encased within hammered metal, the joints of subtle leather. A moment later, they broke into two packs of three and charged.

Areenna eyed the three who veered toward her. She set herself, her stance solid, just before the first man reached her. Tall and broad-shouldered, the soldier’s sword glinted in the waning sun, its long blade blurring toward her. She moved fast, ducking low and weaving to the left while reaching out with her sword. She struck him hard across his thighs with the flat of her blade, recovered quickly, and blocked the second man’s sword when he attacked from behind.

The third man swung. She summersaulted forward beneath his blade, rose to her feet, and in a smooth and swift movement, blocked the descending blade of the second man who had recovered and followed her move. The two warriors backed away from her, one in front, the other behind her.

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Mikaal, having taken out the first of his attackers, was backing away from the other two when they struck simultaneously at him. Flashes of sunlight reflected from his sword as he wove a defensible figure eight over and over, deflecting their blades and, instead of back, moved toward them. He sensed Areenna’s battle behind him, but kept his concentration fixed upon his attackers.

Mikaal watched the two carefully as he parried their thrusts and saw, in a quick exchange, when their eyes met and the one on the left nodded imperceptibly. Something inside him flashed and he saw, to the very last detail, every movement they would make. The man on the right shifted slightly and side stepped. When he did, the one on the left lunged forward in an attempt to push Mikaal toward the other. Instead, Mikaal moved directly to the man on his left, caught his sword with his own blade, and spun. The tip of his blade reached the attacker’s cross guard and with a flick of his wrist, tore the sword from the man’s hand.

While the sword arced, Mikaal followed through and placed the tip of his sword on the man’s neck. The instant it touched skin, Mikaal lowered the sword and spun to catch the swing from the third man. Behind him, the clash of metal rang loud. The light touch of her mind whispered across his senses and he knew she was holding her own while he dodged a killing blow aimed at his head.

Mikaal’s eyes locked on his attacker’s, their blades met and held. Just when the man began to withdraw his sword, Mikaal sidestepped, lashed out with his right leg, and swept his opponent’s feet from under him. The warrior hit the ground hard and the same instant, Mikaal placed his sword at his throat.

The fighter released his word, Well done, My Prince.

Mikaal lowered his sword and turned to watch Areenna, who was holding off the other two. He started forward to aid her, but the man he’d just defeated grabbed his leg. Hold. Let her deal.

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The two men separated just far enough so Areenna had to face one while the other edged close behind her. Sensing what was about to happen, Areenna let instincts take over—there was only one chance and it had to be used right. When the second man edged past her peripheral vision, she turned to face the first. She feinted with a lunge; the man raised his sword defensively. Twisting in the opposite direction, Areenna dove toward the ground and rolled forward. Like flowing water, she rose behind him, even as the other fighter swung at the space she’d been standing in a half second earlier.

Gaining her feet before the man could turn, she slammed the flat of her blade against his head and faced the third, who was regaining his balance from his swing. In the heartbeat before he could plant his feet, Areenna pulled her knife from its scabbard and lunged. The knife caught the man just above the groin, slipping into the exact spot between the joining of upper and lower armor. The tip of the blade did not break skin.

The man dropped his sword, took off his helmet, and stared at the blade, which was slightly above the joining of his legs. "Good choice, Princess," he praised, eyeing her knife.

CHAPTER 2

The evening meal was long over and in a clear, crisp, and cloudless night, a slice of crescent moon hung a quarter way above Tolemac’s main keep. Beneath it, Roth, High King of Nevaeh walked alone on the parapets, his fingers tracing along the smooth stone surface of the surrounding balustrade while he worked out his troubled thoughts. He had a decision to make, and although his wife had urged him toward it, he wasn’t sure if the weight of what was required was worth so much.

Ten minutes later, his mind made up, he started down. When he reached the second level, he found Enaid waiting for him. Her gray eyes, awash with a mixture of silver and green flecks, stared openly in question.

When Roth nodded, she reached out and stroked his cheek. It is for the best. They must know the depth of what they face.

I’m not so sure, he said as he took her hand in his and held it tight. Too much knowledge can be as harmful as too little.

In certain situations, I disagree not, but for this it is important they know the true magnitude of those who they will face. They must know what those who created this have done and what they remain capable of doing.

Roth tried to smile, but failed. Call them, he whispered.

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Areenna sat before the flowing fountain in the center of the keep. She saw not the movement of water; rather, she flew on Gaalrie’s wings as her treygone circled the outer reaches of Tolemac on her nightly patrol.

Ever since returning from the Island, she had followed the same routine as she had since gaining her abilities and finding her aoutem four years ago. Tonight, like all the nights before, the giant treygone flew in search of what might be about. The only difference between now and before was Areenna’s understanding of how insidiously deceptive the Black Sorceress was, and of how desperate she had become since failing to kill Mikaal and her at the Island.

Over the past few months, there had been a few attempts on them. While none had succeeded, one stood out for her. It had been a month ago, when she’d gone home to visit her father and to make sure all was well in Freemorn. It had been a wonderful homecoming, and being with her father had eased the tensions she had been under for too long.

Her cousin Tissel had come to act as King Advisor while Areenna was at Tolemac. The daughter of her father’s eldest sister, Tissel was—at almost thirty and an unmarried woman of moderate powers—acting in Areenna’s place as advisor during her absence.

After spending two days with her father and Tissel, she had gone with Gaalrie to the Blue Desert in search of certain herbs, which grew only there.

Although cool, winter in Freemorn was warmer than in Tolemac. The Blue Desert was usually even warmer than Freemorn itself, but this season it was not. Areenna wore her padded leather tunic, not because she expected trouble, but because it was both warm and flexible. Three hours after entering the forest leading to the Blue Desert, she finished gathering the herbs and returned to where she had left Hero, her kraal.

Relaxed and happy, even with the troubling thoughts about Mikaal and the future that laid before them, Areenna felt safe in this place she had known all her life and had no need to maintain any defenses. When she stepped through a grouping of trees, and saw Hero grazing not fifty feet away, a warning flashed through her mind, sent by Gaalrie, who flew above.

Dropping the bags of herbs when Gaalrie’s mind push hit her, she spun.

Before completing the turn, she was seeing through Gaalrie’s eyes as the treygone dove at a low branch and struck the back of the man straddling it: one hand rested on the branch, the other gripped a long knife. The man screamed out in pain when the treygone’s three-inch talons ripped across his back. He tried to hold onto the branch with his free hand but his desperate one-handed grasp slipped and he crashed to the ground where he lay unmoving, the long-bladed knife embedded in his chest.

From a tree, across from the first, a man jumped to the ground, his sword held in both hands and charged at her. Her power flared instantly—an explosion of heat burst through her body, encasing her hands with crystal blue light.

The man ran toward her and she sensed darkness swirling about him. She released her power without hesitation. Twin spheres of blue light arrowed at him. He’d stopped as if he’d hit a wall. His sword flew from his hand. His body lifted into the air and with a flick of her wrist, Areenna sent him flying backwards, where he struck the bole of a tree and lay unmoving.

Gaalrie landed lightly on Areenna’s shoulder. Thank you, my sister.

In answer, Gaalrie ducked her head and nestled it against Areenna’s before gently lifting skyward.

Foul traces of the Black Sorceress lingered and Areenna knew she had taken over the two men. It would have been easy for her, as they were exiles living in the wastelands and badlands who believed their physical mutation too severe for them to stay within a dominion of Nevaeh. Although no man or woman, no matter how badly mutated, was ever exiled or cast out of their home dominion because of a physical mutation, most left of their own accord rather than stay among others who were not so unlucky.

She went to the man. He was unconscious but still lived. The other, the one Gaalrie had knocked from the tree was dead; his knife had been forced through his heart when he’d struck the ground. A wave of sadness struck her as sharply as had Gaalrie’s warning. She understood well how these men could think themselves unwanted by the Nevaens who were not malformed, but to have to live beneath the thumb of one so evil was in itself an undeserved horror.

She could do nothing for the one who had died, but for the other, there was hope. Kneeling over him, she closed her eyes and grasped both sides of his head. She ignored his badly deformed mouth and unevenly set eyes and concentrated on her ability to heal, and gently pushed her power to him.

While she worked in the blind darkness of her healing ability, seeing only where he was injured, a stream of memory images flowed into her mind. Rather than fight them and stop helping the man, she let the images play out. Within them, she saw the ugly malformed witch, one handless arm moving before the man’s face. The sorceress’ mouth moved, but Areenna heard no words. A dark mist grew around the evil entity, enveloping her and like a swarm of bees; it shot from her and entered the man and his companion.

The man stirred and the images faded. Areenna stepped back, her sight fully returned. His eyes, one set an inch higher than the other, flickered open to stare at her. He stiffened and pushed back, his face rigid with fear.

Easy, she whispered. The fighting is done. How feel you?

He blinked several times, his face puzzled. I... I feel like myself.

You were taken over, she explained.

I tried to kill you.

Areenna smiled. Yes, but it is done with. Do you know what happened to you?

The puzzled expression returned. He shook his head. The last I remember before this morning is when Orlon and I were in the outlands and we met a beautiful woman. She took us to a cavern above the ocean and... That’s all I remember.

She was beautiful, you say?

She was and it surprised us that she was nice to us. We are—

—you are men, nothing more, and nothing less.

We are exiles. We are not fit to be with others.

By your own choice, Areenna stated, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand. Can you stand?

He nodded and stood. His torso was average, but his legs were not. One was thick, the other thin. His skin had the look of old tanned leather but Areenna sensed he had not yet lived thirty years.

Return not to the badlands; find someplace else, perhaps further south.

I am in your debt, Lady.

Your friend is dead by his own blade, she said, motioning to the other. Will you give him burial?

He looked to the man and back, his eyes troubled. I will.

If ever you seek dominion, call on Freemorn and ask for King Nosaj. Tell him I offered you welcome.

The man smiled, his oddly shaped mouth twisted. You tell me to speak to the King? He would not see me.

He will. Tell him his daughter Areenna, bid you welcome. That is all you need do. Your name?

Elyl, he answered.

Elyl, will you allow me to try and prevent the sorceress from taking you again?

His pale eyes never wavered from hers, Yes, My Lady.

She closed her eyes, built a block within her, and pushed it at him. Like a door closing, it fell securely into place. It will help, but you have to keep your mind strong as well.

I will, he promised.

When he turned to go to his companion, Areenna retrieved her herbs and walked to Hero. Halfway to her kraal she heard him call out, My Lady.

She turned. I thank you My Lady, for sparing my life. I will not forget. With his words said, he went to the body where he squatted and lifting the man effortlessly, carried him into the deep woods.

Angered by the Black Sorceress’ use of these defenseless men, Areenna watched him disappear into the trees. She stared at an unseen distance. You will not win, you rotten— 

Areenna shook away the memory, but she was thankful for it, because the memory served as a reminder that no matter where she was, no matter what she was doing, she would never again let her guard down, never.

A lesson well learned, Mikaal said from behind her.

Areenna smiled and turned to look at him, she had been so lost in the memory of the day in the Blue Desert that she had been unaware of Mikaal’s presence, either behind her or in her mind. Indeed it was, My Prince.

Mikaal returned the smile. My father wants to see us.

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Ten minutes later, Areenna and Mikaal were in the library sitting across from Roth and Enaid. The light from the illuminating nightmoss filled the room with a warm glow. On the low table, separating Areenna and Mikaal from Mikaal’s mother and father laid several hand drawn maps. The maps were highly detailed with notations written in Roth’s neat lettering. Before each of them were the traditional glasses of wine and water.

Roth’s face was set in edgy lines; he sat stiffly. Although Enaid appeared more relaxed, Areenna sensed her tension as well. Next to her, she knew Mikaal was aware of their strain in the same way. They’re worried, she told him silently.

In answer, he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Releasing it, he looked at his father. Are these the routes to the Frozen Mountains?

Roth nodded, bent toward the table, and pointed to the top map. He touched his forefinger to the spot marked Tolemac. The trip is well over two thousand miles. In my time, we called the Frozen Mountains the Canadian Rockies. They were not as they are today.

Areenna and Mikaal studied the map. A moment later, they exchanged glances. Something is wrong, Mikaal said without turning from Areenna. When she nodded, he turned to his father. When they told us what we had to do, they put a picture in our minds. This—

—isn’t where the mountain is, Areenna finished Mikaal’s statement. It’s further.

You’re sure? Roth asked.

Very, Mikaal responded. It is beyond these mountains, and it is by itself. It is also taller than any of these, and has two peaks.

Two, Roth whispered. He stood and went to the bookcase behind Areenna and Mikaal. He reached up to a high shelf and pulled down another rolled sheet. He placed it on the table on top of the others and spread it open.

The tallest mountain I know of on Nevaeh is in what used to be called Alaska. Your journey, he said, looking up from the map and staring at them, will be longer than I thought. You’ll have to cross the Frozen Mountains, and from there, move north and west to the interior, the center of Alaska. The mountain you seek, McKinley is its name from my time, is unpopulated wastelands. What could possibly be there? he asked, knowing there would be no answer.

Listening to him speak, Enaid followed his finger while he detailed the route they would have to take when something began vibrating within her. The chamber faded when she entered a vision. The vision built before her; her breathing deepened and she found herself floating just above the peak of a mountain—a frozen mountain. Looking around, she saw ice and a few outcroppings of rock. Thick layers of hazy fog, cast like a quilt over the ground, prevented her from seeing it. She could make out only the desolation of snow and ice. To her left, she spied an unnatural curve in the side of the mountain, near the top.

She floated closer and saw within the curve a faint outline that was long and high, and knew this was where Mikaal and Areenna were to go. As soon as she understood the vision, she was back in the library chamber where she found the three staring at her.

What was that? Areenna asked silently.

You saw?

Areenna shook her head and said aloud, Only the last of it.

Enaid took a deep breath, reached over, and grasped Roth’s hand to ground her to the room. I have seen where they must go, she said to Roth before turning to the others. As you face the mountain, high on the northern side, you will find a spot, carved out, not natural. There is an entry there: how to open it, I know not. It is the place you seek.

May we join you? Areenna asked aloud.

Enaid nodded and opened herself. The three joined instantly. Moments later, they separated and all turned to Roth. Mikaal leaned forward and placed his finger on the map at the north side of the mountain. This is where we go.

Roth did the calculations in his head and exhaled sibilantly. You will need a lot of supplies. I doubt there will be much game if any, where you travel. Once you leave the northern border of Welkold, you will need everything you can carry. Water can be drawn from the ice and snow, but food will be a problem.

Areenna thought back to her day on the Island and the eight sorceresses who had given them their mission. She shook her head. "We will take all the supplies we can manage, but they would not send us to this place only to have us die of starvation. No, there will be something."

She glanced at Enaid, who still gripped Roth’s hand. Enaid nodded slowly. It must be so.

Roth held adamant. Still, you will re-supply at Welkold, take everything the kralets can carry without overburdening them. You may take much on faith, but preparation is the wisest way.

When Mikaal and Areenna nodded their assent, Roth drew his hand from Enaid and stood. "I have no idea what you will be facing, but I have no doubt it will be dangerous and not from the ice and cold, but from them." He paused to fix the two younger ones with an intense stare.

After a minute of silence, he said, I have told you both many things about the Dark Circle, but there is so much more. It is time you learned the rest, for you must prepare for anything and everything. It was in the year two thousand and one, when the first of the massive attacks began and war was born...

CHAPTER 3

The attack came in the morning. The terrorists took over four flying machines—in my time, we had many types of machines, Roth explained, pacing around the library in tight steps. The flying machines were called airplanes. People used them to travel to different parts of the world. We could fly from a place such as Northcrom to Fainhall in only a few hours... in the time between morning and mid-day.

He saw their expressions of disbelief and smiled. Oh, it’s true. Our sciences were amazing, but our science was the weapon that killed our world.

"That morning, which was remembered by the numbers 9-11, was the true beginning. Two airplanes were taken and flown toward Manhattan—The Island—a third and a fourth were flown to a place called Washington. The first two airplanes struck the two tallest buildings on the Island and killed thousands of people. The third was flying toward its target when the passengers rose up against the terrorists and the plane crashed in what we now call Aldimore. The fourth reached its target in Washington... Dees as you know it now."

Roth paused for a breath and saw the questions flowing across Areenna and Mikaal’s faces. He held up a forestalling hand. "That was the beginning of the