Exhumation: An Epic of Existentia (Acts of the Sojourner Book 1) Read online

  Acts of the Sojourner

  Act 1

  Exhumation

  An Epic of Existentia

  By S.A. Chapman

  1st Edition

  This edition published in 2017

  Copyright © Simon Andrew Chapman 2010

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever

  without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical

  articles and reviews. Please refer all pertinent questions to the author.

  S. A. Chapman

  [email protected]

  Chapman, S. A.

  Epics of Existentia – Act 1 – Acts of the Sojourner – Exhumation.

  Cover design by Adam Edwards.

  “… the truth is out there, but so are lies.”

  FBI Special Agent Dana Scully

  Dedicated to my wonderful and supportive wife.

  Thank you for joining me while I explored the dark, mysterious, maddening and treacherous realms of Existentia. Your companionship and fortitude while I embarked on this world-building journey brought me back safe and sound to the reality of our world - and our home.

  Author’s Note:

  At the rear of the book, you will find a glossary, maps, sketches and other bits of useful information.

  I thank you, dear reader – for selecting this book and taking the time to read it.

  I sincerely hope that you enjoy the journey you are about to undertake. Your enjoyment of this work is what makes the countless hours of writing worthwhile.

  So, before you set off, I wish you the greatest of health and happiness and I look forward to any feedback that you may provide.

  Existentia, as depicted in the Heptakron

  “Existentia – The Womb Realm – The undefinable and limitless zone within the Void, wherein the two Primordial Axiomata – Chao and Ordo, are of the greatest opposition and equalisation.

  Lying in the midst of the Womb are the Five Tears of Concordia – otherwise known as the Five Pervading Realms of Descent – Conceptia, Ignis, Aer, Aquaticus and Materia.

  It is here, somewhere within this grand design, that we find our existence, with our own existence being but a reflection of the same.

  Our flesh, fluid, breath, heat and mind being nought but trapped pieces of those Tears, with the finitely bound introspection of thought and matter a glimpse of Ordo and the never-ending expanse of the firmament, the infinite face of Chao.

  For so it is within, so it is without.”

  Lecture on the Sigil.

  Galirad Sabinos, Lecture Master on the Decree of Sirius.

  239th Cycle of Truth.

  Preface

  It is the 165th Cycle in the Era of Purity, almost 162 Cycles since the end of the devastating war between the Elysian Concordat and the Shaydean Alliance – a war that reduced the population of Aurania to a third of its pre-war population.

  The invading armies of the Shaydean Alliance surrendered upon the completion of the Shield – Sanctuary’s mighty and impenetrable defensive perimeter – realising that no flesh, steel or stone would ever break its walls.

  Itself decimated, the Shaydean Alliance agreed to the terms of Truce – that those of the Shaydean Alliance and their collaborators were to once again flee to the perpetual darkness of Shayde and never set foot in the light-filled realms of Elysia. For generations, the Elysian Concordat has remained victorious and strong, with minimal signs of unrest in its lands.

  Yet, in Sanctuary, the grand and fortified capital city of Elysia, discontent is on the rise. Once a beacon of prosperity, civility and order - Sanctuary now struggles as a remnant of its former self. Sterility has swept through Sanctuary like a foul scourge, causing an absence of reproduction in both crops and men – with the fruit of both becoming scarce.

  With oppression soaring to unforetold heights and the city's once plentiful food supply running dangerously low, the general populace of the Districts looks towards the central government – the Tribunal of Focal Powers, safe within the Sanctum – with fear and hate.

  The people’s faith and their adherence to the Way of Lumerus is failing. The Clerics of Labour and the Advocates of Lumerus struggle to combat the doubt-inducing whispers of the Daggers of Merusul – that intrepid association of insurgents and loyalists to the Strict Observance of Merusul, an association whose sole intent is to overthrow the powers of Sanctum and a return to the lawful worship of the Beneficent Nine.

  Of greater concern is the increasing rumors of varied heretical and insidious cults – some new and some old – who are gaining strength within the walls of Sanctuary. The Veiled Unrepentant – those men and women who meet in veiled secret darkness to seek aid and power from the Malignant Nine by way of human sacrifice, is causing widespread panic amongst the populace.

  As the signs of unrest and heresy increase within the walls of Sanctuary, so do the Inquisitions into its Districts, signalled by the ominous pillars of smoke from burning flesh that billow into the sky – as Inquisitors and their Vindicators watch on with smiles of success.

  The Ecclesiasticum, once in balance with the three other Focal Powers of the Conclave, gain more power and support in every Pass with their promise of eradicating the heretical scourge, by restoring and maintaining the peace of s full adherence to the Way of Lumerus.

  As the long darkness of Tenebrae approaches, nothing can prepare the Prime Prefect of the Praetorium, Pious Argentum, for the events that will befall him – events that will shatter everything he believes in and everything that is most important to him, events that will send him forth on a journey beyond the wildest of imaginations...

  Prologue: On the Heresy of Merusul

  First, young Adepts, one must know the heresy as told by the heretic, so that one can detect the Great Lie. It is passed by mouth from ear to ear, from the parent to the child. It is said that the core of the heresy is an excerpt from the ‘Veithred Djyntarf,’ the heretical text manifested by the Old Ones and committed to memory by the lineage of Devin – otherwise known as the Ormish Druids.

  “Life itself must choose its own destiny, enacted through the deeds of its willing and unwilling subjects, for the Beneficent and the Malignant Nines are equally opposed and eternal, waging an unending war upon each other through the lower beings for control of Existentia – the Womb Realm, for as long as Existentia continues.

  As each Grand Cycle draws to a close, so does the spirit of Existentia – ravaged and depleted by the unending conflict that rages within. Concordia, no longer able to bear witness to the struggle, having been blinded by the darkness of Destruction, sacrifices herself, giving her own fair life to enable the birth of the all-powerful Twins of Destiny into the vastness of Existentia.

  These twins, Wrong and Right, bear the curse or the blessing, to be marked with the sole responsibility for determining the fate of the unending war for Existentia, tipping the scale in favour of their disposition. Moreover, just like Zeth’s brothers Abbel and Kayin, they are cursed to spill the blood of their kin.

  And, so, the destiny of Existentia shall truly be guided by man and sealed in the strongest of familial blood, for when the blood of the Inferior one stains the hands of the Victor – the Eon of the Mark is upon us. As we enter the Eon of the Mark, the fate of Existentia will lie solely in the Force and Will of the Victor – the Gatekeeper, holding in their Will the key to the gate of Life – and Life’s last seed.”

  This, my Adepts, is the dangerous heresy we fight so hard to destroy. In the
early Cycles of our race, superstition and strife prevented us from experiencing true civility and order. The superstitious interpretation of the Nine Iniquities and Nine Virtues as beings of inexplicable power – the ‘Unending Eighteen’ – is the enemy of logic and undermines the Structuram Civilitatis of our Wise and Noble Lumerus.

  We, as living and sentient beings, are the sole masters of the lesser beings and our destiny. There are no gods or demigods, no Twins of Destiny, no invisible beings, spirits, divine signs or an afterlife in an unseen and unreal world.

  There is only labour, logic, the prosperity of our future generations and the adherence to living and upholding the Nine Virtues. This is all that sets us apart from the Savage and the lesser beings – those willing and unwilling devotees of the Nine Iniquities.

  Whenever the heretical words are manifested – whether it be the written or the spoken words of the Daggers of Merusul or the Veiled Unrepentant – you must rip the dangerous weeds out by their roots and cast them into the flames, until neither plant nor seed of this heresy shall exist forevermore.

  Lecture on the detection and eradication of the Great Lie,

  Cedric Pervigil 9°, High Inquisitor Initio and Advocate of Lumerus.

  3rd Cycle of Purity.

  The Trials and Tribulations of the Beneficent Way

  The Nine

  Virtues

  The Nine

  Iniquities

  Honour

  Prevents

  Contempt

  Valour

  Combats

  Fear

  Pride

  Shuns

  Disgrace

  Temperance

  Controls

  Gluttony

  Diligence

  Tasks

  Sloth

  Chastity

  Suppresses

  Lust

  Care

  Quells

  Hate

  Patience

  Out-waits

  Wrath

  Charity

  Relieves

  Greed

  Contents

  Preface

  Prologue: On the Heresy of Merusul

  The Trials and Tribulations of the Beneficent Way

  The Wastes

  The Disciplinarium

  The Training Benches

  The Forefront

  Zosim’s Study

  The Qulin–Stables

  The North–Way

  The Evergreen Glade

  The Evergreen Grotto

  The Great Forest

  Curtain of the 1st District – District Side

  Caregard

  Corridor of the Operarium

  The Magistratum

  The Northern Cardinal Dome

  The Dome of the Decree

  The Crypt

  Counsel Sought

  The Conclave

  The Darkness

  The Unknown

  The Prevention

  The Nursery

  The Village

  The Lounge

  The Mourning Mound

  The Festive Mound

  The Edge

  The Partitio River

  The Eastern Stately Gate

  The Seventh District

  The Eastern Cardinal Dome

  The Sanctum Forecourt

  The Curtain Gate of the 1st District

  The Eastern Cardinal Dome

  The Southern Cardinal Dome

  The Library

  The Western Cardinal Dome

  The Forefront

  The Quarters of the Prime Prefect

  The Sky–Ring

  The Skies above the South–Way

  The Aetheric Lift Train

  The Prairie

  While you were away

  Landsbeach

  The Granary

  The Boarding Yards

  Goodbye for Now

  The Astral Barge

  Postface

  Glossary

  Tables and Figures

  The Wastes

  “For those that have ventured to the highest peaks of the Northern Jagged Ranges, they would know that there is a vast expanse, a desolate stretch of sand dunes – the Abraxan Wastes, which stretch onwards into the blackness of Shayde. They would also know that there is a strange and unique beauty to the Wastes – the constant and heavy winds of Shayde blowing the purple sands, eternally shifting its titanic dunes.”

  Extract from “Grinding Gears of an Aged Crank”,

  Lothar Desgauliers, Tribunal Magister.

  159th Cycle of Purity.

  The lone hunter couldn't help but be worried. Around this time, the dreadful creature had always passed through the valley – without fail. He rubbed his nose with a sniffle, wiping away with the back of his fur-lined leather gauntlet all the mucus that was dripping from his nose. It was a terrible habit and one that he knew his wife would most definitely have chastised him for – if he were to be caught in the act.

  The air felt colder than usual and damper – due to the moisture evaporating from the damp sands of his small, one-man dugout.

  It wasn't the first time he had waited patiently in a hunter’s blind – but he had never been confined to one place for as long as this. He adjusted his position on his foldable stool and leant closer to the view hole of his hide–covered dugout.

  He stroked his thick beard as he looked to the far horizon, where a dull light crept over the top of the jagged and powerful mountain range that spanned the horizon like a treacherous wall. The crepuscular light cast its haunting rays through the airborne salt dust of the wastes, providing an alluring contrast to the perpetually blackened sky overhead and to his rear.

  Being the experienced and cautious hunter, he kept the faint light in front of him and the perpetual darkness at his back, to cast not the slightest shadow towards the valley ahead, lest he be detected by his quarry. The light also made the various roaming predators and their prey recognisable, silhouetting their bodies as they traversed the rolling dunes of the wastes. The constant wind licked at the dunes, whipping up trails of sand, salt and dust that snaked along the dunes' surface.

  A tremendous and cumbersome beast, many times the height of a man, heaved itself up one of the dunes in the distance, pursued by three hound-like fiends that scurried and slid across the loose terrain. Its large, horn-like feet piled deep into the purple sands, providing the perfect traction for the loose and sliding terrain of the ever-shifting dunes. The sound of the beast exhausting itself carried through the still and silent air.

  As it reached the top of the dune, the huge beast trumpeted a powerful drone through the gills on the side of its head and turned to its pursuers – a serious and credible warning to the fiends that were daring to approach it.

  If direr matters were not pressing on his mind, the hunter would have more than wanted to slay the mighty behemoth, as it would have provided more than enough meat for his people. One of those beasts, salted and smoked, would provide enough transportable meat for quite some time – and given that the light of the mountains was soon to fail, more meat could have been useful.

  He sat still in his dugout, watching through the small opening that allowed him to survey the scene in front of him. The hunter stared at a spot in the valley between the dunes – the spot where his large pitfall trap was well concealed.

  He knew how important the deal was – and he gave his task the greatest of diligence. He sat in the dugout for long enough that he couldn't even remember what the extent of the deal was, or how he had gotten to where he was. All he could recall was how important it was to catch the vile creature alive – and he knew it wouldn't be easy.

  “Where is it?” whispered the hunter, rubbing his head anxiously and peering a little further out of the view hole. He leant back into the blind and looked at his pouch of pipe–smoking mixture, feeling the urge to stuff his bone–pipe with the blend and light it up. The synergistic combination of shredded mushrooms and herbs would provide a rich and flavourful smoke whi
ch could agreeably pass the most boring of times. The blend was perfect for fishing and hunting – but not on this hunt.

  He knew his quarry was too clever, and its senses were too impeccable – let it catch one waft of the smoke, and the hunter would quickly become the hunted.

  He felt somewhat safe in his dugout, as its leather cover was treated with a scent–mask, effectively absorbing any trace of his scent. He knew quite well how to outsmart the most predacious of all the various species that roamed the wastes – and knew that if he were hidden from sound and scent, he would be fine.

  He could recall that never had one of his tribe, or of any tribe, taken one of the beasts alive. To kill even one of these apex predators that preyed almost solely on man was hard enough – even for an entire hunting party. However, to trap one alone and unaided – and to capture it alive – that was another thing altogether.

  Suddenly, the leather roof of the dugout was ripped from its position. The hunter turned and saw the blood–red-skinned monster towering above the dugout – the roof–covering in one hand and a giant mace in the other.

  “Surprise!” shouted the monster as it threw the covering to the ground and dropped the mace. The hunter’s heartbeat began to race, pumping reactionary hormones throughout his body.

  “What did you expect – to catch me? I might not have been able to smell you – but I could smell the Stone–Tallow treatment on that thing seven dunes away”, said the monster, pointing to the crumpled roof–covering on the ground.

  The hunter pushed himself against the wall, trying to get out of reach of the monster, and grasped for his spear that leant against the edge of the dugout. The monstrous figure crouched, leant forward and punched the hunter in the face, dropping him to the ground and dazing him into a stupor.