Chapter One

From a completed epic fantasy novel told across two time periods.

Lydee

Year 1878 (Present Day)

The Fostrilya Royal Library in the capital city of Oslidor was massive to the point of being intimidating, despite its luxurious style. The limestone walls were made of perfectly even-sized rectangular prisms, the flawlessness of the forms speaking to the work of a master. Ridged columns rose up from the ground on the exterior and first floor of the structure, giving it a regal appearance. But professor Lydee Rislin was no longer entranced by the architecture of the building. Instead, the sprawling size and numerous twists and turns were now threatening.

No one is watching. No one is interested, she repeated to herself, the effort at calming her nerves failing. Was she being monitored? She acted as such, treading cautiously at every turn, attempting to maintain a permanently neutral look on her face. Among other safeguards, she dared not request a lease on a single document, for fear that the lists were tracked, and she feigned interest in sections of the building which were unrelated to her research, hoping to lead potential spies astray. It’s silly paranoia. And yet…

The truth was that her work would be deemed treasonous because it was. But she had a duty as a historian and a believer to shed light on a history that had been deliberately obfuscated by the royal families for fear that it would undermine their claim to legitimacy. The Divine Representation of the royal family and the claims of the holy books of The Path were incompatible, and so Lydee’s religion had been outlawed. However, her research could reveal that the true historical evidence proved the veracity of her faith, not the lies of the hereditary monarchy.

The Divine King would view any display of her findings as a direct rebuttal of his right to rule. Nevertheless, revolt was not her motivation. Instead, it was an intense desire to demonstrate the veracity of her faith. Faith. Does that word apply to me with the knowledge I have? Confidence is more apt. I have confidence in The Path.

The primary sources she had found had all corroborated the historical records of the holy books of The Path. Each new paper or scroll she found proved that the events written about in the three volumes had happened when and how they were described. The truth of this was ironically substantiated by the banality of the documents she found. They had been written for practical purposes completely unrelated to promoting the faith. Here a soldier’s diary, there a declaration of trade between nations, others mere lists of property rights. The authors of the writings would never have dreamed that their words would one day have such importance.

No one is watching. No one is interested. At times she worried the people she passed could hear her thoughts. She was no actor; she knew fear was writ plain on her face. Had that man walked by her earlier? Had that elderly woman sat on that same bench a week ago? She could never let her guard down, the effort draining yet strangely invigorating, the importance of her work amplified by the danger.

Lydee replaced the irrelevant book she had been using as a prop back on the shelf and walked stiffly toward the nearest staircase. As she backed through a large set of intricately designed doors, she was startled to hear commotion. The fact that such noise could go undetected through most of the library was a testament to the size of the building. She craned her neck to get a view over the railing without attracting attention, and saw that extra oil lamps had been lit on the ground floor. It quickly became clear why, as she saw a dozen people rushing about. In the center of the action was a man Lydee knew solely by reputation. But what a reputation.

Simon Howswilder. An inventor who had designed and constructed weapons, optics, implements for transportation, and machines that were beyond the imagination of the common man. He was positioned in a room which featured one of his most famous inventions, a machine which measured time with no maintenance or need for sunlight. The clock was an accomplishment that had stunned even the most forward-thinking intellectuals, making the bells of the country run in perfect concordance, and granting the world the efficient and ridged concept of the hour. Many wealthy and powerful people had gone on the record as declaring that its construction and efficacy were dubious before it was completed. They were all silent now.

The famous inventor was barking directions, seemingly at multiple targets simultaneously. Men and women were running to and from him, weaving in between the limestone columns of the large room to place documents on a huge oak table before hurrying back out of Lydee’s sight.

“Every last one!” the man bellowed. He rubbed his forehead between his thumb and first two fingers while shaking his head. Before him on the table was a large cloth map. Lydee could not make out what it represented, but dark circles were drawn over numerous areas. The inventor’s staff were frequent occupants of the library, but Lydee had never seen the inventor himself there. He had talent at being seen in more lofty and prestigious locations than this, places with which Lydee was unacquainted. Still, her students would mention having seen, or more likely, having heard that others saw him among the wealthy and powerful. She was thankful for the spectacle he made, drawing the attention of the other visitors. Even she wished to know what exactly he was doing here…

“Found you,” a voice said from behind her.

Lydee froze. Her muscles, including her heart, seemed to cease functioning, the dread so fully encompassed her mind. Panic made her mind blank.

Then, into her field of vision appeared a thin, athletic young woman with a smile on her face.

“Vea,” Lydee breathed out, putting her hand to her chest.

“Lost in your own world again?”

The professor could only nod.

The young woman’s clothes were a stark contrast to the loose-hanging, pristinely white cotton robes Lydee wore. She was attired in a sun-faded, scratched leather vest and well-worn, light brown woolen trousers. Evidently she had slipped passed the guards, as twin hunting blades hung from the sides of her belt. “I thought you would be here,” she said.

“I was just about to head home,” Lydee said before she could prevent herself from lying.

“You really don’t look well, Lydee. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, I’m sure.”

“I’m fine. I’m used to working long hours.”

“There isn’t much else you enjoy.”

“Just lower your voice, please.”

The younger woman giggled irreverently. “Mother and Father would get a laugh from seeing us together here.”

“Have you seen them recently?”

“No. We’re just in the city for a tournament and then we’ll be right back to work. Have you heard about it? The tournament?”

Lydee raised her eyebrows “You know I haven’t, Vea.”

“It’s a hunting competition, of a sort. An exhibition. Our company was selected by the guild to represent the entire nation. I came to invite you to watch us.”

“Knowing that not only would I decline, but that I would insist you come to your senses and return home,” Lydee said, looking at her younger sister expectantly.

Veabella’s look was not the playful grin Lydee had anticipated. “I wanted to at least give it an honest attempt,” she said.

“I just worry about you. You say it will be an exhibition, yet there will be live animals, mankillers in fact, won’t there?”

The younger sister did not wish to respond, nor did she need to.

For a time, both pairs of eyes avoided making contact. Finally, Lydee broke the uncomfortable silence. “Do you remember when you used to accompany me here?”

“More or less,” Veabella said.

“At first, you spent most of your time seeking hiding spots. We’d arrive together in the morning and I wouldn’t see you again until the lamps were being lit. Later, when I broke you down some, or when you were finally amenable to reading, you would pass the days with your face in a story. Adventures.”

Lydee could see that Veabella could not have withheld her smile if her life depended on it. And Lydee smiled too, seeing her sister’s joy as the memories resurfaced after so many years.

“You never recovered, did you?” Lydee said.

“I have some tales now that could top most of what I read.”

“It’s good to see you, Vea.”

“You too, Lydee.”

“Well,” the older sister started, “I will wish you good fortune. And further, I will admit to being impressed with your success. I had no idea your company was so well regarded, though to be honest, I had intentionally avoided learning anything about it.”

“Thank you,” Veabella said. “We’ve completed a few more lucrative contracts, but the recognition was a surprise to us as well. Maybe not to Xopher, but to those of us who don’t have unchecked egos at least.”

“I should be heading home,” Lydee said. “There is work to do.” After a brief moment, she stepped closer to her sister. “I’m sure you are aware of what year this is. Of the precipice we’ve approached. The importance for our faith.”

“Of course, Lydee…”

“No one will be capable of denying this one,” Lydee whispered. Then she took a step back. “Make sure you’re alive for it.”

“I missed you, too” Veabella said.

The older sister then surprised the younger, for perhaps the first time. A tight hug that lasted for longer than was originally intended. “I did miss you. I cannot help the way I am, Vea.”

“I know.”

One last glance behind her, in which nothing was amiss. Lydee gave a slight sigh of relief, wishing it was not just for show, then led her sister down the staircase, one soft step at a time.