Aeternitas by M Mixson (web based ebook reader txt) 📕

“The kid is right, Captain. This ship is breaking apart. We don’t have much more than an hour before it goes down into the water.

“Fine. Abandon ship, we’ll take the lifeboat and leave these guys to drown.”

Ohiel glared as he was forced to watch the pirates get into the lifeboat and row away.

Once he was sure they were out far enough out and unable to turn back quickly in the storm, he took ahold of the helm and pointed it towards the small island he knew was no more than an hour’s drift away from their present location.

He felt rather than heard Diar come up behind him. “Come down to the lower deck, if you stay up here you’ll be crushed upon those rocks.”

“Someone has to stay up here and direct the ship to that point.”

Diar smiled as he put a small item into Ohiel’s pocket.

The last thing Ohiel remembered was Diar’s whispered words, “I know.”

Zese sat on his horse’s back upon the hilltop. From this vantage point he could see the whole valley spread out beneath him. He tilted his head back and listened to the wind whisper about him. He lived in the countryside of the city of Dabrcis - the most prosperous city in Aniatea. He turned his head away from the valley as a voice floated over to him, “ZESE!”

He refused to answer the call and moved further up the hilltop.

“ZESEEEEEEE!!”

He growled under his breath and set off down the hill and towards the valley.

“ZEEEESSSEEE!”

This time the person calling him was far beyond irritated. “It’s about our grandfather!”

Zese’s head whipped towards the voice as he urged his horse up the hill faster.

“What? Is he alive?!”

The woman standing on the hill was a pretty thing, young and still delicate as if she hadn’t quite left girlhood behind although she was in her early twenties.

Her name was Ciodela and she was his older sister. “Father just told me we had news of him…it’s been seven years…if he’s alive…”

“Let’s hurry then!”

“Why? You barely knew him; you were only three! I knew him much better!”

“I still remember him – remember him painting…”

Ciodela stomped her foot and ran up the hill in anger.

It had always been a sore subject between the two of them. Their grandfather had been teaching Ciodela to paint when he had left. While Zese had never had any formal training he had inherited all his grandfather’s talent without any of the training Ciodela had had to go through.

The plain ended abruptly as they reached their rather large house – a four-story pavilion.

It was all he could have wanted growing up – a large piece of land to roam in, an enormous barn that held horses of every shape and size, several exotic animals like the wolf were also in residence.

Their gardens were large and lush, which produced both flowers and vegetables as well as fruits. Their land also housed some cattle at one end. He couldn’t have asked for a better place to grow up – to learn to paint.

He swung down from the saddle in a hurry and rushed in – hoping beyond hopes that his grandfather would be standing there.

In front of him were his mother and father looking rather grim.

“Dad?” he asked.

His father turned towards him, an expression of grief on his face.

“Is he…” he couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘dead’.

Ricr, his father, exhaled rather roughly. “Yes.”

In that moment his whole world came crashing down around his ears. He felt his eyes welling up even though he knew boys weren’t supposed to cry. Ciodela started sobbing as she sank to the floor in a puddle. His mother Niciste was holding onto her husband’s arm tightly.

“Darling,” she spoke to Ciodela, “Please do get up off the floor and act a bit more like a young lady. You could at least go cry in your room.”

Ciodela looked up in a huff tears still on her cheeks and flounced out of the room.

Niciste turned to her son, “Zese…you too. There is no need to cry. Everybody dies. Someday your father will die, one day I will die, eventually your sister will die and then you too will die. It is natural and part of life. It is not something to be scared of.”

“Perhaps,” Ricr said to his wife, “we should take them to the family cemetery and introduce them to their family there.”

Niciste smiled, “What a wonderful idea. We should go soon, that way you can be prepared for your granddaddy’s funeral.”

Zese rubbed his eyes and tried to smile. “I’ll be brave now.”

“I’m sure you will,” Niciste said and patted her son’s head before turning to go into the parlor. “Don’t think I’m unemotional about this…death. I am, but it is no polite to show your grief in society as you well know.”

She removed herself from the room in a flurry of skirts and perfume leaving her husband and son alone together in the room.

Ricr held out his hand to Zese and said, “Come with me, I have something to show you.”

Zese took his hand and his father led him to the back of the house and to the stairs that led down to their basement.

The boy was torn between excitement and wariness: he’d never been allowed to go down these stairs before.

He tripped briefly as he struggled to keep up with his father’s longer strides, but quickly regained his balance.

“What’s down here?” he queried as they got a little farther down the steps.

“Something special,” his father told him, “Something your ancestors started and you’re to complete.”

The first thing that came to Zese’s mind was, ‘a fresco? I’m going to be painting a fresco?’

Excitement boiled in his belly as they made it to the last landing. Here his father paused and turned to him.

“This is a special place – it is to be kept secret from anyone outside our family and revered above all things. What lies below us is truly a gift from the Gods and the Princess. We should do our best and respect her wishes.”

“Her wishes? The Princess’s? Isn’t she a Goddess? So how can she talk to us?”

Ricr leveled a serious gaze at his son. “Don’t ask questions of me. All will be answered once you descend the last of these stairs. When you get to the bottom of the stairs to go the left down the passage, when you get to the first fork go left again. As you continue down that left fork you should pass two crossings. Make sure you count them. When you get to the third crossing you go to the right. At this point look to the right side of the passage. You should see a torch there. Light it with these matches,” his father held up three matches. “Once it’s lit carry it to the end of this hall. At the end of this hall it will look like there is nowhere else to turn. That is not so. On your right is a door of the same color stone that will only open if you place the torches flames in the hole at the center of the door. At this point the door will raise up and you will go through. Once you’re through you’ll see a burned rope. That is part of the lever that opens and closes the door. Find the new piece of rope that is lying nearby and attach the stone to it. Once the stone is attached climb up to the top of the rocks on one side of the door. Place the rope so the stone is dangling over the space where you found it. The floor is the lever that opens the door and when the stone is on it it is open. After you complete that chore go to the left. This is the last passage you travel through to get there. At the end of this passage turn to the right and you will see a wooden door. This wooden door is the entrance to the room you must go in. This will be a private thing for you – so this is where I stop. Good luck.” Ricr ruffled his son’s hair.

Zese bounded down the last of the steps and turned to look at his father one more time. His father nodded and Zese turned and headed left. The passage was only partially lit, light enough he could see somewhat ahead but dark enough that he’d really have to pay attention to where he was going. He got to the fork and went left. A few minutes later he got to the first crossing.

Do I go right here? He asked himself. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the three matches. No, it’s the third crossing I turn at. He passed the next crossing and reached the third one in a decent amount of time. He went right and felt along the dark passage wall for the torch and once he located it lit the first match. The first match guttered and went out but on the second match he got it lit up. He took the torch down the hallway and just as his father had said he could not see a door of any type.

Very carefully he placed his hand on the right wall and felt for a circular impression. He found it with remarkable ease. Then once he had gathered up his courage he pushed the torch through the opening. A moment later he could smell something burning. He knew it to be the rope that would drop the rock and let him in.

And just as his father had predicted the door went up and he went through. For a few minutes he searched for the rope unable to find any until he looked between two massive rocks. Once he found it he tied it tightly around the rock which he then attempted to pick up but found nigh impossible.

It took Zese a half hour or more to lift the rock and bring it to the stone stairs. From there he gently heaved it up until it was at the top whereupon he dropped it.

Instead of the rope snapping like he thought it ought to do, it held firm. Climbing down quickly he headed to the left to the door that would bring him to the next passage. He went to the right at the end and found himself face to face with a wooden door.

He put both of his hands upon it and breathed the smell in. Old, old cherry wood. Wood that was still almost in its more natural form. Pure wood.

He closed his hand upon the knob and turned. The door creaked open slowly and he entered.

Zese was startled to find himself in a room that was almost bare except for a few things. There was a golden altar and a gorgeous altarpiece that must have been painted more than two hundred years ago. In front of the altar there was a large pillow. The pillow, when he touched it, seemed to be of the highest quality silk and filled with the softest and warmest of bird feathers.

And wrapping around the room were the walls. The walls were covered in frescoes. The fresco at the right