New Galaxy (The Survivors Book Eighteen)
Contents
New Galaxy (The Survivors Book Eighteen)
Copyright © 2021
Books By Nathan Hystad
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
EPILOGUE
The Portals (The Survivors Book Nineteen)
First Life (The River Saga Book One)
Copyright © 2021 Nathan Hystad
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover art: Tom Edwards Design
Edited by: Christen Hystad
Edited by: Scarlett R Algee
Proofed and Formatted by: BZ Hercules
Books By Nathan Hystad
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The Bridge Sequence
Lost Contact
Lost Time
Lost Hope
Space Race
Space Race
Space Battle
Space Strike
The Survivors Series
The Event
New Threat
New World
The Ancients
The Theos
Old Enemy
New Alliance
The Gatekeepers
New Horizon
The Academy
Old World
New Discovery
Old Secrets
The Deities
New Beginning
New Lies
The Colony
New Galaxy
The Portals
Baldwin’s Legacy
Confrontation
Unification
Culmination
Hierarchy
Lineage
Legacy
The Resistance Series
Rift
Revenge
Return
The Manuscript
Lights Over Cloud Lake
Red Creek
Return to Red Creek
PROLOGUE
9,775 Years Ago
The sun of a hundred days was coming to an end. The orange dusk would last a few more hours, but soon darkness would spread across the continent, sticking to them like glue for another lengthy duration. Thus was life on Orlin.
Kamron didn’t mind. The changes of seasons came like clockwork, and it was nice to have something consistent to rely on. He fluffed his ruddy brown robe, casting dust clouds around him. The journey had been treacherous, but he’d arrived at the edge of the world, prepared to witness the transition.
From day to night. Light to dark. Good… to evil. He licked his lips, feeling the cracked skin. He took a secured canteen from within his robe and drank from it, ensuring not a single drop was wasted.
The ground was dry, his sandals thudding as he stepped forward, stopping at the end of the cliffside. The canyon below dipped several hundred feet and stretched out farther than his eyes could see. Despite the light from the sun, it was muted there, like an invisible barrier was blocking visibility from above.
Kamron reflected on his journey. He’d left the day the sky brightened again, on foot, with only a handful of markers on a map and a pack full of supplies. He lowered the satchel now, finding it empty. His trek had been strenuous, but his faith remained intact. They would feed him. Clothe him. Bathe him. Or so the stories foretold.
Then Kamron would return to his home a new man. Reborn. He’d become a village leader and marry Danyk, perhaps have a brood with her, and settle into his new life with the lingering memories of this experience to carry him through the many perils of his time on Orlin.
The sun dipped on the horizon, and Kamron hurried to his knees. He removed his cloak, tossing it to the side. To complete the ceremony, one must be nude as his birthing day. The Amendors were unclothed, beings of ethereal matter, and he didn’t want to offend them.
Bits of gravel and rocks dug into his knees, but he didn’t move. The moment was upon him.
Warmth escaped the air like it was being sucked out, quickly replaced with a chill, an icy breeze that whispered to him.
Jump
Worthless
Die
But Kamron had been trained to expect this, and he was firm in his resolve as the final rays vanished, giving way to the night.
Stars glittered in the sky, and he looked up, arms outstretched. He willed the Amendors to take him.
But nothing happened.
Kamron waited for another ten minutes, each more excruciating than the previous. Where were they? What had he done to offend their gods?
His teeth chattered, and he shivered in the cold until finally he fell asleep, his cloak wrapped snugly around him.
When he woke, his thirst overwhelmed him, but the water canteen was empty. No food remained in the pack, and still, the Amendors hadn’t come for him.
Kamron wondered if he’d been given improper instructions by the Day of the Night Committee. Instead of worrying, he slipped into his sandals, took the empty bag, and started the arduous walk down the cliffside. Steps were roughly built in, making him think this could be part of the task.
It was so dark in the canyon, he had to watch each step carefully so he didn’t slip on the narrow ledges in the stone wall. The trip sapped all his residual energy, but he made it to the bottom. Kamron peered up, but the top of the cliff was no longer visible from this angle. A thick cloud of night stood between him and his prior location.
“Hello? It is I, Kamron Lushian, from Lossol. The Committee sent me to…” The ground rumbled, and Kamron lost his footing.
The gorge rattled and shook, causing rocks to break free of the wall. A giant boulder crashed beside him, cracking into a dozen pieces. Kamron ran, trying to avoid the rockslide, and kept going, using the last of his reserves to move deeper into the Amendors’ home.
He’d been told it was a bright place, with the spirits of their gods lingering in joyous occasion. But this place was cold and covered with a shroud of darkness he’d never experienced.
Pyres of stone rose from the land, forming a circle, and he saw blemishes in the middle of the courtyard. They were brown, but he guessed they’d once been red. It was said the Amendors had a history of brutality. That they used the people of Orlin to sate their needs.
He pictured the books from his village, with the spirits circling this very courtyard, surrounding a man in a robe identical to his. But that era had passed, transitioned into…
Kamron dropped the bag and stepped into the circle. Whispers continued, encompassing him like the wind. He was reminded of a service he’d heard from the Committee once, about the likelihood of the Amendors changing to their old methods. That they might possibly be in a cycle much like Orlin’s hundred days of light, followed by darkness. The speaker had claimed the universe required balance, like their seasons. And the Amendors were gods of balance.
Kamron had denied the notion that the gods they revered would ever cause his people harm again. But now, standing in the ceremonial courtyard, hearing the toxic whispers, he wasn’t so sure.
Something brushed his ear, and he spun. It scraped his other side. He waved his hands, trying to make them stop, but there were too many. They were invisible at first, merely a sensation, but their forms took hold as their greed intensified.
Kamron was alone, and he was going to die on the Amendor altar, as his ancestors had done before.
He longed for another result. He cried out, wanting to return home, marry his betrothed, and have the children he was promised. To live his days in happiness with confidence that their gods were supportive.
The spirits were opaque but darkened with each breath. Soon there were ten, inky as the sky above, flying around Kamron like a storm. He lashed out, struggling to fend them off, but they persisted. His robes battered against the gusting wind, offering little protection.
The first one clawed his arm, hissing fingernails scratching and burning into his skin. They started to take shape, with arms and heads and eyes. Despite their shadowy appearance, Kamron met the gaze of the Amendor nearest him. It blinked, orange eyes focused, though the rest of it was a dull silhouette.
You will be our charge.
The words imprinted in his mind, and he felt his nose bleeding before he tasted it on his tongue.
Let us in and forever change the universe. You will be our Recaster. The true Recaster.
The name sent tingles down his spine. He’d heard of the term
once, but it was a distant reference in a translation he didn’t fully comprehend.
Will you accept? the voice demanded.
Kamron was shocked they even asked permission. He was a mere mortal, flesh and blood, and the Amendors were ancient gods, with the power of the stars.
“I accept!” he called, sensing no other option. They would destroy him should he decline, and the allure of being the so-called Recaster was too tempting to refuse.
The wind ceased, his robes fluttering shut. Kamron exhaled his breath, and the ten spirits rose higher before diving into his open mouth. He screamed as they entered, and a moment later, he fell on the stone courtyard, in the very spot where countless sacrifices had relinquished their spirits over the centuries.
But he wasn’t like them. He was alive.
Kamron was the Amendor. A Recaster.
He climbed to his feet and examined himself. The abrasions on his soles from the gruelling journey were gone. The ache in his lower back had faded.
Kamron gazed at the steps in the cliff wall, deciding to return home.
The supply ship would arrive before the sun rose again, and he needed to be on that vessel to escape this godforsaken planet.
There was much work to be done.
ONE
Jules used to love visiting this room with Sarlun. She’d walk the endless rows of trinkets, eyeing the treasures with childlike wonder. Not much had changed. She could still spend hours in here unattended, trying to decipher the purposes of various artifacts.
Sarlun was a collector in his own right, but not on the level of Fontem. She recalled the Terellion’s secret cache, and how much trouble he’d caused to convince a Deity to relive a time with his wife. But this was nearly as impressive.
Sarlun had been a Gatekeeper for most of his life, as had his father before him, and they’d amassed countless relics from every planet they’d encountered. Some were gifts bestowed upon them from alien societies; others were prizes found from forgotten civilizations. That was the thing about the universe. It went on forever, and so many of the planets had completed their cycles. Entire galaxies had sprouted, beginning countless societies, only to have them vanish after millions of years.
Jules walked to the end of the shelf and paused as she spotted a dull ring. The setting was made of a blue stone, almost the color the portals had been previously. She turned as the door opened, and in walked Suma, her snout dipped low, her eyes holding a sadness rare in the chipper woman.
“Sorry to ask you here,” Jules said.
“It’s okay. It was only a matter of time,” Suma replied. “I haven’t been able to bring myself to come. Not since he left.”
Sarlun had betrayed them all. His tattoo was the work of Death’s Mistress, a witch from the Brack who’d stolen runes from an old planet, using them to her advantage. Together with Ovalax, they’d devised a plan to intercept an ancient evil, but Jules hadn’t stood idly by while her parents were destroyed.
Jules had taken over, and ensured nothing happened to her allies. It was a burden she carried on her young shoulders, but one she took extremely seriously.
“Still no word from him?” Jules asked Suma. It was a useless question, because everyone would have been alerted if the woman’s father had made contact with his daughter.
“No, but I didn’t expect there to be. He wanted to disappear. That’s what he’ll do.” Suma blinked as she stared at the rows of artifacts. “I don’t even know how to access it.”
It. She’d been given Sarlun’s code for this private room, but the Shandra Valincin wasn’t stored here.
“I think we should listen to my dad, Jules. You’re supposed to be taking Jaessa home. Why are we trying to find this fourth portal stone anyway?” Suma asked.
She wouldn’t understand. Four stones. Three Deities. And her. Those three were linked to the Deities. Jules feared this was hers. The final stone for the final Deity.
Suma glanced at the door. “My father said it was below the storeroom, but there’s nothing there. It’s not on the plans, and it can’t be detected with any of our sensors.”
Jules crouched, knocking her knuckles on the floor. “It has to be.” She closed her eyes, trying to feel the stone. If it was present, she should be able to locate it. But so far, it was empty. Her senses couldn’t pick anything up.
“I’d better go,” Suma said. “Elex is waiting for me on Ebos, and I want to—”
Jules gasped, her tendrils of power finally locating a clue below the chamber. They moved through a barrier, finding something firm and concrete. Its energy was old and alien, but Jules managed to prod past it with her own abilities. The Shandra Valincin was there—or, at least, an object like it. She pointed to the floor under her boots and grimaced at Suma. “Do you mind if I…?”
Suma shrugged and gestured at the tile. “Be my guest.”
Jules recalled the runes from Gasade and chose the proper one. She used the Beykn wand, drawing the glowing symbol in the air, directly above the floor. The marking lowered, burning into the ground. Soon a perfectly round hole emerged, granting them access to the floor beneath.
“How did my dad keep this hidden from the sensors? This tool should have easily seen the room below.” Suma hefted a small device in her palm.
“He had some help,” Jules said. She could feel the hum of a shield encircling the room. She dropped her hand into the hole, and her fingertips tingled. It was dark, and Jules used a fire rune, lighting the wand with an orange flame. It flickered and glowed, casting shadows.
Suma set her gear on a table, peering into the hole. “I’m coming with you.”
Jules wanted to warn her off, as it might be too dangerous, but she didn’t want to go in alone. Not after the menacing words from Sarlun about the Valincin.
“Fine. But stay close.” Jules spread her sphere over both of them as they lifted from the ground. Her powers were back, and she couldn’t imagine losing them. Never again.
Suma bumped into her shoulder as they descended between the shelving and into the dark space. Jules’ light didn’t seem powerful enough in the cloaked gloom of Sarlun’s secreted hiding spot.
She cast the spell brighter, the flames growing as the shield around her vanished. Jules sharply inhaled when she sighted the portal stone. It wasn’t right. The shape was rougher than the other three Shandra. This was mishappen, lopsided on the left, flatter on the top.
Suma approached it, her arm outstretched. “Are we certain this is one of the stones?”
Jules noted there were no shelves or furniture in the space, just the crude portal. “Don’t touch it.” She barely said the caution aloud, but Suma stopped in her tracks.
“Why would I?” Suma seemed offended by the accusation, but paled when she peered at her own hand, which hovered two feet from the portal. “I didn’t mean to go near it.”
Jules nodded. “It wants to be used. The stone is beckoning us.” Her heart beat steadily, and with each pulse, the stone was trying harder to trick Jules into activating it. “Sarlun was right to warn us.”
This portal is unlike any others. It takes you someplace dreadful. Uninviting. It is not healthy. I fear it’s a version of a universal hell.
“Universal hell,” she muttered. The stone was imperfect, with hundreds of small pockmarks across the surface. “Where does it bring you?”
Jules assumed she could take the risk and check out what was on the other side, but something about the phrasing kept her in her tracks. Dreadful and uninviting. She’d witnessed enough darkness to last her a lifetime. Maybe she was due for some happiness instead. “Let’s get the heck out of here. I don’t want to linger.” She accessed her abilities, carrying an oversized tarp from the room above. It drifted in unimpeded, and she draped it over the stone.
It vibrated slightly, but Suma didn’t seem to notice. Jules thought it glowed under the tarp momentarily, then stopped. All senses of it vanished. Good.
Jules returned them to the main storeroom, peering into the opening again, and at the tarp. She wondered if she’d ever learn what lay across the boundary of this portal, the Deity stone that very well might belong to her. She dragged a shelf, settling it across the hole. From a distance, you couldn’t even tell it was there, other than the dust on the floor from the area where the row of artifacts stood a moment ago.