Read Online Temple of the Traveler: Book 01 - Doors to Eternity by Scott Rhine - Free Book Online
Authors: Scott Rhine
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home-spun garments well enough. Needlework gave the child something to concentrate on during his convalescence, and sharing the sewing made it go more quickly. The tinker’s apprentice already knew one crude stitch with leather cord and another for darning socks. Jotham did the fine work while leaving the hem for the boy. Brent was particularly interested in his trick to turn excess sleeve length into useful arm pockets. He almost applauded when the priest showed him how to perform the same feat inside a piece of clothing so that the pocket’s existence could be kept private. However, Brent sighed heavily whenever the white-haired man made him take stitches out and do them over.
“In the long run, this will save you time,” the priest pontificated, echoing an old man who had once taught him the same art. “A silver hour well-spent can be worth more than a gold week.” The memories triggered by the tired, old expression forced him to wipe his eyes. Old Eustace would have been proud. It was a shame he’d died in that prison before Jotham learned the Way of Freedom. Jotham cleared his mind so the boy wouldn’t see him shed tears and think him senile.
Once the boy demonstrated adequate stitch-work on a consistent basis and hit a rhythm, the priest began relating a story from the holy writings. First, he made a show of checking for eavesdroppers and then pulled the outside door shut. Jotham began in a formal voice, “Your first lesson concerns the gods and how they were made. These things were told to us by the Traveler, the only one who speaks to both men and the higher beings. He told us that we might know the Truth and grow. Not all men may hear this teaching. Give it only to those who are willing and have undergone the Ceremony. Do you still wish to hear the first teaching?”
Brent nodded. When the teacher remained silent, he said, “I do, sir.”
For the rest of the lesson, Jotham spoke in a gentle cadence, often in couplets, but softly enough that it wasn’t quite in song. “Many ages ago, the gods were men, not unlike ourselves. But through study and meditation, their sages uncovered the cornerstones of the cosmos. Some of their artifacts from the Dawn Times still exist today, but we understand little. To shield us from the harm these tools would do in immature hands, the Traveler has not told us all of their ways.
“It is important to realize that the higher beings who rule this world did not create it; rather, they learned enough about its rules to make themselves different—immortal. This did not make them better, only more powerful. Avoid bowing to gods.”
When Brent opened his mouth to ask a question, Jotham raised a finger and said, “I’ll tell you why.
“Consider the sun which gives life to us all. Plants drink the energy of life from it directly and, together with the minerals from the ground, thrive. But what if there were a second sun, unseen, that gave life to the spirits of men? The Dawn people found a way to tap this invisible sun for themselves. One by one, those who were able forsook the flesh to embrace the pure source of life.
“Not all aspired. Those who were left diminished. Our sages think there were wars, for the Ascend later made strict rules about communicating with the ephemeral humans and kept separate. For whatever reason, the Dawn civilization fell; their kind gradually vanished. The Ascended race became known as the People of the Air. The white lotus is our sign for them. Time passed for them as a dream, each day fluttering past like a heartbeat; a whole cycle of years evaporated like an hour. They loved, studied, and accomplished things we could scarcely imagine. But even in their lofty ways, they did not forsake this physical world entirely. Just as a plant needs contact with soil, so too did the People of the Air need to touch the world of their birth from time to time.
“That’s when the People of the Air noticed a disturbance in the flow of aetheric energy. In
“In the long run, this will save you time,” the priest pontificated, echoing an old man who had once taught him the same art. “A silver hour well-spent can be worth more than a gold week.” The memories triggered by the tired, old expression forced him to wipe his eyes. Old Eustace would have been proud. It was a shame he’d died in that prison before Jotham learned the Way of Freedom. Jotham cleared his mind so the boy wouldn’t see him shed tears and think him senile.
Once the boy demonstrated adequate stitch-work on a consistent basis and hit a rhythm, the priest began relating a story from the holy writings. First, he made a show of checking for eavesdroppers and then pulled the outside door shut. Jotham began in a formal voice, “Your first lesson concerns the gods and how they were made. These things were told to us by the Traveler, the only one who speaks to both men and the higher beings. He told us that we might know the Truth and grow. Not all men may hear this teaching. Give it only to those who are willing and have undergone the Ceremony. Do you still wish to hear the first teaching?”
Brent nodded. When the teacher remained silent, he said, “I do, sir.”
For the rest of the lesson, Jotham spoke in a gentle cadence, often in couplets, but softly enough that it wasn’t quite in song. “Many ages ago, the gods were men, not unlike ourselves. But through study and meditation, their sages uncovered the cornerstones of the cosmos. Some of their artifacts from the Dawn Times still exist today, but we understand little. To shield us from the harm these tools would do in immature hands, the Traveler has not told us all of their ways.
“It is important to realize that the higher beings who rule this world did not create it; rather, they learned enough about its rules to make themselves different—immortal. This did not make them better, only more powerful. Avoid bowing to gods.”
When Brent opened his mouth to ask a question, Jotham raised a finger and said, “I’ll tell you why.
“Consider the sun which gives life to us all. Plants drink the energy of life from it directly and, together with the minerals from the ground, thrive. But what if there were a second sun, unseen, that gave life to the spirits of men? The Dawn people found a way to tap this invisible sun for themselves. One by one, those who were able forsook the flesh to embrace the pure source of life.
“Not all aspired. Those who were left diminished. Our sages think there were wars, for the Ascend later made strict rules about communicating with the ephemeral humans and kept separate. For whatever reason, the Dawn civilization fell; their kind gradually vanished. The Ascended race became known as the People of the Air. The white lotus is our sign for them. Time passed for them as a dream, each day fluttering past like a heartbeat; a whole cycle of years evaporated like an hour. They loved, studied, and accomplished things we could scarcely imagine. But even in their lofty ways, they did not forsake this physical world entirely. Just as a plant needs contact with soil, so too did the People of the Air need to touch the world of their birth from time to time.
“That’s when the People of the Air noticed a disturbance in the flow of aetheric energy. In
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