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6M

p11

The Vivarium

by

Bibiana Burke

 

‘What would you do if the world was about to end and only you knew it?

 I’ll tell you what one man did:”

 

Synopsis

 

Lost beyond the future, in a post apocalyptic wasteland. two rival civilisations are preparing for war.

 

The Portans are a society of rogue scientists who, at first, believed themselves the sole survivors of the massacre they inadvertently engineered.

The invaders  the Irrans, are a mysterious tribe who believe that the gods will conquer their adversary .

 This battle will be epic, but the victories only phyrric.

 Katrina, the imprisoned puppet ruler of the Portans, sees this all too clearly She alone knows there is a greater enemy at large. menacing both factions  - and humanity itself. The only hope is for Katrina to escape into enemy territory to find the “Davant”  who alone has the power to save them all. But no-one knows who this chosen one is, not even the Davant herself.

Meanwhile, the Irrans want them both dead.

In a time and place where truth and history are amorphous and nothing and no one is else is ever as they seem,  all alliances are treacherous.

And it may already be too late.

 

From chapter one:

 

The end had begun for the other 6.5 billion, on a warm and starry summer night many years before. The stars after midnight were wan and blinking heavily; signs of a struggle to burn on another night without relenting to the encompassing omnipresent darkness of their sky. Their glimmer alighted on the couple who lay drifting in dreams and around the sheltered bay, their faces turned to the heavens, Their little wooden rowing boat bobbed gently on the deep calm water and they left the coast behind as the tide pulled them out to sea. The bay was secluded, bordered by a thick pine wood, which rose up the sloping hillsides all around. This late at night the only lights about were at a distance; from porches and isolated cottage windows and from the new moon and her reflections, which were silvering the tips of the waves. The darkness meant that the boat and its cargo of companions could see every star in the heavens, twinkling and teaming above them.

 

“A shooting star!” The young man cried suddenly, jabbing at the sky with his finger. He sat up in the boat to better scan the rest of the panoply. The young woman at his side sat up and nestled back into his side, drowsily, but no more stars fell. Seeing her sleepy and realising how far they had drifted, the man took up the oars and prepared to row them back to the little cliff-side jetty, on the other side of the bay. He seated himself on one of the rowing benches. which traversed the vessel, from port to starboard, and slipped the oars through the iron rings on either side.

 

Then he saw it.

 

From this elevation he could just make out, from its multifarious contours, where the moonlight caught it, its shape. It floated, like a moonlit diamond, across the other side of the bay, towards the sea. It was white and sparking, as if it was the corpse of the star that he had just watched falling. He nudged the woman and she moved to sit beside him.

She stared at it, just as he did. It was real -

-It was an iceberg...

…They continued to watch, agog, until they realised that all around them there were even more oddities to see:

Another shooting star and another, falling all around.

The couple looked from the iceberg to the sky as the blazing white trails and tails of stars suddenly began to arch and cross above them in the darkness. Every star in the sky seemed to plummet, in concert, until it seemed that all of them had turned into rain drops.

There was no longer a happy couple, spectating in awe and puzzlement, beneath the sky, but two helpless beings holding onto each other in fear and confusion.

 

From chapter three:

 

    "You believe then?” Asked Sakian, his firm voice fraying with concern.

Rivoldus nodded once, deeply and gravely.

"A Davant is out there, Sakian.” He confirmed. “One who can lay to waste all we have prepared.”

Sakian shook his head, his fear was making him bolder.

"But how can that be?” He demanded stoically. "Every year at The Calling we performed the rites - for fifty-seven years, nothing - the same homage to the dead, the begging for an answer - are you saying something could have come of this, after all. without us even knowing it?”

"The ways of The Masses may not be for us to understand, but this one thing I do know  - we must discover and destroy it immediately.”

"It will be sought out.” Affirmed Sakian, clenching his fists. “Tell me how to find it and I will take men with me now for the dispatch.”

But Rivoldus was staring back at him in consternation.

"I cannot give its whereabouts to you Sakian.” He answered, shaking his head and Sakian raised his deep dark eyes as the teachings of his boyhood returned to him. "Only those with whom it was created, can.” Sakian sighed, hopelessly.

 Rivoldus nodded. 

"Do not despair so easily. Sakian.” He chided. “I have an idea of how to find out now how and if a Davant was created. I have been deliberating over this tome, in which the details of each Calling was recounted-and to think there were those who believed it should be burned when the New Word came to us through the seeress!” He added with relief.

Rivoldus heaved open the book: the paper was of brittle marsh rush pulp from the sacred marshes and, though heavy, demanded the utmost care in page-turning. He opened it on the page of the fifty-fifth Calling.

Then he turned to Titien, whose eyes had been flitting uncomprehendingly between Sakian and Rivoldus during their exchange.

"Fifteen years ago, when you were very young.” Rivoldus explained to him. “And almost coincident with the arrival of the New Word, through our young seeress Jane - the one who first warned us against the advent of a Davant  -  there was a Calling, as every year, down in the marshlands at the site of our Great Battle with the Portan tyrants. The consecrated Callers were to intercede with The Masses  -  the spirits of those who died there. They would call to these spirits, through rituals and sacrifices, for vengeance on the Portans to be reeked by the spirits they slew. They longed for a Davant  - a mighty leader who would save them and lead them to victory. But, as you know, when Jane began her teaching of the New Word we learned that a Davant would be not a gift of  The Masses but one of great devilry -she would be a Portan tool. But now I fear that perhaps it is too late.”

He turned to Sakian.

“The Callers had asked The Masses for a Davant - over and over. I do not believe, however, that it was from these consecrated Callers that the Davant was created, Sakian.”

“These consecrated ones were the officiators of the Calling.” Rivoldus continued to Titien. “They put themselves forward to be at the mercy of  The Masses. It was hoped that one or many of them would be transformed- would be filled with the power of The Masses and so lead Irra into a great and glorious victory against the Portan murderers. But nothing happened. Our people accused the consecrated ones of being unworthy of  The Masses’ power, and schisms rent the population. These rifts were only healed when it came to everyone’s attention that a young girl called Jane had begun to draw the most mysterious diagrams.”

“At the ceremony of the fifty-fifth Calling there is a report of two servants of the Consecrated having disappeared- that is, they could not be summoned when called for at the end of the ceremony.”

Rivoldus looked up, eyebrows raised. “Now I need you to pay heed, Sakian.” He ordered, with stern sincerity.

“Since none had seen them leave they were presumed drowned, as the valiant ancestors had been, in that covetous marsh. But a strange thing was to happen then:

One was found - recognised by a member of his family. He was discovered dishevelled, wandering the outskirts, towards The Mountain in a state of half-being -this was several weeks later. They tried to persuade him to return to his ceremonial duties, which he had been so devoted to, but he became violent and in this state an innocent man was slain by him and once again he vanished. Then one day, about a year later, he returned to his home as if nothing had happened, as if remembering nothing of his previous state. Naturally he was captured and tried for the man’s murder. This servant was exiled to a life of servitude in the iron mines beneath our feet  - I believe that is where he will still be found today.”

Sakian’s brow furrowed. “Fourteen years in the iron mines?” His tone was incredulous. “Survival of that length down there is unknown!”

Rivoldus’s expression hardened.

“Precisely, Sakian. Even now he feels he has something to live for- The Masses will not let him die- he must know something. Bring him to me!”...