The Stuff of Stars: The Seekers, #2

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The Stuff of Stars

(The Seekers – Book 2)

Copyright © 2015 David Litwack

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ISBN (EPUB Version): 1622534352

ISBN-13 (EPUB Version): 978-1-62253-435-7

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Content Editor: John Anthony Allen

Senior/Line Editor: Lane Diamond

Cover Artist: Mallory Rock

Interior Designer: Lane Diamond

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PUBLISHER’S NOTE:

At the end of this novel of approximately 75,495 words, you will find two Special Sneak Previews: 1) THE LIGHT OF REASON by David Litwack, the third and final novel from this multiple award-winning The Seekers series of speculative dystopian adventures, and; 2) THE JAKKATTU VECTOR by P.K. Tyler, the critically acclaimed first novel in the Jakkattu series of dystopian science fiction adventures. We provide these as a FREE extra service, and you should in no way consider it a part of the price you paid for this book. We hope you will both appreciate and enjoy the opportunity. Thank you.

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eBook License Notes:

You may not use, reproduce or transmit in any manner, any part of this book without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews, or in accordance with federal Fair Use laws. All rights are reserved.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

BONUS CONTENT

We’re pleased to offer you not one, but two Special Sneak Previews at the end of this book.

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In the first preview, you’ll enjoy the First 2 Chapters of David Litwack’s THE LIGHT OF REASON, the final book (Book 3) in the multiple award-winning The Seekers series of speculative dystopian adventures.

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OR GRAB THE FULL EBOOK TODAY!

FIND LINKS TO YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER HERE:

THE SEEKERS Series at Evolved Publishing

In the second preview, you’ll enjoy the First 2 Chapters of P.K. Tyler’s THE JAKKATTU VECTOR, the first novel in the Jakkattu series of dystopian science fiction adventures.

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OR GRAB THE FULL EBOOK TODAY!

FIND LINKS TO YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER HERE:

The JAKKATTU Series at Evolved Publishing

Books by David Litwack

THE SEEKERS

Book 1: The Children of Darkness

Book 2: The Stuff of Stars

Book 3: The Light of Reason

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Along the Watchtower

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The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky

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The Time That’s Given

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www.DavidLitwack.com

WHAT OTHERS ARE SAYING

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ALONG THE WATCHTOWER

It is both gritty reality and magical fantasy... ultimately it is a story of healing, of burying the past, finding hope and taking control of the future. ~ Awesome Indies Reviews

...poignant story of love, loss, and faith. ...flawless. ~ Clarion Foreword Reviews

It’s an enticing, amazing story of a journey of self-discovery and healing, of the consequences of war, of hope." ~ Majanka, I Heart Reading

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THE TIME THAT’S GIVEN

A keen and delightful multi-genre tale about a hero grappling with two worlds. ~ Kirkus Reviews

David Litwack is a master of fantasy in his latest body of work. ... The progression of descriptive scenery and rich dialogue throughout this read takes his readers by the hand and leads them on a somewhat credible and epic journey. ~ Feathered Quill Book Reviews

"I consider The Time That’s Given one of the most inspiring fantasy novels I have ever read." ~ Readers’ Favorite Book Reviews, Astrid Iustulin

It is original, entertaining, action-packed and exceptionally well-crafted. ... Absolutely magical! ~ Readers’ Favorite Book Reviews, Rabia Tanveer

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THE DAUGHTER OF THE SEA AND THE SKY

...a fully imagined, gripping read.... ~ Kirkus Reviews

The reader will find wisdom and grace in this beautifully written story.... ~ San Francisco Review Book Review

...an enthralling look at an alternative world... thought-provoking, beautifully written and highly entertaining. ~ Readers’ Favorite Book Reviews, Jack Magnus

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THE CHILDREN OF DARKNESS

A tightly executed first fantasy installment that champions the exploratory spirit. ~ Kirkus Reviews

The plot unfolds easily, swiftly, and never lets the readers’ attention wane... ~ Feathered Quill Book Reviews

"The quality of its intelligence, imagination, and prose raises The Children of Darkness to the level of literature." ~ Awesome Indies Reviews

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THE STUFF OF STARS

...an excellent book about what it means to be human, what humanity can strive for, and ultimately the balance between technology and nature, dreams and reality... ~ Michael SciFan

... a thought-provoking and well-crafted tale - one that will delight lovers of dystopia, science fiction and fantasy. ~ Readers’ Favorite Book Reviews, Hilary Hawkes

"The Stuff of Stars is dystopian literature at its best." ~ Feathered Quill Book Reviews

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THE LIGHT OF REASON

...a superbly crafted adventure. ~ Kirkus Reviews, Coveted Star Review

David Litwack’s writing is impeccable and he has a great gift for character and plot. ...fast-paced and highly entertaining. ~ Readers’ Favorite Book Reviews, Divine Zape

Table of Contents

Copyright

BONUS CONTENT

Books by David Litwack

What Others Are Saying

Dedication

THE STUFF OF STARS

PART ONE – The Masters of Machines

Chapter 1 – The Shining City

Chapter 2 – The Mentor

Chapter 3 – A Safe and Dry Place

Chapter 4 – A New Adventure

Chapter 5 – A Cry in the Night

Chapter 6 – Seekers Once More

Chapter 7 – The Welcome Feast

PART TWO – The People of the Earth

Chapter 8 – Greenies

Chapter 9 – The Ragged Lady

Chapter 10 – The Hall of Winds

Chapter 11 –A Dread from the Past

Chapter 12 – The Gilded Prison

Chapter 13 – A Tapping on the Door

Chapter 14 – Truth at Last

Chapter 15 – Images on the Wall

Chapter 16 – Mind Games

Chapter 17 – Honeysuckle and Reeds

Chapter 18 – Butterflies and Spinning Wheels

Chapter 19 – Shift and Weave

Chapter 20 – Wolves and Unicorns

Chapter 21 – The Mending Machine

PART THREE – Dreamers

Chapter 22 – Deepest Dread

Chapter 23 – The Darkened Lake

Chapter 24 – Antechamber

Chapter 25 – The Chamber of Dreams

Chapter 26 – Return to the Living

Chapter 27 – Insurrection

Chapter 28 – Kara’s Time

Chapter 29 – Sides of the Ledger

Chapter 30 – To the Mountain

Chapter 31 – The Dreamers

Chapter 32 – Would-Be Warriors

Chapter 33 – The People of the Earth

Chapter 34 – Going Home

EPILOGUE

Special Sneak Preview: THE LIGHT OF REASON by David Litwack

Acknowledgements

About the Author

More from David Litwack

More from Evolved Publishing

Special Sneak Preview: THE JAKKATTU VECTOR by P.K. Tyler

Dedication

For Mary Anne, who always knew I would write again.

PART ONE –The Masters of Machines

I will tell you a great secret, Captain, perhaps the greatest of all time. The molecules of your body are the same molecules that make up this station, and the nebula outside—that burn inside the stars themselves. We are star stuff. We are the Universe made manifest, trying to figure itself out. ~ Delenn, Babylon 5

Chapter 1 – The Shining City

I startled awake to the touch of a ragamuffin boy with long hair tangled into knots. He wore a threadbare shirt and leggings with holes at the knees, and seemed no more than nine years old. I blinked at him three times to drive the cobwebs from my mind.

The boy stared back with eyes too big for his head.

After a moment, he reached out a finger and brushed something coarse from my cheek. Wet sand caked on my skin. I must have been lying face down.

I rolled over and sniffed. The air bore the brackish odor of low tide, thank the light. Had the tide been higher, I’d have drowned. I inhaled more deeply. Low tide for sure, a stale smell of tides gone by, of half-conscious sailors who had crashed on the reefs before me. The air still reeked of their fear at finding themselves, as I did, alone in a new land.

Well, not entirely alone.

Who... are you? My voice sounded scratchy like the sand. How long have I been lying here?

The boy stayed silent as my memories trickled back in. My name, Orah Weber. My birthplace, Little Pond. The discovery of the long-lost keep. The building of the boat, the first of its kind in hundreds of years. Its once unthinkable launch from the far side of the granite mountains. The endless days at sea. The storm.

Nathaniel!

I raised up on one elbow and scanned my surroundings. Do you know where my friend is?

The boy shook his head. Still no sound from his lips.

A clamor from behind, and I twisted around to catch a gaggle of children approaching from the dunes above the beach. Arms were raised, fingers pointed, and the younger ones squealed with delight. Then a cry of relief from a deeper voice, one I knew so well.

I turned to thank the boy for leading Nathaniel to me but saw only his back as he raced off down the beach, leaving a trail of bare footprints in the sand.

I shook off the crick in my neck and sat up to greet the newcomers.

These new children were different, cleaner and better kempt than the silent boy. Their hair was short and razor cut, like the hair of all who had come of age in Little Pond.

A girl marched at their lead, barking out orders for the younger children to stay in line. She strode down the dunes, flush with the fragile self-assurance of early adulthood, so much like me when I first set out to seek the keep. She wore tight-fitting pants that reached midway down her calves, and a tunic with no visible belt or button to hold it in place. Her clothing was made of a material like none I’d ever seen, gleaming almost metallic in the sunlight.

The fog in my mind continued to clear as an onshore breeze kicked up, making the girl’s tunic billow.

I scrambled to my feet, checking for injuries as I stood—nothing but bumps and bruises. Then I limped off to meet Nathaniel as he sprinted toward me like the winner of a race at festival. Neither of us slowed until we were wrapped in each other’s arms.

Nathaniel. My best friend. My husband.

I held him close, consumed by the same fear that had haunted me after our escape from Temple City—that one day we’d be separated forever. But now, like then, I had little time to savor the moment. I pulled away to assess his wellbeing. Sand mottled his hair and beard, and a purple welt blossomed on his right forearm where the sleeve of his tunic had torn, but no other wound showed.

As I breathed a sigh of relief, he glanced over his shoulder.

The girl had whirled on her troop, quelling their excitement with a wave of her hand and urging them to retreat up the dunes, as if coming to the beach had trespassed on enemy territory.

I questioned Nathaniel with my eyes, but he answered without a word, reaching out a hand and beckoning me to follow.

I did my best to keep up with the children on legs unsteady from the weeks at sea. As I staggered along, I studied them.

Each wore a hand-sized black box in a pouch at their hip, and carried a sack filled with fresh fish. Some of the older boys brandished sticks with sharpened points. Spears for fishing, or weapons for defense?

At the top of the dunes, their leader stopped before a series of stone benches. Rest here, she said. We mustn’t stay long, but you’ll need to get your legs under you before you make the trek uphill.

What if more IBs come? the youngest boy whispered.

Hush, Timmy. Can’t you see how tired they are? Besides, we have time. The IBs don’t worship till sunset.

My legs throbbed too much to be concerned with sunset or IBs, whoever they might be. I collapsed with Nathaniel on the nearest bench.

Who... are you? I struggled to form the words through parched lips.

I am Kara. You sound as if you need a drink. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a soft-skinned bottle, like a Little Pond goatskin, but made from the same shiny material as her tunic. Have some of mine. Take as much as you want. The streams on the lower mountain have all gone foul, but the desals make all the water we need from the sea. At least when they function.

I took a sip from the bottle. The water tasted sweet with a hint of apple.

Kara hovered over me as I drank. Her eyes shone with a forced pride, like someone filled with doubt trying to look confident. She blinked and turned her attention to Nathaniel, who sprawled on the bench beside me, then lowered her voice and spoke in the way people back home addressed a vicar. Are you from the ancient land?

If you mean the land across the sea, then yes. His voice sounded raspy like mine.

I passed him the water skin.

We learned about you in our lessons, Kara said. The mentor taught us that people lived on the far side of the ocean, but they’d forgotten how to think. One day, he said, they’d remember and sail here. Her smile broadened. And now you have come.

The boy who had asked about the bench stepped forward and tugged at Kara’s thumb. Could they be dreamers?

No, Timmy.

They might be.

You mustn’t pretend. It’s unseemly. Use your brain. We have no reason to believe they’re dreamers.

Undeterred, the boy huddled with the other children and whispered.

I picked up snippets of his words. ... might be... what if... the dreamers returned.

Who are the dreamers? I said.

The children stopped their chatter and stared at their shoe tops.

After an awkward moment, Kara stepped forward. The mentor prefers we call them machine masters.

But—

You must be hungry. We’ve caught fish to cook, and hopefully, the synthesizers will work today and make something tasty to go with them. Come now. We need to leave this place before the grown-up IBs come for their sunset nonsense. Come with us to the city.

I scanned the woods bordering the beach, hoping to catch sight of the shimmering towers I’d seen from our boat before the storm struck. Nothing. We sat too near the slope, and tall trees blocked our view.

I looked to Kara instead. Is the city where your elders live?

She eyed me. What are elders?

I’m sorry. I don’t know the words you use. We’re seeking the descendants of those who first came here, the kin of the keepmasters.

The girl stared open-mouthed.

The ones who built the city, I said.

More chatter from the younger children, and Kara hissed at them to be quiet.

I overheard the same phrase as before: the dreamers.

At last Kara turned back to me. Those who built the city have gone to a higher place. The mentor can tell you more. We’ll take you to him.

I took one final swig of the sweet water and forced myself to stand. My muscles groaned, but my mind churned. Desals and synthesizers, machine masters and dreamers? We had lots to learn.

The children hoisted their sacks and led us along a muddy road that straddled the rim of the cliffs. Breakers from the storm still pounded the rocks and sent an angry spray across our path. Clouds of squawking gulls wheeled overhead, eyeing the catch of fish.

After a while, we left the gulls behind and entered a well-trodden trail cut through the woods. The scent of the sea dwindled with the offshore breeze, replaced by the welcome smells of land—pine resin and moist earth, growing plants and animals with fur instead of scales. How good to leave the tumultuous sea behind, even if its waters represented our last link to home.

The line of children rambled along without speaking. What must they think of us, these strangers who’d crashed so unceremoniously on their shore?

A rustling in the trees distracted me.

Not far from the start of the inland path, the silent boy peeked at us between the branches. The other children ignored him.

I caught up to Kara. Who is that boy, and why do you pretend he’s not there?

Kara shrugged. He’s an IB.

What’s an IB?

They call themselves people of the earth, but we call them greenies, just as they call us technos. The younger children prefer IB, short for ishkabibblers. The mentor teaches us that their thoughts are nothing but babble. That’s why we started calling them ishkabibblers.

I gaped at her, my mind too tired to comprehend.

Her mouth spread into a grin. You know, the sound you make by running your fingers over your lips while humming.

She demonstrated, making the silly sound, and the other children joined in.

I had to laugh despite the cramps in my legs, and she laughed with me. I glanced over my shoulder, taking in the last glimpse of the ocean. How different this new land is from our side of the sea.

Nathaniel smiled and squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back. Then I looked past him into the woods, searching for the young IB, but the boy had vanished, devoured by the trees.

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We followed the techno children on a serpentine path steep enough to challenge our breathing. In places where the footing turned treacherous, with slick roots and loose scree, some craftsman had embedded stone steps to ease the way. After too many weeks on the waves, Nathaniel and I tottered along, clinging to each other for support as we fought the lingering sense of the ground undulating underfoot.

I swallowed to wet my throat. The water Kara had shared had been insufficient to quench my thirst, but my stomach growled as well. How long had I lain asleep on the sand? To the west, the sun sank low on the horizon, heralding the advent of twilight. Our boat had crashed before dawn. A whole day lost.

Our last week at sea, we’d rationed both food and water. Now hunger and thirst conspired to muddle my mind, and the usual fire in Nathaniel’s eyes had dimmed as well. I willed myself to keep up with the children, driven by a new hope—that any second the shining city I’d seen from the boat would appear. I prayed it was no illusion.

After a while, we emerged from the woods into a rounded knoll, its edges too perfect to be natural. The clearing marked the start of a paved road with the blackened surface I’d viewed on screens in the keep. This road, however, had buckled from weather, leaving cracks and hollows. Recent damage, I prayed, for these descendants of the keepmasters would never tolerate imperfection. Then I glanced up, and my doubts evaporated.

The shining city was no illusion, no trick of the dark or the storm. The road led to a hilltop adorned with beams of light streaming to the sky, more glorious than anything in the keepmasters’ city, even before it fell into ruin. These rays glimmered in the impending dusk, bringing joy to the heavens, the first row as high as I could see, but then the next, farther back and even higher, and then another and another.

The keep had opened my eyes to the past, but my people had shunned what we’d found, wary of a return to the darkness. After centuries of stagnation, their vision had narrowed, and their sense of adventure had dulled. We’d crossed the ocean to prove the possible, to show what a boldness of spirit could achieve. We’d hoped to discover the future.

Now we’d done it. We’d found the kin of the keepmasters. How far had these people advanced in the past thousand years? What wonders awaited?

Nathaniel threw an arm around my waist and pulled me tight. You see it too, don’t you? It’s all real.

I clutched him closer as we stared up. Your dream come true.

"Our dream."

The city had been cut into a sheer rock face that girded the midsection of the mountain. Higher up, a second cliff loomed, with another man-made structure carved into it. I strained to distinguish its features, but mist from a nearby waterfall veiled its lines. To be visible from so far away, the place must be a fortress for giants.

Far above both, a snow-covered peak lorded over the land, as if to remind its citizens that, despite their genius, a greater power ruled their world.

As we drew closer, I had to cup a hand over my eyes to see through the glare. An arched gate straddled the road ahead, providing the only access to the city or the mountain beyond. The wall of light combined with the rock face to create an impassible barrier, seemingly built to keep out the most powerful of enemies.

When we rounded the final curve, the road straightened, letting me grasp the details more clearly. The arch was made not of light like the wall, but of sandstone, with carvings etched across its top, faded images I could recognize only by squinting and using my imagination—men and women, it seemed, clutching scrolls and instruments in their hands, with tiny wings on their shoulders. On either side of the opening stood a statue of a stone warrior, four times Nathaniel’s height and twice his girth. Each carried two swords crossed on their armored chests, and their eyes glowed red and unblinking.

Through the arch, I was surprised to find not a glorious city, but a cluster of dwellings cobbled from sheets of metal and covered with gray slate roofs. These appeared humbler than a Little Pond cottage and crammed together to fill every inch of space. Neither land nor trees separated the dwellings; no vegetable garden or flower box added color to the gray.

Behind the dwellings, a sturdier structure dominated, more substantial than the others. It was capped with a dome that seemed to mimic the mountain, a place where the interior might meet my lofty expectations. Yet even at this distance, I sensed something wrong. The walls of light blazed too brightly for the dwellings inside, too magnificent even for the austere dome. And a sadness pervaded the place, as if some tragedy had happened there and left its mark in the bones of the city.

A flutter unsettled my stomach, different from hunger. What if these aren’t the visionaries we’d come all this way to find?

A rush of feathers churned the air as a flock of blackbirds startled and took flight, a foreboding cloud darkening the already dim sky. They squawked and swirled and flew off toward the distant cliffs, as if the fortress that loomed higher up was their resting place. In an instant the sky had cleared and all was silent again.

With the birds announcing our approach, the dwellings came alive. More techno children poured forth from the gate to greet us, all bearing the same hand-sized black box carried by our companions

Two red-haired girls raced to the front, one about eight and the other ten—they might have been sisters—jostling each other to reach us first. They unlatched the pouch as they ran and pulled out their boxes. Each tried to point hers at us, but the other kept swatting it away.

Let me, the older one said. Yours is broken.

You promised we’d pretend, the younger girl cried.

Kara stepped in between. Behave, Marissa, and you too Maisha. Remember the rule: those with goodies mustn’t gloat. There someday will go all of us.

What are they doing? I said.

Our way of greeting. Like all our machines since the day of ascension, many have failed beyond our skill to repair. She studied her toe digging a hole in the sand. Some of the children pretend they work to keep up the tradition.

More people poured out to greet us, dozens of them. Mostly children, they swarmed, a few reaching out to touch our clothing, and others waving their black boxes at us. The younger ones asked the familiar questions. Who are these strangers? Where are they from?

And the same phrase repeated—the dreamers.

In this way, they swept us along until suddenly, all conversation stopped. We’d reached the archway, the entrance to the city.

Kara stepped in front and held up a hand.

Wait here. She gestured to the stone statues with the glowing eyes. "The guards won’t let you through. Not yet. I’ll ask the mentor