Asunder Chapter 44

Chapter 9.2 (44)

Earlier Life

Jeremiah Colroy Jenkins

“And an afterthought shall be her mercy, for the rightful heirs of the earth shall see their bosom once more. Time is bent and broken beneath the weight of her eyes. The milk and honey shall wet the lost chapped lips, and the only sun shall dry their unending tears.” - Song of the Sparrow 1:11, Book of Shepherds.

- Five days before the present day -

- The Year 2296 -

Jeremiah “The Judge” Jenkins looked over the valley. The morning chill drew crisp breaths from his lungs. The sun had not yet reached over the horizon, and the landscape about him glowed a deep blue. The reservoir below had filled to capacity over the summer. He had never been to the body of water before the machine's rule. Still, he could imagine the number of families boating on its surface, enjoying the summer’s limited warmth offered in this region. Summers were shorter in this area of the country, not so different from the Northeast, where he had spent many years living. Though originally from the Southwest desert of what was once known as Arizona, he recalled its summers—dry heat that stretched on for most of the year. Comparatively, the days were warm here in this high desert, but the nights offered refuge.

The Judge felt the deep breaths of his horse between his legs. His current home was not far from where he now stood, yet the small hike winded the horse. The creature had aged significantly over the years, so much that Oliver had developed arthritis in his left hind leg, making these treks harder on the animal. Oliver shifted, then neighed and snorted. The Judge imagined what the horse was saying. Jane would constantly reassure the horse when he was nervous or skittish and then convince him everything would be okay. Barbara, his late wife, who had the same gift as Jane, would use the same intonations when she spoke to animals. He wondered if the trait they both carried was what created the tone of voice or if it was a learned behavior preserved through generations—either way, the thought made him miss them both.

He looked up at the mountain on the valley’s west side, taking in its majestic grandeur. It was much larger than the peak he currently stood on. He could almost feel the hum of the machines deep within its belly, harvesting the ore. The ore he was sworn to protect. He could sense Jane within the mountain. Time and space could not break the sense. She was still sleeping. She would be up soon.

He steadied the reigns and then pulled Oliver to the side. They would make the descent today. He could feel the urgency in the air. Something was disturbing the flow of time, and it somehow involved Jane. He had packed his essentials from his nearby cave. He suspected it would be the last time he and the horse stepped foot in the cave again. It had been their home for the past few years, but they both were ready to be done with it. Its dark dampness was safe but did not replace the comforts of a log cabin.

The Judge and Oliver descended into the trees and followed an old trail progressing down the mountain's ridge into the ravine leading to the old reservoir. The horse took it slow with the bum knee and all. The Judge didn’t want to push him too much, and so he settled into the saddle and drifted into thought.

He recalled his wedding day to Barbara. He reminisced about his daughter Eleanor’s early years and then on to her wedding day—the laughter of his granddaughter and grandson. Then, the flashes of the snake bite crept into his memories—haunting him.

All those years ago, the remembrance of the desert heat pulled him into the memory—the thoughts of the end. The fear of dying alone, stranded in the middle of the Arizona territory desert. The fatigue, dry mouth, thirst, and pain from the poison entered his bloodstream through his leg. He remembered the fevered hallucinations—the verge of succumbing to the venom and the elements. Then, the blackness intermixed with sudden bright visions of feathers. The distant and echoing sound of voices speaking a language foreign to his understanding but familiar to his psyche. The endless dreams and the sudden awakenings. He recalled when he finally awoke to find himself staring at a group of Navajo children watching him intently, one poking him with a stick.

A local Navajo tribesman had found him almost dead while hunting. They brought him to their medicine man, who could stop the spread of the venom. His leg ached as he recalled the purple and grey discoloring surrounding the wound. One of the tribespeople spoke English and could recount the story to him.

It took him many more days to recover. While in the throngs of the indigenous people, he intently watched as they spoke to each other, cooked their food, told their stories, celebrated the feasts of the hunts, prayed for the animals, slept, cleaned, and sang. He was cared for by an English-speaking indigenous man. Tkin nih-dzid-teih, or in English, Runner-On-Ice. The Judge knew there was something special about the man caring for him, as even the tribe’s medicine man turned to Tkin for guidance.

One night, the Judge was suddenly awakened as the tribe’s medicine man rushed into Tkin’s hogan. He spoke quickly and quietly to Tkin, and Tkin nodded in agreement. Soon after, the medicine man returned holding a child with a severely broken leg and gashes all over his body. The Judge pretended to be asleep and secretly peered through squinted eyes as Tkin removed a staff from the back of the hogan. The Judge silently watched as Tkin hummed in his native language, all while placing his hand on the child’s chest. A blue vapor emitted from his mouth as he spoke. An ethereal blue glow emitted from between Tkin’s eyelids. Astonishingly, the child’s contorted leg slowly crunched and reshaped into a straight, non-broken leg. The gashes slowly grew over with fresh new skin. The child suddenly gasped and sat straight up. With this, the medicine man scooped the child up and, nodding to Tkin, quickly took the child from the Tkin’s home and returned to his hut to take the credit for the healing.

Pretending to sleep, the Judge observed as the blue glow illuminating Tkin’s open eyes faded. The man picked up his staff and carefully hid it among his belongings in the back of the hut. The Judge realized his own recovery had nothing to do with the medicine man and everything to do with Tkin.

Finally, near the end of his recuperation, the Judge breached the subject with Tkin. “Why am I taking so long to recover Tkin?”

“Aaah, because the rattlesnake bit you, did you think you would heal in a single day, Jeremiah?” The Navajo man spoke practically.

“Well, you were able to heal that little boy the other night within seconds,” the Judge responded.

Tkin sat quietly, contemplating what the Judge had said.

“You saw that, did you?” Tkin spoke dryly.

“Yeah, I did. I know it’s you and not the medicine man. Why don’t you just be the healer? Why do you hide behind your medicine man?” The Judge spoke arrogantly.

“It is not so easy an answer, Jeremiah.”

“Well, why am I not healing quicker?” The Judge spoke with some resentment.

“Because the snake venom had reached your entire system by the time I had found you. It is harder to cure than a simple injury. It is like that with old wounds or chronic illnesses. The healing doesn’t work the same.” Tkin spoke plainly.

“What doesn’t work the same? That magic you use?” The Judge asked, hoping to get more information from the man.

“I guess you could call it magic,” Tkin smiled. “It is the rock of life that imbues me,” Tkin continued. “It is also the rock that has chosen you.” He said, now with a smile.

The memory faded as Oliver slipped on a rock and nearly tumbled. “Whoa there, partner,” the Judge consoled the animal. “Let’s be careful.”

The Judge’s recollection of the event caused him to look back over the mountain he and Oliver were descending. The rock of life. The ore within the mountain.

He patted the old horse, “I’m sorry I can’t heal your knee, ol’ buddy.”

The horse neighed back and continued carefully maneuvering down the rocky path. The lingering memory returned, and the Judge’s thoughts coalesced around Tkin—his old friend. He recalled years after healing from the snake bite and finally returned home.

His wife Barbara had fallen off the wagon and broken her ankle. Rather than calling the town doctor, the Judge had quickly straddled her to his horse and took off into the desert. After hours of riding, he finally noted the horses with their warriors atop their backs, watching on the ridge. They called to each other, followed by the near incitement of attack on the intruders, until they realized who he was. The warriors led him to the medicine man. Once in the hut, the Judge asked to see Tkin.

Tkin eventually healed Barbara’s ankle. His wife did not seem surprised at Tkin’s gift and profusely thanked him. Tkin eventually led them back to their horse to see them off, when the man first discovered Barbara’s gift. She consoled the horse as it was startled by the warriors surrounding it. She spoke softly to the mare, and in return, the horse neighed. Tkin had astutely picked up on the subtle conversation between the woman and the horse and didn’t seem surprised. Tkin spoke quietly with Barbara about the gift, receiving confirmation of his speculation. She was never shy about talking about it when questioned. This openness led many people in their town to think she had a mental illness. The Judge didn’t really care what others thought, and so they continued with life despite the taunts she received.

Tkin asked the Judge to return the following day without Barbara. In gratitude for his wife’s healing, the Judge agreed and returned the next day. The Judge remembered the day with near-perfect recollection. He could almost still smell the smoke bellowing from the roofs of the hogans. He remembered the sound of the children laughing as they ran between the structures. The people within the encampment almost did not notice the tall, white-haired man walking through their home. He remembered the look on Tkin’s face as he approached the man’s hut. Tkin stood at the doorway, smiling. The Judge soon found out the meeting was nothing to smile about. Tkin had summoned the Judge for something he never could have imagined.

His mind flashed to Tkin’s staff, their horses riding into the desert, their arrival at the cave dwellings, the altar, the carvings, the stone archway, the book, and the ancient text. The memory replayed in his mind.

Tkin opened the large book, and after flipping through the pages, he came across a page containing two columns of words in a foreign text. One column split into two further columns near the bottom, and one of those split columns merged with the main column on the left. The writing appeared foreign, and the Judge could not read it until Tkin gently placed his staff with the blue, glowing stone fashioned into its end onto the Judge’s temple. Suddenly, the Judge could discern and interpret the text. The left column contained names he recognized. The right column contained names much more difficult for him to pronounce. As he read down the list on the left, he came across a familiar name: his wife’s father’s name, John Bowman. This name preceded the next name, his wife’s name, Barbara Jenkins. The first name below his wife’s was familiar: Eleanor, their daughter’s name, but her married name, LaGrange, followed it. Elouise, his granddaughter’s name, followed this. The names continued until the merging of the two columns, with Jane Wilder Rose and Elijah Veno Rose. The columns all ended with the name Imogene Eleanor Rose.

“What is this?” He recalled asking Tkin.

“This is why I was led to you.” Tkin replied, smiling. A twinkle in his eye informed the Judge there was way more to the story than a snake bite and the random life-saving performed by the tribesman. Tkin proceeded to explain everything. The source of his powers. The oath he swore. The effects the oath took on his body. The inability to age. The ability to heal. The binding of kin. The connection. The knowing. The perception. The guardianship. The fellowship. It was all part of a greater plan and promise.

Tkin explained how a greater power chose some, just as it chose him, to take on the oath of guardianship. To join a fellowship of paladins, set apart to protect the knowledge of the stone, to ensure the fulfillment of prophecy, and to guard the way. Much of what he said made little sense to the Judge. It was all so confusing, but one thing that stood out to him above the others was the names in the book. They were the people he loved most in this world, and now he had realized they were not only important to him but essential to some greater cause. He felt the overwhelming need to protect them, to ensure their safety.

It was challenging to believe, even with the intense feelings entering his heart. He was not one who so quickly took to religion and fanciful notions. He was a man of a sound mind, or so he thought. To outright believe some stories told him by a man who lived in the wilderness would not change his frame of mind in the blink of an eye. He thanked Tkin for sharing and eventually made his way home. The Judge still regretted that decision. He lamented the disappointment he caused Tkin to feel. The Judge could see in Tkin’s eyes the sorrow when he declined the invitation. Before he left, Tkin slipped a small stone into his hand. As the Judge rode home, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the tiny stone. It glowed blue, even in the midday sun, just as the stone affixed the end of Tkin’s staff.

The Judge forcefully suppressed the memory of the interaction until almost a year later when Elouise, his granddaughter, contracted Valley Fever. This dire situation was when the consideration became a reality to him again. He thought of it often as he kept the small stone in his pocket as a reminder of his near-death experience. The town doctor could only do so much for Elouise, so they waited with bated breath. The Judge tried for days to help her parents manage her symptoms, where he, even in secret, would place the small stone on her forehead, hoping it had some magical power that could heal her. She continued to worsen, and eventually, with nowhere else to go, the Judge decided he needed to see his old friend again—a friend he had so blatantly disappointed.

The Judge convinced his daughter Eleanor to let him take his granddaughter to the tribesman. After much hesitation on her parent’s part, they eventually gave in, so he brought Elouise to the tribe but was astonished to find Tkin had left months before. There was no sign of the man who had the power to save his granddaughter. Saddened by the man’s absence, the Judge returned home heavy-hearted. 

That night, as he sat beside Elouise with her ragged breathing, he prayed. He broke down and prayed. It was something he had not done since childhood. In the prayer, he envisioned the ancient text, the cave, and the stone carvings. He couldn’t shake them from his mind. He tried to pray for his granddaughter’s safety and well-being, but his words were continually interrupted by the imagery of the cave.

In desperation, he jumped on his horse and rode into the dark desert—riding for hours, guided only by a sliver of moonlight and the extraordinarily brilliant Milky Way. After arriving, he jumped off his horse and rushed into the hollow, hoping to see his friend, Tkin. There was no one—only the subtle glow of the moon shining through an opening in the roof. The moonlight appeared to illuminate only one thing in the room: the book. Walking over to the text, he caressed its binding and symbols. The sizeable leather-bound codex had the foreign script written across the front of it. Cracking its binding, he realized no one had likely opened it since his last visit. The text was in a script he was unable to read. He flipped through the pages, hoping to find some semblance of English—something he could understand. Flipping through the book multiple times, The Judge found no answer. Searching all about the podium where the book sat, he tried to find a clue to help him. Turning around, he examined the room. The massive semicircular stone carvings jutting from the earth below had the same script carved into its threshold. He stepped out of the cave, and his eyes met again the starry night sky.

Why was I led here? He eagerly thought.

He couldn’t read the text. Healing his granddaughter was paramount, but he could not do it without Tkin. He dropped to his knees, tears filling his eyes as he looked up into the sky. The colorful array of stars and galaxies illuminated his blue eyes. He cried out to God.

Why is my granddaughter dying? 

Why am I being punished? 

He yelled into the vastness, “PLEASE! PLEASE HELP ME!”

His voice echoed through the rocky formation the cave sat at the base of. He slumped down and sobbed. Feeling the tears running down his nose, he reached into his pocket to grab his handkerchief when he felt the smooth, hard surface of a familiar feeling object—the stone Tkin had given him. Pulling it from his pocket, he noted the stone glowing an ethereal ocean blue. It appeared brighter than it ever had before. It was so bright it illuminated everything around him.

Then it clicked. The Judge suddenly remembered what allowed him to read the book before—the stone on the end of Tkin’s staff.

He rushed into the cave. Standing over the giant book, the Judge placed the stone across his temple and waited. Within seconds, the script before him transformed into words he could understand.

“Chronoscript: The Book of Time”

He opened the first page, and a familiar text met his eyes, one he had read in childhood.

“For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life.”

He flipped to the next page, and a list of names appeared. It was not the list he had read before containing his family’s names, but instead an entirely different list. They included names from all over the world. Most names he could barely pronounce. He flipped through a few more pages as the list went on. Suddenly, among them was Tkin’s name, and just a few names below Tkin’s, the Judge’s eyes met his name. 

Jeremiah Colroy Jenkins. 

Surprised, the Judge rapidly flipped a few more pages and found one titled “The Oath.”

Below the title, read the words:

“I hereby grant my soul to thee,

To serve within this realm,

Of time and space and majesty,

To wear and wield this helm,

To heal the sick, protect the weak,

To watch and guard the gate,

And live forever in times unseen,

And be the ghost that waits,

The stone of life will rule my dreams,

And utter not a single word,

I swear, I oath, I commend it all,

Until her voice is heard,”

He read the words aloud, and suddenly, a voice came from within, ringing clear as day in his ears. It was his voice, and it posed a question inside his head and heart.

“Do you accept?”

“Accept what!?” He clamored aloud. 

The Judge’s mind raced. He thought of Tkin and the immortality the man cursed himself with. The fate of living beyond his loved ones. The loneliness it would bring. He saw the anguish in Tkin’s eyes as he spoke of it when they were last in this very cave. There would be a time when he would have to part from his family. Then the Judge thought of his family. His wife, his daughter, his grandchildren. Elouise! She was sick. This opportunity now was the only way to save her. Then, without question, he spoke aloud.

“I accept.”

Suddenly, without effort, the stone he held to his temple began dissolving through his skin and entering his head. He panicked and let go, but it continued entering into him. He grabbed at it, trying to pry it from his skull, but it wouldn’t budge. It finally completely penetrated into his head, and he paused, waiting for the inevitable death to follow. But, there was no death, there was no pain—no fullness that came with it. He paused and waited. Then something incredible happened. 

Light suddenly filled his entire body. He could fill it, erupting forth and causing every nerve to ignite with power like lightning. Blue light exploded from his eyes and his mouth. Looking down, he witnessed the veins in his hands glowing effervescently. The dark wall of the cave before him glowed in the visage of human eyes and mouth. The streams of light felt like they would burst from his body. He frantically stumbled around the cave, making his way to the exit.

On his way out the door, he crossed paths with the stone semicircular ring. As he frantically glanced at the stone, the light emitting from his eyes spread across the text engraved within it. The text materialized into words he could understand. They glowed a similar blue as the stone which had entered his body. 

Upon reaching the threshold of the cave, he stumbled out into the night. Taking rapid, deep breaths of the cold desert air, he peered at the horizon. Streams of light flared from his eyes into the distance in multiple directions, arching into the horizon. Confused and disoriented, he looked up to the sky, and the same streams shot into the night, directly lining up with specific stars. Fearful he was suddenly going crazy, he glanced back at his hands, and the glowing within his veins dimmed.

He suddenly fell to his knees, feeling weak, like he had just run for hours. Leaning forward, he braced himself on the desert floor with his hands. The sand below his fingers felt cold like the earth was cooling the light burning within him. Suddenly, a humming sound pulsated through the sand and into his hands, traveling up his arms into his head. Voices began whispering, and a chorus of heartbeats erupted in his ears. The cacophony continued for what seemed like an eternity until it finally dissipated, leaving behind the remote sound of two heartbeats. One beat solid and vibrant, while the other pumped ragged and weak. The conglomeration of whispers turned into a single whisper—a familiar voice.

“God, please watch over my daughter. Please heal her… and God, please watch over my father. I don’t know where he is, but I pray thou will bring him home safely…”

Eleanor. 

It was his daughter praying over Elouise… praying for him.

The strong heartbeat was Eleanor’s, and the weak one was Elouise’s.

Elouise. 

She didn’t have much longer. 

He could feel the life slowly leaving her and the anxiety building within his daughter.

He had to get home.

Calling to his horse, Silver, who neighed at the sight of him, he weakly responded, “It’s okay, girl, it’s me.” Struggling as he climbed onto the horse’s back, the Judge finally saddled and steered the animal towards home. Riding into the night, he could sense every pain Elouise felt, every weak heartbeat. The blue light had finally dissipated from his eyes, but he still felt it welling inside of him, slowly giving him his strength back. The Judge made the pact. He was now a Keeper of the Light, a Time-Speaker, a Paladin of the Aeon, an Amaranthine. The fellowship went by many names over the years, and his knowledge of it all was present in his mind as though he had known these things his entire life.

The Judge was suddenly startled from his memory and brought back to the present moment by an abrupt alteration in the flow of space-time and the sound of throttling engines. He was almost near the bottom of the ravine when he heard a roaring high up in the distant air. The sun’s declination was low in the sky because of the time of year, and its position indicated mid-morning. He pulled Oliver into a grove of trees and scanned the sky. In the distance toward the north, he saw four jet streams streaking toward Jane’s facility. Pulling out his binoculars, he examined the traveling machines. His suspicions were holding out to be true thus far, Enforcers. The Alpha’s elite squadron of Takers made their way to Jane’s facility.

He needed to get to the facility quicker. He touched the horse and willed the light into it. The horse shuddered and then increased his stride, some strength returning to his knee. He knew this was only temporary, as the knee issue was an old chronic pain, and thus, the light would only relieve it for a moment. But he needed to get down the mountain quicker than the pace they had been traveling at.

A sudden jolt of fear flashed before his mind when he reached the bottom, near the reservoir. Jane was in extreme danger. She was still in the depths of the mountain. He was unsure how to get to her, but he needed to find her quickly. He broke the horse into a full sprint towards the north end of the other mountain. At this point, he wasn't concerned with being seen. He had to get to Jane.