Chronicle: Before The Books of Eva

  chronicle

  Before the books of EVA

  heather terrell

  Copyright © 2013 by Heather Terrell

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Soho Teen

  an imprint of

  Soho Press, Inc.

  853 Broadway

  New York, NY 10003

  eISBN 978-1-61695-436-9

  Map by Ricardo Cortés

  HISTORY OF THE NEW NORTH

  Year Zero: THE HEALING. The Gods swept hurricanes across the world and warmed the polar ice caps—washing the Healing over mankind . . .—The Praebulum

  But before the seas covered nearly all of His lands, Father Earth listened to Mother Sun’s pleas for mercy . . . He spared one last group of people—those of the Aerie.—The Lex

  1-4 A.H. (After Healing). The Founders begin to build the sacred enclave of the Aerie within the Ring, the great wall of New North. Gallants repel attacks and banish those not chosen by the Gods to the barren ice-world beyond the Ring: the Boundary lands.

  5-7 A.H. With guidance from the Gods, the Founders begin to write sacred texts, The Praebulum and The Lex, setting forth the rules by which the people of New North must live.

  8 A.H. The Aerie Gate is finished. On the last day of construction, Founder Edmund discovers the first Relic: an altar to the false god Apple. With guidance from the Gods, Edmund names himself First Archon and establishes the Testing and the Chronicles. Founder Mikhail, as witness, becomes First Lexor. Founder Sven, as Leading Gallant, becomes First Basilikon. The Triad is now complete. The Founders finish The Praebulum and The Lex, thanks to the Gods.

  27 A.H. The Boundary lands launch a final raid against the Aerie. The New North’s Gallants soundly defeat them. As a reminder of New North’s righteous supremacy, the Gods mandate taking the Boundary lands’ people as servants for the Aerie.

  68 A.H. Construction of the Basilikon is completed. The first Feast Days are established.

  98 A.H. The Triad, with guidance from the Gods, permits Madeline to become the first Maiden to Test and Chronicle.

  202 A.H. Construction of the final Aerie tower is completed. The Golden Age begins.

  218 A.H. The Triad selects Jon, a direct descendant of Edmund, to the ranks of Archons upon his exemplary Testing and Chronicle.

  233 A.H. The Triad determines that Archon Jon shall be selected as Chief Archon for a Lex-sanctified ten years.

  241 A.H. Eamon, son of Chief Archon Jon, and twin of Maiden Eva, makes the Commitment to Test.

  241 A.H. Eamon dies while climbing the Ring, training for the Testing, in prohibition of The Lex.

  241 A.H. Eva, daughter of Chief Archon Jon, Commits to Test in her twin brother Eamon’s stead.

  The Sacred Words of The Lex

  But before the seas covered nearly all of His lands, Father Earth listened to Mother Sun’s pleas for mercy and spared one last piece of land, the New North. He spared one last group of people—those of the Aerie—on the condition that they live according to the wishes of His Fellow Gods and Their Rules, as set out in The Lex.

  The Lex, 12:45

  The ritual of the Testing shall be Holiest among all rituals of the New North. The Testing shall ensure the New North’s survival. It shall ensure the survival of its sanctuary, the Aerie . . .

  Twelve Testors, all eighteen years of age, must demonstrate their devotion to the Gods and Their Truth. The Testors must brave the world beyond the Ring of the Aerie to excavate pre-Healing Relics from the Frozen Shores. Upon successful excavation, the Testors must write a Chronicle of the Relics they unearth, bringing brief life to deadness . . .

  The Gods will judge not only the Testors on the merit of their Chronicles, but all of the New North. So vital are these Chronicles to the survival of the New North and The Lex that if a Testor cannot properly chronicle his Relic, the Testor and his family must suffer a punishment worthy of the offense. . .

  The Lex, 42:50–57

  Mankind is only as sinful as his darkest secrets.

  The Lex, 214:78

  THE CHRONICLE OF TESTOR MADELINE

  Year 98, A.H.

  The Relic glows silver in the blue-white ice. To the touch, the rectangular artifact is smoother than any metal ever seen or touched inside the Ring of New North, if it is indeed metal rather than some unnatural pre-Healing substance. Although the Relic should have the heft of any hand-smithed object, it is strangely light and easy to raise. The artifact seems innocent, even alluring in its simplicity and attractiveness. Only eight hands-breadth across, its tiny beauty belies its great power. Emblazoned as it is with the bitten apple rune of the false god, the Relic holds a dark tale. And it simultaneously chronicles a story of hope, the very goal of our sacred archaeological ritual, the Testing.

  The Relic is a portable altar where the pre-Healing people worshipped their false god. This is where those doomed humans knelt and made their empty supplications for MasterCards and Tylenols and Maybellines: their currencies of evil power, spirit-destroying meds, and paints of false beauty. It is the instrument through which they waited in vain for wicked promises, only to be answered by the true Gods in the raging flood waters of the Healing, where all heretics were submerged.

  The very lightness and portability of this Relic allowed the pre-Healing people to pray wherever and whenever it suited their selfish desires. As they walked down their contaminated and overcrowded streets, they could whisper their private hungers. In this unseemly parade they wore immodest clothing. They trafficked solely in their desires. Alone, this Relic testifies to the depravity of the pre-Healing world and the rightness of our ways in New North.

  It solidifies the importance of adhering to the instructions of the Gods—as recorded in The Lex. It reaffirms our collective desire to live in the manner of those ancient people whom the Gods deemed holy, those people who lived in the centuries before the corrupt era of modernity, the Medieval Period. And it heralds the momentousness of embracing the Golden Age of the Medieval Period, a time when people lived simply, men toiled with their hands, women were modest, peoples cleaved to one another—and no one forgot the higher powers, without whom we would risk the floodwaters again. Yet, when examined closely and in the context of the Site where the Relic was unearthed, it tells a multilayered tale. One more hopeful than damning.

  The familiar bitten Apple rune on the Relic’s surface bares strange markings. The markings have never before been seen on an artifact of any kind. Upon meticulous inspection, it becomes clear that some pre-Healing person or persons marred the Apple symbol with angry slashes. So deep into the rune are the abrasions that they can only have been intentional and defiant.

  The Relic has been defaced. In this violent act, we see the evidence of the very first rejection of Apple. We also witness the very first step toward acceptance of the true Gods and our sacred way of living.

  We can be certain of the holy message shared by this Relic because the archaeological Site from which it was excavated during the Testing rite confirms this Godly missive.

  This Relic was unearthed from the deck of the Genesis, the sacrosanct ship that rescued the first Founders of New North from the deadly flood waters that delivered them to our hallowed Aerie. I, a mere Testor restricted by the rules of the Testing, was able to wrench the Relic from the Genesis before jaws of ice clamped down upon the ship again and dragged it down into the chasm of this year’s Testing Site.

  Thanks to the Gods for the sparing of this singular artifact and the singular chance to tell part of the Genesis’s story. I onl
y pray that the Gods allow us further opportunities to excavate this holy Site once again.

  From The Lex, we know that the Gods chose the Genesis and our Founders to deliver unto mankind a second chance at life. This Relic—with its angry slashes—proves our Founders’ rejection of the evils of the pre-Healing world. And the first step toward our Gods-sanctified second chance. This Relic must be considered of the highest blessedness.

  Thanks to the Gods. Thanks to the Testing.

  THE JOURNAL OF MADELINE

  Martius 12

  Year 98, A.H.

  I breathe deeply. It is time. I can’t believe it. We are unleashed. And here I am a Testor et Maiden.

  I should be worried. After all these long months training on the Aerie ice flats—years of training, really, if you count all the endless School days studying geography, archaeology, The Lex, and Healing history—we Testors are no longer waiting. Attente. Driving our teams of huskies, we race against the wind and the snow and the arctic terrain and each other and ourselves. This is our moment. Marvellieux, this feeling of freedom and speed.

  No, I correct myself: marvelous. I must eradicate this old reliance on the frenchspeak of my home, a vestige of my pre-Healing ancestors. If I am to win the Archon Laurels in the Testing, I must speak and think and write only in English and Latin. Those are the true languages of New North, the last land left on Father Earth.

  I never thought this race would come, so long has been the preparation. It is Testing practice only, of course, but it feels so liberating. So alive. I glance over at my fellow Testors—Gallants all, but friends, too, even though we are Maiden and Gallants. I see the same thrill in some of their eyes. Pierre and I, old family friends, share a special smile; he always welcomed me into the group of Gallants who became my fellow Testors, leaving the rest with no choice but to accept me, too. This is a first, and we all know it. No Maiden has ever Tested.

  What is Vanity? The Lex teaches that it is the direction of piety toward the self, the undoing of mankind as it once lived, as opposed to piety toward the Gods. Is that why I feel Vanity as I write this? This writing is secret, a prohibition, but I cannot help myself.

  I also know that everyone has secrets. Pierre confided in me that he peeks off the Ring of the Aerie when nobody is looking. He peeks down on the Boundary lands and sees how tiny and lost they are, and he laughs at them. We both laughed when he told me.

  It is one thing for a Gallant to have secrets; it’s another thing for a Maiden. Maybe that is why I must write down everything I felt and feel.

  I try not to let the excitement overcome me. Focus, Madeline, I remind myself. No matter how unfettered I feel, this race is not for me but for the Gods. They alone spared us from the raging waters of the Healing.

  I squint through the slits in my wooden goggles. I notice a slight grey shadow in the white ice ahead. I recall my training on reading snow and ice. Pulling back on the huskies’ reins, I slow my dog team just enough to pass safely over the softer ice then push them to race again. Not too much farther now to the finish. I feel like I could win.

  Be cautious. Smug confidence in one’s own powers and the celebration of one’s own glory are all symptoms of Vanity. All that I have derives from the Gods, and I allow surrender to wash over me.

  The restraint instilled in us Testors takes a firm hold on my rising emotions. I remind myself that the goal of all our training is not simply winning Chief Archon. The physical rigor of training—survival skills, snow and ice reading, delicate archaeological excavation—serves also to restrain our fear and susceptibility when we make a discovery. Apple was wily; he wielded magic through his Tech. I breathe deeply. I will my beating heart to still. I offer a prayer to the Gods. Regaining my focus, I clutch the reins and fly over the last length of ice, cold hitting my cheeks like an icy splash. I glide over the finish line first. The training is complete. Now it is time.

  I inscribe the words from The Lex from memory:

  A Testor’s Chronicle must show precisely how the Relic led to the downfall of mankind. The Chrone must illusicltrate mankind’s depravity, his Vanity, his love of Tech, his worship of the false god Apple, his sins too numerous to count. A Testor must chronicle these sins through his Relic so that the New North never repeats them. All true Chronicles shall be collected and made part of The Lex’s Holiest Truths, year by year.—The Lex, 42:54

  Aprilus 1

  Year 98, A.H.

  The final bell of the Aerie has yet to toll, our signal to take flight for the Testing. None of my training quells my anxious thoughts and churning stomach. The Chief Basilikon jests I was born ready to Test, unlike any Maiden he’s ever met, so why I am doubting myself?

  I sneak looks at the vast crowd assembled near the Gate. The entire population of the Aerie and the Boundary—decked out in their Feast-day finery of somber, embroidered gowns and tunics topped by their best furs—stares back at me. Some are smiling and some are wary, but all are ready to send me off beyond the Ring to Test along with the other eleven Testors. We will face twenty-eight days of unimaginably frigid conditions while hunting for our own food, tending to our dog teams, defending ourselves against predators, descending into bottomless crevasses, and working in complete solitude because even conversations with other Testors are forbidden. All to unearth a Relic.

  My maman and papa are smiling, but I see concern and worry lurking beneath their smiles. They know better than most what I will endure. Among the somber-clad Stewards and Keepers and the black-eyed, black-haired Boundary Attendants are the women of New North. I should be standing alongside the Godly Maidens and Ladies and Gentlewomen. I should be wearing a Feast-day gown like them instead of the black sealskin uniform of a Testor. After all, The Lex says that females are weaker and that our place is in the hearth and home. Our place is certainly not in the world beyond the Gate—the Boundary lands and the Taiga and the Tundra and the Frozen Shores.

  In all my long years of training, I never worried before about being the only Maiden in a queue of Gallants. Never heard a word against it from my papa, maman, or grand-mere. Never thought twice about being the first Maiden to Test in the history of New North. I only ever remember being excited. That’s why I draw strength from the Chief Basilikon’s words. He knows me. I’ve always felt called to this path; I never even thought about another. Besides, on the last vigil day, the Chief Basilikon himself looked right at me and said that Testors must “heed only the calling of the Gods, not the words of men.” But what if that calling conflicts with the words of The Lex? The words of The Lex are meant to be the words of the Gods, told through the quills of men.

  Stop, Madeline. It’s too late for all this confusion. Are my last-tick doubts really the whispers of the false god trying to deter me from my Gods-given task?

  My ears vibrate with the tolling of the final bell. Standing tall, I crack my whip and send my huskies into the whiteness.

  Aprilus 7

  Year 98, A.H.

  The Archons were right to focus on the discipline of our minds in our Testing training. If they had not—if I had let my mind soften like so many Gallants and Maidens who exist only within the comfort and protective embrace of the Aerie—I would not have survived this Tundra of treeless, foodless, freezing, barren ice flats. I would have turned my dog team around and headed home. Or I would have succumbed to the icy fingers of death.

  But I prevail. I am now four days into the blinding white of Mother Sun’s reflected rays. I am also three days into utter solitude without a single sighting of a fellow Testor and two days past food, for I am ungifted at hunting. What remains of my dried food stores I must give to my huskies, for without them I will certainly die.

  To turn my thoughts away from the sharp pains of hunger stabbing my gut and the gnawing worry eating away my mind, I conjure up the Archons’ teaching. Pray to Father Earth, as they instructed us. Over and over and over. Pray that he spares me, as
he spared my people.

  Aprilus 18

  Year 98, A.H.

  “Relic!”

  I hear one of the other Testors call out his discovery. From the slight accent—which no one but a fellow frenchspeaker would detect—I know it is Pierre. Though none of us are known as anything other than Testor out here on the Frozen Shores.

  I glance up the wall of sheer ice from which I dangle, a perch that would have terrified me before the real terror of the barren and blinding Tundra. Mother Sun never sets; she simply curtsies below the horizon. I dig my axe and the toe of my bear-claw boot into the wall and swing left on my sealskin rope. Pierre is several hundred hands-breadth above me. A Boundary Climber scales horizontally along the wall to Pierre’s side.

  “I think it’s a cache of weapons,” I hear Pierre say. Then to himself, I hear him whisper, “Incroyable.” Funny, what you can hear in this crevasse. Does he know I’m right below him? I’m not the only one clinging to the frenchspeak of home; it’s really the only comfort we have left. I should be worried. Pre-Healing weaponry is a hugely important find, and Pierre is the fourth to make a Relic call. Every night, the other three Relic-holders scurry to their igloos to study their artifacts and start their Chronicles. The chance of winning the Archon Laurels starts to drift away from me.

  So why am I at peace? Is it faith in the Gods, Mother Sun and Father Earth? Is it the training? No. Neither.

  It stems from something else entirely. I believe that a critical Relic waits beneath the ice I’ve staked as my Claim. In fact, I’ve ignored artifacts much easier to dig out in favor of it. In the wavy grey ice covering my Relic, I see the powerful depth and texture of something massive. I pray to the Gods that this belief does not come from some magical trickery.

  Here is where I steel my mind not to succumb to Vanity and ambition.

  I push off the wall and descend away from Pierre, back down my line into the chasm. I am the Testor with the deepest spot, and though I’m well used to cold, I feel the ice seep into my bones as soon as I take my position. I fire up my lamp, and the heat warms me a little. I watch as water trickles down the sheer side of the wall, though I dare not follow its trail with my eyes. Many chasms have no bottom, and Testors are taught to keep their eyes ahead. Those who ignored this advice in past Testings were never seen again.