EDEN SHARD
A Codex of Evermore
By
Thomas Rowe
Copyright 2012 Thomas Rowe
Smashwords Edition
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The following is a work of fiction. Any similarity to places, organizations, or people living or dead is coincidental.
Eden Shard and all of the characters contained within the Evermore series are the exclusive property of Thomas Rowe. No content from these books can be copied for any reason or in any form without written permission from the author.
One day during a walk through the forest I found a backpack that contained a series of manuscripts and an unsigned letter. I present the manuscripts and letter unaltered for your enlightenment.
To whoever finds these codex,
I have walked through the cities, experienced gridlock, and ventured through the suburbs. I have also visited a place just beyond our imagination- a shard of Eden ruled by intelligent animals. This place is far different from our concrete jungles where serpents hide behind mind altering drugs and vain pop culture. In this world a war is being waged between heaven and hell, and there is no walking the fence. I have witnessed these things and written them down so all could read and learn, but what is there to learn? Simply this:
Do not listen to the world. People have value beyond what they wear. Look beyond the cement and steel to the forests, mountains, rivers, streams, and animals. See, touch, and hear the echoes of the Divine Architect and know you are one of his precious creations.
There is a world that exists parallel to our own. It is a shard of Eden that has not had contact with humanity since the sin of Adam and Eve separated it from the human world. Evermore is a world filled with dense forests, wide-open plains, mountains, and many things similar to our own. The citizens of this world are animals. Not just any animals--intelligent animals that can speak, think, and know the difference between right and wrong. This world is not Paradise for them either. Their world was altered by original sin too.
In a meadow, in the center of the place known as the Forest Valley, a male mountain lion paced nervously under the branches of an ancient cherry tree. The young cat had just entered the age of adulthood. The lion’s nose was accented by deep black fur that was his family birthmark. His eyes were a deep emerald green.
“Cheshire, pull yourself together. You are not the first cat to be named Council Representative for the Cougar Clan,” he muttered to himself as he paced nervously.
“Divine Master, please guide me as I serve my brothers and sisters,” Cheshire prayed.
Cheshire’s quiet reflection was interrupted by the arrival of a gray lynx. The lynx was many years Cheshire’s senior, and he was a friend of Cheshire’s father. The lynx was also the Council Orator.
“Cheshire, it is time to go before the Council,” the newcomer stated.
“Okay,” Cheshire answered after taking a deep breath.
“Cheshire, relax. You will be fine,” the lynx assured him.
The lynx led Cheshire through the forest. The trip was made in silence. Cheshire was the son of Gabriel Cougar, the Duke of Cougars. The Duke was the clan leader, judge, and a member of the Council of the Trinity. When the Duke had felt that his son Cheshire was ready to lead, the Duke had appointed him Judge and had sent him to be trained as a Council Representative. Now Cheshire, the Marquis of Cougars, was ready to join the Council. When he walked into the Council Chamber he would take the oath and would become the Cougar Clan’s representative on the Council. It was a major undertaking and one that he could only aspire to do with the Divine Master’s help.
The path ended abruptly at a stream that was fed by a waterfall. Undaunted, the lynx turned and followed the shore until he found a series of large rocks that crossed the waterway. On the other side the path continued along a stone ledge that extended underneath the waterfall. Shielded by the overhang of the ground above, the path meandered along the side of the hill and then tunneled into it behind the waterfall.
The tunnel opened up into a large cavern with a sandy floor. Seated inside this cavern were members of every clan that the Council acknowledged. The owls and hawks perched on rock formations while the others sat side by side forming a large circle. Just inside the cavern entrance stood a cougar with yellow eyes and the same family marking as Cheshire. The Duke had journeyed to the Council meeting to see his son appointed to the Council.
“Son, I am very proud of you,” he beamed.
“I’ll do my best.”
The lynx walked into the middle of the circle and studied those assembled. All were in attendance and appeared to be ready to welcome their newest member. The raccoons, who acted as Council scribes, were ready to record the event on bark scrolls; and then they would copy their notes into more permanent records. The Marquis of Cougars stood talking with his father, the Duke. It was now time for the lynx to fulfill his duty.
“I am now calling this meeting of the Council of the Trinity to order,” he began after clearing his throat. “Chaplain Paxson, please say the opening prayer,” he continued when the crowd fell silent.
A mountain of a grizzly bear climbed to his feet and casually joined the lynx in the middle of the circle. Chaplain Paxson could have intimidated even the bravest warrior, were it not for the warmth of his smile. His smile revealed a gentle soul.
“Divine Master, we thank you for bringing us here safely. We pray for your guidance in the matters before us,” he prayed.
“Before we administer the oath, I would like to take the time to thank the Duke of Cougars for all that he has done. The Duke has been a champion for his clan and a valuable member of this Council,” the lynx stated while Chaplain Paxson returned to his seat.
“Thank you, Gabriel. My sincerest prayer is that you enjoy your retirement,” the lynx stated after turning to face the Duke. The sentiment was shared by the others.
“Your kind words are much appreciated. I enjoyed serving on the Council and I look forward to seeing all of you socially,” the Duke replied.
A large gray wolf who had been seated with the Wolf Clan representative stood and joined the lynx in the center of the circle. The wolf, like many canines, moved with rigid precision. The wolf wore a serious expression--an expression that was hard to maintain in a place with so many smiling faces. Without a word the wolf rested his gaze on the lynx.
“Are you ready to begin, Warden?” the lynx inquired.
“I am. Present the candidate.”
“Cheshire Cougar, step forward,” the lynx commanded. Cheshire walked alone into the center of the circle.
“Warden, I present to you Cheshire, the Marquis of Cougars,” the lynx announced.
“Cheshire Cougar, son of Gabriel Cougar, are you ready and willing to become a member of the Council of the Trinity?” the warden asked in a serious tone.
“I am,” Cheshire replied.
“Cheshire Cougar, from this day on you will no longer be responsible for only yourself. On this Council you will represent your clan and its interests. Your fellow Council members have the same responsibility. We are all servants of those we represent.”
“I understand,” Chesh stated humbly.
“Cheshire Cougar, do you swear to defend the innocent from the dragon?”
“I swear that I will defend the innocent, no matter what clan they belong to.”
“Will you uphold Council laws?”
“I will.”
“Cheshire Cougar, you are now an acknowledged member of the Council of the Trinity. May the Master protect and guide you.”
Cheshire’s fellow council members erupted into a joyous celebration when the warden made his membership official. With great effort the group quieted down long enough for the Council Orator to end the meeting. Cheshire was quickly overrun with well-wishers. Among them was a Belgian Shepherd who, after making his way through the crowd, walked up to Cheshire.
“Congratulations, Cheshire,” he said with a smile.
“Thank you, Michael. How has your first week of Council membership been?”
“Tell me in a week,” he teased.
“I thought you said you had no sense of humor,” Cheshire chuckled.
“I do, but it is very small. Cheshire, what do you plan to do now?”
“I want to go home. I have been here training for a while. It is hard to lead my clan when I am not with them.”
The town of Louisaburg, Virginia was like many others that sat on the outskirts of Northern Virginia. Filled with too much hustle and bustle to be called a small town, but not enough to be considered a big city, Louisaburg and its residents constantly found themselves caught up between the political intrigues of Washington and the pressures of everyday life. A trip downtown revealed scores of coffee shops filled with dozens of young executives who all drove the same European or Asian luxury cars. The only variety to the scenery was that a few drove wagons or convertibles. At the mall masses of teenagers flocked to the same stores and bought the same clothes so they could look “different” and “individual”. Blessedly, if you looked beyond the coffee shops and malls with their styrofoam cups and gas-guzzling SUVs, there were genuine people to be found-- people whose biggest concern was not being politically correct or a chameleon to the society around them. Downtown Louisaburg was a sprawling collection of strip malls, schools and planned neighborhoods. Within these neighborhoods lived ordinary people who searched for the bigger picture. It may have been for this reason that it happened.
John Jones and David Mcleod had been best friends since middle school. John was thin and lanky with sandy-colored hair, and he looked even taller when he stood next to his friend. However, David was no midget, and stood only three inches shorter than his friend. John in his vintage Atari t-shirt and jeans and David in his 4-H volunteer shirt, cargo pants, and bright orange backpack actually looked like they knew what they were doing as they hiked along through the woods near Spring’s Woods High School.
“So why are we out here again?” John asked as he leaned against a tree and quickly tied his shoe.
“We are out here studying the impact of human activities on the eco-system. I cannot afford to not get into advanced science in tenth grade,” David answered after adjusting his glasses and checking his photo-copied map.
“Nerd,” John poked jokingly.
“Ha! I’m tired of sitting next to psychos in class. I’m not good at sitting by the door so I can run for my life when their inner child decides to go on a rampage.”
“That only happened once, and that was because the guy sitting next to me was talking about a kid he had tried to behead,” John protested.
“ Have you unpacked that backpack since the youth camp out?” he added after his friend stopped to adjust his backpack.
“ Nope, I might need something.”
After adjusting his pack David walked on, leaving John to bring up the rear.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a polluter, but why should I clean up other people’s messes? Our parents screwed up the environment. Why don’t we cope and not do it ourselves?” John continued.
David would have offered an intelligent argument had it not been for the skull. Not three feet away from where the teens stood gawking, a cow’s skull hung haphazardly on a weathered fence post. Lying next to the post was an old church sign. The sign was old, faded, and peeling. It also appeared to have been chopped down with an ax and burned. The only words that remained readable were SPRING’S FARM CHURCH, ESTABLISHED 1880. Everyone at Spring’s Woods High School knew the story. The owner of the land, Cedric Spring, had donated the land to the county and the developer that the county hired burned the old church building down. None of the stories mentioned the cow’s skull. Quickly David removed his pack, dug into it, and after a moment retrieved his ancient camera. Click, click, click-- he documented his horrific find.
“What’s that for? An indian burial ground?” John asked, visibly spooked by the development.
“No. Maybe it’s for a Halloween party,” David offered the best explanation he could think of. “The only other thing I could think of would be a cult, but in this day and time I cannot imagine one existing,” David continued skeptically. Always the explorer and aspiring scientist, David pressed on toward the church ruins. As the two hikers approached the ruins, the sound of men chanting made them freeze in their tracks. The chanting was eerie and reminded both John and David of several horror movies they had watched.
“It is October 31st. This might be a Halloween themed trail set up by one of the churches. It could even be a live action fantasy game,” David suggested after regaining his courage and voice. He then pressed on before his friend could protest.
“ Most churches don’t borrow furniture from the Grim Reaper for a kiddy trail,” John commented skeptically.
A themed Halloween party or a game would have been safe and acceptable, but what the boys stumbled upon at the ruins was far from safe and by no means acceptable. Standing inside the gutted and decaying foundation of the church was a group of people dressed in black robes. They all stood facing a make-shift altar that had a caged bald eagle and a knife sitting on it. In front of the altar a robed man wearing a silver mask stood and looked out over his fellow worshipers; he then turned his attention to the table. Filled with fear, both John and David crouched in the surrounding brush.
“Tonight on this night that celebrates darkness, we shall make this eagle, this creature of light, a spirit of darkness. Shall we begin?” he exclaimed, motioning toward the large rickety cage that held the eagle. The crowd cheered when he picked up the long knife from the altar.
Watching the ceremony, David realized that things had taken a turn for the worst, so he feverishly began to take pictures: pictures of the group; pictures of the vehicles parked nearby; and pictures of dirt bikes that were leaned against the remaining wall. If the group continued with its ceremony, the pictures could easily put them in jail. David’s finger slipped. Beep. Beep. Beeeep! The large bulky flash clamped on top of the camera fired accidentally after David bumped the flash button. Aware that they were being watched, the group jumped to life. Having been momentarily blinded by the sudden burst of light, the leader accidently broke the cage’s door allowing the eagle to fly away.
“Seize them! Get the camera!” the leader shouted in complete panic. “There! There they are--in the bushes!” he bellowed and began pointing wildly at a section of brush that he had seen move. Seconds later John and David burst out of their hiding places and sprinted away. Jumping, stumbling, and running, the two teenagers worked to stay ahead of their pursuers. Hearing the dirt bikes ahead of them, both teens scrambled into a section of partially buried drain pipe. However, once inside their corrugated steel hiding place, they found they were not alone. Lying curled up deep inside the tube a red wolf had been sleeping. Terrified, John and David watched as the wolf woke up and turned to face them. Fear gave way to awe as they gazed into the wolf’s emerald eyes. They seemed to be filled with sadness and despair. Adding further to the mystery was the fact that wolves were not supposed to have green eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a female human voice.
“Hiding from the nut jobs in black,” John squeaked in as brave a tone as he could muster.
“What about a gray wolf?” she continued.
“No wolves other than you.”
The sound of people approaching made John and David flee deeper into the pipe. The talking wolf was a shock but she did not appear to want to hurt them. The pagans in black, however, did.
Sensing the two teenagers’ absolute terror, the wolf stood up and stretched, revealing the fact that she had not eaten in a long time.
“This den is no good. This place is no good. I think it is time to DO good. I will hold them off. You two need to run now,” she stated after hopping over the cowering teens and stepping outside.
“Why are you doing this?” David asked.
“I have not eaten in weeks. I will die in a few more if the gray wolf does not kill me first. Until then I do what the Master would have me do--protect his most precious creations,” she explained.
“What precious creations? Who are you?” they called after her.
“I am Claire. Now run!” she yelled with urgency.
After seeing that the humans had fled, Claire started walking toward the sound of approaching men. Weakened by hunger, she could not offer much of a fight. She hoped that these cowardly servants of the dragon would be too frightened by her appearance to even try to fight. She’d find out soon enough because they were fast approaching. Seconds later men in black robes converged on her. The men came to a sudden stop after seeing the wolf. Claire bristled and emitted a vicious howl.
“Let the wolf have them!” one of the men shouted as they turned and fled. She chased them until they exited the woods onto a dirt road. At the tree line the wolf stopped. After making sure that the men did not turn back, she started back toward her makeshift den. Disoriented by hunger and weakness, Claire became lost and walked out on an elementary school playground. With all of her energy spent she collapsed.
Frightened by the sight of the wolf, the children fled into the safety of the building. Not long after that a man dressed in a brown habit exited the building and approached Claire with a long stick. Seeing him from a distance, she first thought this man was one of the dragon’s servants until she saw the simple wooden cross he wore around his neck.
“Help me!” she gasped in a weak tone.
Amazed to hear the wolf speak, the friar crossed himself and clutched his necklace.
“What creature are you? A blessing? or a demon in disguise?”’
“I’m no demon. I am a servant of the Divine Master. I am hunted by enemies of the Trinity,” Claire explained. Upon hearing this the friar removed his necklace and pressed the cross into the wolf’s fur.
“If you serve the Lord, what is the name of his Son, the Lamb who took away the sins of the world?” he demanded.
“His Name--Jesus,” she replied. Hearing this the man hung his necklace around the wolf’s neck and gently scooped her up into his arms.
“Heavenly Father, you are truly the limitless creator!” he proclaimed as he started toward the rectory.