Free The Seekers: The Children of Darkness (Dystopian Sci-Fi - Book 1) by David Litwack Page B

vicar?”
    Her brows crumpled together, forcing a crease above the
bridge of her nose, and the kindness in her eyes disappeared. “By the light,
man, why? No one speaks to the clergy unless spoken to first.”
    “Please help me. My friend’s been taken for a teaching, and
I have to find her.”
    The woman’s pupils grew large. Her mouth opened as if to
respond, but no words came out. Instead, she showed him her back and scurried
off.
    After the third such rejection, he changed his approach. When
a boy trudged by with his head down and a sack of flour under his arm,
Nathaniel stopped him. “Who are these men, marching with the mark of the Temple?”
    “Why, sir, they’re deacons, defenders of the light.”
    “Do you think they’d take me to a vicar?”
    “They might, or they might beat you for sport. I’d keep my
distance if I were you.” The boy took a few steps away, then called back as he
broke into a trot. “Don’t go near them till I’m gone, and don’t let them know
we spoke.”
    Nathaniel’s head throbbed, and the air around him grew thin.
The sounds of the city became muffled, as though he were underwater. What
good is courage without a plan? He finally gave in and approached the deacons
directly.
    After a series of rude questions, the vicar’s henchmen aligned
in a square-shaped formation with him at the center, and marched him through the
arched gateway of the main Temple building, with stern statues of deceased
clergy eyeing him as he passed. The corridor ended at a massive chamber with
hundreds of officials bustling about.
    A low-level lackey ushered him before one of the dozens of
desks that lined the walls, where an ill-tempered clerk scribbled Nathaniel’s
request down and repeated it in a nasal whine. “You say your friend has come for
a teaching, and you’re offering to take her place. Is that correct?”
    “Yes sir.”
    The clerk paused and punctuated his writing before looking
up. “Hmmm. Most unusual.” He folded the request, marked it with a wax seal in
the shape of the sun, and handed it to one of the couriers dashing about
everywhere.
    After so much time lost, the chance to keep Orah from the teaching
had passed, but Nathaniel still hoped to save her from the worst. He stepped
forward to accompany the messenger, hoping to speed up the process, but the
clerk signaled for him to wait.
    With the flurry of business in the hall, he worried he’d wait
for hours, but the courier returned in minutes and gestured for him to follow.
    They ended up in a round room with
vaulted ceilings much as his father had described. Three clergy sat at a raised
desk along the back wall, all well-fed and with beards greater than any he’d
ever seen—senior vicars with more red stripes on their hats than he could
count.
    The one in the center with the most stripes began. “You are
Nathaniel Rush of Little Pond?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “And you are here to... request a teaching in place of Orah
Weber?”
    “Yes sir.”
    The senior vicar shook his head. “Extraordinary.”
    The vicar on the left leaned forward. “No one ever requests
a teaching.”
    “Nevertheless, I’ve come to offer myself in Orah’s place. I’m
of age, from the same village, and would serve your purpose as well. My father’s
an elder and my neighbors regard me with favor. My teaching will make Little
Pond stronger in the light.”
    The vicar on the left grumbled and murmurs of disagreement spread
between the three.
    Nathaniel edged closer to eavesdrop,
but they noticed his approach and fell silent.
    “Nathaniel of Little Pond,” the senior cleric intoned,
trying to restore order to the proceeding. “We’ll need time to confer alone. Our
servants will bring you to a holding area in the meantime.”
    He rang a bell with a miniature sun icon for a handle. Four
deacons marched in, formed the well-practiced square around Nathaniel, and
prepared to escort him out.
    He rose to his full height, arched his back, and refused to
go.
    The