The Inheritance

Book summary

Jejune questions the truth of conflicting theories, leading to his branding as a troublemaker by the ruling Illuminati. Seeking Wisdom, he encounters dangers and temptations, discovers he has a disqualifying Condition, and is aided by friends as he searches for the Narrow Way and Truth.

Excerpt from The Inheritance

Chapter 1 – Lofty Thought

A hazy gray blanket hovered above the Valley of Shadow. Residents below paid little heed to the gloomy day, but scurried to and fro, conducting everyday business. The Twin Peaks rose high in the sky, piercing the nebulous shroud, and joined together in the Village of Lofty Thought. People above bustled about and prepared for the rite of passage—another generation would join ranks with the revered Illuminati.

Hallowed passageways meandered deep within the mountainside and dead-ended at the closed-door meeting, where high-level pundits chosen from among the Illuminati screened the hopeful brood who had come of age.

The High Pundit slammed the point of his staff to the floor. "You are not the interrogator!" A fine spray of spittle scattered from his lips, highlighted by the torchlight until it dropped into the shifting shadows.

The young Seeker, Jejune, squirmed on the bench before the three-man council. Pundit Tenacious' reprimand echoed within the limestone chamber. Dark smoky tendrils painted sooty trails that skittered and climbed uneven walls while Jejune searched for what to say.

Black hollows marked Pundit Tenacious' deep-set eyes in the dim torchlight. Shadows oscillated across the other two council figures, embroiled in muted discussion.

Jejune swiped the sandy brown curls matted to his forehead. "But, sir, the philosophies of Lofty Thought breed more questions than answers." He fidgeted. The stuffy chamber closed in around him. Perspiration trickled from his hairline.

Tenacious slammed the tip of his elaborate walking stick into the hard-packed earthen floor one more time. "Enough! No more discussion." The older man leaned forward on his walking stick, stopping inches from Jejune's face, and lowered his voice. "The highest ethical good is the same for everyone." The council members nodded.

Wigglewot, Jejune's tiny winged companion, let out a soft whistle, fluttered to Jejune's shoulder, and leaned to his ear. "What is he talking about?"

Timing bells chimed, indicating the conclusion of the session.

"Finally!" Wigglewot flew toward the exit. "Hurry, Jejune. Let's get out of here."

Jejune stood, bowed his head before the council, turned on his heel, and rushed to the door.

"Highest ethical good." He mimicked the pundit's nasal tone.

Wigglewot chuckled. The two hurried along the torch-lined tunnel toward the exit. "Uh-oh. Trouble ahead."

Three silhouettes eclipsed daylight at the passageway's end. Jejune skidded to a stop. Even in the dim light, billowing robe sleeves warned that pundit trouble blocked his way.

Wigglewot shimmied next to Jejune's ear and whispered. "Politely say 'hello,' but keep walking. Let's get out of here."

Sunlight leaked into the corridor behind the shifting figures. Jejune drew in a deep breath and sauntered to the exit with a carefree strut. He fiddled with the medallion hanging from his neck and forced a smile.

The polished surface of Pundit Tenacious' walking stick gleamed among the three bodies blocking the corridor. Jejune's smile faded. He cast a fleeting look over his shoulder toward the Reckoning Chamber. How did they get from there to here? Feeling trapped, he back pedaled a few steps. What should I do? His back pressed against the cool limestone. In his heart he longed to become one with the stone wall and disappear. Tenacious marched toward him followed by Punctilious. Why did Jejune feel such dread? They weren't much taller than him. Pundit Arcane pushed between Tenacious and Punctilious and grabbed Jejune's upper arm. Thick bands of silver and gold shimmered on the belled cuff of the pundit's sleeve.

"If you persist in your ways, you may be forced to leave the village." A vein bulged between Arcane's brows.

Jejune clenched his jaw. If I say anything, I'd only make matters worse.

The older man's grip tightened. "Your disruptive ways squelch the flow of debates." He shoved Jejune toward the wall as he released his hold.

Jejune licked his dry lips and glanced from one stern face to another, still wondering how they left the Reckoning Chamber after him, yet now stood, blocking his way. "I don't understand, sirs. I mean no trouble."

They surrounded him like a pack of wild dogs circling a brush rabbit. Spine pressed to the wall, Jejune waited. Pundit Punctilious' hard-soled sandals clicked against the stone floor. He paced; his hands folded at the small of his back.

"You are surely as your mother before you, talking of this--this one truth. We choose our way without the aid of such universal standards." He twisted, positioning his face inches from Jejune's. "You are not above our ways." He pawed Jejune's medallion and eyed it intently. His bushy gray eyebrows arched as if yanked by a string.

Jejune turned from the stench of the older man's breath.

Punctilious' complexion darkened from red to purple. "Saying one comes from a royal line does not make it so." He flung the medallion against Jejune's chest.

Unexpected anger boiled in the pit of his stomach. His hands balled into fists. Punctilious talks in riddles and recalls details of my mother that I long to know. It's not fair.

***

Two hours later Jejune and Wigglewot pushed through the gathering crowd. Jejune struggled to think positive thoughts while threading around villagers lining the main street. Fine citizens of the mountain community navigated the walkways to find the best place to glimpse the revered procession and follow them to the Coming of Age ceremony. Jejune raced to stay ahead of the parade. I don't want to be late. Pundits could use it against me. Just behind him, the parade of pundits dressed in traditional robes snaked toward the Town Square where the crowd's flow stalled.

Jejune jerked to a stop at the bottleneck filtering into the narrow street. A blustery spring breeze tugged his curls. By the looks of the crowd, he'd be here awhile. He picked a stray thread from his bare sleeve and twisted it between his thumb and forefinger until the wind caught the fiber and pulled it into the sky toward the summit and out of sight.

His concentration wandered along the snow-capped pinnacles overhead. His eyes followed the mountain trails and returned to the procession of multicolored robes. Hues differed from robe to robe, but rings of gold and silver edged every sleeve.

Movement rippled through the throng and pushed Jejune past the standstill. His lanky frame slowed behind a young girl holding her mother's hand.

"I like that pretty one, Mommy." The child pointed toward the parade. Purple shades highlighted the shoulders of a shimmering garment, worn by one gray-haired woman who carried herself with a regal posture.

The mother patted her daughter's back. "With the right education, one day you'll wear a pundit's robe."

"Look at her sleeves!" The girl clasped her hands beneath her chin, her eyes trained with delight on the woman as she filed by.

Jejune studied the metallic threads edging the pundit's cuffs; at least six rings decorated each sleeve. He eyed his undecorated sleeve, sighed, pushed into the crowd's renewed flow, and headed toward the Seeker's Circle.

Lofty Thinkers filtered into the Town Square. Vendors shouted for spectators' attention while onlookers discussed the prestigious rings and the theories they represented. Over time, theories melded with tradition and affected changes in the lives of the good citizens.

The single file cavalcade advanced in choreographed fashion while the first Illuminati settled into their pre-appointed center seats on the platform, nestled within the Seeker's Circle. Tenacious marched by. Jejune hid in the crowd, attempting to count the High Pundit's gold and silver merits. "Someday I'll have more rings than him," he said to Wigglewot.

Wigglewot let out a soft snort. "What does it matter, Jejune? You don't really want to be like him."

Tenacious shuffled along the limestone pavement and took his designated place of honor in the row closest to the stage. His chin held high and eyes forward, the pundit's robe overflowed his throne-like chair. The corners of his lips lifted in a hollow smile. His gaze focused on scudding clouds above the assembly's heads.

Wigglewot's transparent wings fluttered as he hovered and settled on Jejune's shoulder. "Let's sit over there." Wigglewot pointed toward the back row of stone benches that filled the Seeker's Circle. The large blocks offered reserved seating for the Lofty Thinkers on the verge of becoming Seekers.

"Just think, Wig. What I choose to believe today determines the color of my robe in the future." Jejune's shoulders slumped.

"Cheer up, Jejune." Wigglewot nudged Jejune's neck. "You're not alone."

Jejune glanced around at those approaching the Coming of Age who filed into the Seeker's Circle. They gathered in scattered patches. "This is the last time I'll have to take part in one of these ceremonies," he said to Wig as he ticked his head once toward the Illuminati. "Today fulfills my obligation to study under them." He shuffled toward the last row. Wigglewot balanced on his shoulder.

Paused between two slabs at the circle's edge, Jejune said, "How about here?" He studied the tall hedge fencing the grounds behind the last row of seating: to his right, the Fountain of Tradition splashed; left, an archway covered with honey blossoms. The quickest way out. "Our escape route when it's over."

Wigglewot snickered as Jejune claimed the out-of-the-way bench. He fidgeted on the cold stone while the last Illuminati settled into their designated seats.

Fragrant honey blossoms wafted on the spring breeze. Jejune inhaled the bouquet, which tickled long ago memories. He closed his eyes and tried to picture his mother's face.

"What are you doing?" Wigglewot interrupted his thoughts and fluttered to the bench.

"This sweet smell reminds me of Mother's hair." Jejune pulled in another deep breath, but the memory dissipated when two chatty girls claimed the seat in front of him.

Jejune stared at the ground and shook his head. "People look forward to this. Listen to them. I want to hear about quests to the Eternal City." He shifted in his seat. "My mother believed in the Eternal City."

Wigglewot shrugged. "Everyone knows the Eternal City exists." He feigned a yawn. "How long is this going to last?"

"Too long, Wig."

The benches filled. Wigglewot scurried up Jejune's arm to perch on his shoulder before a large-rumped fellow plunked beside them.

"Hello, Inveigle." Jejune glanced at the boy and slid an inch to the right to make space between them.

"Good day." Inveigle smiled. Excitement danced in his brown eyes. "Isn't this exciting, Jejune? Before we know it that will be us up there." He pointed his chubby finger toward the Illuminati.

Jejune scratched behind his ear and nodded. "Sure, Inveigle. Exciting."