The Rings of Hesaurun

  Praise for The Rings of Hesaurun “ The Rings of Hesaurun is absolutely riveting. With vivid imagery and a compelling tale, the author does a phenomenal job of drawing you into this mystical yet oddly familiar world. Your greatest challenge in reading it will be putting it down. Brilliant.”

  - Heather Valeria Eder “Imagine a time—anytime in your life, you could contain ‘time’ that escapes us all? Author Peter Harrett takes you beyond your soul, ego and own eyes to a place only the strong hearted can survive in the first book of his series, The Rings of Hesaurun. A great read! Looking forward

  to BOOK 2, The Ring Bearer.”

  - Pamela Trush “ The Rings of Hesaurun is a grand feast of the imagination, and an triumphant return of Epic Sci-Fi! Peter Harrett’s story unfolds and wraps itself around your brain with knife-edge suspense and haunting originality. This is the novel most authors only dream

  of writing!”

  - Sam Sevren

  Copyright © 2021 Peter Harrett All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Book design by www.delaney-designs.com

  ISBN: 978-1-63795-035-7 (Paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-63848-522-3 (Hardcover)

  THE RINGS OF HESAURUN B O O K O N E

  A NOVEL BY PETER HARRETT

  B O O K O N E

  — 7

  P R O L O G U E

  Hesaurun. Time Indeterminate. Hesaurun’s binary stars scalded the dead planet with heat and radiation so intense nothing survived. But it hadn’t always been that way. The rich biosphere that once included sentient life had been stolen, ripped away, reduced to nothing, leaving only deep gouges and devastation as evidence that there had once been something more, something thriving and flourishing.

  Now Hesaurun and its previously-inhabited moons lay barren, devoid of the raw materials that fueled life. Other than the Boecki, few species could survive more than a few minutes in this harsh reality—which was one more reason the Boecki were the most numerous and successful species in the galaxy. They were also the most ruthless. No world had ever stood against them and lived to tell the tale.

  The Boecki Dominion was mired in an unrelenting quest for resources. An interplanetary wrecking machine that swarmed on star systems like locusts, devouring everything in their path, leaving nothing of value. Their flawed procurement system was untenable, but that didn’t deter them, for their way had become survival or ruin. Resources being finite, they risked overreaching themselves. They saw no alternative, so they continued overrunning star systems harvesting those worlds, stripping them of anything of value without regard for life.

  No one was spared. The Dominion had institutionalized brutality so thoroughly that equity had become an inscrutable concept. The fortunate inhabitants of “harvested” worlds died early; however, the unfortunate survivors were relegated to slavery or stockpiled for consumption. The Boecki had a thousand worlds to sustain and feed. The Hesaurun system had been just one more crop to be gathered before moving on to the next resource well.

  However, stripping planets of their eco-systems heedless of their inhabitants was something one harvest ship commander considered unconscionable. Bitterness at the barbarity of the very society that bore him caused this officer to reject it in its entirety, to abandon his command, and oppose his own kind. He refused to be part of it anymore, which made him both a renegade and a target.

  The Dominion would never know they had unintentionally alienated one of their greatest assets, generating an opponent who would someday be instrumental in knocking them from their imperial perch. The wasteland that was Hesaurun made it the last place the Dominion would ever look for him. Secreting themselves on Hesaurun made perfect sense, so Commander Osomario built a life for himself and his collaborators on this ruined world. They sought not solace on Hesaurun, but a place to plan the monarchy’s downfall.

  Despite the Boecki’s best efforts to appropriate the entirety of Hesaurun’s assets, a hidden treasure remained concealed to them: The Preservers, as they referred to themselves. The five rings of Hesaurun, ancient sentient mechanoids, witnessed the Boecki ravage their world and its inhabitants and were outraged by it.

  However, the Preservers were ineffectual without a host. They needed a capable aide, a ring bearer. Moreover, this ring bearer must be pure and dedicated to their cause, or the power they shared might be abused, employed for selfish reasons. The Preservers found what they had long-awaited—a worthy cause and a conduit in which to accomplish their goal of ridding the galaxy of the Dominion; a Boecki defector; Osomario.

  So the Preservers bonded themselves to their new host. Infused with immense energy provided by the five rings, Osomario now had the power and the means to stop the Dominion and save a multitude of inhabited worlds from extinction. All he needed was a plan, one that would make amends for the errors of his past. But Osomario couldn’t accomplish it by himself for fear he would draw unwanted attention from the Dominion. He needed a non-Boecki ally, a vassal. So the Preservers sent Osomario on a quest to seek out one such as himself. He found what he was looking for in an unlikely place—Earth.

  ________________________ The human child woke from her dreams to find herself in an alien world. Startled and confused at first, she lay silently, wondering at the strange surroundings, gathering her nerve. Looking up, she saw the creature’s four-armed sinewy frame towering above, but she was no longer afraid; she felt its presence in her mind, and it was good.

  The creature reassured her she was safe, handed her a gift, a cat, and without speaking, told her to share Hesaurun’s view with him.

  Too small to reach a hand, the little one wrapped a free arm around a spindly leg for support, cradling the cat in the other. The odd couple stood at the edge of a precipice surveying the scene of Hesaurun’s desolation. Deep furrows scarred the surface in a criss-cross pattern, punctuated by enormous boulders heaved up from the depths. It was a world of gashes, chasms, and blowing dunes emphasized by blistering heat.

  But there was more: an immense device, a ringshaped articulated machine producing a thrumming that shook the ground beneath their feet. At the bottom there were five images, hieroglyphs, pressed into its base. Another four of the strange instruments were scattered among the rubble of the gorge.

  Suddenly the thrumming abruptly intensified. The ground shook violently as the five rings loosed themselves from their foundations, showering the ground with boulders and gravel. The onlookers watched as the rings rose slowly from Hesaurun’s jagged surface and into the air. The five devices floated silently above them, blocking out the twin stars’ light until they began resizing, shrinking until they were too small to see. It seemed the rings had disappeared until the creature inspected his hands and found the Hesaurun rings had attached themselves there.

  Osomario shifted his eyes to the purring cat, then turned his attention to the child. He had great expectations for her. But his chiseled features framed the reflective mirrors that were his Boecki eyes without betraying a hint of his thoughts or emotions. She peered up at him curiously, searching those black orbs for a sign. But she saw only her own image reflected in them. And yet little Valerie Dunne wasn’t afraid because she knew that they were alike. Despite their differences, these two were kindred spirits bound together by a power shared. Together they were a force to be reckoned with, one that would one day be unleashed upon an unsuspecting enemy, powered by the Five Rings of Hesaurun.

  Chapter 1 />
  Pearse. January 2431 BCE.

  An hour before dawn on a freezing February morning, the family of five slept comfortably together in a warm bed of woolen blankets. The night fire had burned down to smoldering embers,

  leaving the interior of the stone house icy-cold and in absolute darkness. Pearse was awakened by a distant reverberation, a rumbling, the sort of thing one feels in the bones before hearing it. It was unlike anything he had ever felt or heard. With his eyes wide and breath held, he lay unmoving in his bed, waiting in silent anticipation for any clue that would reveal the source. He glanced at his wife and children, who were still dozing. The man prepared himself to leap up the moment he sensed danger to his family.

  As the rumbling became audible and grew, Pearse sat up listening with rapt attention. His first impression was the sound of an approaching wildfire, although he knew that was out of the question. With temperatures well below freezing and deep snow blanketing the entire region, a wildfire would be impossible. Maybe, he reasoned, it was the sound of a windstorm; but when a sonic boom detonated in the atmosphere, the thought perished.

  Leaping from his bed, Pearse threw on his boots and coat in one swift movement, then burst through the door to investigate. His eyes scanned the horizon. But he found no danger there and no visible reason for alarm. Yet the sound continued. Pearse stared at the heavens, realizing something unknown to him was tearing through the atmosphere.

  Winter’s predawn horizon was barely visible beyond the snow-covered ridge where Pearse made his home. The River Nore, now ice-bound, wound its way through a grassy flood plain in the distance. A ragged strip of charcoal gray gave evidence of mountains distant. Behind them, dawn threatened to ignite the murky sky.

  The steadily intensifying rumble echoed through the river valley. Pearse stared in that direction, but the sound offered no clue to its source or the cause. Lauryn, his wife, and their three children joined him on the high bank, all searching the murky sky as one. A mixture of wonder and dread of the unknown filled their hearts.

  As it neared the ground, the sound grew exponentially, roaring, snapping, popping, and shaking the bones of the small group of onlookers. Then the low hanging clouds started glowing, radiating yellow light on the snow-covered grasslands. To the family, it seemed as if the sun was falling to earth.

  They watched in horror as a fireball broke through the glowing clouds and streaked to the ground. As it struck, the object threw up a frightening plume of earth and snow, followed by a deafening boom. The concussion wave that followed sent them reeling. Their world shook violently, and snow fell from the trees around them as they struggled for balance. Lauryn held their youngest child to her breast as it wailed inconsolably.

  Pearse studied the growing cloud of debris in wonder as Lauryn tended the children. The little family huddled together as they attempted to make sense of what had happened. The event they had witnessed was beyond their scope of knowledge or experience. But they were certain whatever happened had laid waste to their little valley.

  When the air cleared enough to expose vague details of the devastation, they were awestruck. Through the dust and smoke, firelight was visible. Then as the dust and smoke dissipated, Pearse made out the outline of a crater with a shimmering shape at its center.

  “What is that— thing?” Lauryn asked her husband, with wonder in her eyes.

  “I don’t know,” Pearse whispered, “but I’m going down there to find out.” Once he had set his mind on investigating the scene, he began barking orders.

  “Lauryn, you build a fire while I get ready to go.”

  “Tierney,” he called to his eldest son, “go get ready, you’re coming with me. Get something to eat and gather overnight supplies for two. We’re leaving as soon as we’re ready.”

  “Aedan and Saoirse,” he ordered the younger ones, “go help your brother.”

  Tierney, the thirteen-year-old, was always eager for an adventure. As he ran excitedly to the house, his siblings followed closely on his heels. The three youngsters wasted no time collecting the supplies needed for cold-weather travel in deep snow. Once they had gathered everything together, Tierney took stock of the piled provisions. Once they were out in the weather, there was no room for errors; it had to be right the first time. Their lives depended on it.

  The kit included a two-day supply of food and water with fire-starting stones, tinder, knives, a long-handled ax, and enough skins to build an overnight shelter. Once satisfied, they bundled it all together in waterproof skins with sewn-in shoulder straps. When finished, Tierney felt satisfied he had completed the task his father had commanded. Only when he was sure he was prepared to travel did he stop to eat.

  Pearse put his coat and boots on, threw his pack over his shoulder, then noticed the air had cleared, allowing better definition of the glimmering mass in the crater. A peculiarity caught his eye. The fires seemed to shine rather than flicker as expected. Moreover, those strange fires appeared to surround the object spaced at even intervals. When he realized the fires shined without flickering or emitting smoke, Pearse’s apprehension of the thing increased, and with it his curiosity.

  Straining to see more in the dim light, he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. The improbability of the scene filled him with a sense of foreboding. Nothing was ordinary about any of what he saw there. The longer he stared, the more questions arose. Everything about the scene was strange, unknown, beyond his understanding. As he inspected the devastation, he probed his people’s history, collective memory, and own experience for answers but found no useful information. This strange object was something he would have to see for himself and try to understand.

  Despite being keenly interested, Pearse was a cautious man. He wasn’t about to allow curiosity to jeopardize his safety or that of his son. He determined to approach the thing with caution, vigilant, and with weapons at the ready. There was no way for him to know what to expect, so he would go in expecting the unexpected.

  Pearse said goodbye to Lauryn, assuring her that he would be careful and that he expected to return before dusk. Then he and Tierney set off on what he estimated to be a three to four-mile walk through the knee-deep snow.

  Once they had made their way down the high bank and crossed the River Nore, they made good time following a game trail across the snowy flood plain. The thick cloud layer blocked out most of the morning light without offering the slightest hint of its location in the sky. Since their footfalls were silent in the dry fluffy snow, all was quiet except for their steady breathing. Pearse and his son were the only things moving in the desolate valley that morning.

  As they trudged up the incline leading into the surrounding hills, dense forest replaced the grasslands. Snow was piled high under the trees, shaken loose by the morning’s event. For the first time in months the tall trees were free of snow. Now forced to crawl through loose deep snow their pace slowed considerably.

  They found themselves confronted by masses of downed trees and thick branches blocking the way at the top of a ridge. Although relieved to be out of the loose snow, they now faced the arduous task of scrambling over the big logs one by one. Many were as big around as they were tall, making the going difficult. Their progress slowed to a crawl.

  “Father, why are the trees broken like this?” Tierney wondered aloud.

  “I cannot say, boy,” Pearse confessed, panting from the exertion. “Do you want to turn back? I think we are close.”

  Tierney considered the offer for a moment before answering. “If we are close, let’s keep going. I want to see it.”

  Rubbing his son’s shoulder affectionately, Pearse said, “Alright, but be careful climbing over these trees. I don’t want to carry you back!”

  As the boy and his father fought their way to the top of a ridge, they came to a viewpoint that revealed the entire crash site. The destruction seen there was stunning, stopping them in their tracks. Below lay a halfmile-wide clearing devoid of anything more substantial than a pebb
le. The cleared depression was surrounded on all sides by the huge trees, all lined up in neat rows in every direction. The landscape appeared as if a giant hand had combed them into place around the impact crater. An earthen wall encircled the strange glittering object perfectly placed at the crater’s center.

  The gleaming silver shape shone brightly against the earthen backdrop, with its nose partially buried in the ground. Sensing the boy’s tension, Pearse put his arm around his son’s shoulder. He noticed how the ship’s lights were evenly spaced along its smooth flanks, just as he had seen from his home on the high bank of the River Nore. His curiosity increased as he realized they must be lamps but wondered how they burned without making smoke.

  Bewildered, Pearse and Tierney sat together on a log resting from the hard climb, studying the unearthly sight. The area was eerily silent, with nothing moving on the ground or in the air. Beyond the crash’s affected area, thick snow covered the forests as far as the eye could see. However, everything within a half-mile diameter of the crater was swept clean of both trees and snow. The destruction was complete, yet the mysterious object lying at the crater’s center dominated their attention.

  Pearse stared at the object intently. The only thing he was able to compare it to was that of a fish, although no fish could ever be as large. But it wasn’t a fish, and it certainly wasn’t alive. The shiny surface made him think of glass; Pearse had seen glass at the summer gathering. In his estimation, the thing appeared to be similar to that glass.

  “Father, what is that?” Tierney asked, his finger pointed at the indescribable object.

  “I don’t know. But it seems to be made of glass.”

  “What is glass?”

  “See how it shines? Glass shines like that,” explained Pearse. “Remember we saw glass last summer, outside the conclave lodge? A man had a table with white and black glass for sale. It was smooth and shiny. White, just like that thing.”