The Rings of Hesaurun Read online

  “No. You wrote it in 2409 BCE.”

  “What does BCE mean?”

  “It means before our common era, or before Christ.”

  “Are you kidding me?” exclaimed Valerie, her face contorted into an unfamiliar mask. “That’s crazy!” she insisted. “I didn’t write it! I’m not a time traveler!”

  “You wrote it more than forty-five hundred years ago.”

  “Come on, that’s not funny.”

  “Read it. Ask yourself if you could have written it. Then decide if you think it makes sense.”

  “Alright, I will,” Vallerie challenged, holding the little leather-bound book up to the light. After scrutinizing both sides, she began leafing through a few pages.

  Utterly perplexed, she put the book down. “There is no way this thing is 4500 years old. It looks brand new,” Valerie said skeptically.

  “It’s printed on materials from the fortieth century. You must have brought the materials with you.”

  “Now, I know you’re messing with me,” Valerie laughed.

  But those words caused her to pause as she continued inspecting the little book. Its materials did seem exceptionally durable. The brown cover had the look and feel of leather, although her fingernail wouldn’t scratch it no matter how hard she pressed. The lightweight paper was bright white and fine-textured, but it refused to crease when folded despite her best efforts. These unusual qualities piqued her interest, so she began reading in earnest.

  Corell’s black Suburban continued south in silence for the next hour as Valerie read the book. At the Oregon border, she closed it and wordlessly returned it to Corell. Once across the Interstate Bridge, Paris stopped at a truck stop to refuel. They went inside, grabbed hotdogs and coffee, then drove on. Still, she said nothing about the book or its contents.

  Corell continued to be patient, waiting for Valerie to break the silence that had grown between them. He expected her to question him about what she had read, but the girl seemed to be holding back, working it out in her mind, so he gave her space and time. He reasoned that if she rejected the story outright, she would say so, but she didn’t and considered it a good sign. She remained silent, staring out the window for miles as they continued southward into the night.

  When they reached Eugene, Oregon, Valerie finally spoke. “How far are we going tonight?”

  “My place is still about an hour and a half out. But if you’re tired, you are welcome to crawl in back and get some sleep—if you choose.” Corell smiled thoughtfully.

  “No, thank you, I’m good,” she said softly.

  “I think you’ll like my place.” Corell said, trying to keep her talking. “It’s on the Applegate River near Jacksonville; you will have your own room. It’s safe and secure. A doomsday prepper like you will love it!” he joked.

  Valerie nodded, smiling at his reference to being a doomsday prepper. “You’re the prepper, remember?”

  “True,” he admitted easily. “Just not in Montana.”

  “It’s a strange story,” Valerie mused, referring to the book. “It seems possible, but I don’t see anything in it would make me believe I ever had anything to do with it.”

  Corell gave her a polite smile. Then Valerie pulled herself up against the dashboard, her arms crossed as she searched Corell’s features. “Unless you are trying to tell me I’ve lived twice,” she said pointedly. The question was locked and loaded. Their eyes met for a moment as Corell considered his response, and Valerie waited, eagerly anticipating the answer.

  “No,” he said, returning his eyes to the road. “You have lived one lifetime. That’s a fact,” he assured her.

  “And no, you haven’t been reborn, either. You are living the only life you will ever live. However, it seems your lifespan will be divided between two entirely different time-periods, thousands of years apart.”

  Valerie’s face seemed frozen in an expression of dawning comprehension. “Think of it this way,” Corell went on. “By going back in time, you created a time loop and essentially became your own ancestor. You did that for two reasons: first, so you could escape the aliens who would have eventually killed you and won the war, and second, so you could apply what you learned during your first go-around in the future. With that advantage, you expect to win the war this time.”

  In his mind Corell saw the whole plan. “It was brilliant, really,” he marveled. “Now you have begun your life. But it is not a rebirth; your future self has involved your former self in a time loop. Do you understand?”

  Valerie stared dumbly at Corell as if he was speaking a foreign language. Her eyes blinked, her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Over-communicated and overwhelmed, she fell back in the seat, struggling to reconcile that concept mentally.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Corell chuckled. “And I get it,” he admitted. “It’s a complicated story because it involves the future, the past, and time manipulation. My father told me that you were from the distant future although you wrote the book in the past. According to him, you were more than three thousand years old when you wrote that book. For the record, you wrote one book for each ring. So this book is unique. It is one of one.”

  “How could your father know that?” Valerie said skeptically.

  “His father Amos received the ring from Pearse, who received it directly from an old woman named Valerie Dunne –that’s you, in your future. The story is reliable; it’s history. You will be that old woman in the distant future.

  “And here’s another mind-bender: there are only four ring bearers between you, now, and yourself 3000 years old. The line of descent begins with Valerie Dunne, then Pearse, Amos, Bede, and me. Now here you are again, and we’re back to you. The span of time is roughly 4500 years.”

  Valerie closed her eyes and sighed. Corell could see that her head was swirling. Time to spit the rest of it out now, he told himself.

  “The ring,” he continued, “was passed down to me by my father, so I have had it for about thirteen-hundred years. He said I should expect you to appear in this time period. His account handed down through me is reliable because he knew Amos, who knew Pearse, who received the ring from you.”

  Corell sensed that poor Valerie’s brain was about to explode. “So how did Valerie,” she stopped, then corrected herself, “I mean, how did that version of me get it in it first place?”

  “Get them,” Corell corrected. “You started out with all five rings. Before your death, you gifted one ring to each of the five members of Pearse’s family, knowing they would be passed down through the Dunne family line. As you have read, you did it that way to dilute the power and prevent any one person from becoming a pariah.”

  “But that doesn’t tell me how I got them. Where did those rings come from?”

  “I’ll explain in detail later, but for now, all you need to know is that you get the fifth ring from me. The fifth ring is the most important of them because it is the master of the five. It includes all the capabilities of the other four combined, plus its own unique abilities. It cannot be defeated by any other ring or combination of them. It works like a lens, magnifying the combined power of the five. Like the book says, only when they come together in one person, the rightful owner, does their power reach the full potential.

  “However, you need to understand the ring can still be stolen and that you can be killed for it. You will never be immortal or invincible. The ring, however, is both immortal and invincible. It cannot be cut, bent, melted, or altered in any way. It is indestructible. Throwing it into a furnace or hitting it with a sledgehammer will not affect it.”

  “How long did I live—when I was in the past—I mean, do you know what happened to me back then?” Valerie stammered, unsure she wanted to know the truth about her end.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know. And my father didn’t know, either. I asked.”

  Valerie sighed miserably. “I understand. You look like you are about fifty years old. How old were you when your father gave it to you?”
/>   “I forget the exact year, but I was in my early twenties. My father was a good man, an historian. I served him as an aid until his death.”

  Valerie sat quietly, thinking. “The name Bede sounds familiar; I seem to remember the name from history class. Was his last name Dunne? Is your last name Dunne?”

  “Yes, to both,” Corell confirmed. “The name Bede is well-known to historians, but the name Bede Dunne is not. He didn’t use it, and neither do I.”

  “Why not?”

  “Certain people know about the rings and would try to get them if they knew how to find me. Early on, one of the rings was stolen along with its booklet. That book was copied, so reproductions exist. In the wrong person’s hands, a ring could be used to set someone up as a king or dictator. I’ve seen it myself.“

  Valerie’s eyes glinted up at him, puzzled. Orson gave him the same odd look as Corell continued. “The booklet is a two-edged sword, vital because it provides the necessary information to the owner of a ring, but it hides nothing. We have to be careful. Right now, only two of the rings are in the hands of the rightful owners, and Stone is our biggest threat with two of the rings. If he were to end up with all five of them, he could rule the planet.”

  “Two-edged sword?” Valerie’s eyes narrowed.

  “A metaphor for a powerful weapon. A two-edged sword cuts on both edges, so it cuts either way you swing it.”

  Valerie took a few minutes as she ran the story through her truth filter. She was pretty sure she remembered learning about an English historian named Bede in history class. Her thoughts swirled, then she realized Bede might have been her grandson, grandfather, or maybe both for that matter. In a flash she realized if any of this was true the same would apply to Corell. And what would that mean for her? Did that make her, her own grandmother and granddaughter at the same time? This was too much! She covered her eyes with her hands, feeling like they just might point in opposite directions.

  Paris was barely visible to Valerie in the dark SUV, the only available light provided by the instrument panel. She focused on him as he continued driving with Orson asleep on his lap. The man appeared to be completely normal with no outward clue to extreme age. Judging by his appearance she guessed he could pass for fifty, sixty at the most, which made her wonder about the ring’s effect on time and aging. She wondered about that, so she decided to ask.

  “Can you travel in time?” Valerie asked tentatively.

  “No,” Corelle said bluntly.

  “But Valerie could?”

  “Yes, but remember, she had all five rings. It seems you are destined to acquire all five rings, completing the circle.”

  “Circle? What circle?”

  “The time loop,” Corell reminded her. “The one you created when you went back to live with Pearse and his family.”

  Creating time loops sounded like dangerous business to Valerie, something to be avoided if possible. But if that was her destiny, she decided she would have to prepare herself for that eventuality.

  “Does that mean I have to go back in time to do what she did?”

  “Not necessarily,” he reasoned. “It is a problem you will have to solve yourself. Whether you go or don’t go, either way, I can see the potential for a paradox. You know what a time paradox is, right?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded, “That would be like, a butterfly effect. Like if I killed my own father, would I still exist—right?”

  “Exactly,” Corell confirmed. “You could change everything if you go or if you decide not to go. It’s a problem any way you slice it.”

  “When someone time-travels, are there two people, or one?”

  “Good question. But no, just one. We’re almost there,” Corell informed her. “Let’s get settled in tonight, then talk about it in the morning over coffee.”

  “How did you know I drink coffee?”

  “Old people know stuff,” he said with a sly smile.

  “From the way Orson has been acting, I thought you were going to say the cat told you,” Valerie quipped.

  The Suburban exited the Interstate, then followed a poorly-lit two-lane country road for ten minutes. Then it left the two-lane and pulled onto what Valerie thought appeared to be a seldom-used dirt track in the woods. She followed the headlights as they illuminated the way through the darkness thick with dense foliage and a mixture of tall trees, manzanita, and ferns. About one-hundred yards in, the SUV’s headlights fell upon a large tree blocking the path, making the trail impassable.

  “There’s a tree down! How are we going to get past that?” Valerie wondered aloud, pointing at the massive log blockade.

  “See this?” Corell said, a remote in his hand. “We’re going to push this little button right here. It’s a magic button—so don’t be alarmed when you awake in Kansas,” he winked. A click of the button later, the big log split in half like a drawbridge with the two halves rising high into the air. With the roadblock out of the way, the Suburban continued along the trail.

  “I told you old people know stuff,” he said as the big log returned to its original position behind them.

  “That you do, old-timer,” Valerie conceded with a smile.

  Moments later, motion sensor activated lights blazed, illuminating the forest around them. Now a high wire fence topped by razor wire blocked their way. A pair of uniformed guards dressed in camo-fatigues approached each side of the Suburban as it rolled to a stop.

  Valerie’s heart leaped in her chest as she realized the stone-faced sentry peering in her window held an automatic weapon, a lightweight thing with a skeleton stock and long curved ammunition clip hanging from it. The gun was camouflage, the same as the uniform. Her eyes widened when she realized the guard’s finger rested on the trigger guard and that in a fraction of a second, it could be turned and fired.

  “Good evening, Smithers,” Corell said as he lowered his window. Valerie noticed the name tag on his uniform identified the guard as Eastman. However, the guard did not look amused, nor did he respond until he and his partner had a thorough look inside the vehicle. Once satisfied all was in order, Eastman’s eyes softened, then he smiled.

  “Good evening, Mr. Paris. So it’s Smithers this time? Have you been watching the Simpsons?”

  “No, but If I didn’t call you something different each time, how would you know it was really me? I could be a phony!” he joked for Valerie’s benefit.

  “Good point, sir. Good evening, Miss Dunne,” Eastman said, welcoming her personally. “I hope you had a good trip.”

  “I did, thank you.” Valerie smiled, relieved by the guard’s soft eyes and pleasant voice despite his previously-stiff military demeanor. She wondered how Eastman knew her name, finally deciding that the guards must have had advance notice of her presence.But how? she wondered. I’ve been with Correll every second since I got home from school, and he never made a call or text to anyone. Was this just one of many side-tunnels in the rabbit hole?

  “Another pet, Mister Paris?” Eastman said, eyeing the big tabby sleeping peacefully on Corell’s lap.

  “He’s mine!” Valerie fired back, a little more aggressively than intended.

  Eastman said nothing more, then waved at someone in the guard shack. The gates clanked, then slid open, allowing the Suburban to roll through. Once past the gate, the sky above them opened up, revealing a large clearing with several buildings illuminated in the distance.

  Now paved, the road was lined by vintage street lights evenly spaced along the curbed drive’s sides leading to the main structure that Valerie assumed to be Corell’s home. Corell parked the SUV in front of the main entrance.

  As Valerie climbed out of the vehicle, she was happy to have the opportunity to stand and stretch her tight muscles. It had been a long day and a long trip. Valerie saw something that bothered her in the dim light beyond the house: the form of another armed guard walking beside a dog. From the car she heard Orson snarl.

  “Quiet, Orson, that dog’s not going to harm you,” Corell sai
d, half-smiling.

  “Security is so tight here,” Valerie marveled. “I saw a squirrel give you a dirty look back at the gate.”

  “Figures. That one’s no good. He throws acorns at me when I’m not looking.” Corell said dryly.

  The house was a large two-story, Dutch Tudor-style home, with a mixture of red brick and off-white shiplap exterior paneling, green trim. A high-pitched roof with several windowed gables overlooked the turn-around drive. Although the home and gardens were beautiful, they didn’t seem to be overly formal. Valerie liked that.

  An athletic-looking woman in her early forties pushed the heavy wooden door open, then obligingly stood beside it as Corell, followed closely by Valerie, entered the foyer.

  “Good evening, Corell, and welcome, Valerie. I am April,” the woman declared, holding out a welcoming hand for Valerie to shake. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said warmly, although businesslike.

  “And who do we have here?” April smiled widely, referring to the big cat Valerie carried in her arms.

  “April, this is Orson. Orson, meet April.” Valerie held out one of the cat’s forepaw for April, who took the cue and shook it. They both chuckled.

  “Let me help you with your bags. I’ll show you to your room.” April invited.

  “Thank you; it’s good to meet you, April.” Valerie returned, smiling warmly. “And thank you, Corell. Your home is beautiful,” said Valerie admiringly.

  As the two women turned to climb the stairs, Corell called to Valerie, “You’re welcome! Make yourself at home. It’s late, so I will see you in the morning.”

  April led Valerie into a room at the head of the stairs, a small suite with hardwood floors covered with thick forest green throw rugs, matching floral wallpaper, and furniture. The room had an undeniably feminine feel to it. Warm night air drifting through the open dormer windows moved white lace curtains slightly.

  April set Valerie’s bags down inside a walk-in closet next to a full-size private bathroom, then provided brief instructions on how the heat, air-conditioning, and fixtures in the room worked.