A New Order: Purity Series Part One

By Gavin Mills

There is an ancient prophecy. A long forgotten legend from a distant land...
‘When brother turns on brother and innovation lays waste to the world, after the last straw has fallen and when all seems lost, there will or will not be a seed of reason. But if it be, it will be the boy of bad blood with Purity. And by his hand, the seed will nourish thought, and there will be balance.’

For too long, the warlords had mercilessly enforced their brutality on the world. For too long, the people had suffered their wrath and done their will. It was a time ripe for change when Rezden, champion of the underdog came forward with his visionary plan for a New Order.
Meanwhile Arelaz, warlord of the Northern Territories is a benevolent dictator and a wise man. He has seen the signs, and gives Rezden’s New Order his blessing. And the city which will rise from the ruins of the Immortals, will be Horizen.
Inspired by Arelaz and Maxmillion Grace, his close friend and partner, and attracted by the promise of a new beginning and life, the people come. The city swells and flourishes, and both Arelaz and Max fall in love and take wives. Life in Horizen is perfect. Filled with love, joy and prosperity.
When the wives discover they are with child, a dark secret falls between Rezden and Sarah his wife, sister to Arelaz the warlord. A secret which also clouds the relationship between Rezden and Max, and impacts on Rezden’s future relationship with both his unborn son Gradlock, and Horizen, the megacity he is creating.
Gradlock grows into a man. An evil man of no conscience, and when Rezden dies under strange circumstances, Gradlock becomes his obvious successor. And soon thereafter, trolls arrive to enforce his will, and the people of Horizen discover once more, that not all men stand equal.

In the farmlands surrounding Horizen where Joss and his family live, the rains have disappeared, the sun is cloaked by a growing fog and the lands lie dry and fallow. Soon Joss will need to make the decision every farmer dreads: to trust in the gods and possibly die of starvation, or leave his precious lands, take his family and what they can carry, and head for Horizen the megacity, the dreaded domain of Gradlock.
His decision will decide the destiny, not only of himself and his family, but also of all - because the world is in chaos and people are uneasy. Many think all is lost. But there is an ancient legend about a boy with bad blood who carries the seed of reason, and with it, salvation. ...Gilbert, the son of Joss has bad blood, and his adopted sister found abandoned in the forest had a mysterious note attached to her manger, ‘My name is Purity, treat me with love.’ Could it be the day of the legend has dawned?

Purity is an epic tale told in two books spanning five generations. A fantasy tale with many simple parables about honour, love, life and living, which might be relevant to life in our modern world today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gavin Mills
• Release date: Nov 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370175970

Gavin Mills

Gavin Mills was born in the little town of Springs in South Africa where he attended school at St Brendan’s Christian Brother’s College. After school he had no clear idea what he wanted to do with his life. Engineering sounded good, so he applied and was accepted by the University of the Witwatersrand to study Chemical Engineering. When that didn’t work out, he did two years military service becoming a 2nd lieutenant and serving as transport officer for 52 Battalion out of Ogongo in Namibia in the late ‘70s.Coming out of the army, he went into computers as a programmer and later a systems analyst before giving up corporate to become a professional dancer, performing first in SA and later in London, Paris, Spain and Portugal - some of the highlights being principal dancer in Moulin Rouge Paris, Scala in Spain and Canary Islands, and Estoril Casino in Lisbon.On returning to South Africa, he performed in the first Miss World Pageant at Sun City in 1992, falling in love with Miss Hungary, who would return to South Africa two years later to become his wife. They have been together ever since, have two sons and live in Johannesburg. Whenever not writing or working, Gavin gets his kicks enjoying quality time with close friends and those most precious to him, his family.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

After The Plague

When it all began, who would ever have guessed that the megacity of Horizen and the New Order could falter. Who would ever have imagined the inspired brainchild of Rezden, visionary thinker and philosopher, and his close friend MaxmilLian Grace, architect of change, could ever decline. It couldn’t… The price for failure would be the continuance of the mindless insanity that had raged since the White Plague, more than a century before. And for all but the Warlords and their social elite, this could not be.

When still a young boy, Rezden had heard accounts of the White Plague many times from Agtril, his grandfather who had heard from his grandfather - who had been a young boy when the plague came.

He would listen for hours captivated as the old man recounted how the White Plague brought more than just death. It brought fear and hopelessness, …so thick you could taste it, the old man would tell…

None still living could recall first hand the terror and carnage of the plague, but the spectre of the disease still haunted the minds of the kin of all those that had survived.

Unseen and unheard, like a thief in the night it had come from the North on the sultry summer trade winds, discriminating not between man or beast, rich or poor, leaving a trail of anguish, pain, pestilence, and death.

Five days… That’s what it would take most times to die - a death of indescribable horror.

For helpless victims, pain, fever and the terrifying realisation of the inevitable. For friends and loved ones standing by helplessly, by far the worst, …by far the most unexpected affliction, the dementia.

Petrified kin looked on in horror as those they loved screamed their pain and terror the one moment, and laughed hysterically the next, foaming at the mouth and thrashing uncontrollably. …As if possessed.

Some believed the insanity and dementia were ironic mercies bestowed by the Divine, for it spared the victim any cognisance of the final hours – when blood and bile seeped like slime from every orifice of the ravaged body before death finally brought welcome release, not a moment too soon for both victims and loved ones.

First to succumb were the young and the weak, the frail and the old. Initially this caused little consternation: natural selection was the way of the world. But when the rate of infection and the horror of the plague became apparent, the multitudes responded with hysteria, desperation and panic.

Friend turned on friend and brother on brother, …and those of power and privilege retreated to the safety and seclusion of country retreats, villas and estates. The less fortunate huddled together in the seclusion of homes barricaded in vain against the invisible death, and those inflicted were discarded and abandoned like dogs, to die unattended, unconsoled, …alone.

The stench of death hung heavy in the air as exponentially more swollen corpses of man, beast and bird were left to fester and rot where they fell.

The plague raged for five years, before the terrifying veil of death lifted and blew away as mysteriously as it had come. And in that time history records, within the domain of man and beast, of every five alive before, the plague took four.

And the plague had taken not only life, but also faith and reason. For like the merchants and landowners, priests and community leaders had also hastened to the safety and seclusion of isolated retreats. …And in so doing, abandoned their vassals and congregations to fend for themselves when there was no way. It is not surprisingly that when they left, the doctrines of law and faith which they championed, left with them.

When the spread of the White Scourge eventually slowed and folk dared to believe it could end, trepidation gave rise to hope against hope, and hesitant optimism. And so too, cognisant of advantage spawned by fear, expedient opportunists emerged with inflammatory words and distorted interpretations of divine intent, playing on superstitions and trepidations of terrified simpletons and traumatised minds. Inflammatory words were preached as philosophy, as doctrine, as prophecy, …as the way – proclaiming that those who survived had been spared for a greater purpose, and those expounding these revelations had been chosen to lead the flock to a new beginning.

…And on their return, the landed gentry found a very different world. A world in the grips of zealots and warlords. A world where they were no longer needed, wanted – or for the most part, tolerated.

Some fled to exile, others suffered the wrath of the new enlightenment. Imposed order became realigned according to strength and superstition, enforced by the brutality of both, and the last remnants of that which separates man from beast dissolved.

What followed was one hundred years of darkness. Darkness perpetuated by lords of war jostling for power and status through terror and intimidation. Warlords as perennial as the seasons sowed carnage, reaped fear, enforcing subservience upon those unfortunate enough to fall within their realms.

But as is always the way, with time, borders consolidated and tensions dissipated. Some of the more intelligent and inspired of the Warlords began to aspire to legacies beyond the short term, looking to innovation and invention to enshrine their existence, enticing an enthusiastic throng of candidates with the lure of status and wealth - for those with the talent and ability.

It became an era of fresh enlightenment as scientists, engineers and merchants jostled for recognition and reward. But in the face of all the perceived progress, prosperity and power remained firmly entrenched in the hands of the Warlords.

CHAPTER TWO

Rezden's Dream

When recounting the story, Agtril would always encourage his grandson Rezden to give thanks to the Great Divine for blessings bestowed.

If it were not for the carnage and death, what we enjoy today could not have been, he would often say - because as fate would have it, the ability of Agtril - as an extremely talented engineer - had caught the attention of Liszbar, Warlord in the Northern Lands.

When summoned, not a man to overlook opportunity, Agtril had applied his energy and talents to good effect. And for his efforts had been well compensated, soon gaining recognition and status as one of the new social elite. …And into this life of social and financial privilege, Rezden had been born and raised.

The only son and heir to a sizeable allotment of power and prosperity, as a boy Rezden lacked for nothing. However, gifted both with intelligence and compassion, already from an early age he became aware of the injustices of the world around him. Rezden had questioned the hierarchy that defined society. Why, he would ask, did the world unfold like a dream for those of wealth and power, while those that did their bidding were considered and treated with little more regard than livestock.

As Rezden the boy grew into a man, his preoccupation with social injustices deepened, and so too did his willingness to make his opinions known. His cynical observations and critical rhetoric soon created ripples among his peers, while simultaneously mustering fervent support from the working classes.

Rezden’s father Grenville, a man of inherited respect and status, looked with disfavour on his son’s controversial antics. Fearing that his heir’s behaviour could in some way tarnish his own reputation or business interests, he put up little or no resistance when Rezden one day announced his intention to travel, and see the world.

For thirteen years Rezden travelled, traversing the land from east to west, north to south, crossing the seas to far off lands, meeting different people and experiencing different cultures, studying philosophy, art, music, the sciences. As his mind expanded with his travels, studies and accumulated experiences, his convictions deepened: that all men are created equal and should therefore be treated equally. And oppression irrespective of shape or form, was unjust, evil and shortsighted.

When at last he returned home, he resolved to address the injustices of class and create a new order. However, as he was soon to discover, initiating change in a system spawned by fear, entrenched by time and driven by commerce, would be no simple feat.

…But Rezden was an exceptional individual, not known to entertain either defeat or failure. Systematically, albeit slowly he stimulated curiosity, then interest and ultimately enthusiasm for his theories.

Before too long, much to the chagrin of more than a few, he became admired and respected by a growing multitude, frequently seen in the boisterous company of the Bohemian bourgeoisie, winning acclaim as an icon of hope and liberation for the working classes.

Rezden’s fundamental belief was that all mankind was the creation of the Divine, and therefore no man should be considered any greater or lesser than any other. …And the toil of every man was as significant as that of the next, whether he be a peasant or a physician.

Show me a man content with servitude, and I will show you either a liar, a lay-about or a fool, he would declare defiantly.

From his perspective, the concept of privilege had no grounding in the larger schemes of life and the fundamental principles underpinning social order. Protecting the rights of all men, rich or poor, old or young, friend or foe, were what defined and differentiated humanity.

Rezden preached at length that in a just society, leaders are in essence servants – to the wellbeing and will of those they represent. Without fear of consequence, he attacked the existing status quo not only for being primitive and unjust, but for corrupt practices and devious intent - even daring to expound his conviction that ultimately, such a system was destined to fail.

Remember always: A true leader is not defined by his ability to command but by his ability to serve. For in reality it is only through serving the needs of others that hearts and minds can be won, and the spirit of the individual enriched.

But in spite of his growing acclaim, Rezden became frustrated by his inability to cross the divide from word to deed. And it was only after he chanced to meet Maxmillian Grace that his vision of a New Order gained form.

CHAPTER THREE

Maxmillian Grace

Maxmillian, the youngest son of a humble carpenter, was born into a world of toil and hardship. But unlike his peers, the boy refused to accept that his future would be defined or constrained by the status quo. At an early age he resolved to create his destiny rather than just accept it, and with wisdom far beyond his years, quickly came to realise that acquaintance and education held the key to opportunity.

When only nine years old, he resolved to seek a benefactor and mentor to teach him the ways of the world and guide him along the path to his dreams.

At the time, he was apprenticed to his father, spending long hours honing the family skills of carpentry and craftsmanship. Skills which as it would turn out, would attract the attention of a known and respected merchant. A merchant who as fate would have it, had first been made aware of the plight of those less privileged by his son. For the merchant was Grenville, Rezden’s father, son of Agtril the engineer.

Early one afternoon Maxmillian was returning home after repairing a doorjamb for a wealthy landowner when his attention was drawn to a well-dressed gentleman gesticulating angrily at the damaged wheel of an elegant horse carriage. Curiosity getting the better of him, the boy had edged to within hearing distance of the commotion. It soon became apparent that the gentleman had an important engagement elsewhere which could not be missed. But despite his rantings, the others present shifting uneasily from foot to foot seemed either unwilling or incapable of offering any form of assistance or solace.

Maxmillian, quick to seize an opportunity, stepped forward and offered his services to fix the wheel. The gentleman stopped his frenzied tantrum and studied the boy curiously. If you can do that for me, my young sir, you will be doing me a great service – which on my word, will not go unrewarded.

Maxmillian smiled at the man, and as he prepared his tools replied, Thank you sire. And I trust the word of a gentleman will not go dishonoured.

The stately gentleman bellowed with laughter, moving closer as Maxmillian set to work, Ah my young friend, I see I am now to be indebted to a man of ambition as well as ability, albeit somewhat self proclaimed.

It was not thirty minutes later that, to the delight of all, the wheel was repaired and the carriage once again ready for travel.

I am impressed young man, and believe me, in these times, that does not happen too often. My homestead is at the end of the lane, just beyond the ridge. Come past after tomorrow and we will discuss how I can return your favour in kind.

And true to Grenville’s word, Maxmillian benefitted a thousand fold from his enterprise. After six years of long hours and arduous work - for his father by day and as a sponsored student by night - the young man earned qualifications in architecture and a spectrum of social sciences. And for his passionate commitment, his esteemed benefactor used his influence to secure Max an extremely attractive posting, where his newly acquired skills were rewarded with more than adequate compensation.

…And it was on one of Rezden’s rare visits home that by chance or fate, the student came to meet the heir of his benefactor. …A meeting, sparked by the attraction of kindred spirits, which ultimately led to a lifelong friendship enriched by a common purpose – to sow the seeds of change.

CHAPTER FOUR

A New Order

The friendship between Rezden and Max grew, and so too did their concern for their world. At length they would debate the lot of the wretched, hypothesising revolutionary ideas to eradicate prejudice and discrimination. And slowly they developed their vision of a New Order. A New Order underpinned by dignity, equality and respect, where progress and innovation were geared single-mindedly for the betterment of all humankind.

But well they both knew, where there is gain, there must be loss - and those of privilege were unlikely to relinquish even a fraction of their lives of opulence and pleasure for the common folk – especially in light of popular talk in high circles, warning of the horrific perils of change.

Today we give them a voice, tomorrow they cut our throats, elegant ladies would quip at ostentatious banquets. …Some would nod in agreement, some would nod for sexual opportunity, and some would nod contemplating the consequences, either way.

Eyes afire with conviction, Rezden would turn on them, "And you believe this will go on forever? While we live as we do, those out there – with dreams like me and you - will sit by and watch their sons become slaves, their children starve? …Will sit by knowing their lives and existence have no meaning, no hope, no future?

When there is nothing to live for, it is easy to die for something. Without change, the world we live in, along with the life we live, is doomed.

So what are you saying? was the frequent retort. We simply give it all away? …And do you think they will be happy? Will they thank us? …Give them a voice and they will use it as a knife to cut our throats.

Don’t give them a voice and one day, they will cut the throats of your babies! There must be a new beginning. A new order. A rebirth…

A rebirth? A voice would inevitably respond, …You exaggerate sir. Your rantings are unsubstantiated. For it is you who voices the cry, not the rabble you claim to champion. The discontent you warn of resides only in your mind.

Cold as ice, Rezden would cut through nervous laughter, And that is the dilemma my friend: How can there be hope when that which must change is the farmer, not the crop. How can there be rebirth when the patron of change will by necessity, be the one dethroned…

Far from swaying his peers, Rezden’s revolutionary principles unsettled them. Where at first his theories were considered entertaining, as potential consequences were contemplated, more and more considered his teachings a hazard. The passionate young maverick became increasingly alienated by his peers and the social elite.

But Rezden was undeterred, spending more and more time with Max as the rift widened between him and his kind. And the bond of friendship between the two young men grew, along with their combined resolve - to give flight to their dream of a New Order.

Nevertheless, the two young dreamers learnt the hard way that without the necessary muscle, swimming upstream was a futile exercise. As the years passed, they talked, schemed and planned, developing the blueprint to perfection for their New Order. But in spite of their endless planning, drafting and more planning, further than inciting some and infuriating others, little was achieved. Without approval from Arelaz - great grandson of Liszbar and reigning Warlord of the Northern Lands - fear of retribution incubated apathy. Without the Warlord’s blessing and a site for their dream, their brainchild would remain an orphan. And all seemed lost when with no forewarning, Rezden was one day summoned by Arelaz, warlord of the Northern Lands.

CHAPTER FIVE

A Father's Advice

In five days Rezden would appear before Arelaz, and for those five days, Rezden was filled with trepidation. He had never even seen the Warlord with his own eyes, let alone appeared in his presence.

General opinion was that Arelaz was a benign despot, reasonably prepared to let the world turn uninterrupted. Under his rule, his realm had enjoyed a time of relative calm and prosperity. But no matter how benign, Rezden was convinced his views and words would not resonate well with the Warlord.

Maxmillian, on hearing the news, offered without hesitation to accompany his friend. No Max. He calls for me. It is my word which troubles his heart. And it is I who will answer from my heart for the words that trouble.

On the eve of his journey north for the meeting, Rezden was summoned by his father. He was somewhat surprised by the request. Bond between father and son had become strained by their diametrically opposed ambitions and viewpoints.

Perhaps Rezden wasn’t going to any lengths to avoid his father, but he certainly wasn’t making any effort to see him, and he pretty much felt his father was doing the same. The two hadn’t exchanged a word since he received the summons. So he couldn’t fathom what warranted the invitation at this time.

Rezden arrived at the sprawling homestead at the end of the alley in the rose-gold afterglow of dusk and found his father reclining on the terrace, gazing out over the lands.

And so ends another day, his father sighed without turning as Rezden approached. Sit awhile and be comfortable. Have you dined? Would you like…

Father… I bring my respect. Thank you. I have eaten. Be at ease.

How I wish life could be like the day and night. The old man muttered. No matter how severe the tempest of the day, the darkness of night shrouds all, and with every new dawn, a fresh start… He sighed, turning to his son. But I shouldn’t speak to you of fresh starts, should I?

Rezden lowered his eyes, It is the way it should be. All men are equal. …All that live are equal, playing just as significant a role as any other in an unfolding Universe. And when the yoke of class muzzles the voice of reason, reason alone can absolve us from the sins of our ways.

And these are the words you plan to share with Arelaz tomorrow? Rezden… My son. Have you lost your mind?

Rezden crossed his arms defiantly, lifting his eyes. You have heard – and say nothing until now?

The old man settled back into the padded leather comfort of his lounger. "You are my flesh and blood. I know you as I know myself… But you will not let me reach you. You will not let me in. And the greatest regret in my life is the fact that one day I will die without you