Heretic: Lost In Legend

By R. Roderick Rowe

1100 years into our future, in a culture where your ear buds are constantly fed the latest government sludge, one man is asked to venture into a wilderness. A wilderness where technology is anathema, and where he must learn to think his own thoughts again. It's the year 3115,and Priest-Applicant Justice Preston is sent to the ancient home of the Jamari to research his life and miracles.

His boyfriend and guide introduces him to the people known as the Tuatha De Cernon. Stagmen. Fauns. Satyrs. Pixies, dryads, nymphs and others. These people have come through a portal opened by the legendary Jamari a thousand years before. They've been living amongst us in secret for all this time.

And he discovers ancient memoirs written by the Sophia Shaman, boon companion to the Jamari. In her own words he finds proof the Church of Jamari has been subverting the teachings of the legend they claim to follow. Any rumor of this discovery will bring the inquisition and the enforcer priests into his life in dangerous and deadly ways.

He can turn the fragile relics over to the church knowing they'll never be seen again. Or, he can find a way to make them public and become HERETIC.

Cernon, High King of the Tuatha De, wants to use the discovery to entice the church into violating a millennia-old agreement and then have his people come out of seclusion.

Justice can choose to be the bait in the trap, or flee into exile with his boyfriend Ian.

 

Ian, as a practicing shaman, has his own deadly secrets from the church which has long forbidden any spirituality outside the influence of the priests.

In his soul-searching, Justice must choose from so many options and deadly paths he finds it near impossible. But time carries him inevitably into his eventual fate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. Roderick Rowe
• Release date: Jul 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223354703

Book preview

Revelations

Chapter One

Omnia Veritas

Preston Zeller fretted as he waited on the graduation dais. Father Langdon had asked him to wait there for an important briefing on his first assignment as a new priest and was running late. He still wore the purple velvet vestment representing Portland State University colors even as late afternoon was passing into evening. He despaired of getting away from the extended graduation celebration long enough to dress down into more casual wear.

Newly graduated from the School of Theology at the Portland campus, he still had the rolled-up diploma in hand when he saw Father Langdon signal to him from the other side of the graduation pavilion. Langdon moved a hand to his own ear, then pointed to Preston. Chagrined, Preston reached up to power on his ear buds, which he had turned off for the ceremony.

I am here, he told the professor after selecting private channel coms.

Please wait for me, Father Langdon said over the earpiece. We need to talk about keeping you safe during your upcoming assignment. I’d like to do that over dinner before you get too involved in the celebrations.

Preston nodded to Father Langdon, then turned off his mic and looked at his friend and fellow graduate who he had been chatting with.

Keep me safe? he wondered.

Father Langdon wants to have dinner with me, he said. Can we meet in your dorm after that?

I’d like that, his friend said. I know we’re all going to different assignments now, but I’d like to have one last night of Eros with you. One to remember through the rest of my days.

Preston smiled appreciatively. I’m sure you’ve had better than I. But you are my choice to share eros on our last night on campus as well. He looked again to where Father Langdon was just clearing the last group of graduates, all of whom wanted to shake the hand of the celebrated monsignor.

Preston was five foot ten and weighed a hundred and fifty-five pounds. His brown eyes were dark as twin caverns. He had the red-brown skin of a full Native American.

A thousand years after the Church of Jamari began, many others also showed mixed Native-Asian-European genetic backgrounds, but Preston could trace his lineage back to the tribe that had once welcomed Jamari to their Tahkenitch Lake settlement.

There was no proof, but he liked to think he could have some connection to the child Jamari had fathered on Melony when they consummated the treaty between the Elk Creek Tribe and the Tahkenitch Tribe.

Preston, Father Langdon said as he finally mounted the dais and shook the hand of one last graduate. I’m glad I could catch you and see you off. I wanted you to know that I am the one who arranged for your assignment down to the ancestral home of the Jamari. It’s important that you get a handle on some things you may face as you step into your new role there. Can we catch a quick meal somewhere and talk?

He looked to where Preston’s friend still lingered. Preston thought he detected his professor running an appreciative eye up and down his friend’s diminutive frame, concluding the obvious. Ethan, I’m afraid I’ll be taking some of his time this evening, but, because I’ll also be asking for even more briefings about his upcoming assignment over the next few days, it would seem to balance out in your favor.

Ethan’s freckled face reddened at being so obvious. Thank you for that, Father. I’ll take advantage of the opportunities. He smiled at Preston as he said this last.

I’m honored at the invitation, Father, Preston answered as he felt his face warm as well. He remembered being both shocked and pleased at the assignment and now had a better understanding of how it could have happened. He and Father Langdon had enjoyed many late-night discussions regarding the ancient, near-forbidden texts known as the Apocrypha of the Knight Shamans.

The church fathers excluded those ancient tomes from the Jamari Bible on purpose and the student-professor pair had often debated the merits and drawbacks of having done so during late-night studies. From all reports, the ancients had said the reason was that those tomes dealt with managing the culture of those early days and not so much on the Jamari himself. Langdon had debated with Preston the impact on the culture now, a thousand years later.

In his many discussions with his favorite professor, Preston had learned that the church was considering removing all copies of those ancient texts to protected and safe places; places where only the most trusted of priests could access them, where there was less chance of a misguided acolyte or layperson coming across them and getting up to mischief.

A detailed look into the Jamari’s ancient home would need someone willing to look at things outside the current limitations of church doctrine and Father Langdon knew Preston was one such.

The two walked along the commons, Father Langdon having to stop and accept thanks from many a recent graduate as they strolled through the thinning crowd. You won’t want to tell anyone this just yet, Father Langdon said as they found a quiet moment, but I’ve just learned that I’m chosen as the next Supreme Bishop of the Church of Jamari.

It’s a wonder that all the bishops could narrow it down, Preston said, remembering some of the news releases of the selection process. It seems all the congratulations should come your way, instead of us graduates, he continued. When will they announce the elevation?

Probably within the week, Father Langdon answered. It looks like Supreme Bishop Cantrip has taken a turn for the worse and won’t last the month.

Has there been any news of what his ailment is? Preston asked.

Poison, Father Langdon answered tersely. It seems there’s someone out there who had a grievance against him and got a rare poison into his food.

That’s... appalling, Preston said. He’s been Supreme Bishop for so long that he could have enemies, but why poison? Wouldn’t that bring about an investigation and discovery? I mean, he’s old enough to have retired any day now had this not come about.

They’ve identified the poison, Father Langdon answered, but have found no evidence to narrow down a list of suspects.

Preston stopped in sudden realization. You’ll be careful for yourself, won’t you? I mean, maybe someone thought to step into that role himself.

I’ll be very careful, Father Langdon said. It’s just over here. He pointed to a small eatery attached to the arts building. They make great sandwiches, and I reserved a table out of the way where we can talk.

The two made their way through the atrium gallery before turning into the diner. There, a waiter greeted the pair and led them to their table. It was obvious Father Langdon had specified a private setting. The designated table sat behind a fountain from which a sea serpent spouted a stream of water in a high arc to splash into the pool below. Preston had always enjoyed watching the koi fish in their slow, stately progress across the deep pool and watched now as one made a heavy attempt at a leap up into the falling spray of water.

When they had ordered, and the waiter had moved off, Father Langdon spoke. The first subject you should know about is the Children of Jamari, he said.

Preston remembered long-past lore of that branch of humanity. I know that they’re direct descendants of The Jamari, he said. It seems there should be a lot more to that tale than the church fathers have allowed us to know, though.

There is a lot more to that story, Father Langdon agreed. Remember the day The Jamari awakened the Jamari Tree?

It’s one of the most sacred tales of our church, Preston answered, and as a result, I have my doubts about just how accurate the telling really is.

Father Langdon looked hurriedly around the room. The reason I can’t assign you to my staff as magister, he admonished, is because of your penchant for outbursts exactly like that. Even in a relatively safe place such as this, you should not voice such speculation, he reprimanded his student.

But yes. There have been changes made to that tale over the years. Not the key elements, though. Jamari and The Sophia wrought a great miracle as they undertook the fertility rites at the base of the Founder’s Tree on Milltown Hill. They each wore the aspect of the greatest manifestations of the Great Spirit. Jamari channeled the Great Spirit himself, in guise of the Sun, and Sophia wore the aspect of the Aeon Sophia in guise of the Moon. They quickened the spirit of Founder Knight from his spiritual journey and into life inside his tree even as they created the first of the Children of Jamari in their fertility ritual. He paused here as the waiter came back with two glasses of the professor’s favorite iced tea/lemonade mix and left the dewy glasses on the marble-topped table.

You’ll remember from lore that the Jamari had other children before, Father Langdon continued, even one other with Sophia. The one created at ‘the Awakening’ was special, though. Fathered under the power of the Great Spirit, he took on aspects that were no longer fully human as he grew. Together, the Jamari and Sophia also fathered three other children. The Jamari fathered a dozen more with other women as well. Every child he fathered after the Great Awakening took on the aspect of that first one, though none were as powerful in their arts as the first. As a people, they’ve been living in seclusion in the Founder’s Grove above Milltown Village for the last thousand years.

Do you think I’ll get to meet them? Preston asked.

Doubtful, Father Langdon answered. They’ve not ventured out of their domain in the last five hundred years. If they reach out to you, though, show the greatest respect. He paused again as their sandwiches arrived.

Don’t let me hold up your meal, Father Langdon said. I can talk while you eat. He took a sip of his drink first. What I need to warn you about is the political environment at Milltown City and, upstream, at Milltown Village. As a Priest-Supplicant, you’ll outrank their community leader. An Arch Deacon has administered them for so long that they won’t be likely to welcome a higher-ranking Priest-Supplicant into their fold. Father Langdon paused here to take a bite of his sandwich.

During the interval, Preston heard an announcement over his ubiquitous earpiece. With today’s graduation, the sonorous voice droned, there are more servants and priests of Jamari than ever before. As our reach grows, so too does our responsibility to the people. We must always keep their spirit-selves safe from the temptations brought on by the increasing number of woke ones. Justice saw Langdon flinch, showing that they were both hearing the same announcement. It is our tenet to eliminate the so-called woke, even should that mean giving up a loved one into the hands of the inquisition so that they can save their souls, even should their lives be forfeit.

Both men waited a few seconds before deciding that the announcement was complete. Speaking of shamanism, Father Langdon said, I’m recommending that you begin some early investigations along those lines. Our discussions have revealed that you have a genuine calling there, and should that develop, the license I’ll grant can protect you from any overzealous priests of the inquisition.

Preston felt his mouth drop open and closed it. Then he made an internal connection. The long-maligned woke ones were shamans? How would I go about such a quest? he asked. Doesn’t it require a mentor to guide one through those first steps?

It does, Langdon answered. I’ll trust you to find someone appropriate to help. It’s a dire challenge, though. You can’t fully trust anyone these days, and they won’t be able to trust that you’re genuinely interested and not just posing in order to tempt them to betray themselves.

Langdon looked carefully at Preston. You’ll need to trust your instincts. Your gut. I’ve seen evidence of ability within you, so it’s no accident that I’m asking this of you. Use that inner voice which you often found when reading of the ancient Knight Shamans with me. It’s a strong ask, but I believe you’ll find someone. And when you do, I’ll also grant them a license to teach you, making them a representative of the shamanic brotherhood of the church as well.

They’ve discredited stories from time to time of another people having taken up residence in the lower reaches of Milltown Hill, Langdon continued, returning to their earlier topic without giving Preston a chance to explore this new wrinkle in his assignment.

The young student properly interpreted that to mean Langdon didn’t trust their environment enough to discuss this topic, even as the Supreme Bishop appointee. They deny those new people so often that we’re wondering what might be behind the whole thing. So, besides learning what you can from the ancient computers located inside Milltown Hall, we’ll want you to learn what you can about these people that seem to be called the Fae, or Tuath Dé Cernon.

Preston nearly choked, trying to swallow his latest bite of sandwich. You mean there could be some truth to those myths? he asked. Could they be the fair folk of the ancient Celts? Or, just a group taking on the name?

Perhaps, Father Langdon answered. We just want to learn what we can of it. He took another bite of his own sandwich.

There’s also some rumor of discontent with the church down in the southlands as well, he said. We don’t expect or encourage you to investigate, or even ask obvious questions about that, but would appreciate any insight you may gain surreptitiously.

Preston looked up from his sandwich again. What discontent could there possibly be? he asked.

We don’t know, Father Langdon said. "Just some rumors reaching us of a too-strict enforcement of some of the latest edicts regarding limiting the practice of shamanism to only specially trained priests. You will report only to me, and I want to know if anyone attempts to usurp my directives to you.

Anyway, Langdon said, giving Preston no time to respond yet again, I’m going to recommend something else to you as you elevate to your new role and post. He paused for a moment, looking carefully at his protégé. I’m going to take on the name and aspect of Omnia Veritas in my new role, he said in aside.

Truth conquers all, Preston translated from the Latin. Interesting.

Indeed, Father Langdon said. I’d also like you to consider your new name as you start out your career. It’s said that a name given is much more powerful than one self-chosen. I’d consider it an honor if you’d take the name ‘Justice.’ I feel there is something building within you and that name may be an important reminder of who and what you are as you face the south lands and the challenges you’ll find there.

There was a click, then a rattling, in his ear as Preston’s friend broke in over the earbud. I hope you’ll still be able to join me tonight, he said. Has the good father released you yet?

Preston motioned to his earbud, looking at Father Langdon for permission to answer. Langdon nodded his head in permission, taking advantage of the opportunity to get another bite of sandwich.

About another half hour, Preston answered into the pickup. He turned down the volume and looked back at Langdon, seeing him enjoying a spoon of the richly smooth chowder that had accompanied their meal.

Justice Preston, the newly minted young priest said, trying out his new name and liking how it rolled off his tongue. I’ll take your suggestion and enter it into the rolls. He considered his favorite professor, sharing a look eye-to-eye between the two. I’ll be thinking of you on your elevation, Preston said. And, again, congratulations. I can’t imagine better hands to leave the church in.

Well, for now we can look forward to another few evenings together, Langdon said. I’m going to ask for your company over the next nights so I can continue to brief you on your new assignment. I’ve already rearranged your travel details to allow for the time we need.

Will there be other details as shocking as these tonight? Preston asked.

Far more, was his professor’s quick answer. Far more revelations and far more shocking than you can imagine. For now, though, spend the night with your special friend. We’ll meet back up at your quad at four tomorrow afternoon and find another place for dinner for the next briefing session.

Ethan was true to his promise and made each night a fresh pleasure.

As his last dinner with Father Langdon ended, the professor handed Justice a sheaf of papers. Someone had stapled the collection at the top corner and the cover had the simple title: Cernon.

Just read for the next hour, his professor told him. It’s a story which we have tightly contained since The Sophia wrote it a thousand years ago. It’s passed down from each chosen priest only to his chosen protégé in unbroken lines. I know of only three other such who have copies and two of those I learned of as a part of my own briefings into my new position. It is vital that this not get repeated because we still don’t understand what The Sophia was telling us with this tale. I have a sense, though, that the time is drawing near when we’ll all know. And I fear we won’t be ready to face what it means when we do.

The first lines caught his imagination and startled him into a quick re-read.

Founder’s Paradox

Founder: if the winds are buffeting Eagle away from his perch, he moves to a new perch, one more restful.

Reader: You should write that down.

Founder: I have already written it, but no one will read it because it pushes them away from their perch.

He looked in a sidelong glance up at Father Langdon.

Read, Langdon commanded. We don’t have enough time on this last night, and you must have read this before the morrow.

Justice looked back down to read as ordered.

Cernon, The Genesis of Paradigm Lost was the improbable, actually impossible, tale of a journey The Sophia was supposed to have taken with a Spirit Guide known as Cernon. The author had dared to suggest that The Sophia had traveled so far back in time that time itself hadn’t been conceived of yet. There, she had supposedly given birth to the ancient spirit of Cernunnos.

Justice had a lot of questions after he had finished reading, but Father Langdon wouldn’t allow him to ask them. It has been a pleasure having you as a student and I expect great things from you, he said as he took the aged sheaf of papers from his student. He stood from the dinner table. I’m sorry that you’ll not be on hand for my elevation, but I can’t delay your assignment any longer.

Langdon reached into his pack to pick out some documents. These he handed to Justice. Here’s some reading material for your trip. There’s also the Shaman’s license. You need to ensure that’s kept in a safe place, one where you can get to it in a hurry if needed. Have a blessed journey, my son. Then, he hurried off on other errands as the newly named Justice Preston was still wiping the crumbs of his meal from his face and robe.

Why would he need to have his shaman license readily available he wondered? Then, remembering the revelations of the last few days, found himself amazed the shaman license was what his befuddled mind latched onto to worry about. Was it all just a fairy tale? The Sophia had written children’s tales intended to teach youngsters of their shamanic heritage. Was Cernon another one of those that got out of control?

Chapter Two

Perilous Journey

Justice enjoyed a non -stop trip for the first leg to Salem. When he stepped off the mag-rail there, he saw a city much changed from his memory of five years past when he had first traveled from his home village of Reedsport far down the coast. Where before there had been a sense of cleanliness to the white-washed buildings of the depot, he now sensed a dreading presence, almost as if there were some malignant force, watching over the depot, looking for weakness in the travelers. He hurried onto the next train, quickly finding a seat on one of the wooden benches of the humble car his ticket allowed.

His fellow travelers on this leg seemed to feel the omnipresent watchfulness as well, because a couple brave souls sat on the same bench as he in their hurry to get out of whatever sense of calamity dwelt here.

On the first part, even though the benches had been full, no one had dared to share his bench. He had taken it as a gesture of respect.

This new leg was a whistle-stop route, so he had four more stops to endure before reaching Milltown City. First, Coburg was just north of Eugene, then Eugene, followed by Cottage Grove and, finally, the last interruption at Curtin.

Curtin still held fame as the northern-most community of the ancient Elk Creek Tribe, from before there was even a Church of Jamari. Justice looked forward to seeing what he could of it during the scheduled stop.

He settled onto the bench seat, noting that the people still scuttled away from him and his robes. Then the couple who had shared his bench moved off as well. Respect, he thought in appreciation. In a car with people packed like cattle on a butcher’s train, they were granting him this space. He nodded with a smile to those who had shifted away. They nodded their heads and glanced around, apparently looking for other perches. Finding none, they settled in some apparent discomfort for the trip.

Thank you for visiting Salem, the capitol of the State of Oregon, a voice announced over his ear buds.

Justice could see the inward looks of others as they, too, listened to the impending announcement. You are following the journey of The Jamari as you continue your travel south on this transit. Jamari himself had to take a then very rare airplane ride on his first pilgrimage to the Bishopric of Salem, the voice continued.

Justice had to work to keep himself from an outburst. Yes, Jamari had travelled to Salem in an airplane because the local governments had not yet repaired the roads from the damage of the great cataclysm when the Cascadia Fault had ruptured. That eruption killed millions and disrupted the region for decades. But, no, it was not then a bishopric. It was a near-ghost-town that was just recovering when Jamari visited, and the churches were a disparate lot, all preaching against each other and inciting mini-uprisings in the name of their individual version of their lord. He struggled to contain his outrage as the announcement continued.

There was no road, even between the many small communities of the region which you will pass through on your travels. The hovertrain will pause for an hour-and-a-half in Milltown City, the birthplace of The Jamari. There, you’re encouraged to step off and explore his home, where you’ll find many dining establishments to choose from. You definitely should visit the shrine to his legend, located just up the river from the depot. You’ll have plenty of time to venture there and still be back for your departure further south.

It would be a couple of hours before Curtin, Justice saw on the scrolling itinerary on the forward display over the door. That once-humble village was now a modest metropolis. His stop at Milltown City would be the last of the church’s lands. Everything south of there had allegiance to more temporal governments.

Travelers exited the train at each of the stops, leaving a couple of open benches in his car. Then new ones would step on and find their seats. The benches filled again. And again. Still, the passengers granted him his space via a bench to himself as they crowded onto the remaining ones. He would have liked the chance to talk with them, to find out what adventures they enjoyed, but the separation curtailed that potential.

On the leg between Eugene and Curtin, Justice finally took a moment to open up the packet of clippings Father Langdon had given him. He placed the shaman's license into his travel bag with his other identification papers.

A cave in northern Norway

A new find in northern Norway could shatter the history of the world as we know it. Some hikers were bold enough to venture into a cave that was revealed in a small temblor recently. The hikers were the first to enter the treacherous gorge since the most recent quakes had sloughed off the cliff-faces. They had defied guidelines to wait even longer for fear of more avalanches. They had experience on their side, though, and were sure that the quakes had settled, as the last aftershock had been a barely perceptible 2.6 and over a week before.

When they saw the dark opening of a new cave, they were nervous to approach, one reported, but then they saw what looked like images on one of the visible walls. A previously undiscovered settlement of ancient man drew them in.

Below the bas-relief imagery, they discovered that what had looked to be a pile of rotted furs was actually a mummified and ancient body. Careful to not disturb the ancient one’s rest, they saw traces of red ochre and white chalk on the shreds of parchment skin remaining on the fingers. The artist had put the last of their life into creating this work. What could have made it so important?

When the explorers puffed their breath to clear away the dust of centuries, they saw what the scribe had depicted. They were confused. Here was a Cernunnos figure, with horns sporting from a human head, wearing furs, which was unusual in the extreme, but even more impossible was his human companion. She had brown hair, carefully made different from the dark black hair of the villagers who the artist also portrayed in the image. She wore white furs in the frieze and stood beside the Cernunnos figure, resting one hand on his antlers, and holding onto a blue-eyed, red-haired babe in the other.

Somehow it looked as if the ancient artist had placed a diminutive set of antlers on her head, but then erased them, leaving a ghostly image.

There will be an investigation of this cave according to one source high in the ministry of antiquities. Has it been raided at some earlier time and some group of errant teens applied wall-art in jest? It didn’t look like that happened with the age of the cave, along with the condition and clarity of the depictions.

The hikers put up rope barriers and signs warning of a new find, then went to report what they had found.

Authorities of the Bureau of Antiquity report that they’ve now taken over the site and armed guards will keep the curious from disturbing this historical find.

Check this paper for further updates. We will keep you abreast of the new discovery. Is it a real find, or is someone having a colossal joke on mankind?

COULD IT HAVE BEEN the same cave The Sophia had written about in the story of Cernon? Why else would Professor Langdon have him read this old report immediately after having him read that tale?

What was he getting himself into?

In Cottage Grove, Justice witnessed an odd mix of new passengers come aboard as several others departed. A group of three who stopped at the entry on seeing him caught his attention, but with nowhere else to go, they made their way past him to settle in an open space further down the car. They wore shabby clothes, threadbare and worn to the woof, with some open holes not patched up yet. Two men, one young and one middle-aged, along with one young woman.

Two others, trying hard to not look as if they knew the first group boarded. These two seemed dressed in loose-fitting clothing made to look old and worn, though there were no frays or patches. It was an odd look, one that Justice wondered about as the men surveyed the passengers in the car with lowered brows, almost as if they were raptors looking for prey. Then one of the pair glanced at Justice and he felt a hard soul staring him down, sizing him up as if he could be a potential threat. They were muscled, where most of the other passengers were slim and hardy.

He shivered in his robe. This time, just as most of the earlier passengers had been looking away from his glance, he was the one to glance away. The new arrivals separated, one finding a place at the front door, and the other, not-too-politely, forced another passenger to move away from the seat nearest the back.

North of Curtin, a view of devastation shocked him to his core. It was stubbled hills and ridges, shorn of trees, the soil baking to red dust in the fall heat. Surely the church wouldn’t have allowed such a travesty? Then he realized that there had been many pilgrims coming to the church lands to escape the authoritarian regimes that had grown up in the surrounding fiefdoms. What had once been a single country spanning an entire continent was now a series of war-torn provinces, all vying to reunite the once great nation into a whole again.

His church