The Plague of Kosmon

Rise of the Seer, Book 3

Peter J. Rasor II, H. Alex Dennis

• Publisher: Resource Publications
• Year: 2022
• eBook ISBN:
  9781666726978
• Print ISBN:
  9781666732832
  9781666726961

The search is on! The world of Kosmon needs a cure for a plague that leads ultimately to everyone's death. The Scientian race, known for its rationality and understanding, continues to fail in finding a cure, while the Transmutant race, known for living by its emotions, turns its hate toward the race of Seers, attempting to wipe them out. Amid the search for a cure, Seikh, a young Seerean boy, is led on a journey to discover who he is and his purpose, which is ultimately to find the cure. The journey, however, is not without its troubles. Along the way, he encounters those who want to deceive him and others who want to help him. Will Seikh find the cure, or will he be deceived by dark forces, leaving the world of Kosmon forever plagued with death?

Part One

Seek

1

The Dreamer

Seikh lay in his bed awake. He could hear Father and Mother speaking softly as they had the previous four nights. In hopes of making out any words being spoken, Seikh stared at his door and lay as still as possible, even holding his breath occasionally. The door had been left ajar by his mother after she tucked him in. Seikh’s attempt to overhear their discussion was, as always, futile, as he could only hear the crackling of the fire Father had made to warm their old log home. Its dim light danced gracefully through the door’s opening and slid gently under it. It seemed like hours had passed since Mother left the room.

The soft sound of their voices piqued Seikh’s curiosity to the point that he could no longer ward it off. He knew they must be discussing something important. Void of any joviality, his parents’ voices were somber, serious. Seikh was determined to find out what was being said, but he did not want to leave the warmth of his bed. The old log house he called home leaked in cold air from the dark night. As he bit the inside of his cheek in nervousness, he could stand it no longer. He had to know what was being said.

Slowly, Seikh wriggled out of his covers, slipped his feet onto the floor, and crept to the rickety door. Although the dark wooden slats of the floor creaked as he pranced, he successfully made it to the door without much noise. Father’s and Mother’s words became clearer as he perched closer to the glowing opening.

“I do not know what went wrong.”

Father’s voice was low, calm, and rather smooth. This is how all the voices of the Scientian race sounded. The tone was evidence of the Scientian’s cool and rational thought, or so it had always been said to Seikh. The Scientian appearance, however, could easily be perceived as ghastly. They were apeish, but with long, straight hair, and stood, on average, five feet tall. Despite their intimidating presence, it was said that the Scientians could and would never hurt a single person or race, as they were never given to fits of rage or emotion. They were not beastlike in their demeanor at all. They were utilitarian, seeking what was best for everyone, always thinking things through and never allowing themselves to believe in myths. Evidence and logic were their companions. Seikh’s father was no different.

“I thought that the Scientians had this under control,” Mother retorted, “that they had finally made a breakthrough—found a cure.”

Mother’s voice was more emotional, fit for the Transmutant race. The Transmutants were not always rational, it was said, but they were a gentle race, although their physical appearance could be just as deceptive as that of the Scientians. The Transmutants were a single race, but they would often take on various and unique forms, leaving the impression that their race was made up of different-looking creatures. Some appeared as apes, some as horses, and others even a mixture of animals. Most, if not all, evolved into different forms over the course of life. Seikh’s mother had a head like that of a horse, though smaller and rounder. Off her chin hung a thin, long beard, and her skin appeared bluish in the light. The remainder of her physique more closely resembled the infamous ancient beings who had lived long ago.

The Transmutants could be indignant, and Seikh detected this in Mother’s voice presently. She was demanding an explanation from Father about the cure. Seikh had heard all about the cure. Father, as one of the Scientians, had been commissioned to find a potion to wipe out the plague of Kosmon. The plague was said to be as old as Kosmon, the world of the Scientians, Transmutants, and “Dreamers.” The plague seemed to infect everyone at some point in life, and it always led to death. The origin of the plague was unknown, just as it was said that the origin of Kosmon was unknown. However, just like a proverb, it was repeated that if anyone could find a cure, it was the Scientian race. They were, after all, the guarantors and true seekers of knowledge. If they could not find a cure, then no one could.

Father’s reply to Mother, coming after a few moments of silence, seemed calculated and intentional. “The Scientians, as you know, dear, have been working on this for millennia. If we are to finally find a cure, my race must continue to work on it. We will find it. We will find it.” His voice trailed off. “We must give it more time.” Seikh could tell by the wavering of Father’s voice that he was puffing on his pipe, probably wearing his glasses and warming himself by the fire. “But now is not the time to quarrel,” he continued more slowly. “We have just lost our one and only son to this plague. We must give time to mourning.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right,” Mother replied, her voice cracking. She began to sob. Within seconds and without warning her voice began to rise. If it had not been late at night, she would have easily been screaming in some fit of rage. But she was careful to keep her voice low while emphasizing every word. “But we all know who has been blocking the Scientians’ progress—those Dreamers!” Mother struggled to find enough air for her next words. “They think they have a monopoly on the truth and how to eradicate this plague. Their outlandish stories of hope and unfulfilled promises! And that foolish talk—The Speech. They do not want any others to succeed in finding a cure! Who do they think they are, telling others what to do and think? Filling minds with hope, only to watch loved ones die. They all ought to be—”

“Yes, dear. Yes, dear. Come now. Settle down,” Father replied in a couth tone. “You must not upset yourself and allow your emotions to get the best of you. In time, the Dreamers will suffer the consequences for their indoctrinating ways. We Scientians know their ways well—their myths, their fables—always living in their made-up dreams. Everyone does. We are working out a solution for them. Just be more rational, my dear, or else you are liable to succumb to the plague as our son did or perhaps evolve into something you wish not to become.”

Father’s words momentarily appeared to have settled Mother. The light from the fire was dimmer than before, and the cold of the night seemed more piercing. Seikh felt his heart pounding in his chest, and he thought perhaps he could even hear his blood rushing through his veins. The conversation aroused such anxiety in him that he could not think. He could only feel. Mother’s hideous tone especially frightened him. It was almost as if Mother had in fact evolved—at least temporarily—into something beastly. Seikh had heard about others mutating into a different form but had never witnessed the transformation itself—Mother had always made sure of that. She was his protector. Though he could not presently see into the room where Mother and Father spoke, Mother’s angry, emphatic words made it feel like she was morphing into something—something hideous.

A few moments later, Seikh came back to his senses, and he heard his mother sobbing again. This time more gently. No, thought Seikh. Mother has not evolved into something monstrous. Not tonight. Mother was just upset.

“There, there,” Father remarked calmly.

Complete silence settled in the old log house. Seikh could smell smoke, indicating that the fire must have gone out. He began to feel uneasy. He wondered if Mother would come check on him to make sure he was covered. She had always did this on cold nights ever since he was a small child. Mother loved him and always showed it. To avoid being detected...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• List of Characters
• Part One: Seek
• Part Two: Rise
• Epilogue