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  Copyright © 2019, Eve Langlais

  Cover Art Dreams2Media © 2019

  Produced in Canada

  Published by Eve Langlais ~ www.EveLanglais.com

  eBook ISBN: 978 177 384 095 6

  Print ISBN: 978 177 384 096 3

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email, photocopying, and printing without permission in writing from the author.

  Introduction

  When an intrepid explorer finds a lost temple, what’s inside will change the course of history.

  * * *

  The planet is dying, and yet Jool is convinced there’s a way to save its people. The answer lies in a deadly mountain range that no one dares explore, but he doesn’t have a choice. The voice in his head proves insistent.

  With nothing to lose and everything to gain, Jool sets out to find the truth—and almost dies on his journey.

  When he stumbles upon a hidden temple, he won’t just find salvation and a cure for his wife, he’ll becomes the first prophet to serve the Mecha Gods.

  Are you ready for the story of the first gear?

  Prologue

  Standing at the apex of the mountain, the first prophet, the voice of the Mecha Gods, creator of their bible, lifted his face—that of a man in his prime despite the generations he’d outlasted—into the cool, clean breeze blowing past his cheeks. His eyes closed, and he basked in the warm sunlight. Something the entire world could now appreciate again.

  Because he’d done it.

  Saved his planet.

  Kept his people from dying out.

  With the help of the Mecha Gods, they’d been gifted a second chance, and he’d made the most of it.

  And now, as his gears began to finally slow, Jool Ius’verrn couldn’t help but remember how it used to be. How close they’d come to extinction.

  One wild decision changed history because Jool found salvation and went on to establish a religion that would keep his people safe.

  1

  “You need to send an expedition into the mountains.” No need to name the impassable cluster that jutted from the ground in jagged spines and covered more a third of the planet. It remained largely unexplored due to the danger and the lack of interest, but they might provide the only chance to survive.

  The bureaucrat sitting behind a desk made of hammered metal, its surface pockmarked, leaned back in his seat, which uttered an ominous groan. The man sighed as he tucked his hands over a belly still round. He didn’t yet have the gaunt appearance the rest of the populace sported. Those working for the machine of government received perks—and bribes—that no one else enjoyed.

  “Not this again, Jool. We already talked about your plan to send an expedition. The answer was, and still is, no.”

  “You need to re-evaluate.”

  Geoff, a man Jool had come to know by name he visited him so often, sighed. “No, I don’t. There’s nothing there. Those mountains are incapable of sustaining life.”

  “Not true. There are creatures that live in them. I’ve seen firsthand accounts.”

  “Perhaps there was a time that was true, but the world has changed.”

  And not for the better.

  Industrialization brought so many wonderful innovations. Machines that could power them along at high speeds, making travel and trade manageable. However, it came at a price. Waste multiplied a hundredfold, despoiling the land, the waterways. There was an acknowledgement and yet, at the same time, an apathy. There was no clear answer on how to stop it. This was life now. Soon it would lead to death. A fact that kept playing over and over in his head with ominous music.

  Giving in wasn’t something Jool wanted to do. “We need to be sure. Send someone to the mountains. A soldier, a scientist.”

  “Why don’t you go?”

  The very idea. Jool sputtered. “I’m a historian, not an explorer.”

  “I don’t know what you expect from me, Jool. We can spare no one, not with the discontent brewing.”

  The populace grumbled as food became scarce and hope faded.

  “What if there is something in the mountains that can save us?”

  “Don’t you think we’d know if there existed a solution? Don’t you think we’ve been looking?”

  Jool almost said something snarky, like only if it was right in front of him, but he held his tongue. For the past year, he’d been trying to get someone to take him seriously, yet whenever he mentioned the mountains, a strange stubbornness emerged. An unwillingness to explore every option.

  If he were a man to believe in magic, he’d think there was a curse forcing people to ignore the one place they’d not sought an answer.

  “We have to do something,” Jool insisted.

  “There is something you can do.” Geoff leaned forward. “Leave the city and don’t look back. You didn’t hear this from me, but there’s little time left.”

  “But the news reports—”

  “Have been lying. The smog is covering over ninety percent of the planet. The sickness pervading the land itself, poisoning everything, is spreading.”

  “Sickness?” he scoffed. “It’s a result of the pollution we failed to rein in.”

  Geoff shrugged. “Call it what you want. It’s done. Best estimates give us a year before the surface is completely uninhabitable. A few months at worst.”

  Months?

  The news deflated him. He’d run out of time.

  Slouching, Jool emerged from the government building, hands in his pockets. He was immediately hit by the thick smog filling the busy street that played host to a steady stream of vehicles belching smoke.

  So many wonders invented in the last two centuries, but progress brought pollution. It tightened the lungs and tainted the breath of just about everyone on the planet. It led to lower birth rates and decimated their senior population. Yet that was only the beginning of their problems. The smoke from their combustion machines filled the air, reducing the amount of sunlight the crops received, tainting the rain that fell from the sky. Which, in turn, ruined their lakes and rivers.

  The fish died. The vegetation wilted. Animals became sickly and died en masse on the farms. Those left in the wild, of which there were few places, disappeared.

  That, in turn, affected the food supply chain, a vicious cycle that they only took note of too late. The day of reckoning had arrived, and it judged them harshly.

  Rather than add to the problem by hailing a cab, he chose to walk. A tall man in his early thirties, a professor of history, forced to beg for funds since he’d already spent all of his grant researching a way out of this mess. Not being a scientist, he didn’t know how to fix the toxicity in the soil or how to reduce emissions. But he did know the mountains were the one place untouched by civilization. Their rocky barrier may be providing a filter to the pollution. Could there still be animal life capable of providing meat amongst its peaks?

  No one seemed to know. No one seemed to care.

  The airships always swung a wide berth around them, claiming treacherous wind currents. As for explorers, none appeared willing to brave the dangers, not with the stories of monsters and people not returning once they trekked into them.

  As he walked, hands tucked in his pockets, Jool couldn’t help but recall Geoff’s recommendation to leave the city, to enjoy what little time was left. Would the air by the mountains, far from industrializ
ation, be any better? Or would it just delay the inevitable?

  The people on the street paid him no mind, busy going along with whatever made them rush. Too many people for a planet already strained.

  The newspapers piled in the boxes he passed still pretended their world wasn’t in dire straits. They didn’t tell the truth, didn’t mention the people dying from hunger, the suicides caused by despair, the unrest as the population wailed at the government to fix it.

  His world was dying, and yet no one seemed ready to do anything about it. Then again, what could they do?

  Even if all the machines were to stop belching tomorrow, that wouldn’t create food or un-poison the soil. Wouldn’t cure the illnesses plaguing more than half the population.

  No one wanted to hear the truth. Just like no one wanted to abandon their precious commodities.

  Perhaps they deserved annihilation for not taking better care of their world.

  The university where he taught took up an entire city block, towering higher almost than Parliament. It was said that the very top floors actually peeked above the layer of smog and enjoyed sunlight. He didn’t know for sure. A professor of history was relegated belowground with the books people had forgotten. A past that they claimed had no bearing on the future.

  A good point in a sense. After all, how could the stone age of his people help them? His ancestors had never taken more than the land could handle.

  A loud horn startled, and he glanced to the side to see the racing vehicle of an enforcer fleeing by, belching smoke and flashing lights. There were more of them around these days, doing their best to maintain a fragile peace.

  It wouldn’t take much to explode the populace. Hungry bellies and aching lungs tended to make a person grouchy. As if to remind him, he barely managed to bring a cloth to his mouth before he coughed, a hard hack that hurt his chest. But no blood yet. He knew once that sign appeared, the countdown to death started.

  The front doors to the university were made of solid metal, some kind of malleable bronze that in his youth used to shine in the sun. The grime coating them turned the surface a dark gray. Kind of like the sun, which appeared as a diffused lighter spot in the smog overhead.

  Apparently, outside the city you could still see it at times depending on which way the wind blew. He wouldn’t mind seeing it one last time. Leaving wouldn’t pose much of a problem. It wasn’t as if he had any students left. At times he was fairly sure the university forgot he existed. He doubted they’d notice if he suddenly stopped showing up for work or even emptied the library and took it with him.

  As he stepped inside the building, the noise outside faded, and he uttered a sigh. He’d not yet caught on to the habit of putting plugs in his ears.

  He wiped his feet on a carpet that probably didn’t make much of a difference and looked around the vast lobby.

  It held only a few people, some students already in class. Many more had dropped out. Why bother? Most had started to realize they’d never make it to old age. Why spend what time they had studying?

  Such a depressing place.

  Jool moved quickly across the tiled floor, the intricate pattern losing out to the ever-present grime layering everything. As he headed for the bland door leading to the lower levels, he heard more than one cough. Some of them quite deep.

  How many of them would be dead before the start of the next semester? He might be among them.

  I need to leave the city. An idea to terrify. He’d never gone farther than a bus or tram could take him. But the idea took root. He should depart, and bring along Onaria. He’d noticed her looking much too wan of late, a gray pallor to her skin. If the end of the world truly marched toward them, then he could think of no one better to spend it with.

  The plain door, without even a sign announcing the library it accessed, gave at a slight push. He headed down the stairs. Two flights brought him into the old section of the university, comprised of solid stone and considered to be a dungeon due to its age. His colleagues often teased him.

  Find any skeletons?”

  “Watch out for ghosts.”

  Let them disparage it. Jool appreciated the quiet and the slightly better quality of air. If one ignored the musty scent of old books.

  There were no gaslights down here. For a long time now, he’d resorted to using only the barest illumination to preserve his space. A small drop in the grand scheme of the flood of pollution, but it made him feel better.

  Having memorized the space, he knew his way to the table and the modified seat in front of it.

  Despite his tired lungs, his feet found the pedals on the bike, and he began to churn, spinning the wheel that turned the belt, a machine that managed to produce a feeble light from the bulb attached to the end of it.

  As it shone on the old map spread out over the table, he felt only weary resignation that the government had refused him. Then again, he kind of expected it. They were wilfully blind to so many things.

  He’d go himself if he had any kind of survival skills, but raised in the city, Jool understood his limitations. Mountain climbing and living off the land were things done in books.

  “A copper penny for your thoughts.” The whisper in his ear caused him to cease peddling, plunging the space into darkness. But he didn’t need to see to recognize the woman.

  “Onaria! What are you doing here? I thought you had a shift at the hospital.”

  “I did, but I left early right after the announcement.”

  “What announcement?”

  “They’re done, Jool.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “The hospital just announced today that they could do nothing for the coughs. Nor the tumors. The only thing they’ll work on is stitchable injuries. If they can convince anyone to keep coming to work.”

  “Not treat the cough? They can’t do that,” he huffed, quite horrified. “They’re sentencing people to die.”

  “They’re dying anyway, Jool. Isn’t it better to let them go quick before it gets worse?”

  He grabbed her by the arms and clutched them tight. “Don’t talk like that. I’m sure there’s a solution, a way to save us still.”

  “There is no magic cure.” She rolled her shoulders, defeated.

  “You can’t give up.”

  “Not so much giving up as realizing we’re going to die. Some of us sooner than others.” She heaved in a breath and blurted out, “Which is why I’m leaving the city.”

  “What? When?” Her statement threw him off balance.

  “Soon. Tomorrow if I can.”

  “I see.” He couldn’t help the dejection. He’d waited too long to do anything.

  “Why the glum face?” She hugged him. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Says who?”

  “Me.” Said with a big grin. “You didn’t really think I’d leave my best friend behind.”

  Ah yes, friend. Good friends, but somehow he’d slipped into the wrong spot. And he didn’t quite know how to get out.

  Despite his earlier thoughts, he still offered a token protest. “But the university—”

  “Won’t even notice.”

  “Where would we go? Where would we stay?” How would they survive even? What food remained was about to get picked clean. His own cupboard had barely enough for him to last a few days, let alone longer.

  “My aunt’s house. She’s as far as you can go toward the mountains.”

  “In the country.”

  “Where the air isn’t quite as bad yet. At least according to my aunt.”

  For a moment his mind swirled with excuses, none of them good enough to say no. And why would he? What was left for him here? A class with no students. A dwindling cupboard. And no Onaria. Who considered him her best friend.

  But the world was about to end, and she wanted to spend it with him. “Why wait until tomorrow? Let’s go tonight.”

  “Really?” Spoken with a lilt in her voice.

  “Yes, really. Let’s grab only the bare necessities and meet at the
train station.”

  “You’ll really come with me?”

  “Without a doubt.” He’d follow her to the ends of the world if she asked him.

  “Oh my goodness. I can’t believe we’re doing this. It’s so exciting.” She kissed his cheek, a warm imprint to reinforce his decision. “Walk me to the bus stop.” She clutched his hand. She did that often. Torture really.

  Yet, he couldn’t help the thrill each time she touched him.

  He walked her out of the building, guiding her with a hand in the middle of her back. As a courtly gesture. She did it to him all the time, too. Light touches that never failed to ignite.

  He’d almost kissed her once. But he’d gotten shy at the last moment.

  The bus trundled to a stop before they’d even stopped walking. He held her hand as others embarked. When she moved to board, he released her hand.

  She cast him a glance. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Not yet. I need to take care of a few things here before I hit my place.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to lock up?” She rolled her eyes. “I doubt we’ll be back.”

  He doubted it as well, but if things got bad, and they did disappear, he liked to think someday someone might find this place, a historian and more of an explorer than he ever managed to be. They would read about what happened and hopefully not repeat their mistakes.

  “There’s a few books I want to grab.”

  “You and your dusty stories,” she teased. “Don’t take too long. I checked the schedule. There’s only one more train leaving the city tonight.”

  Twice a day. No longer the dozen belching trips. People were traveling less these days.

  “I’ll be there.” He watched her swing onto the massive vehicle. It trundled off, a noisy beast. Part of the problem.

  Returning to the basement, he eschewed the peddling light and found the stash of candles he kept. He lit a taper, the small flame fluttering weakly. It proved enough to help him navigate. With his heart racing at his upcoming departure, and his hands shaking, the last thing he needed was to walk into a bookcase and give himself a concussion.