“When all’s said and done, all roads lead to the same end. So it’s not so much which road you take, as how you take it.”

  Charles de Lint, Canadian Writer

  Bethany slumped to the ground, panting in the sweltering heat. Her mouth was parched and sweat beaded her forehead. A breeze blew down the passageway, and she leaned into it to catch a moment of relief. The thorns that lined the walls were dead – robbed of water long ago and dried in the heat. Though darkness reigned above, the passage was lit as if it lay beneath a noon sun with no shade to be found.

  She took the tiniest sip from her half-empty water bottle and quickly replaced the cap. Swishing it around in her mouth for moisture, she swallowed slowly so she could savor every drop.

  Elias sat down next to her, took his own drink, and offered her his bottle. Bethany waved it way.

  “Take it,” insisted Elias thrusting it into her hands. “I brought an extra. Plus, I’m used to working under the sun all day. I mean, it’s not usually forty degrees when I’m in the fields, but I’ll manage.”

  He lifted the bottom of his white T-shirt and dabbed it on his forehead to wipe away the sweat. They had abandoned their winter clothes, stripping off layer by layer as the heat became unbearable, until finally it was too hot to even carry the clothes in their arms. The clothes now lay in a heap several hours behind them.

  Bethany stared at his toned chest and farmer’s tan. The sweat on his neck dripped down to his chest, leaving tiny, glistening trails against his skin. Bethany unconsciously licked her lips, which had nothing to do with the heat.

  Elias finished and pulled down his shirt. Bethany quickly looked away, suddenly aware that she was staring. She looked over to Emily, seated across from her in a white tank top, the top of her overalls tied around her waist. Her friend had a sly smile plastered on her face, leaving little doubt that she’d seen Bethany ogling the handsome farmer.

  She gave Bethany a playful wink and fanned her face dramatically with her hand.

  Bethany decided it was best to stare at the ground instead.

  “It was the best option,” Rocky said for the fifth time, more to himself than anyone else. “The sultan had the riches to help his people prosper. How were we supposed to know we needed weigh the impact of selling his oil on global warming a hundred years later?”

  “I guess a hundred years isn’t very long to a god,” Delorus breathed, lying on her back. She still wore her vest but had discarded her clothing underneath except her black sports bra. The middle-aged woman was as toned as Elias, though age had started to take its toll. “It could be worse. If we’d gone with our other option, we’d have had to fight our way through this section of the maze.”

  It had been their third bust – the third in a yet unknown series of Omoikane’s tests. Their answer to the first test had forced them to walk for an hour drenched in the stench of the death flowers. The second had filled the passage with waist high snow – the consequence of advising a warlord to lead his army through the mountains. It had taken them two hours to traverse, and, at the time, they’d been grateful for their winter clothes.

  This time, it was the heat – a heat that had pressed down upon them for the past four hours. Unlike the other passages, this one felt like a maze, with dozens of forks in the road that led to dead ends. Bethany had lost count of how often they’d had to backtrack, and she was growing concerned they may not find the exit before they fell victim to the heat.

  Bethany was beginning to suspect the complexity of the maze was predicated on the quality of their counsel. Omoikane had made no secret that he’d been unimpressed by the advice they’d given the sultan.

  He expects perfection and punishes anything less. Yet there are no perfect answers, so all we are left with is which advice gives us the more favorable punishment.

  “Come on, let’s keep going,” Rocky said, climbing reluctantly to his feet.

  The kids groaned, a sentiment that the adults felt but kept buried inside.

  “Five more minutes?” Brandon begged, his head face down and buried into his hands.

  Elias walked over and lifted him to his feet with a soft chuckle. “Tell you what? If we keep moving, when we get back, we’ll finally have that chocolate ice cream that Anjali and I has been saving.”

  “Promise?” Brandon asked, his eyes lit up with excitement.

  “Question, Mr. Farmer,” Emily asked playfully. “Does this promise include the adults in the group?”

  Elias barked an exhausted laugh.

  “Sure, why not? Ice cream for everyone.”

  They fell back into their tired march, Rocky and Elias leading the way with the kids at their heels and Bethany and Emily at the back.

  Emily leaned over to Bethany with a mischievous smile.

  “Maybe he’d let you eat it off his stomach,” she whispered suggestively.

  “Emily!” Bethany whispered back, her face flushed. “That’s not… I’m not… I don’t need a relationship right now.”

  “Who said anything about a relationship?” Emily teased. “You only live once, girl. And that’s never been truer that right now.”

  The notion occupied her thoughts until they finally reached the next Omoikane bust an hour later.

  * * *

  The world is shattered. Civilization has crumbled. A single flicker of hope remains in the form of a settlement in the west. A scholar stands at a crossroads, pondering which path to take to the settlement. Behind him, his few surviving students escort a wagon carrying the scholar’s most precious possessions – the final remnants of ancestral knowledge that could light anew the beacon of civilization. The scholar and his students are hunted by those who wish this knowledge to remain lost to time – those who find power in the chaos that has gripped the world.

  If the scholar chooses the western path through the mountains, he must abandon the wagon and the hope contained within, for the path is treacherous and narrow. Yet the scholar knows well the secret paths that wind their way through the snow and ice, and those who travel the path shall reach their destination safely.

  If the scholar chooses the eastern path through the valley, the wagon and its knowledge shall reach its destination safely, but everyone who takes this path shall perish. They shall never see the world their sacrifice could usher into existence.

  The scholar kneels at the crossroads and prays for your counsel.

  The voice of Omoikane faded away, and the bust stood lifeless in the chamber once more. Beyond it, two paths – one to the east, another to the west – awaited their decision.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Abandon the books, stay safe,” Elias started bluntly. He elaborated when he saw their stares. “Look, I’m not against preserving knowledge. But what good is preserving knowledge if they are dead?”

  “It’s the most important thing to preserve,” countered Rocky. “In every apocalypse story I’ve read, it’s the collapse of civilization – the crumbling of its foundations and the lawlessness that comes with it – that is the greatest threat. Not zombies. Not aliens. Not disease. Civilization is what keeps us from killing each other.”

  Civilization. We live in an apocalypse right now. How long until what’s left of our own civilization crumbles? How long until we start killing each other? Has it already fallen, and we just haven’t noticed yet?

  “I agree with Rocky,” Delorus chimed in. “I spent my first couple years in the military, in Afghanistan, and I’ve seen what can happen when anarchy threatens order. It’s not pretty. Even if these people survive, there’s no guarantee their lives will be worth living. We need to consider the greater good.”

  Elias considered their words. “Well, let’s say the scholar goes east. He dies. His student die. Then what?”

  “There are no guarantees anyone at the settlement will use that knowledge, or even knows how to read,” Emily said. “We only know the knowledge will arrive. What’s to prevent the population using the knowledge as kindling? I like Elias’ gut reaction. The scholar and his students are the more valuable resource.”

  Rocky strolled over to the bust.

  “Hey, Omoikane, our first question. What will happen to the knowledge if it arrives without the scholar and his students?” he asked, carefully choosing her his words.

  Knowledge is only valuable to those that know how to use it. The scholar and his students are the last remnants of those in the world who have the skills to do so. Without them, the knowledge shall rot away, or, as Ms. Desjarlais surmised, become kindling for their fires.

  “Well, so much for that option,” Rocky said. “Words on a page don’t mean much if there isn’t anyone who will use it.”

  “Reading is for dummies anyway,” Brandon dismissed.

  A thorn from the nearby wall stretched out and pricked the eleven-year-old boy in the elbow. Brandon cried out in pain and leapt back.

  Rocky rushed over and inspected the wound. It was small, with only a small trickle of blood, and he healed it quickly.

  “Brandon, honey, maybe don’t say ‘reading is dumb’ in front of a god of wisdom,” Emily sighed.

  “Yah, dummy,” Harmony chastised, rushing to Emily’s side to add her disapproving glare.

  “Sorry…,” sniffed Brandon, trying to hold in embarrassed tears. “Sorry, Mr. Omoikane, sir.”

  The bust seemed to smile for a moment before it returned to its sullen appearance.

  “Why do the smart people need the books?” asked Harmony curiously. “Haven’t they read them already?”

  “Harmony, that’s… actually a really good question,” Delorus praised. “Rocky?”

  “On it!” Rocky exclaimed. “Omoikane, what knowledge do the scholar and his students already possess that may be contained in the books?”

  The scholar and his students have spent their days collecting the knowledge, but they’ve had little time to absorb its contents. Thus, only the smallest fraction of the knowledge contained within is known to those who sought it out.

  “Then how do they know this knowledge is important?” Delorus asked with frustration. She was tired, having spent the night guarding Headquarters’ barricade before Smith had dragged her along to the Arena. “For all we know, it’s just a wagon full of Playboy magazines.”

  “This knowledge must be preserved at all costs!” Elias spoke dramatically.

  “We shall guard it with our lives,” Rocky joined in, standing beside the farmer with an exaggerated salute. “To the east!”

  “I think the heat has fried both your brains,” Emily admonished. She rolled her eyes, but halfway through it turned into a yawn.

  We’ve been at this for hours. Everyone is exhausted, and we’re losing our edge. We need to rest soon, or we’ll start making stupid decisions.

  “Okay, okay,” Rocky chuckled. “Delorus, Omoikane said the knowledge could create a beacon of civilization, so I think we can assume it’s not a bunch of Playboys.”

  “So the scholar and the students need the books,” Emily concluded. “If they return to the settlement without the wagon, all it means is they survived. The ‘beacon of hope’ doesn’t get lit, and the world remains in anarchy. They may live, but they will have lived without purpose.”

  Bethany stared at the bust as the group argued back and forth between the eastern and western path.

  We’re doing it again – falling into the false dichotomy of choice that Omoikane presented to us. There must be a third option. Figure it out Bethany. What do they need? They need both knowledge and those who know how to use it. Without one, the other is meaningless. Wait? Can it be that simple?

  “What if…” she said as she slowly formed her scattered thoughts into an idea. “What if they took both paths?”

  Silence fell over the chamber as her words rang out.

  “Follow that thought, Bethany,” Rocky encouraged, excited eyes fixed upon his friend.

  “The wagon must go east,” she began as her solution solidified in her mind. “But Omoikane didn’t say that everyone needed to travel with it – only that everyone who did would die. What if one person traveled with the wagon and everyone else traveled the western path. One person would die, but the survivors could use the knowledge when it arrived. They’d have both pieces of the puzzle.”

  Bethany felt the hum of excitement when she finished – the same hum she felt when she’d solved a riddle at her hometown library.

  Elias smiled at her. “Bethany, you are the smartest women I’ve ever met! That’s perfect.”

  “It’s brilliant, Bethany,” Emily agreed. “But which person sacrifices themselves to go with the wagon?”

  “The scholar,” answered Rocky. “He’s their leader. It’s his sacrifice to make. It’s what I would do.”

  “It is not what you would do!” scolded Emily, pounding her fist into his chest hard with each word. “None of that noble bullshit. I want to have a long life with you, and you won’t throw away our future over some self-imposed sense of honour.”

  She gave him one final strike to emphasize her point.

  Rocky blushed and held her close.

  “Someone could volunteer,” suggested Delorus. “Or they could draw straws.”

  “It should be the least useful amongst them,” Elias said. “There is no sense sending the strongest to die.”

  They argued back and forth for a while, and inevitably settled on drawing straws amongst the students, deciding the scholar – their leader – was too valuable to sacrifice.

  Rocky stood before the bust of Omoikane and gave their answer.

  The wise understand that knowledge does not exist without those who would wield it. Bound in prisons of paper, words without a vector have no purpose, save to await the erosion of time. It is only when they come together that knowledge becomes something so powerful that it can change the very fabric of reality.

  Omoikane’s eyes shifted left, and the barrier of darkness disappeared from the western passageway.

  Elias stared into its depths and cast the light of his sword down the narrow passage.

  “It’s narrow – filled with jagged rocks and big boulders that we’ll need to climb around. Might be slow going, but it seems safe,” he said with a sigh of relief. “At least it’s not fifty degrees in there.”

  Elias stepped onto the path and the kids and Delorus quickly followed.

  “After snow and scorching heat, I’ll take a few rocks,” Rocky chuckled as he held Emily’s hand and stepped over the threshold.

  Bethany began to follow but hesitated. The bust of Omoikane had not dissolved like in the previous tests. It remained whole in the centre of the room, watching the westerly path.

  Something’s wrong… something… the path!

  “Rocky! Emily! Don’t…,” she shouted in alarm, dashing towards them.

  She was too late. As Rocky and Emily stepped over the threshold, the barrier of semi-translucent darkness snapped back into place. Bethany struck the film and was hurled backwards. She cried out in pain as stones scraped her arms as she tumbled.

  The muffled shouts of her friends drifted though the barrier.

  “Bethany! Are you there?”

  It was Emily, though her voice sounded distant.

  “I’m here,” groaned Bethany, clutching her arm as she rose to her feet.

  “Bethany… can’t get through… can’t hear…”

  Emily voice drifted away – a whisper into the wind – and silence fell over the chamber.

  Bethany’s heart raced. She turned towards the bust of Omoikane. Its eyes now gazed right – towards the eastern passage – where the barrier had disappeared. The eastern path was smooth and wide, and a valley wind blew from its depths.

  Beneath the bust, resting upon a golden pillar, was a single, leather-bound book. The knowledge to be carried.

  Bethany’s heart pounded in her chest.

  “One sent with the wagon – sacrificed to deliver the knowledge. Fuck you, Omoikane,” Bethany spat as she allowed her anger to drown out the terror that threatened to overwhelm her. “Fuck you, and fuck your Arena.”

  She pulled her ball-peen hammer from her side and let loose her light. Hammer of Light illuminated the chamber in bright sunlight. Gripping it in both hands, she swung at the bust. It shattered into a thousand pieces and scattered across the chamber floor.

  “I’m not going to die for you, Omoikane,” she declared, her Oracle eye flashing red. “I don’t know what you have in store for me down that path, but I’ll tell you right now that it will not be enough to beat me.”

  She picked the book off its pedestal. It was old and fragile, and sealed shut with a silver lock. It had no title, but the power that radiated from its pages gave her goosebumps.

  She shoved the book into her backpack and stepped onto the eastern path.

  Before the barrier of darkness sealed her in, she glanced back at the shattered remains of the bust.

  “I swear, Omoikane, if anything happens to my friends, I will find you. And I will end you.”