The Antiquarians Part 7: A Drink of Water

A Christian Fantasy Novella

In The Antiquarians: The Song of the Covenant, Part 7: A Drink of Water, the People of the Covenant are out of time. As the Neoterian army assembles its rain-forcing device, the villagers teeter on the brink of despair. The rain will fall, but who will claim its power?

Or start back at the beginning with part 1:

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Tof’s breath caught as he stood before the gathered People of the Covenant. They all stared at him, their eyes wide with desperate hope, their faith hanging by a fragile thread.

“Do you really know it?” Chalil’s voice wavered, barely rising above a whisper, yet it pierced the heavy silence. “The song... can it bring the rain?”

The question struck Tof like a physical blow, twisting his gut. These were his people—maybe even his relatives—looking to him for deliverance. How could he carry that weight? His hands clenched at his sides. He glanced at Selah, who stood beside him, her eyes filled with trust. She believed in him more than he believed in himself, and her quiet confidence made his failure feel inevitable.

“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing Selah’s arm and pulling her off to the side. He kept his voice low but couldn’t hide the tension that laced every word. “What are you doing? I don’t know any covenant songs. I was a kid when they took me, and I literally just got my memory back.”

Selah’s hand rested gently on his arm, her touch grounding him, even as it sent goosebumps up his skin. “Tof,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “the Ancient One told me, when I drank the memory water, that a man freed from metal chains would sing the words to bring the rain. That man is you.”

Tof let out a bitter laugh, his heart hammering against his ribs. “How could I possibly know what the Ancient One wants from me?”

Memories surged unbidden, flashes of brutality and darkness from the years he’d spent under the Subjugator’s control. He saw himself as a teenager, trembling under the weight of endless drills and beatings. The training had been relentless, designed to break his will. The Subjugator’s voice still echoed in his ears: “Pain is your master. Obedience is your path to survival. Feel nothing. Be nothing.”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I was just a boy when they took me, Selah. I barely remember who I was before they turned me into... this. And I didn’t drink any of that crazy water.”

Selah’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she pulled a small vial from her dress, the glass glinting in the flickering firelight. “Want to?”

Tof froze, his mouth falling open in disbelief. “Where did you get that?” His gaze darted from the vial to the gathered villagers, then back to Selah. “The Enlightened One said no one could drink the water!”

“She said we couldn’t drink from that well.” Selah nodded toward the well Shofar had filled earlier. “But this?” She twirled the vial between her fingers, her grin widening. “I collected it back in the cave. And you, my friend, haven’t had your fill.”

The idea of drinking it felt like stepping off a cliff. His memories had already been tampered with once, leaving scars that ran deeper than he wanted to admit. He rubbed the back of his neck, his fingers brushing the faint, healed puncture marks where wires had once been embedded. “I don’t know, Selah. I’ve already had people mess with my mind. What if this is the same?”

Selah’s face softened, her teasing giving way to earnestness. “The Ancient One doesn’t control minds or manipulate memories. He heals them, Tof. He gives hope and truth. If you drink this, you won’t lose yourself—you’ll find the truth of who you’ve always been. And maybe... maybe that’s exactly what we need right now.”

His mind raced. Could he really trust a god he barely remembered? The thought of faith felt foreign, like reaching for something he’d only ever heard about in stories. “How can I have the faith you do?” His voice cracked, barely audible. “What if it’s all... empty?”

Selah’s smile returned, but it was softer this time, a beacon of quiet strength. “Tof, none of this is an accident. Think about it. We were separated as kids, but out of all the soldiers they sent to capture me, it was you. And we didn’t just fall into any cave—we landed in the one place that shattered their hold on you and led us to the memory water. And Shofar, a beast no one’s seen in ages, carried us here just in time to stop the Subjugator from manipulating everyone. The Ancient One’s been with us this entire time.”

Her words gnawed at his doubts, planting seeds of something he didn’t dare call hope. He stared at the vial, his pulse pounding in his ears. Could she be right? Could he trust in something—or Someone—he couldn’t see?

With a deep, shaky breath, he grabbed the vial, his fingers trembling as he pulled out the stopper. The faint scent of sweet water wafted up, a stark contrast to the bitter liquid the Neoterians had formerly forced him to drink. He tilted the vial to his lips and drank.

The moment the water touched his tongue, the world shifted. A sweetness unlike anything he’d ever tasted filled his senses, followed by a rush of warmth that spread through his chest. Then, as if the universe itself cracked open, images flooded his mind.

He saw his ancestors—People of the Covenant—bound in chains, their faces etched with sorrow as they labored under a scorching sun. But the vision didn’t end there. Wonders unfolded before him: rushing water, seas parting, and a voice that shook the heavens. The Ancient One had freed them, made a covenant with them, and promised blessings if they stayed true and hardships if they strayed.

Scenes shifted again, faster now, until Tof stood amidst a lush and thriving land. Green fields stretched as far as the eye could see, rivers sparkling like diamonds under the sun. Great houses dedicated to the Ancient One rose from the earth, their walls echoing with songs of joy. Wyverns perched on the rooftops, their melodic voices joining the chorus of the People of the Covenant. It was a world of life, of abundance, of purpose.

Then came the fall. Rivers dried, fields turned to dust, and the wyverns vanished into the sky. He watched as the people’s hearts strayed, chasing after false promises and fleeting power. They abandoned the covenant, and the drought descended like a curse, leaving only desolation in its wake.

But even in their rebellion, the Ancient One’s presence never left. His voice echoed in Tof’s mind, gentle yet commanding: “Return to Me. Repent, and I will restore you.”

Tears streamed down Tof’s face. It all made sense. The hardships, the pain, the drought—it wasn’t abandonment. It was a call to return. The Ancient One hadn’t left them; they had left Him. The drought lingered because the covenant had been forgotten, its promises cast aside. But it wasn’t too late. It was never too late.

As the visions faded, one last image lingered: the words of a song, etched into his soul as if they had always been there:

So we return to ways of old,

A promise to ever uphold.

The truth of past still giving life,

Memories that give us flight.

When Tof opened his eyes, the world felt different—brighter, sharper, as if he were seeing it for the first time. He looked at Selah, the girl who had risked everything to bring him back. The girl who had believed in him when he didn’t believe in himself. The Ancient One had used her courage and compassion to reach him, to pull him from the darkness of his past. He would be forever indebted to her. More than that, he would protect her with his life.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

No matter what happened when the sun rose and the Enlightened One returned, Tof knew one thing for certain: the Ancient One would provide, as He always had.

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The afternoon came too quickly, pressing down on the village like a weight. The People of the Covenant moved in anxious silence, their fear palpable. Elders whispered among themselves, and families clung to one another, their eyes darting toward the horizon where the Enlightened One’s forces would soon appear.

Tof, Selah, and the elders huddled near the village’s center, their voices low but tense. “Attempts to flee have failed,” Nebel said, his aged voice trembling. “The Neoterian soldiers have blocked every exit. We’re trapped.”

Tof scanned the faces around him. The villagers’ expressions ranged from despair to muted anger. “It’s a show of power. They need us to believe we’re hopeless.”

Selah’s gaze lingered on him, her hand brushing against his. “But we’re not hopeless,” she said, her voice firm. “The Ancient One hasn’t abandoned us.”

Tof wished he could share her certainty. Even after drinking the memory water, doubt gnawed at him like a relentless tide. He had seen the fragments of a song, heard the echoes of promises, but was it enough? Would the words he barely understood bring the rain that had eluded them for so long?

By late afternoon, the whir of machinery and the drone of wyv-droids signaled the arrival of the Neoterian forces. The drones descended first, sleek and menacing, their metallic wings slicing through the air. Behind them came soldiers, marching in formation, their exoskeletons clanking with precision.

At the center of the procession, carried by wyv-droids, was a massive machine. It looked like a grotesque amalgamation of gears, wires, and steel, towering over the soldiers as they escorted it into the village. The device gleamed under the fading sunlight, its surface etched with intricate designs that pulsed faintly with energy.

Tof and Selah stood at the front of the crowd, watching as the Neoterians began assembling the device. Scientists in gray uniforms scurried around the machine, their movements precise and mechanical. Several soldiers were called over to help secure the structure, attaching long poles to its base and driving them into the ground with heavy, rhythmic thuds.

The Enlightened One appeared moments later, her presence commanding despite her small stature. She ascended the platform they had erected beside the machine, her expression cold and confident. She surveyed the village, her gaze lingering on the gathered People of the Covenant. “It is time,” she declared, her voice carrying across the square. “Prepare to witness the power of progress.”

Her words sent a ripple of unease through the crowd. Tof could feel the tension thickening, the villagers’ doubts threatening to boil over. He glanced at Selah, her hand steady in his. “They have no faith in the ancient ways they claim to cling to,” he said quietly.

Selah turned to him, her eyes searching his face. “Did you have faith?” she asked.

Tof didn’t answer immediately. The question cut deeper than he expected. Even after all he had seen, he still felt the weight of his doubts. The Ancient One had been with him, that much was clear. But faith? That was something else entirely.

He wanted to have faith, wanted to trust in the Ancient One’s promise, but the enormity of the moment threatened to drown him. The memory water had shown him glimpses of the covenant’s power, but it hadn’t erased the years of pain and manipulation he’d endured under the Neoterians.

His mind drifted back to the Subjugator’s training. He could still hear the man’s voice echoing in his head, cold and unrelenting. He had been shaped into a weapon that existed only to serve the Enlightened One. He remembered the drills, the punishments, the way they had stripped him of his name and identity until all that remained was a soldier with a number.

He closed his eyes, the weight of those memories pressing down on him. How could he trust anyone after that?

But then another memory surfaced—one that felt softer, warmer. He saw the tapestry in the ruined building, its figures moving with impossible grace. He heard the song, faint but persistent, its melody stirring something deep within him. And he thought of Selah, her laughter echoing in the cavern, her unwavering determination to remind him of who he truly was. The Ancient One had been with him, even when he hadn’t known it, guiding him toward this moment.

“I’m trying,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The Subjugator stepped forward, a grin stretched across his sagging face. “You might as well surrender now,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “We will end this drought.” From under his cloak, he pulled out the dagger he had used to carve away his covenant mark, its blade glinting menacingly.

“Funny,” Selah spoke up, her tone sharp. “I was about to tell you that. And we’ve got some great water for you to try.”

The Subjugator’s grin faltered, but he quickly recovered, turning to the Enlightened One. “Are we ready?”

She nodded, her smile razor-sharp. “Yes. Have you gathered the soldiers with the greatest endurance and strength?”

The Subjugator whistled, and a hundred large soldiers in their clunky exoskeletons encircled the device. They moved with mechanical precision, their faces blank, their movements robotic.

The Enlightened One climbed onto the platform, her voice sharp as she addressed her soldiers. “Begin!” she ordered.

“May time always march forward!” the Neoterians shouted in unison.

The soldiers, drenched in sweat from the heat and their suits, began pushing the spokes of the device. Each spoke groaned under the strain as it began to turn, the wheel slowly rotating. The machine hummed to life, a low, menacing sound that sent vibrations through the ground. Wires crackled with energy, and sparks danced along its surface.

Each rotation sent tremors through the village, shaking the ground beneath their feet. With every turn, the noise grew louder, a deafening roar that drowned out the murmurs of the crowd. The device pulsed with power, its central cylinder glowing faintly as the spokes spun faster and faster.

Tof’s eyes shifted between the machine and the villagers. The People of the Covenant stood frozen, their fear evident in the way they huddled together, whispering and pointing toward the device. He could see the doubt etched into their faces, the way their shoulders slumped as though the battle was already lost.

The machine hummed louder as the soldiers strained against the spokes, their faces glistening with sweat as their exoskeletons whirred and clicked with every movement. Sparks flew from the wires, snapping like tiny lightning bolts, and the vibrations from the rotating wheel made the ground tremble.

Tof felt his stomach churn. The spectacle was terrifying, and the Enlightened One’s confidence was infectious, even to those who wanted to resist her.

After ten rotations, the Enlightened One flipped a switch on the platform. “Now we’ll see who’s stronger!” she declared, her voice filled with triumphant malice.

Blue lightning crackled up the metal cone, surging toward the rod at the top. It rocketed into the sky, branching out into a complex web of electricity that spread across the heavens. The crowd watched in tense silence, their eyes glued to the display.

Tof’s breath hitched. This was the moment. Either their ancient covenant would prevail, or the Neoterians would force their will upon the skies.

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Excited to see what happens in the finale? Read part eight!