Damon Ich (The Wheel of Eight Book 2)

by Aaron D. Key

  “Home, hopefully,” I said. “I still need to find out if he has any relatives.”

  “It is strange how you felt better once he arrived. I assume he was in some peril and you rescued him?”

  “Yes.” I wasn’t sure what Koa was getting at.

  “And Elena knew he was a boy without looking at him. She said something about not knowing you hadn’t found him yet. It seems likely this child is an ancestor of yours. I still don’t see where Elena comes into the picture. But your next move will determine whether time gets back to rights or not.”

  I considered this. His rejection had reminded me that there were more important jobs to do than to think about love. I had been improperly diverted. A person with power did not need to be loved. They did not need for anything.

  “Something has changed,” I said to Koa. “It does not feel as though the world is imminently in danger of ending anymore, although everything is not completely resolved,” I explained.

  There was a taste of electricity in the air, as though a storm was developing. I noticed it even more when Koa left.

  I did not want to go to my room. I preferred the light and company of the Great Hall, although even this was sparse, just a few lit candles and groups sitting around in corners, talking. I sat down at an empty table after grabbing some scraps of food left over from dinner. People drifted in and out gradually. I had a drink of water, and my problems seemed to grow less important. I could hear rain through the open windows. This was unusual. It usually rained when I was asleep in Herron.

  This fact startled me and made me raise my head from where I had laid it on the wooden table in front of me. The candles had almost all burned out and I realised I had been lying here some time. I was completely alone.

  As I thought this I heard a voice, Jack’s voice. Was it so late that he was up already to start baking for the day? Jack was an enigma. I remembered his rescue most vividly. A storm at sea and hundreds of bodies trapped together in the bowels of the boat. I remembered the smell and the churning of my stomach. I arrived and left again quickly with all those still alive. I had no compunction in leaving the image of a full hold of dead bodies for those who had treated people worse than cargo. When you have the whole of time and space at your command, it is not difficult to find a safe, fertile place for people to live, but Jack had begged to stay in Herron. I thought it had been a symptom of his fear but he had settled in well and quickly became a vital member of Tan’s helpers.

  It was not only his voice I could hear, though. I could hear Monta, too, sounding more cheerful than I had heard him any other time.

  They came into the hall smiling and Jack rested his hand briefly on Monta’s buttock. Then he saw me and removed it.

  “What are you doing here, Damon Ich?”

  “I fell asleep,” I confessed.

  “I am going to teach Monta how to make bread,” Jack said, sounding guilty. I wondered why he felt the need to explain this to me but I didn’t ask, aiming for a less controversial question.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s half past three,” Jack replied.

  “I didn’t realise you had to get up this early.”

  “Making bread can’t be hurried,” Jack said, sounding cheerful again. “I suppose I’d better get on with it.”

  “Am I in the way?”

  “I only came in to get a light for the fire.” He walked over to the nearly dead fire and scooped something up in a metal tankard.

  I rubbed my head slowly. I was still deflated by Koa’s lack of reaction, despite my defiant talk earlier. I could tell myself that it was illogical to feel sad because someone else was happy in company but it didn’t stop the feeling. Their closeness, their contentment ate into my soul like an infection. I did not want them not to be happy but the sight of them reminded me of my unmet desire, and that felt like a streak of paralysis starting at my toes and ending up in my fingertips, lasting for less than a heartbeat in each area. I left the Great Hall feeling lost.

  * * *

  Work was my constant comfort. This time things were a little different if the main beneficiary was me, but it still felt like work. I needed to go to Rael’s Hill and find the baby’s parents, if it could be done. The sun had not risen but there was enough light to see my way there. Once I was inside the ring of trees, there was a glorious blaze of sunshine and Rael’s stars were just visible in the bright light; an unusual occurrence that was slightly unsettling. I tried to shake off this unscientific feeling with rational thought by kneeling before a tree and thinking of the task I needed to do, allowing the power to take over and to direct me to the right place.

  I concentrated on the bright bunches of blood red berries dancing in the wind. They gradually faded to be replaced by the waving of bright red flags carried by children in the street in front of me. I looked around. I was in the same street where I had found the baby, perhaps a little further along as here most of the buildings were still standing. I walked along behind the crowd on the pavement, watching some sort of parade, working my way back towards the ruins. It looked like some time had passed. There had been no effort to clear the ruins but a clear path had been forged through the middle of the street. I stood near to the place I remembered, although I could not see the table. Perhaps someone had retrieved it or perhaps it had been shattered when the rubble was heaped out of the way. I looked around. I needed to find someone who knew all about the inhabitants.

  “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” an old woman suddenly interrupted my thoughts. “What sort of monsters would do this to ordinary people, women and children, in the name of war?”

  “Do you know what happened?” I asked. “I’m looking for my sister who lived here. She had a young baby, a boy. I’d yet to see him. Do you know if they survived?”

  “I used to live across the street,” the old woman said bitterly. “Now I have to share a room with my niece, but at least I am alive. There was a young woman living here, a war widow I believe, with a baby. I didn’t know her name. She had only just moved here from the south and kept to her room a lot of the time.”

  “That sounds like my sister,” I said. “Did she survive?”

  “Yes, she did. She lost her baby, though, and took it badly. She scoured the ruins for days after, looking for him. I saw her hands one day, all red with blood. I think the police took her in the end. They thought she’d lost her mind and I think she really had.”

  “I need to find her. Would anyone know where she went or should I ask the police?”

  “Try the police if you’re brave enough. No one else would interfere with them. Your sister was a stranger here so no one has looked for her. I’m sorry to bear you such bad news but these are bad times.”

  I thanked her and moved on. I considered briefly going to find the police but I was hindered by not knowing my “sister’s” name. It was easier for me to go back to a time when I knew I would find her. I walked out of sight of the old woman, who was watching me with all the suspicions of old age, and disappeared from that time to a week or so before.

  * * *

  Here was the same scene but no parade, no passers-by: a deserted scene, with more scattered ruins lying around, making the walkways impassable. I realised with a sudden jolt that the baby was still there; its heartbeat interfered with my breathing in an uncomfortable way.

  This was an unexpected complication that I should have foreseen. It was obvious and I berated myself for my stupidity in not realising it until now. I knew that I could not do anything; that taking any other action other than ignoring the current suffering of the baby would result in incalculable chaos. I would ignore it but my heart scolded me for my selfishness, my fear of the unknown. In vain I told myself that the power had chosen the moment to save the baby. It could not be wrong: he had survived. All would be well if I hardened my heart and refused to listen to the quiet pleading of the racing he
artbeat.

  I steadied myself against a fragment of standing wall and reminded myself why I was here: to find the baby’s mother. I looked around. I was completely alone, or so it seemed at least. Probably watchful eyes were peering out at me from various windows; it was that sort of place, that sort of time. I had not bothered to hide myself, wanting to contact this woman.

  I considered what I would do if I found her. She sounded friendless, alone, otherwise surely she would not have been left to continue her hopeless search on her own. She had nowhere to live perhaps. I would have to establish that before I could reunite them. Perhaps more would be needed. It was difficult to prejudge.

  I looked up as a figure moved in the corner of my vision. It was a young woman dressed in dark clothes. She was bedraggled and limping. She began sifting through stones, moving them one by one in a hopeless way.

  I walked up behind her and spoke gently so I did not alarm her. “Can I help you? What are you looking for?”

  “My baby is under here. Can you hear him crying? No one else can but I can. He cries inside my head all day and all night.”

  Had she really gone mad? Then suddenly realised I could hear it too – if I put my mind to it. The baby was crying but not with an audible sound. He was crying out with his mind to plant a message in his mother’s head that he was still alive, still wanting her. The implications of this settled upon me, and it was almost not a surprise when the woman turned around to face me. It was Elena – the youngest version of her that I had first seen by the riverside, but this time she was battered, bruised, and unkempt. There was a haunted look in her darkened eyes. I panicked.

  The ramifications of this were too complicated for me to immediately comprehend and I did not know what to do. I wanted to stop her distress and so I said, “I found your baby. I found him last night. He is unharmed.”

  “But why is he still crying?” she asked disbelievingly.

  “I think he is still missing you,” I said quickly, embarrassed at the half-lie. “Look, is there somewhere here you can get some food? I will go and fetch him, but you look like you need to sit down and eat.”

  “I have no money,” she replied. “I will come with you.”

  “Take this,” I said, handing over some notes, not enough to excite attention but enough to feed herself well. “Show me where you are going to eat and I will bring your baby to you.”

  I followed her in silence, secretly healing her scratches and bruises, until we reached an unpleasant-looking café that seemed to be the only sort available in this place. It reminded me of the one in which I had killed Aeth, so I left quickly, promising to be back as soon as I could.

  As I walked away, I knew that I was in trouble. Elena was homeless, moneyless, and friendless in a world that was full of suspicion, hatred, and fear. I could not reunite her with her child and leave her. Neither could I take her to my home. Also, somehow Elena had to remain available on this world for Rael to find her. This child was me, I was suddenly convinced.

  This explained why when I rescued him from death my own weakness had disappeared. He had to remain alive so that tomorrow would come for me and the rest of my world. I had to find out how it was that Elena was removed from her world and taken to Herron. What had happened to her firstborn son? I wanted to restore as much as possible to the history that should have been set in stone, though I was beginning to feel like someone trying to bail a boat with a sieve.

  I almost turned around and gave Elena a reassuring smile but I carried on around the corner out of her sight and returned home. I suddenly remembered as I walked away Elena, the older version saying she was still waiting patiently for me and wondered if this was what she meant. I fully intended to go back to Elena in good time from her perspective, although not necessarily by mine, but something must have happened that made me change my mind.

  * * *

  I stepped out of the trees on Rael’s Hill and Elena was there.

  “It was your son?” I couldn’t help but exclaim. “Was he Rael’s son?”

  “Of course.”

  “Was he me?” I sounded like a child in my mind.

  “You are my son and you rescued yourself.” Elena nodded, as if she had come to terms with everything. I was not as sure I had.

  “So it was you in the tower? Do you remember meeting me there?”

  “I do. I escaped for a few minutes while Aeth was distracted.”

  “You told me there that you left Rael because you couldn’t give him the son he wanted. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t left Rael. So what happened to cause you to leave this time?”

  “I left Rael because he stole one of my sons from me,” Elena said grimly. Above, the skies grew dark and ominous. A wind whipped at our clothes so that they flapped out a steady, ironic clap.

  Rael stealing a child, a child who was given to my guardian, brought up by Ann’s parents – that was me.

  “How did it happen?” I asked.

  “He tried to explain it to me,” Elena said in a tone so icy it could freeze blood. “He said the universe insisted on it. He said if I did not allow it our world would be dead and our sons never born.”

  This seemed to support the theory that all this had been caused by my careless intervention. My fate was sealed.

  “I thought I could talk sensibly, be of some use to you. I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve failed you, but Rael wouldn’t tell me where he took you. He thought, and rightly so, that I would have brought you back. I thought the emotions would fade away from me because of the years that have passed and perhaps I would understand, perhaps even forgive, but I was wrong. I’m sorry, Damon Ich. It was not your fault, though it sounds like I’m blaming you. You’re near the end of it now, but until it’s done neither of us will be whole. I will try to collect myself so we can talk later.”

  She walked down the hill and back to Herron. The wind dropped and the temperature rose back to normal. She had some idea of what needed to be done. That was useful, though I had to wait to hear it. Near the end now. I sighed with relief.

  I had discovered a mother and father in one day. I found it hard to feel the right emotion. Surely happiness should be involved.

  The sun was out, though it was still early. I’d be able to get the breakfast I craved soon. I felt gloomy despite my discoveries so I decided to swim to my pavilion. I would cherish it always as a gift from my mother. I helped myself to a mint tea that was still fresh and hot, as she had promised. It was a novel idea to me to use the power to enhance and simplify my life. I swam back, mind racing like a hamster on a never-ending wheel but improved by the swim. I had lost track of time but headed back to my room for a change of clothes.

  As I wandered back, I saw a figure hunched by the lakeside, small, covered with a grey cloak. I passed too close to ignore them so I said hello in spite of their evident desire to be alone and my inclination to become a hermit. Herai’s face looked up into mine, with a miserable greeting in return.

  “Did you have a good swim and a successful trip, Damon Ich?”

  I considered the matter.

  “It was, in a way. Thanks, Herai. What are you doing out here? Is your accommodation not to your liking?”

  “You have given us rooms that are beyond our expectation,” Herai said mournfully. “But everything has changed since we moved here. I wasn’t sure about coming but Monta was definite in his desire to see Glant gone and to make sure Koa was settled, so I came along because I have always gone where Monta goes. Koa and Monta, they were like my brothers. Now Monta has found a new friend and Koa is mooning after you.”

  “No, he isn’t,” I said quickly. “Koa doesn’t want me. I know that for sure.”

  “I don’t know what you think you know. I only know what is. Poor Koa. In the city he was an important man. Valued only after Glant and Cailo. Now he is here, he’s a useless refugee like all of us: distanced fr
om our homes and purpose. You seem to have everything you need here. If Koa said he didn’t want you he was probably feeling unworthy.”

  “Were you important in the city, Herai?” I asked to give me time to think about this.

  “No. I was nothing and no one. It makes me feel right at home to feel that way here too.” Herai was smiling as though telling a joke, but I could see the truth in the statement.

  “Things will feel better after you’ve slept and eaten,” I said optimistically. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in after a few days. It will just take a bit of getting used to. You’ll make new friends, and your brothers will come back – hopefully enhanced by their love lives, not needing your every second anymore, happier, perhaps.”

  “Don’t give up on Koa if you want him,” Herai said, dismissing my optimism with a wry smile. “He is worth chasing. I’ll go back to my room now, chase sleep, and try to wake up more hopeful.”

  I walked back with Herai, we said goodbye, and I ran up the steps to my room. I had decided to ignore my love life until time was put back to how it ought to be. Herai’s revelations had half swayed me otherwise but there was still something to be done, although I didn’t know what it was. I stopped in surprise as I reached the highest steps.

  Koa was sitting on my bed with his back to me. I felt a rush of hope but then I rounded the corner and saw Ann standing near the bed too with Elena nearby. Ann saw me and came closer.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  Under her guidance, we moved to an alcove on the other side of the room so that my bed and my visitors were out of sight. I sat down with a sense of dread.

  “Did you ever read that diary I left out for you?” she said.

  “I did, thank you. What did you make of it?” I replied cautiously.

  “I think you are a prime example of why messing around with your own past is not a good idea.” She smiled. “I also think it is most likely that you are currently lying on your bed being tickled by Koa.”