Io Deceneus: Journal of a Time Traveler (The Living Universe)

by Florian Armas

  “He is right, no arrows.” Aldira was looking down, at the savages. They were gesticulating and shouting, but their words did not make it far enough to be understood. “They are leaving.” Of all of us she had the sharpest eyes; my binoculars were in their cover; I needed my hands for the bow.

  We camped on that small hilltop for safety, and no fire was lit. A morose evening looked likely without the warm flames, but Talian's voice was calm and sure: “These are rare books we found in an ancient library, close to the point where we met. You recognized them even when hidden in the bags. There are not too many people still in love with books in these times, not even in Dava. They go more for newspapers and theater shows. Guessing what they were suggests a habit of regularly handling books. We don’t know where exactly someone coming from a small fishing community might fit into this picture.” Good analysis, but my picture will hardly fit in any of your guesses; an inner smile passed across my mind. Houston you have to kiss me for the information they give. Forget the kisses and answer them.

  “Well … we have a small library, and my parents' house was close to it. A good friend works there.” I lie to you because I need you. All my past ‘life’ here is a lie. Half lie. Deep in my mind, everything was registered as half-truth: I was at Saona’s weeding, yet I was not. I have to travel with you; I have to learn from you. Anyway, I had more time than I needed. Maybe they just imagined Dava being the sole cultural place still alive on the planet, as once we thought of us being in the center of the universe.

  “Strange,” Talian whispered.

  “Our library?” I defensively asked.

  “No, ten people traveling in this area. I haven’t seen groups larger than five in many years of riding this wilderness.” Our conversation died from fear and cold, replaced by small clatters carried by the wind on a long and cold night. I dreamt of Earth on that night, for the first time. It never happened in any of my past journeys. I do not like Earth any longer, not after I made myself another life with those ‘primitives’. Sometimes I am not so sure about this, yet my life was too full to think again of our own failures. So, I don’t know why I dreamt of Earth that night, maybe because of those robbers. They did not belong to that far away planet … they belong to Earth. They only need suits and ties, and political cover.

  *

  “Wait!” Aldira snapped. Her right hand was holding the binoculars; she was staring far away in the valley. “Look,” she handed me the tool. “That huge yellow-red rock on the left.”

  “Yes,” I cautiously asked, not being able to see anything wrong or dangerous.

  “There is someone on top of it,” she said, pointing; the limitation of binoculars’ use was still new for them. She had better eyes than mine, and that is why I let her check the valley that morning, that and her visible pleasure when using it – an easy way of forging bonds. “In the shadow of the small wall, parallel with the valley.” She finally realized that descriptive hints are better than pointing a finger. I tried again. She could be right; there was a small colored spot in that shadow. But that could be anything. I closed my eyes for some seconds, and opened them to try again. Talian was waiting patiently for us to settle the issue; his eyes were not so good. I peered again at the rock and she was right, the small spot was climbing down; another spot went up and settled in the shadow, a small treacherous spot. It’s hot yeah. Die there! Nobody will cry.

  “The marauders from yesterday, I think ... waiting in ambush.” Glad that I am not alone. Three bows are not enough … a lone rider has better chances. Maybe. “They are too many; the valley is no longer a safe road.”

  “There is no other road, for almost one hundred miles,” Talian said softly. “And that road goes deep in the desert.” I know, I was about to answer. I bit my lip just in time; a traveler from the far south would not know the local roads. They took my biting move as desperation. “Don’t worry,” he continued, “there is an old path following the hilltops.” Yeah, I know, it WAS a small road, hundreds of years before.

  The ‘road’ was on the right of the sinuous line marking the highest line of the hills, traces of a better past, an almost forgotten path, hindering our steps and even more our horses, but keeping us out of sight. The huge red sun was going down in front of us before the road switched back towards a slightly higher hill – some stones formed a witch circle on its top, not human made, only nature’s game. At that point, it bent left and went on the other side of the hill, opposite the large rock where the marauders prepared the ambush. “They are ... more than ten.” Aldira’s voice wobbled in the middle of the sentence; there was no need for binoculars to observe them from behind a stony wall – colored spots hidden in the shadow. “I see fourteen,” I whispered back. “Sixteen, six more than yesterday,” Talian was up in the circle of stones, “there are two more, further down in the valley. They guard that way.”

  “Is there any way to pass with the horses into that circle?” I asked Talian. “No way,” the answer came back. “I used my hands as much as my feet to climb here.”

  “How is the road further on?” Aldira tried to think of an alternative.

  “It goes down the other side ... in plain sight. Wait a minute,” he said and disappeared. “Horses can get here from that side.” We frowned. “Just in case, the place is a natural fortress, and we have enough food. Water will be a problem … in a few days.” One of the men in the valley climbed on a rock and sat still with his hands wide open; he resembled a cross, a moving one as he started to slowly rotate.

  “Oh, no!” both of them sighed. “A mind-ranger! They will soon know that we are here.”

  “What’s a mind-ranger?” I cautiously asked, not being sure of hearing well. It was too strange to ask a normal question such as: should we run?

  “Have you no mind-rangers in the south?” Mind-rangers? I asked Ency. I have no data; I made a note. I put another bad mark on Houston’s training. “They can perceive other human minds from far away.” Down in the valley the ‘mind-ranger’ stopped his rotation, his back in our direction.

  “He missed us,” I whispered caught in their game. “No!” The answer came quickly. “He spotted us; the sense is stronger in the back of the head.” All the men down disappeared behind the rocks.

  “The safest place is here behind these small walls,” Talian pointed to the witch circle.

  “Let’s go slowly,” I agreed with him, “as a bunch of unaware travelers.” We continued leisurely with horses at halter, speaking loudly. I scouted down into the valley – nothing to see. You are good, you bastards ... spiders ... beasts, you wait for the prey. There is no prey for you today, only arrows. Bastards! A small rocky ledge and the road passed down the other side. We hurried into the stone circle and tied the horses. In the silence of the valley, small spots were running up from behind one large rock to another, like playing children. This is not a training game. They were not in our range, yet we grabbed our bows; doing something kept tension at bay. A bird whistle blew up on the west side.

  “That is not a bird,” Talian whispered.

  “The prey did not follow the road.” I smiled and moved in the whistle’s direction; nothing was moving. Another whistle came from the east side. “Hiding game over.” No one answered. Too much tension, I have to do something. I turned around to check the small natural fortress, then went to the back were horses were tied. “No one can climb up this side.” At least some good news.

  “They are coming, I feel them,” Aldira whispered. She was overlooking the valley, a tall, dark-clothed silhouette against the yellow rocks; her golden hair was flowing in the wind, as though born from inside the stone, hypnotizing me. We have to fight. Is your heart ready? Munenori’s voice asked me. I am not sure Master. Mood is not for fighting. I know, Houston. My overburdened mind did not pay attention to that strange ‘I feel them’. I recovered, and watched the west side, from where the first whistle came. Nothing to see, yet the sight gave me the shivers. Just stones. Talian went to the east side walking with
slow steps. I arranged six arrows in front of me, as if playing with eggs. Arrows, sweet arrows. Be ready to fly. It’s us or them. Don’t betray me. I bit my lip. My first real fight. Breathe! Hiss ... the first arrow went down into the valley, Aldira’s arrow. The leopard from another life roared inside. I am no longer that frightened guy, I am... A death cry broke the silence ... she must be good... This calmed me. The first target came into sight and the world vanished around it – the mind-ranger. I hesitated before releasing my arrow, my mind closed in on itself; in front of me was a human being, not a deer or a leopard. The arrow flew and missed the target. Too many doubts. They will not hesitate... The marauder tried to run; my next arrow caught him as he jumped over the ridge to hide. I lost sight of him, but the sound ... coming over the rim, dull, macabre, the sound of a corpse falling, jumping from one rock to another. Crunch! Clack! I heard no other sound, no cry, only broken bones. A skull danced inside my mind. Crunch! Clack! My eyes chased the clack; another running man, the next corpse to be was already there. I missed him.

  “They are retreating,” Aldira’s voice was filled with a calm joy. The big fight was less than two minutes long. Marauders are not fighters; they are human scavengers, attacking only travelers unable to defend themselves. My thoughts stopped; they had changed their approach, no frontal attack anymore. Small jumps, hiding behind rocks; a much better tactic, I realized. One more minute and we were surrounded with no one in plain sight, no real target, the rules of the game had changed. A white flag appeared and two of them entered the stone circle. One held a sword, the other one an ax, double bladed, huge, roughly crafted. That doesn’t make it less dangerous, be careful. See the man. See his potential. That ax can split you in half if sharp or break your skull if blunt. What’s the difference to you? The sturdy man, dressed all in skins, one-eyed, black eye, advanced cautiously. Any attack on him should go to his left side, the blind one. What else? Concentrate! His words cut my thoughts.

  “I am Black Eye of the Desert Brothers,” he stated with a deep, sure voice. I winced. This is not your world; he is not that Black Eye. “I am glad you know my name. All the valleys know it. And fear it.” Desert Brothers? ‘The group was destroyed by Garon,’ Talian told me. Maybe. He sensed my wobbling and boasted, his huge neck muscles bulged to enhance the words. “And my ax.” He carefully caressed one blade of his ax while grinning. “We want Deceneus, all the others can go safely.” Then he saw the horses. “And two horses, you don’t need so many.” A wicked smile appeared on his face. I sensed Aldira’s eyes growing wide; I cannot explain it, but I sensed this sudden widening, I could not see them. Talian glanced at me with a brief frown, almost invisible. His face was impassive when he spoke to the marauders:

  “Who is Deceneus?” Why in the hell did they pronounce that name? What happens here?

  “One of you,” his voice was sure, almost reciting the words in a strange monotone rhythm. “We were told that he is tall, wearing a black mantle and a black hat.” He glanced at Aldira, “or a she.” But his voice lost that rhythm. No one has such things, I wanted to shout. Let Talian negotiate, this will reveal things. I put some distance between me and them, just in case, and tensed my bow.

  “We are here to negotiate,” Black Eye answered, eyeing my bow. Good eye, you are not the thieves’ chieftain for nothing. I loosened my bow.

  “Do you see any man in black here?” Talian was a fine negotiator; with one word he took Aldira out of any deal.

  “No,” he grunted, suddenly unsure; something was bothering him, his face changed into a strange rictus, and tremor invaded his body. He is not drugged; he was okay only seconds ago. He looks like he’s being hypnotized, but who could do this? “Clothes can be changed,” he slowly continued, and this phrase brought sudden relief to his face. “Give us the tall guy,” he pointed at me, “and the horses.” What if? My mind tried to find a solution for the worst scenario; no, two people are an easier prey than three; Talian must know this very well. Or should I hint to him?

  “Look around,” Talian suddenly spoke, pointing with a large gesture at the stone ring, “you already lost two men. How many more people would die before any of you could reach the stones?”

  “Some will die,” he acquiesced, “some will gain the top. Then you will die.” He was again acting completely normally. “Give Deceneus to us.” His last words were sharp, the change in his voice was astounding; a hidden order came with that tone: surrender... Val erei, resurfaced inside my mind; Black Eye, followed; Factions ... danger ... run, it was almost a scream. Stop it! He was glowering, a fearsome face to see. I shivered, and Talian was shivering too. What the hell is this?

  “Why do you need this Deceneus?” I clenched my palm on the bow; my knuckles were snow white.

  “They need him ... we need him.”

  “Why do you need him?” Who are ‘they’ I wanted to ask, but fear submerged me. Something was strange, unnatural. First the Deceneus name, now the perception of a hidden power dealing from behind a curtain.

  “Not your business,” he snapped. “Yield! Or my ax will chop off your heads. Three useless heads.” He underlined our weakness in numbers, and raised the huge weapon, glittering in the sun. “No one messes with the Desert Brothers, no one escapes Black Eye’s ax.” He gave a roar of anger, maybe half anger, and clashed the ax against a rock. The rock complained with a short clack and split into pieces.

  “There is no Deceneus here,” Talian’s words came out slowly. “We have some spare food...”

  “We don’t need your food. We will take all of it and your heads too.” They left, glancing back at my bow.

  “What was that?” I asked. They ignored me, pretending being busy to check the walls.

  Nothing happened for the rest of the day, a silent day and evening, only whispers, exchanged in haste, to prove that we still exist. The wind was hissing and howling among rocks and bushes, and out of the blue there was another howling. “Wolves!” I cried.

  “Human wolves,” Talian answered. “They want to scare us.” He stood silent for a moment. “Soon they will attack.” He stopped again, “when the night has fully come, they will attack.” He just said the same thing again: attack. His voice ... unsure ... good self-control, hiding panic … almost.

  With the night, we lit a fire where the circle of stones was broken. Close to the fire we sat behind the rocks, and those two that were not on guard dozed uneasily. The night was already old and the waning moon was going down between scattered clouds. Uneasy intermittent sleep was all we could get. Howling wolves were everywhere. One of them attacked and gripped my shoulder, desperately I tried to push him down and I was awake again, Aldira’s hand was firmly on my arm. “They are coming.”

  “Draw your sword and stay behind the rock,” Talian whispered. “Aldira, take your bow and go back on the other side of the circle.” The air was still, the wind was dead; I could not sense any movement outside. How do they know? I muttered. How?

  In the fire’s leaping light, dark silhouettes took shape – silent and deadly. Our blades shone with trembling brightness. I touched my sword, caressing its hilt: the last stand is for you. I closed my eyes and breathed. I said this once before. Dark shadows sprang toward the flames and in the flickering lights, they transformed into human faces. Yes, they are coming. I am ready. Time stretched; they ran in slow motion – an idling movie, as real and dangerous as death. A sharp twang woke me, Aldira loosed her bow, and a shadow fell. No other sound cut the silence of the night; a dark hand clutched the arrow’s shaft growing from his chest, the shadow crumbled to the ground. The world stood motionless, for a second, before howling broke: “Kill! Kill! Kill!” The second arrow hissed the silence, another shadow fell. Then time moved around me; the first marauder passed the fire and the fire was with us, he limped, his hands went up to control the falling of his body. With a will of its own, my sword had cut and his hand fell on the ground. A howl pierced the night while he ran back through the fire, pushing down the one coming behind. An
other arrow hissed, another shadow fell, the attack stopped. In the nascent dawn, we saw them taking the dead in hasty retreat. Four of them were out of the game.

  The second attack came with the full dawn, from all sides. I met the eye of the closest one; the same hypnotic darkness reflected in them. This is unnatural, they cannot win, they will all die. Who is pushing them? Or what? Arrows were flying around; we were sheltered behind the ring of rocks, they were dying in open field. The few survivors retreated again, this time for good.

  “Three down on my side,” she woke me up. I tried to remember what had happened on my side: “Two more here,” I finally answered. “Only one here,” Talian’s voice was soft as usual. “I lost the game.” He continued, and I smiled, and maybe you will find this morbid, but that small joke released all the tension filling our minds; Talian was a subtle librarian.

  We went down into the valley, the road was good and we mounted our horses. An hour of galloping made us comfortable enough to walk again; they had no horses. The mind-ranger question was burning my mouth, but I dared not ask. I have to settle this with Houston.

  That night we started a fire on the top of another hill, winning and distance increased our confidence, and I trusted their knowledge about the wild desert. The roasted meat pushed our confidence further; the stars were bright. A bottle of wine would be perfect and … a movie. They don’t know about movies... What a pity. “Those men are not from here,” Talian opened the talk while warming his hands before the fire. It took a while to make the overture; under the night’s cloak thoughts fly easier. A new reality was born that day; we needed to adjust to it – in small steps. “They come from the north.”

  “The Desert Brothers,” I said softly. The desert is in the south. Talian, what do you know that I don’t?

  “The skins they wore: mountain goats. You cannot find them here.” I closed my eyes, trying to visualize those bloody clothes. Yes, they were mountain goat skins. Open your eyes. They will not pamper you for too long. “Sixteen people,” he continued, “I’ve never encountered so many in this area. There are not enough resources to feed them and not many travelers to rob.” What about the name? Desert Brothers. This should tell you something. I waited for a while, nothing came, and I pushed further.